I wrap my arms around her. It’s like trying to hug a jellyfish: all she does is squirm. “Shut up,” I tell her. “Just shut up and take it.”
For a few seconds, Petra stays frozen in shock. “That’s not how you punch someone,” she points out.
“I can’t punch you, Petra.”
An indignant huff. “What, because I’m pregnant?”
“Because I’d break my hand on that thick skull of yours. Now, shut up and let me hug you.”
“… Why?” she whispers in the end.
And isn’t that the question of the year: Why?
I could say it’s because forgiveness is a virtue. Because Dominic sent me to Sunday school every week and some of it stuck. Or because I’m just that good of a person.
But the truth is, it’s because I’m tired.
I can’t hold another grudge. I just can’t. It’s exhausting, being angry with the people you lov
