The elusiveness of full closure

After this most recent “reunion” with Pete I had got to thinking about some of the things he had said. Some were a rehash of what I was told long ago by him, but other insights were new. I really got to understanding just how unlikely of a monster he really was. In some ways my first impression of him was not unlike my first impression of the Key Bridge. One was an evil ghoul who launched an unprovoked attack on me one summer evening, and the other was the steep and treacherous highway from Hell that I would have to drive over to get where I was going. And I would have never run across either monster had I stayed in familiar territory and not gone off exploring. But luckily with both monsters I was given a second chance, an opportunity to revisit both of them. Thus I was able to reappraise my initial judgment and come to the realization that my first impressions were far off base. Pete could have easily slammed me down to the ground, punched me, kicked me or struck me. He could have seriously injured me, or worse. He had the perfect chance to wrestle and pin me to the ground, and hold me there. But he hesitated and let go, allowing me to escape and run to the house across the street. I suppose something bad could have happened on the Key Bridge as well. I could have blown a tire, or had the engine stall out (as that old car was wont to do), or got in an accident. But none of those things happened.

When I reunited with Pete I saw that he was just an ordinary person who was struggling to deal with a bad situation. Someone who reluctantly tried to accost and stop a thief. The Key Bridge was just part of an interstate freeway, an elevated portion of roadway spanning the Patapsco River. My “reunion” drive across it allowed me to see it as just that, a bridge. The only difference was of course that the Key Bridge was still sullied from my point of view by death of that jumper. That was (and is) a separate issue from my initial unfounded assumption that driving across it was going to be scary.

As the summer turned to fall, election day finally rolled around. My mom and I got ourselves together to head to the polls, and I was still a bit nervous. Even though I knew Pete wasn’t out to get me, I still had reservations. And I had yet to interact with Lilly. This time the line was a bit longer, as this was the general election. As we inched forwards, I peered into the gym, searching for Pete and Lilly. He was nowhere to be found, nor was Lilly. Perhaps they had been on duty earlier in the day and had left. So I went to cast my vote, and as I waited outside the gym for my mom to finish, I saw a familiar face. It was Lilly! There she sat, checking people in as they approached the tables. She must have taken a break when I first got there. I could not help but stare at her, wondering if she’d look up and see me. I would have glanced quickly away had she done so, but she never did. Again, a face I’d never forget. One that was older, and more harsh looking, accented by overdone black eyeliner and mascara. No Tammy Fay Baker look, but way more makeup than I remember her wearing the first time I saw her. Oddly enough her hair was in that same (now retro) 1980’s looking style that it was when we first met. In a way I was glad that she did not see me, as I had no doubt she would have transfixed me with a hard glare. Well, assuming that she recognized me and knew who I was. I kept glancing at her, on and off, until my mom was done voting and was ready to leave. With that, I turned and walked away, and that was the last time I ever saw Lilly. It wasn’t the full closure I was hoping for, but perhaps it was the best I would be able to get. I did get to see her, but in a way that I did not need to interact with her. As said, if I am ever made aware of her death, I’ll place an olive branch upon her grave. Clearly she will likely never have closure, as she still holds that hatred of me in her heart. But at least I will have some.