Unforgiven

"It is one of the beautiful compensations of life that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself."


--Ralph Waldo Emerson

American philosopher/poet


Sorry, Ralph. This time, I disagree.

I received an e-mail message yesterday from Nick. You remember him, Ms J. He's an acquaintance of mine whose inattention and thoughtlessness caused my dismissal last November. He was playing with his cell phone as our train approached a red light. He missed the platform and over-ran the signal.

Nick had been suffering emotionally over the loss of his marriage, but despite my offer to help, continually moved toward self destruction. He drank. Used drugs. Chased whores. Nick just generally behaved in a reckless and irresponsible manner. I was warned not to get too close to him.

"He'll drag you down with him," I was told. But I didn't listen. And eventually, he got me fired from my job.

I haven't spoken to him since, although he lives just up the street. I was really struggling to forgive him. The past few weeks, have seen my heart soften a little. Not much, mind you, but a little. I knew I must soon forgive him, Ms J, if not for Nick, then for myself. After all, I am back to work. Nick is not. Then I received an e-mail. Brief. And to the point.

"Are you ever going to speak to me?"

Now, if he'd just left it at that, I might have replied. I might have replied immediately and begun the process of rebuilding a relationship with him. But he followed with:

"Your maturity level is off the scale."

Clearly, Nick is still unrepentant. And angry. And abusive. If he'd approached me with an air of humility instead of insulting me, I'm sure I would have tried to restore our relationship.

But he didn't. So I won't.

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