Three Act Tragedy

Act I.
Mr. Wu snapped: “how old are you?” The young man named a figure. “I have been living here twice as long. As a matter of fact, I was born here,” he said. Mr. Wu was working as a cashier in that San Francisco Chinatown store. His strong accent had prompted the innocent question at which he appeared to have taken offence. (He had heard it before, apparently.) Living all his life within confines of his community, there had been little need to use a lot of English (and this was not his regular job). A good man, no doubt. A provider, responsible community member, churchgoer, and every other activity one could imagine, no doubt. A moral person, even a model citizen perhaps – and so confined within his cocoon. His face reflected a mixture of a little annoyance but also something else. Does (did) he wonder whether he may have missed on something? Did anyone really see the uncertainty? Is it even a fair question to ask anyone?

Act II.
J was a grad school roommate for a short time, but they became good friends and kept in touch. They would talk endlessly about everything under the sky. J found a decent job and moved into a next door apartment. Their paths began to diverge, but they met occasionally. They would go out for pizza. He was introduced to the new friend K, an affable fellow. One day J told him he was thinking of rooming with K who lived about thirty miles away. Surprised, he asked why anyone would want to add sixty miles of commute time to the workday! J looked uncertain. He appeared to be on the verge of saying something, hesitated and appeared to change his mind. Then, in a different tone he began to explain how it would help K out, how K was having problems meeting his payments, and so forth. There was something different about J now. A door suddenly had sprung up where there was no door before, and it appeared to close very quickly. He inexplicably felt like he was on the outside. Time passed. J changed jobs several times, but lived in the same house with K. They were very attached to their two dogs. That house was no empty nest. He met them rarely. The last time he met J, K had passed away after a long sickness. Geographically, they did not live very far, only their worlds were different! Is it fair to make guesses about people based not only on what they do, but also based on what they fail to do? Also, is it possible to do everything right in one’s own mind and still fall short because one didn’t understand more than what one was told?

Act III.
Mrs. C would invariably stop him just as he headed out the door - “don’t forget, the rent is due tomorrow.” She knew he never forgot to pay, and also knew that he knew that she knew. They both had the routine down pat! “By the way, how are things at school?” He would pause - guessing he needed to take a later bus (had no car back then). She did not really want an answer. She never waited for an answer. That wasn’t even a question, just an opening. She would talk about the weather. She would talk about her neighbors. She would talk about her family members in distant cities. She would talk about politics. She would talk about days gone by – the good old days! He sometimes wondered how she spent the whole day alone in front of the TV set, with all those thoughts and memories whirling inside and nobody to tell to. One can accumulate a lot of memories over seventy-six years. One day, she was fixing some books on the shelf and a faded old black and white picture slipped out and fell to the floor. She quickly picked it up and put it away. She glanced through a corner of her eye to assure herself that nobody saw. He pretended that indeed he had not seen the image of the beautiful, slim lady in swimsuit on the beach, surrounded by the beaming family members (wondering where they all went). That was the only time she was quiet, with a never-seen-before look (and never-seen-after, too). Eventually, he could not afford her increased rent. He visited her occasionally afterwards. She never found another steady or likeable tenant. Mostly, the tenants would leave inexplicably (according to her) after a short stay. There used to be uncertainty and regret in her voice. A year later, he went for another visit. Nobody was home. It was the same house with an unfamiliar look – that of being unoccupied. As he peered in, he could still picture her in front of the (now missing) TV set. She would have been close in age to his late grandma. He never went there again. He never went to that part of the city again.

(Note: first posted on May 4, 2005.)