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When Mr. and Mrs. Williams stepped inside, I stood up from my desk and walked over to them.
“Hi. How can I help you?” I asked.
I could see the nervousness on both of their faces.
“Dr. Roman, I’m Tom Williams, and this is my wife, Greta. Our son Matthew was the one who hit you.”
A knot formed in the pit of my belly as I stared at them.
“We just wanted to tell you how sorry we are for what happened,” Mr. Williams spoke.
“Please, have a seat.” I gestured to the couch.
“We couldn’t be at peace until we saw for ourselves that you were okay,” Greta said.
“I appreciate it, and I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Our son was a good boy, but he was dealing with some mental health issues that we were trying to get him help for,” Tom said as tears swelled in his eyes.
“What he did was just awful, and we wanted to apologize to you,” Greta spoke. “It’s important to us that you’re doing well.”
“I wish I could tell you that I escaped the accident with nothing but a few cuts and bruises, but I can’t. I’m suffering from a traumatic brain injury and have no memory of the last ten years of my life.”
Greta brought her hand to her mouth.
“Dr. Roman, we are so sorry,” Tom said. “We had no idea.”
Greta started sobbing, so Tom placed his arm around her and pulled her into him. I stood up from my chair and knelt in front of them, taking hold of Greta’s hand.
“It’s okay. I will be okay. I forgive Matthew for the accident, and I’m sorry that he isn’t here so I can tell him that.”
“You are such a good person, Dr. Roman,” Greta sobbed. “I don’t know if I could be so forgiving if I were in your situation.”
“We’re good people, and we did everything right by our son, but in the end, we failed him,” Tom spoke.
“You did nothing wrong, and you both will be okay in time once you heal from this tragedy. I know it’s hard, but with some help, you will get through it. What’s important is that you put all your energy and focus into the good times you had with your son.”
“Thank you, Dr. Roman,” Greta softly spoke. “Again, we are so sorry for what you’re going through.”
“I appreciate it.” My lips formed a small smile. “Is Matthew buried at a cemetery?”
“Yes,” Tom spoke. “Why?”
“I’d like to visit him. Can you give me the address?” I stood up and grabbed a notepad and pen from my desk.
After Tom wrote down the name of the cemetery and the location where Matthew was buried, I took the notepad and set it on my desk.
“Thank you. I’ll walk you two out.”
I walked them out of my practice and to the elevator.
“You two take care.”
“Charlotte?” I heard Conner’s voice.
Turning around, I walked over to where he stood.
“What were they doing here?” he asked in an angry manner.
