Listen to Her

The common rule was that stress and anxiety was meant to be expressed to loving and caring people, not total strangers. This girl on the other side of the hedge told me her secret because, despite knowing she needed help, I wouldn't. She didn't want it, she wanted my ears.

*Just listen,* Swani instructed me.

The girl took a deep breath, then blew a raspberry with a little giggle.
"It's only the beginning, but I'm already dealing with the same amount of stress I ended junior high with. It's like nothing's changed; for the most part."

I didn't respond.

"Let me tell you!" she said animatedly. "Yesterday, my mother told me about her friend's son who graduated high school with nothing less than perfect marks. She told me how she couldn't wait for that to be me, and I couldn't sleep last night because I kept overthinking about what'd happen if I didn't do perfect in these midterms."

I felt an ache on my knuckles, so I quietly played the air-piano on my left arm as she continued.

"I wasn't in a club or anything – ah, but my really close friend, Hanamaru-chan, is in the volleyball club; she's really good. I think she's in another club too! Anyways, with activities on hold next week, I expect my friends to hold study sessions instead."

*Kiyoshi...*
"Was that a bad thing?" I asked.
I ignored the caveat and thought an occasional question wouldn't hurt anyone.

"It shouldn't be, because tutoring others typically helped one learn the subject more...but it was different for me. I'd rather just study my own stuff without being asked to tutor others. If I could have it my way, we would all sit in a room and quietly study while listening to music. Of course, it'd never be like that."
She sounded frazzled, but strong.

Her tone was the product of an altruist who had to put problems aside to help everyone else so they wouldn't feel the same pressure of failing expectations. They way she spoke and what she spoke of were contradicting, but no one knew. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was a butterfly in a happy world.

But she wasn't.

"Durin' the study sessions, would you have to take your pills in secret?"

"Hmm," she pondered.
I could imagine her tilting her head with a finger on her chin.
"I haven't had to so far. I could complain about studying-related stress with my friends, but only to a certain extent, because I could play it off as a joke. I'd restrain myself from revealing too much by staying quiet until someone asked for help."

What a pain, I thought. She must be fatigued by havin' to keep secrets from so many friends.
I expected Swani to tell me to not think about it, but he stayed quiet.

There were plenty of times where the girl joined me in silence. I never questioned it because I figured she was doing homework, or something similar, and it had no effect on my own work. Since this had been our first "meeting" since making the promise, there was no precedent.

"Do you have a schedule?" I asked.

"Like, for taking pills? I'd become a drug addict in the future if I didn't have one. Should I be a drug addict?" she said outlandishly.

I exhaled loud enough for her to hear my disappointment. My index and thumb were pressing the bridge of my nose.
"Exactly what reaction do you expect from me when you joke around like that?"

I'm sure if we were face-to-face, she'd be examining the level of disappointment that was displayed on my face. Since we weren't, she must've found it easier to react in any way she desired. She was silent at first, then bursted out laughing, rather mellifluously than usual.

I couldn't tell if she was being melodramatic, or normal...or if those two descriptors were the same thing for her. I found difficulty in thinking she felt any negative emotions. That would explain her sanguinity she showed others.

Once she regained control of herself, she said, "I want whatever reaction you can give me. You're the only person I could make these kinds of jokes to, because you're special. Other people in your place would probably act of consideration, but not you!"

"That proves how selfish I am, not special."

"Fufu. Let's compromise and say my way of thinking is better, okay? I also think I'm special to you, am I wrong?"

"Most definitely," I responded quickly.

"Hmm... Let's compromise again. I think that you think I'm special as well."

I didn't think such a thing. I didn't tell her, but she didn't need to hear my denouncement of her compromise, since that would only circle us back to the start. I had only hoped she didn't really think I felt that way about her.

"Let me reiterate my question," I said. "Do you have a schedule? For what you want to talk about here."

"You conceded! Everyone knows changing the subject means you lose the argument. I don't have a schedule, so I just talk about whatever comes to mind. If there's nothing, then I stay quiet."

I reached into my schoolbag to pull out my flip-phone. An hour had passed since I sat down. This meant two hours were left before a teacher blew the whistle for club students to finish their activities. We didn't talk about her feelings any longer that day.

She hummed – what I assumed was – her flower song as I skimmed through random dates in the calendar. I tried to find species I'd seen before, like at the stone columns. I'd end up having to reread this calendar several times in order to remember any flowers.

I asked, "Is this how you want to end a three-hour session?"

"There's nothing wrong with this. If I spend roughly one half talking about my feelings, and the other half simply relaxing, I think I won't have to use the pills anymore. I won't become a drug addict!"

"That puts a lot of pressure on me, y'know?"

"All you have to do is listen, unless you want to get up and leave me in solitude inside the garden."

"I think it'd be better if you left me alone. You should try it."

Her response, unsurprisingly, was to giggle.
When I asked what she found funny, she said, "Your answer reminds me of a flower. I can see you relating to it."

She didn't tell me which flower she was reminded of. I flipped to the front page of the calendar and began gliding through the pages in an attempt to find that flower, but I couldn't. However, a date came to mind.

The middle of summer: July 17th: My birthday.

Morning Glory:
Named after their fleeting lifespan, they bloom after sunrise and die before nightfall that very evening. Their time in the sun represents unrequited or restricted love – a warning to cherish the brief moments when love is in reach[...]

My eyes flickered away from the words as I tried to process what I had just read. My mind originally thought of a girl in middle school, but I didn't dive deeper because it wasn't my side that was unrequited. I then thought of another person, but I didn't know what she looked like.

I closed the calendar, but my thumb was tucked between the cover and the first page. I mentally told myself to pull my thumb away, but instead, I lifted it upwards to open the calendar. I read the name written inside once again. Something felt odd.

This girl and I met before and knew some things about each other already, but this was pretty much the first instance of us spending time "together." For three hours, she displayed an impression far from anxious and depressed, yet her words couldn't have been closer to it. I knew she needed help, but I wasn't meant to act.

Starting that day, I found it harder to believe that simply listening would be enough.

My ears twitched as the silence was broken by a teacher's whistle blowing on the other side of the gym buildings. This was the signal that our time was over. I closed the calendar – for good this time – and placed it delicately on the grass.

I stretched my back until some cracks were heard. I told the girl I'd leave first again, then stood up.

She said, "Y-You might be seeing me more often in the next few weeks."

"That might be difficult since club activities will be suspended next week. The time available after school will be only an hour long, for studyin' at the library."

She didn't answer immediately.
"Th-There's one way to get an expansion on that time..."

Personally, I didn't want an expansion. The less, the merrier.
Saying that, I asked, "How's that?"

She maundered, "W-Well... W-We could potentially, um, join the environmental club...perchance?"
She became as quiet as a mouse, and said it like a question because she knew exactly what my reaction would be.

*"What?!"* Swani and I shouted in unison.
I turned around sharply and stared at the hedge that uttered the baffling suggestion. All I heard was a nervous "Eh-heh" from her. She was serious about this, because she'd be laughing hysterically if she wasn't.

A million responses came to mind, but I didn't know which one I would verbalize.