Nover (2/06/09 Friday)

Thursday night I had a desk hour with Jennifer. I thought I owed her an apology for thinking she had been the original snitch of the blog. Jennifer wouldn't have known this, because I never sent that email invitation, of course, Chris' conscience having stepped in at the nick of time to urge his confession (if only it had stepped in earlier to obviate the need for a confession), but Tammy warned her I was gunning for her. Ever since, I've felt the need to apologize for the distress this may have caused her. Well, I tried to apologize--in fact, I must be given credit for doing so, even it ws accepted as if I were trying to return a borrowed tissue. It wasn't grace or humility that didn't want my apology, but fear and embarrassment. She actually seemed to physically shrink when I mentioned the "blog...mess" and waved her hands across each other in front of her face. "It's over, she said sharply over my words. I said, "I know it may be water under the bridge, but I just thought I owed you an apology for blaming you for something you didn't do," the sentence was woven through with her "No, it's okay, it's over, it's good, it's all good." That was a first for me--browbeating someone with an apology. It seems only a guilty conscience would so vociferously refuse an apology. Makes me glad I opened the wound. "Over," she'd said. Just like that, huh? For whom?

Encountered Thomas at the back door on my lunch break as I was gathering the manuscript and journal book. "Where's the picture?" was the first thing he said to me. (I still park the bike by the back door.) "I was forced to remove it." "What?" he said, the expulsion of the word recoiling his head and shoulders. "Yeah," I said, "but I'm puttin' it back on there." Thomas howled. "Ah, you go, Dion!" With his handtruck piled with book bins he trailed me up the hall laughing. "Man, you are all right!"

I have plans tomorrow morning, and it's not scooter soccer with Matt. Jan emailed me today to say she'd be in town. I called her when I got home, and we set up a rendezvous for ten-thirty at Jean-Jacques.