▸ Column · Modern Gotham, post-Joker Harley Quinn era — the letter lands with ex-psychiatrist-turned-anti-hero Harley Quinn, answered from her rebuilt life; minimal era shift from the source, with Poison Ivy cutting in as the botanist-villain rival.
HARLEY QUINN replies.
Replied to by Harley Quinn, with a rebuttal from Poison Ivy.
The letter
Close to a year ago I ended things with Tomasz after he mixed up the date of my mother's funeral — "got confused," he said — which was the last in a long line of me being the one who remembered everything, planned everything, carried everything. Last week he appeared at my sister Nadia's birthday dinner, her invitation, not mine. Afterward he texted me: therapy, growth, finally understanding what he put me through, could we ease back in together. And the infuriating part is — he was different at that dinner. Actually present. Phone down and left there. He remembered my coworker's name. I've spent eleven months building a life I actually like: quiet mornings, weekend hikes I planned for myself, breathing room I made from scratch. But now I keep circling the same two fears: handing that peace back to Tomasz and watching it crack, versus being the woman who threw away the one man who figured out how to be better. Is eleven months and a few good texts enough to gamble on, or is this just loneliness I've dressed up as something more reasonable?
Harley Quinn replies
The thing that jumped off this letter at me — and I got a doctorate, I read people for a living — wasn't "is Tomasz different now." It was: the woman who threw away the one man who finally figured it out. That one's doing ALL the heavy lifting here, cupcake. That's guilt wearing a trench coat and calling itself a reasonable question.
Translated from polite: you're asking if you're allowed to not care anymore. Like some court handed down a ruling that you OWE this man an audition for the growth he did — what? — for himself. Without you. After years of you carrying it all.
I spent longer than I should've believing a certain someone was "different now." Won't say the name — you know the name. There were flowers. Heartfelt paragraphs. The whole performance of finally getting it. And I had letters after my name. Didn't help. Because I wasn't asking whether HE changed. I was asking whether leaving made me the villain. That's the trap, sweetie. That's always the trap.
Maybe Tomasz went to therapy. People do occasionally improve — I've seen the studies. Not checking your phone once at a birthday dinner is something, sure. But it is the floor, not the ceiling.
Your quiet mornings? Your Saturday hikes? You built those. With your own hands. After carrying him for years.
You're scared you'll find out the quiet is enough without him in it. And that's already your answer.
— Harley Quinn
Poison Ivy weighs in
Harley's being sentimental again. Darling, the question isn't whether Tomasz bloomed — the question is who propped the gate open. Your sister invited him into your garden. That's where the rot lives, and that's where you prune.
A weed with a therapist is still a weed. He is performing presence the way vines perform beauty: breathtaking, right up until they crack the foundation. One attentive dinner in bloom tells you nothing useful. Watch what he does in drought. Watch what happens the first time you say no to him.
Close the breach your sister made. See if you even still think about him after that.
— Poison Ivy
▸ Read next