The news that you’d ruined your life came to me by telegram.
MONUMENTAL MISTAKE. POINT OF NO RETURN. HOPING FOR BEST.
At first I didn’t believe it. I ran to the telegraph office, bursting breathless through the double doors.
“This can’t be right,” I panted to the operator. She took the slip of paper, peered through her bifocals, and checked her notes.
“Cable authentic stop,” she said. “Message accurate stop.”
“Are you absolutely sure?” I gasped. “Because never in the history of history was there a human more wildly unsuited to—”
She raised a hand to silence me, then pointed over my shoulder. I turned and walked across the street and through another set of doors. A prim man in tweed was dusting cabinets.
“Welcome to the Hall of Records. How may I help you?”
I held up the announcement. “Can you confirm an ID?”
Drawers slid open. Files were shuffled. Document after document, the man set the evidence down beneath my gaze. “Exhibit A, names. Exhibit B, residences. Exhibits C & D, photos and profiles.” He looked at me expectantly.
“Thank you,” I said shakily. “That’s what I needed.”
Back outside, Spring was still new—still cool and clean. I sat on a park bench and closed my eyes, smelling rain. I thought about you then, with a sense of judgment I had never allowed myself—which had never felt necessary.
I thought about your lies, and your sneering callousness when I asked for truth. I thought about your needless cruelty, and the pleasure you took in ruining things for me. The subtle put-downs and sabotage. I realized that you probably thought I was too dumb to see all of it, because I let it slide again and again. I wasn’t dumb. I was just giving you an addict’s grace that you never deserved.
I thought about the brutal wave of reality about to drown you. About all the things in you that are about to get squeezed harder and and harder until there is no air for them to breathe, and they die. I thought about your bone-deep selfishness, and your recklessness about the feelings of others. I felt sick thinking of the tears and trauma you are assuredly going to cause.
I thought about the pain you’ve created, and the pain that’s coming for you.
At last I stood and walked through one more door.
“Hello,” I greeted the teller who looked up. I waved the telegram. “I’m here to cash a check.”