I thanked him politely, now understanding something new: People forget. They forget the specifics of how things were, the whole messy story of what they did, or how those things might have affected someone else. And if I demanded that Suhadolnik remember things as I did? If I insisted that he apologize for how he behaved, or feel remorse? I’m certain the only result would be this: I’d wait forever. Some part of me would remain eternally stuck in 1988, threatened by someone who wasn’t even there anymore. I’d end up like Mr. Bitter, with his grievances and his sour stomach.
