Confronting My Own Fallibility
My old college friend and 'fellow nut' - Lisa - was my first choice, of course, and then Aaron but neither were home. I called number after number without success.
I finally called Doug - an elderly neighbour (he is eighty-nine but has the constitution of a man half his age), who has become my friend and confidante. I had been reluctant to call him because I had been afraid of what he might have tried to do to Andy and how Andy might retaliate.
I had been reluctant to call him because I was afraid of what he might attempt to do to Andy and of how the latter might retaliate. You see, for some strange reason, he loves me like a granddaughter and despises Andy passionately. He saw the evil in him long before I did. I had thought Andy was redeemable. Doug, who has experienced so much more than me, knew he wasn't. Doug refers to Andy by his surname. He despises him so much he can't even bring himself to use his Christian name. He was as angry as I thought he would be (and, if I'm honest, as I had hoped he would be. Hideously selfish, as always, I wanted my feelings and experiences to be validated). Doug hurried over and as soon as he saw me he embraced me.
'The bastard,' he said. 'The brute. I'm so sorry this had to happen to you, my dear. You believe me now, don't you? You know now what he's really like.' I resented the element of 'I told you so' in his words but kept it hidden. I was just grateful for his presence. Finally, someone was on my side. Later, I reflected upon his words. 'I'm sorry this had to happen to you'. 'Had to'? Yes, I suppose he was right. Unintentionally. That fragment of the sentence is the most significant. Perhaps it did 'have to' happen to me so I could discover for myself what Andy was really like. Because, God knows, I wasn't listening to anyone else. It pains me to have to acknowledge this but Mother was right all along. She despised him; she seethed every time his name was mentioned. Perhaps it is time for me to acknowledge that others may be much better judges of character than I am. In my arrogance, I assumed I was invincible. Oh yes, he may be violent to others but he would never do anything like that to me. I...I...was special. And I am ashamed of that. Disregarding the advice of others would appear to be my speciality and my downfall.
I finally called Doug - an elderly neighbour (he is eighty-nine but has the constitution of a man half his age), who has become my friend and confidante. I had been reluctant to call him because I had been afraid of what he might have tried to do to Andy and how Andy might retaliate.
I had been reluctant to call him because I was afraid of what he might attempt to do to Andy and of how the latter might retaliate. You see, for some strange reason, he loves me like a granddaughter and despises Andy passionately. He saw the evil in him long before I did. I had thought Andy was redeemable. Doug, who has experienced so much more than me, knew he wasn't. Doug refers to Andy by his surname. He despises him so much he can't even bring himself to use his Christian name. He was as angry as I thought he would be (and, if I'm honest, as I had hoped he would be. Hideously selfish, as always, I wanted my feelings and experiences to be validated). Doug hurried over and as soon as he saw me he embraced me.
'The bastard,' he said. 'The brute. I'm so sorry this had to happen to you, my dear. You believe me now, don't you? You know now what he's really like.' I resented the element of 'I told you so' in his words but kept it hidden. I was just grateful for his presence. Finally, someone was on my side. Later, I reflected upon his words. 'I'm sorry this had to happen to you'. 'Had to'? Yes, I suppose he was right. Unintentionally. That fragment of the sentence is the most significant. Perhaps it did 'have to' happen to me so I could discover for myself what Andy was really like. Because, God knows, I wasn't listening to anyone else. It pains me to have to acknowledge this but Mother was right all along. She despised him; she seethed every time his name was mentioned. Perhaps it is time for me to acknowledge that others may be much better judges of character than I am. In my arrogance, I assumed I was invincible. Oh yes, he may be violent to others but he would never do anything like that to me. I...I...was special. And I am ashamed of that. Disregarding the advice of others would appear to be my speciality and my downfall.
posted by Louise at 3:32 pm
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