Chapter 7

For the duration of the next several days, Poison Ivy invested her time and energy into waiting. Up until recently Ivy begrudgingly entered the waking world each morning, reluctantly being severed from the sanctuary of slumber. It had been quite some time since Ivy could remember having a reason, a cause, for waking up. Now, with the rise of each day, she too, rose to await a response to her letter.

Neurotically, Ivy began to ponder whether or not Evelyn, her friend, would respond to her letter, or if those treacherous guards and Arkham staff had even mailed her letter. The waiting was excruciating for her, yet, in a certain sense, it was also rejuvenating. Although Ivy was privy to no mirrors, she could see within herself. Inside, she felt a slow, but marked change overcoming her. Returning to her was something long missing from her life; she had something to look forward to each day.

As a result, her eagerness for Evelyn's return letter was made unmistakably evident as Ivy hurriedly sieved through her daily mail. Obliterating letter after letter, Ivy relentlessly searched for an envelope bearing the name she sought. Despite her consistent failure to find a letter from Evelyn, Ivy curiously did not feel disappointed. Consciously, she found herself wondering why Evelyn's lack of response did not bother her. To the contrary, Ivy subconsciously hoped to never actually receive her letter for fear of closure. So long as Ivy never received the letter, then she would always be able to look forward to receiving the letter. In this sad comfort, Ivy nestled.

In an instant, all this changed. Rummaging through her daily mail one morning, Poison Ivy stumbled upon a letter that stood out from the rest. To her chagrin and matching intrigue, the letter was addressed from a Mr. Ray Adams. Hesitant at first, Ivy questioned if she should open the letter or tear it to shreds on sight. The man who insulted her and stood in marked opposition to everything she believed in now had the audacity to write to her. Concurrently, she also felt strangely interested in reading what he could possibly have to say to her. As her mind wrapped around these thoughts, she began to crave reading the letter, praying that he would try to insult her or quarrel with her again. This time, things would be different; this time they were not on a national stage with the unforgiving spotlight stalking her. If he was foolish enough to want a war with her, then surely she would oblige. Opening the letter, she began to read:

"Miss Pamela Isley,

I'm sure you are probably wondering why I, of all people, have written to you, but I felt it necessary to make one thing clear. When last we spoke, I did not have the opportunity to voice my opinion of our discussion. It was so refreshing to speak to someone with a mind of their own, someone who believes in something. My employees, employers, friends, lovers, they all speak through an agenda, not a voice. Everyone in this world is merely looking for an opportunity to strike, an advantage to exploit in others to further their own profit. They have no virtues or values; no passion. They patronize the pursuit of the almighty dollar and gluttonous father. You, Miss Isley, you are different. You showed me that you stand for something, and are not afraid to be different. In a lot of ways, you and I are alike. I know that thought probably terrifies you, but I wouldn't say it if I didn't wholeheartedly believe it. A lot of people don't care about the poor or respect them, much the same as they are apathetic to the environment. In truth, most people don't even respect themselves. I don't agree with your point of view and I'm not here to pretend I do, but I respect your resolve and more importantly, I do respect your point of view. I understand how difficult it can be to try and move society forward when it seems like everything is regressing. I know, sometimes it feels like, God I don't know, it's like, everyone just wants a persistence of time. No one wants a change. Sedentary life, in my opinion at least, is tantamount to a degenerative life. I also wanted to write and tell you that I am sorry I was so rude to you. I am a very passionate person, much as you, about the issue, but that's not an excuse for my behavior. I was caught up in the moment and my emotions got the best of me, and I apologize. I do not apologize or regret arguing with you, but I am sorry that I was, more or less, a big jerk.

Sincerely,

Ray Adams."