TO: "Betsy Braddock" FROM: "Henry McCoy" <hmccoy@college.ucla.edu> SUBJECT: I was going to write this in a letter, but then I realized I didn't know how long you'd be in abroad...
Dear Elizabeth,
I'm afraid the hotel has been rife with a particularly bitter brand of unrest since you've been away. Moreso than usual, I mean. Perhaps it's the peculiarly faceless nature of our manifold foes that's making everyone turn inwards, on one another. Perhaps people are simply more anxious when things are quiet. I have a creeping feeling that I'm contributing, somehow, that intervening in fights may simply be making things worse. There must be a way I can make myself more accessible, more helpful to the residents here, beyond the limited way in which I've operated thus far. Lecturing distantly about science and mutant rights on public radio clearly doesn't do much to quell our immediate problems, and I can't pretend to know what many of these young people have been through outside the bullying and other-ness surely we've all shared. I wish I knew what the root of it all was; I'd feel a bit more like I was grappling with a tangible enemy, rather than running around at the edges of things, putting out smaller blazes.
But I suppose that's what we all want. Something identifiable. Something solvable and discrete.
The thing of it is, I've been sitting here in the lab for hours--days--, my head in my books, and I can't help but think of you. The world seems more dire than ever as far as our unity is concerned, and I like to think I do my part in keeping us all together, but I can't place myself outside the circle of blame in my own head. After all, I've pushed you away. I was hurt and aghast, certainly, but there's no excuse for the way I handled the situation. Cutting myself off from you, and refusing to listen when talk might have healed all wounds--I regret it, more than I can say.
You never asked me to lie. Your heart was no doubt in the right place. And in the end, you took steps to solve the predicament in the way you saw best. I don't know how I can be angry you for what you did; as much as I must conscientiously disagree with the way it was handled, I can't say I don't understand. Quite the opposite. Your heart--your kindness--has always stricken me full of awe, and nothing about that has changed.
Most important is how much I miss you. Please forgive me.