The other day, a neighbor, whom I assist with house chores, called about some missing diamonds. She subtly implied the possibility that I had been in her house and taken them. My parents were furious. They gathered that she, an old woman on psychotic medications, could call the police and possibly (long-story-short) ruin my life.
So I wrote her a strong letter. It was straightforward and cold. In it I returned her keys and said, “I will no longer assist you in the future. Please seek assistance from my mother or father.”
WIN!
Her friends were at her house when she read it.
This morning she left a hysterical message saying my mother had it all wrong and she didn’t mean to accuse me.
She sent her dying friend over to speak to my mother.
I called her and expressed my embarrassment and misunderstanding. She cried and avoided prolonging the conversation. Although she’s forgiven me, I don’t know the next step in all this. Hopefully time heals this mess.
The way I responded was rash, but I was only being honest. I don’t feel guilty. I feel really sorry, though.
