A Liberating Idea

Came another letter from my old friend Mazie:
So here’s a development, my girl.
Pat’s best friend, Georgiy, the Russian professor—lovely man, I’ve told you about him—came for coffee. He’s been having trouble in his family. His older sister is impossible. Georgiy says she’s hated him since childhood. Her last visit she went into his dining room and dumped his whole set of Tiffany silverware into her carpetbag, plumb snuck out the door with it.
I said to him, “What did you do?” Georgiy is very laid back. He shrugged as much of a shrug as he felt like mustering and said, “Nothing.” I said, “But—” and he asked for more coffee.
While I was making the coffee, Pat asked him, “When did you discover this?” Georgiy gave a half-chuckle. “The next morning. I was all set with my toast but then I discovered there was no knife for butter. Or fork for my scrambled eggs for that matter.” Another half-chuckle.
I brought over his coffee and asked, “What did you say to her? I mean—”
Nudging Henry away—our dear Chocolate has suddenly taken an interest in cream—Georgiy poured the cream into his coffee saying, “Nothing.”
Pat: “And when you see her again, what will you say?”
Georgiy said softly, “Nothing. I don’t have to play her game.”
Wow. It was a moment because Pat and I looked at each other across the table in what is called stunned silence.
Walking Henry, I thought about this in regard to Pat’s daughter. Sylvia, for weeks I’ve been fretting about what I’ll do when I see E next. Pat wants her to apologize for her tirade against me at the birthday dinner. No way. But now after Georgiy’s wisdom, I realize that when I see her, I don’t have to be cool or try to avoid her. I don’t have to respond to her past hurts or whatever she’s zinging at me now. I can be as warm as I feel–or as indifferent. Not only will I not give her any of my power, I will not go near her wicked game. I’ll be my own person. Let her figure it out.
Well, back to work. Isobel just called with an amazing assignment—someone’s thinking of remodeling the old Lobero Theater and they want me to draw plans.
Love to you, Bill, and Uschi from Mazie