The Interview Comes Upon a Taboo Subject
It isn’t an unusual question,
and that’s a lot of the problem,
right? It’s jarring, brings me
back to my days look for a job
after being abandoned—yes,
I’ve got issues, and I’ll say it
plainly, without a hint of drama,
although perhaps now I’ll never
even know how true it was—after
being left for dead. (Oh, she is
such a drama queen!) I didn’t
die. It’s more about the time
frame you’ve given me that is
most triggering. Because, I
mean, everyone just got
weird and just slithered away.
Because I got weird. Because
of being abandoned, left for dead,
and all of my people just—pfft!—
evaporated. That’s my people,
still, that’s who I have, with
whom I now talk, party, dance,
play card games, go hiking,
gossip: vapor. The gang’s all
here! Oh, but look what you’ve
made me do, Barbara. And I
swore I wouldn’t. That was so
long ago. And the tables have
turned. But clearly it is still quite
meaningful to me, I’ll always be
so stumped, so confused, so hurt.
The more time that passes the less
sense it makes. Are people really...
this flimsy? Does the investment of
time, good and bad, intimacy, such
engagement, in the end, mean so
little. Thankfully, no. There are
exceptions. So how have I changed?
I can’t tell you. I was always a skeptic.
And I was always an optimist and a
romantic. And I suppose that I’ll
always be a believer. But I almost
gave up on humanity. How have I
changed? I’ll never give up again,
that’s for certain. And I’ll be even more
discerning. But to believe in humanity
and to believe in a human are two
separate things. I can believe in
humanity, but with individuals, in
the end, no matter how realistic,
how logical, how discerning, the
best I can possibly offer is hope.
