Wanted: Closure

Knock. Knock. Knock. I tap on her door. No answer. I leave her a note. Scribbling, I’m sorry. Call me. We should talk.

Ring. Ring. Ring. It’s me again. Just wanted to know if you got my message. Let’s talk. I’m sorry about what happened. Call me?

She never returned my call.

I was like a child, entering unknown territory. I came out, bruised, confused, and angered. We never spoke of the episode. I never got a chance to tell her my story. And for that I cannot forget. Has she forgotten? Or does she blame me still? Or am I the only one? Am I the only one who holds onto a fragment of the past that no longer bears any meaning?

There are too many Asian events on campus. Sorry. We cannot give you any funds. As the budget committee, we held the purse strings to student life money. Her group came forward to ask for some forgotten sum to bring Two Tongues to campus. Two Tongues spoke of life on the edge. Life as a twinkie. Life in a language that no longer held any meaning. Life as it was and yearned to become.

What do you mean, too many Asian events? How many constitutes too many? How did you deliberate? Behind closed doors, the 10-member committee discusses, argues, and sometimes gives free rides. It was getting near the end of the school year. Our funds were low. We were careful about our spending. The pudgy dark haired senior girl, who probably went to law school, made The Comment. Silence. Then rage.

I thought I was her friend. I sat. Silence. No comment. No angry retort. No defensive speeches. Nothing. And as the newspapers called out the budget committee. As its credibility was denounced, my credibility disappeared as well. In her eyes, I was the worse perpetrator. They were white. It was expected. But I was, am one of her. I had betrayed the only bond that seemed to hold our friendship together.

I can’t forget. I tried to forget. I tried to redeem myself. But she has forgotten or perhaps never forgiven. I do not know. Perhaps I’ll never know. We don’t keep in touch anymore. We never spoke of the Incident. The Episode. It. We probably never will. And I’ll be in limbo. I need closure. I hope she needs closure too.