▸ Column · Modern-day Earth in the Dragon Ball world, between tournaments — Goku reads his mail by the river before training.
GOKU replies.
The letter
My closest sparring-partner-since-forever, Renata, lost her mother six weeks back. Last weekend I was helping her box up her mom's things and I blurted out "well, at least she's not in pain anymore" — and the second it left my mouth I knew I'd thrown a wild punch. She went silent and just folded the same sweater over and over. I sent her a long apology that night; she wrote back "it's fine" with no period, which is NOT how Renata texts when she actually means it. Since then she's slow to answer, and Thursday she turned down our usual Thai spot for the first time in eight years. I'm sure she's pulling away. Do I face her head-on about it, or just keep quietly showing up until she's ready? I'm scared that pushing for a real talk makes it worse — but sitting back feels like I'm leaving my friend down when the bell already rang.
Goku replies
Aw, buddy. First thing — you didn't break anything that can't get fixed. You threw one clumsy punch when you were trying to help, and now you know exactly where you're weak: the saying-stuff-out-loud part. Heh, good. That's the spot you train.
Here's the thing about that scary conversation — the fact it terrifies you that much? That means it matters. That's a real opponent, not a little one. Don't run from it. But don't go in swinging, either. Texting "sorry" from across town is kinda like shadowboxing — you feel like you're doing something, but nobody's really in the ring with you. Go see her. Sit down. Say it plain: "I said a dumb thing, and I'm not going anywhere." Then mostly just be there.
Renata's not gone, pal. She's wore out. Six weeks is nothing — she got knocked flat by the biggest opponent there is. You don't write off a friend who's down; you stick around for the rematch with the rest of her life. Bring food. Show up at that Thai place anyway. You think clearer on a full stomach, and so does she.
— Goku
Frieza weighs in
Oh, Goku. "Go see her, say it plain" — of course the monkey charges straight in. You poor earnest thing.
Here is what your folksy friend missed entirely: the problem is not your unfortunate sentence. It's the long, grovelling apology you sent afterward, and the second one you're itching to deliver in person. You've quietly made her mother's death a stage for your guilt, and now you want absolution delivered to your door. How tiresome for her.
Stop crawling, darling. A being who keeps asking to be forgiven only reminds everyone there's something to forgive. Compose yourself. Show up useful and silent — or don't show up at all — but do cease performing your remorse. Her grief is not, I'm afraid, about you.
— Frieza
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