The engineer read it again.
The letter included a promise to participate honestly in the ongoing legal process. It ended with an apology for the watch, the shove, and the humiliation.
He folded the pages carefully and placed them in the drawer beside the official findings.
His sister visited that evening. He showed her the letter.
βWhat do you think?β she asked.
βI think he finally understood part of what he did.β
βDo you forgive him?β
He looked toward the backyard.
βI don't know yet.β
She nodded.
βThen don't rush.β
He didn't.
A month later, a specialist watchmaker called with news. The case and engraved back could be restored. The crystal had to be replaced, and the movement needed extensive work, but most of the original watch could be saved. The specialist offered to polish out every dent. The engineer asked him not to.
βLeave one mark,β he said.
βWhich one?β
βThe shallow one beside the engraving.β
The watchmaker hesitated. βI can remove it.β
βI know. Leave it.β
When the repaired watch arrived, he opened the box alone. The blue face shone beneath a fresh crystal. The hands moved quietly. On the back, beneath the inscription honoring the voices that must get through, a small dent remained. It was barely visible unless he held the case to the light.
He put the watch on his left wrist.
For several minutes, he simply sat and listened to the clock ticking above his kitchen stove.
Then he drove to his mother's apartment.
She opened the door before he knocked a second time. She saw the watch immediately.
βThey fixed it.β
βMost of it.β
She took his wrist gently and studied the silver case.
βIt's beautiful.β
He nodded.
She turned it over, reading the engraving she knew by heart. When she noticed the little dent, she looked up.
βWhy leave that?β
He considered his answer.
βBecause the watch has a history now. I don't want somebody else's cruelty to be the end of it, but I don't need to pretend it never happened.β
His mother smiled sadly.
βThat sounds like your father.β