“There is purpose in suffering.” He leans against the counter as I prepare my tea. “It wasn’t so much that I was caught up in your story, not that I wasn’t invested.” He adds, “Just … more that I wanted to make sure I told you that.”
“Mr. Dwell-in-your-emotions thinks there’s purpose in suffering … how am I not surprised by that?” I offer wryly but with a semblance of a smirk.
He takes his time, his heavy footsteps careful as he takes a seat at the small table. After a moment, I join him, letting the tea steep and watching the steam billow.
Since Zander didn’t tell Damon, I don’t want to confess that I cried last night. But I wanted to get these thoughts out of me. I need someone else to take them. “I don’t often feel scared. But I do now. It’s alarming how scared I am.”
“Why do you say that?”
“At one point in my life I had so much to lose, and yet, there wasn’t much at all that I was afraid of.”
Speaking the words out loud makes so much of it real. I’m scared. Maybe I’m just as scared as I am upset.
“There was a time that I was scared to be hated. Then someone told me if there aren’t people out there who hate you, then it’s because no one knows who you are. People with viewpoints are hated; my favorite people are demons in someone else’s story. Don’t you want to be someone who is known for what they believe in?” I recall the conversation I had, but I don’t even remember who gave me the advice. “That’s why I wanted it all out there. It’s why I love that I got to share my life. I was hated, but everyone knew damn well what I believed in and I found the people who wanted the same in life.” Peeking up at Damon I tell him, “I remember I wasn’t scared anymore after that. Not like I was.”
“But you’re scared now?” he asks and my throat dries as I nod. I confess in a whisper, “I’m terrified.”
“What are you scared of?”
“I haven’t shared much in a long time.”
“Kamden said you’ve started, though,” he comments, his voice hopeful.
“Only two posts.”
“It’s something.”
“It is.”
“So you want to share more and you’re scared of that.”
“Not of sharing per se … scared of not sharing where I stand. It’s just … it’s complicated.”
“What are you afraid of now?”
“It feels like I have so little left.”
“In this big house?” he jokes in a calm, comforting way. I know he’s got a smile on his face and he’s watching me, but I can only watch the billowing steam.
In my silence, he presses, “Money?”
“No … money is fine. It comes and goes, but money is fine. … It’s just there are things that I want to talk about, and I’m afraid if I share it with them …” I can’t bring myself to say it, but somehow I do. “If I share it, somehow they’ll make it hurt. They’ll make that little piece that means so much, become insignificant and then there won’t be anything left at all.”
“Well, you know no one has control over you. Only you do. You can only control yourself.”
Nodding, my response is cracked when spoken. “I know.”
“Maybe you should keep some things to yourself. It’s not a bad thing. You don’t owe anyone anything.”
“It feels selfish in a way.”
“Protecting yourself isn’t selfish.” Damon’s adamant, but so is my phone that buzzes with a new text. The cement block that it is, opens to reveal a simple question.
“Everything okay?” Damon asks when I go quiet.
“It’s just Kam. He wants to have a meeting soon.” Toying with the phone I add, “He asked me when I’m free.”
“And that upsets you?” he asks, gauging my solemn expression.