The Why Behind What We Feel

Chapter 7- I Have a Secret

"I have to know how you two know each other," Oakley smirks when Aspen joins us at the table.

"We're neighbors," I answer, clearing my throat.

"And I'm guessing, judging by the look on both your faces, neither of you knew the other would be here?" he laughs. "This is great. This was totally worth the hour of my life I had to give up for this meeting."

"It doesn't matter how or what we know about each other. While we're here, anything we say stays within the four walls of this room. I'm here to listen," I say, looking around at all of them. "To anything you've got to say."

"I've got something to say," Mary speaks up. "Why should we be forced to sit here and listen to a perfect, prissy little psychology major who has probably never had to question whether or not she had someone who truly loved her? Look at you. You're pretty, you're obviously smart, you've probably got tons of friends. You can't relate to us. You don't know what pain or heartache really is."

"Do you like it when people look at you and assume things about you, Mary?" I ask her. "Do you like it when they say things about you that aren't even close to being true? Do you enjoy judging people and their motives before you even give them a chance? Or is the reason you don't give them a chance because you're afraid they'll only let you down?"

Her face goes pale and her mouth falls open in surprise. She didn't expect me to say something like that at all.

"Let me start by telling you all a little something about me. First off, I lost both my parents when I was a baby and I was raised by my grandmother, who is African American. I've dealt with racism my entire life. My mother's family doesn't even claim me. I've been passed over for more opportunities than I can count because of the color of my skin. I've never had to question whether or not I'm loved, but once my grandmother passes away, that will be the one question I ask myself for the rest of my life. I don't have anyone else but her, so when she's gone, I know I'll be alone. Does that scare me? More than I can ever describe to you. Will I be able to go on? Yes. Because I'm determined to push through the pain and make my mark on the world, one way or another. No one in my family has ever even been to college, let alone graduate, and next week, I'm going to make my grandmother proud. That means something to me. Actually, it means everything to me."

"Well said," Aspen says, giving me a small smile.

"Can I say something?" the young Chris Hemsworth look alike asks.

I nod, motioning for him to go on.

"Well, my name is Walker. I'm here because my younger brother killed himself two years ago. He didn't leave a note, no reasons why...and..." he trails off, starting to get choked up. "I feel so helpless. So...useless. I could've done something, right? I could've been there..."

"Sometimes people don't reach out because they convince themselves that either no one can help them, or no one would be willing to. You can't blame yourself, Walker. Of course, if you had seen the signs, you would've done something. And I'm sure your brother knew that," I tell him.

He nods, wiping a tear from his eye. "His name was Andy. He was only thirteen. I don't know if he was being bullied, or...if something deeper was going on. He never said a word."

I swallow back the knot forming in my throat. While I want to cry with him, the best way for me to help him is to be strong for him, so he doesn't have to be strong right now. "Often times, they never do. It leaves those left behind searching for answers, wanting to understand why. Even if you never find those answers, you can keep your brother's memory alive by being vigilant of others."

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"If someone is hurting, be there for them. Even if you're just there to listen to them and nothing more. If someone is having a tough time, offer your help. There's little things you can do every day that have a massive effect on people and you'll never even know it. Right now, in fact, there's someone out there who was affected by your kindness at one point in time or another, and it got them through a really difficult time."

"That's bullshit," Mary mumbles under her breath.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, turning my attention to her.

"I said that's bullshit," she repeats with even more attitude than before.

"What is? That people are affected by your kindness?" I ask.

"Do you really expect me to believe that Walker has ever touched someone's life so much that it helped them through a difficult time? I mean, you don't know the guy, so you wouldn't realize what a dumb thing to say that is," she says.

"It's not a dumb thing to say," Aspen chimes in. "Just because you don't like Walker doesn't mean he can't be a nice guy. I'm sure he's affected plenty of people's lives, his little brother's included. Even if it was just for a day, or even just an hour, if Walker put a smile on his brother's face, then his brother was affected by his kindness."

Mary rolls her eyes at him. "We get it. She's your neighbor, so you feel the need to be her white knight here."

"Her white knight?" Aspen repeats in confusion. "If anything, she's my white knight. As a matter of fact, Sessy has affected me a lot with her kindness. She's changed the way I look at the world entirely. And maybe if you'd give her a chance, she could do the same for you."

I smile, grateful that he has my back, but even more grateful that he feels that way. It gives me the confidence boost I needed to make it through this meeting.

After our initial hostile encounter, Mary finally opens up to me and I learn that her twin brother died last summer and she's had a very hard time dealing with the loss. She's attempted suicide twice since then, but something inside her wants to live. I can see it in her eyes. She feels like her life can't go on without her brother, but the truth is, she's just afraid that it will.

Oakley, who seemed like a smart a*s at first, actually turned out to be one of the most genuine people I've ever met. He shared his story of how he attempted suicide after years of being abused by his step-father, but somehow, pulled through. He wants to believe that because he lived, he has a purpose, but life often gets in the way and makes him feel like he's wrong.

We run out of time before everyone has spoken their piece, but they all seem to be in better spirits than they did when they arrived here, and to me, that's a win.

I wait until everyone is gone before gathering my things and locking up the conference room. I start on my way back to my apartment, but I decide to walk the long way, passing by Congo Square and taking some time to decompress. The past hour of my life was probably one of the most intense ever. But it was real people, with real issues, asking for real help. Talking with them only made me realize I was meant to work in this field. I was meant to help people, even the most stubborn and closed off.

When I get to my apartment, I pause when I see Aspen sitting on the steps outside.

"Hey there, best friend," I smile, walking up to him. "Are you okay?"

He looks up at me and forces a smile. "Yeah."

I sit down next to him, knowing he's not being honest with me. He doesn't have to be if he doesn't want to, but I at least want him to know he can come to me, meetings or not, and I will be there.

For a while, we just sit next to each other in silence. I can tell there's a lot of things he wants to say- things he might have wanted to say for a while. I know he's holding back, but I also know he doesn't want to.

"You probably have a lot of questions now. Don't you," he says, looking over at me.

"I only have one," I tell him.

"Shoot," he shrugs.

"What is your favorite ice cream?" I ask, holding up the gift card Lizzy gave me for my birthday a few months ago.

He smiles, quite relieved that my question wasn't a heavy one. "You still want to go get ice cream?"

"Are you kidding? I've been looking forward to it all day."

His smile gets even bigger. He stands, reaching down to help me to my feet. "My favorite ice cream is Rocky Road. What's yours?"

"Butter Pecan," I reply.

"Ah, that's a close second for me," he chuckles, as we start for his car.

"That's funny, Rocky Road is my second favorite."

"Really?" he grins, like this news is the best he's heard all day. "It crazy that we have so much in common. I wish I would've met you a long time ago."

"A long time ago, I wasn't nearly this cool," I scoff humorously.

"Neither was I," he chuckles, opening the door for me.

We continue our light hearted conversation on the drive over to Baskin Robins, but I know something is weighing on Aspen's mind. He's a bit quieter than usual, but after what happened tonight, I can't say I blame him. He probably feels exposed- his deepest, darkest secrets that he's kept locked away peeked out unexpectedly, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

We get our ice creams and take a seat at the table nearest the window. I busy myself with my phone since Aspen isn't saying much. I don't want him to feel obligated to talk if he doesn't want to.

"You know, I think you did more tonight than Dr. Sturgis has done since I started attending those meetings," he says out of nowhere, causing me to look up at him. "Everyone talked more than usual, and it was because...you actually cared abut what they were saying. You weren't just...facilitating a meeting. You were truly giving those people a chance to open up about how they feel."

"Surely you believed me when I said I want to help people," I chuckle awkwardly. I've never really known how to accept a compliment.

"Everyone says that," he shrugs. "Everyone claims they want to change the world, make it a better place. I just watched you do it. You're not just talking a big game. You're the real deal Holyfield."

"What?" I laugh.

He laughs too, giving me a sense of relief. I still have no idea what Aspen's story is, but I don't have to. If I'm making him smile, then I'm doing my part.

After we finish our ice cream, we decide to take a walk through the streets of the French Quarter. The sun is just starting to set and the air is getting less humid. The soft breeze carries the scent of freshly made Cajun cuisine through the streets and makes the unforgiving heat a little more tolerable.

"Do you have any secrets?" Aspen asks me as we walk along.

I look up at him, furrowing my brows. That was kind of out of nowhere. "What do you mean? Like, secret secrets? Our like, imaginary friend when I as ten secrets?"

He laughs. "Either."

I take a second to think it over. "I don't have any major secrets. I've always felt like having a secret would be far too stressful, so I make a habit of never getting involved in something I would be ashamed of if people found out. But...there is one thing that I keep to myself."

He looks down at me expectantly.

"What? Do you really think I'd tell you?" I smirk at him.

"I don't want you to tell me, unless you want me to know," he answers seriously.

I nod, hanging my head. "It's not that serious anyway, just something that's on my mind a lot. Something I wouldn't want anyone else to know I think about at all."

"I understand that. There's things I wouldn't want anyone else to know I think about either."

We stop when fireworks begin shooting off in the distance. There must be some kind of sporting event or concert going on downtown. I look over at Aspen, noticing the way the hues of red, blue and yellow glow against his smooth, milky skin. I watch the way the sparkles dance in his eyes. This is probably one moment of very few that he actually looks relaxed and carefree.

I stand next to him in comfortable silence, enjoying the fireworks and appreciating the moment.

"Sessy?"

"Yeah?"

"I have a secret."