Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Lexi
“You don’t have to talk about it,” I say with my elbows resting on the desk. “We can sit here in this room for the entire hour in silence if that’s what you want.”
My head is still pounding from last night’s festivities anyway, so I’d be perfectly fine with silence.
“My caseworker said things will never get better if I keep everything all bottled up,” Camryn says, staring down at her hands in her lap.
A six-year-old girl with problems and fears bigger than any six-year-old should ever have to deal with.
Forced to grow up much too soon. “She says that I’m angry all the time because I hold it all in. ”
“Possibly.” She looks up to meet my gaze.
“Do you talk about what makes you sad?”
“Not always,” I confess. “Lately I’ve been pretty closed off.
I’ve been angry and sad, but all those feelings are natural.
It’s a timing thing, and only you Camryn will know when you’re ready to share what’s on your mind.
Only you can decide to invite someone else in to share those things that burden you. ”
“No one understands.” She looks down at her lap once more. “Everyone at school, the people I’ve met at the youth center, they don’t understand.”
“How do you know they don’t, if you’ve never shared your troubles?”
“They have parents, family, and I have no one.”
One of the hardest things about this job is seeing the heartbreak the children go through.
“What happened to your parents, what you’ve seen, it’s all life-changing.
How you choose to let it change you, that is all up to you.
It can drag you down, ruin everything and every possibility you will be presented with.
Or you can use it for good and help others, you can gain strength from those weaknesses. ”
“Is that what you do?”
I stare at Camryn, feeling like a complete hypocrite. “I’ll admit Camryn, lately I myself am finding it hard to push past the darkness.”
She holds my stare then shrugs. “So maybe we can both use this time to find ways to beat the darkness.”
I smile.
“I’ve never really liked the dark,” she adds.
“Me neither,” I confess. “I like your plan, sweetheart.”
“My dad called me sweetheart,” she says with a smile.
It’s the first smile I’ve seen her share in the several weeks she’s been coming in to see me.
“He bought a boat, I remember it was awful, with holes in the floor. My mom was so mad at him for wasting the money, but we’d spend every single night and all weekend, fixing it. He taught me how to fish in that boat.”
“That is a great memory, one all for you to hold on to.”
“And now you.”
“Yes, and now me.” My throat grows tight as I push past the rawness. I do something I rarely do, I share a piece of myself. “I lost my mom when I was six. She was traveling back from visiting with a college friend and someone ran a red light.”
A tear escapes me and I quickly wipe it away.
“The last memory I have with her was dancing in the rain a week before that. It was after midnight, and I remember her coming into my room whispering for me to come with her. We went out back, held hands and danced around, laughing. Neither of us realized anyone was watching until we looked up to find my dad sitting on the porch steps with the biggest smile on his face.”
“My mom did things like that,” she says with a laugh.
“Sounds like we both have great memories to hold onto then. I think maybe that’s what we should focus on and let go of all the hate and the ugly.”
“Yeah.” She nods. “That sounds like a good plan, I like that.”