“You have to stop giving everyone a piece of you.”
She was in a very serious mood, despite dancing barefoot around the silo.
“I don’t understand.” I said to her. I was watching the way the hem of her school uniform spun and lifted up her bare legs.
“They use you up, tear strips off your soul, and you let them, just so they’ll leave you alone. You have to stop giving yourself to them, and start taking. Or there’ll be nothing left.”
I sighed. Watching Amy move was mesmerizing. She flowed like water around the circular room atop the silo.
“Why can’t they find happiness all by themselves? I just want them to leave me alone, let me be me. Like you do.” I said to her.
She stopped so suddenly in front of me I put my hands up. She dropped to her knees in front of me and leaned forward so our noses were inches apart. Her hands rested gently on my casts.
“You can be you without losing any of you. I don’t consume you. Or do I?” she asked breathlessly.
I looked at her, really looked at her. I stared into her eyes, trying to find meaning there. It was like staring into grey-blue pools deeper than the universe. The deeper I looked, the deeper they seemed to get. My heart raced.
“No. I don’t think you do.” I finally answered, “but you’re different.”
She smiled sweetly and nodded her head emphatically.
“You bet I’m different. As different as you.”
If nothing else, my visits to the therapist had made it abundantly clear to me that Amy was my only friend. I hadn’t been able to supply any others for his scrutiny. I watched her as she jumped up and resumed her dance across the floor.
“I don’t want to be different. I just want to be happy.” I said.
She stopped one more time, cocked her head and turned to me.
“You’ll never be happy till you reach out and take it.”