so you could talk to him.

What do you want him to know?"

Mickey braces himself,

hands squeezing his knees,

eyelids squeezing each other,

like he's about to be sprayed

with poison.

After 233 days,

I have no eloquent speech,

no moving lyrics.

"Besides being alive again,

I want . . . more than anything . . ."

I wait while she translates,

then continue,

so she won't have to stop

through this next part.

"I want you to know

that I love you, dude.

And no matter what you think,

it wasn't your fault.

It was mine.

But I forgive you

for not saving me

from myself."

I wait for him to explode with,

"You forgive me?

That's a good one.

You should beg me

to forgive you

for ruining my life,

for hurting

Mom

and Dad