Closure
When Laurie dumped Jonathon, he was crushed, and he kept it no secret. Soon his friends tired of hearing about it.
Jonathon’s desire to vent continued, however, and woke him up at night. He would sit there sometimes, like a child, his arms around his knees, and stare into the dark corners of his room.
The isolation was almost unbearable.
Jonathon began to slip at work. He was barely present elsewhere. Sometimes, during the day, he’d sneak off to try her on the phone. Or he’d go to the florist, have them send a bouquet.
Despite such efforts, Laurie was evasive about getting back together, and eventually, she stopped taking his calls altogether.
She had always been passive-aggressive.
Jonathon’s saving grace during those long nights was an image. He saw a rope. The rope led to a hole in the ground. The hole went some meters down, opened up into a small, earthy room. At the end of the rope was a small cage. Inside the cage was Laurie, squished, like a yogi in a box.
She swung lightly, back and forth, in the darkness.
She looked around, but could not see.
Screamed though no one could hear.
And, she could not, for the life of her, figure out how she got there.
She, after all, didn’t give him much of an explanation about it ending. So it served her right that she should be in the dark about this.
Sometimes Jonathon would see this picture of his, and sometimes even a laugh would escape his lips, piercing the silence in his room. Yes, this pain will go away, he’d think, even if this is the best closure I can get now.
Then he’d put his head back down on the pillow–and try to get some sleep.
Once, six months after it was over, Jonathon searched for her on the Internet. But this was the last time he did this.
Soon, during one spring cleaning, he threw out all of her old letters.
Then he joined a gym.
He became productive again.
Got a raise at work, a promotion or two.
Saved some money.
Got back out there.
Met a kind woman, married her.
They bought a house.
Had a kid.
He purchased some land up north, built a cabin, got a submersible pump for his new well.
One day, Jonathon sat in front of his computer at work, and thought of her, of Laurie. He nearly looked her up again, but, at the last second, he took his finger off the mouse.
Erased her name.
Be strong, he scolded himself. Remember how long you had to wait the last time you did that.
Jonathon then asked his secretary to bring him the phonebook. She knew, because Jonathon had told her, that he sometimes just liked the feel of paper in his hand. In fact, he preferred the computer, but this task required anonymity. He then flipped to the spot in the phonebook and, once again, verified the latest information.
On the way home, Jonathon detoured through a neighboring town. There, he stopped off at Kmart, bought the heavy rope using cash. Not credit–they can trace that, he thought…