We Used to See with Wide Eyes

I was sitting in my booth with my coloring books, hours before Brendon was supposed to show, but I had hung out all day every day here for so long that it was hard to kick the habit. I had always felt like I was waiting here for somethingand that if I waited long enough whatever itwas would happen. This was my place of solitude, save Brendon and Mac, the place where I could come just to sit and think. And in a lot of cases, remember.

It was amazing how much I had regained over the past couple months. Now, even the slightest déjà vu feeling could bring on a memory. The flashbacks were also less painful and less crippling; I could stay conscious and control myself. It was like real life was a black and white movie on a home TV in the background and the memory was a full color IMAX film.

But sometimes it's all too much. I sink bank into that self loathing stupor, and today is one of those days where everything seems to go be horribly wrong. Maybe I'm just coming down with something, I mean when there were no napkins at my table I almost burst into tears. I hate being emotional. I hate the guilt.

"Excuse me," a voice disturbed my thoughts. A woman, about my age was standing next to my table.

I jumped, managing to nudge the crayons next to my hand, so that they cascaded off the table in a neat row – like their own Crayola waterfall. I frowned, I had spent the past ten minutes creating a neat line, and now all that OCD-like behavior was for nothing. I tried to control my breathing, its ok, it's just some crayons.

"Here," her trembling hand holding a fistful of said-crayons was thrust into my vision, "I'm sorry."

I stared at it blankly. Realizing that I wasn't going to respond, she gently set them down on the table top and I could hear her slowly walk away. She probably thought I was retarded... great.

My eyes found her retreating figure, "Wait!" I called.

She turned slightly on her heel and after a moment's hesitation, walked back so that she stood in front of me. Her features were soft and feminine, and her eyes looked uncertain as I stared straight into them.

"Did you want something?" I asked, trying to put a kind spin to the question even though I was slightly bewildered as to why she was even talking to me. Maybe her table had run out of napkins or something… but then why had she practically run away from me? Anyway. My table doesn't have any napkins.

She opened her mouth to deny it but it snapped shut again, she thought for a second and then said, "I – I just needed someone to talk to… but I don't want to bother you."

"Bother me?" I repeated like a broken record.

Her hip jutted out as she shifted her weight, looking apprehensive. I could see her face started to darken with the hint of a blush and I knew mine too was starting to heat up from this tensely awkward exchange.

I was curious, personally, I had never felt the urge to go spill my guts to a complete stranger, but if it's what she needs… I mean, despite my own (yes I acknowledge it) emotional disconnect with people, I couldn't be so cold hearted as to turn her away. Most likely it was something melodramatic like she and her boyfriend had broken up. I can deal with that. Her hand flew nervously to her shining dark hair, cropped to chin length, nervously twirling between her thumb and forefinger as I studied her, "I'm sorry," she started, "It was stupid of me to even –"

"Of course I'll listen," I gave her a small hopefully reassuring smile, "You could sit down if you want."

She looked taken aback, as if she hadn't been expecting me to accept. Her mouth twisted into an almost frown, but then she took a seat across from me. I don't think she knows where to start. What would Brendon do?

"Now what's bothering you?" I asked gently, shifting my weight and clearing some crayons aside... mainly to avoid making awkward eye contact.

"Well," she began in a weak voice, looking slightly more at ease, "it's sort of a long story. You probably don't want to sit here…?"

"Just tell me."

She sat up, just a little straighter, "It's about my boyfriend… about last summer, his best friend died." I stiffened, I wasn't expecting this to be this… heavy, luckily she didn't notice and her voice strengthened. "They'd known each other forever, Spencer, my boyfriend, met him when he five. He's taken it really hard. It was really awful…"

She wiped at her eyes, adding softly, "I'm sorry, I knew him really well too… It was all of a sudden… completely unexpected, he got stab-" Maybe she thought that sounded to morbid so she amended herself, "he got attacked in a park with the girl that he was going to ask to marry him that night. She got out alright… but he wasn't so lucky."

She took a deep, quavering breath, her voice was thick with sorrow, "Everything's been so bad… he's not like he was before… I only have his old self back for a little while and then he's this person that I hardly know or understand. I love him so much, but I'm so afraid that I'm losing him… and I'm really scared that we won't be able to keep this together. I want us so bad but I'm not sure if I can do it… I love him so much." She broke off and buried her face in her hands.

I have never truly felt as much compassion for a human being as I did for her at that moment. I even forgot my own stupid insecurities. Yeah my life is messed up, but not quite to the extent that hers is. I'm not slowly losing my other half.

I didn't know what to say and I had the feeling that words couldn't suffice anyway, so I did the only thing that made sense. I slowly stood up and walked to her side of the booth, sliding in next to her and did something that surprised the both of us.

I hugged her.

Trust me… no one was more shocked than I. I'd like to think that Brendon's influence is what steeled me to do it. Or maybe…

I felt an arm slid around my waist and pull me into a hug. Finally. I returned the gesture and pulled him closer, aware that his shoulders were shaking ever so gently like he didn't want me to know. I sure as hell didn't care that his wet shirt was making mine damp so I held him close, comforting, until he was ready to pull away wiping his face.

…maybe she reminded me of Liam.

She flinched as my arms slowly snaked around her shaking shoulders but she relaxed after a second and hooked her own arms around to meet behind my back. Her cries were muffled in my shoulder.

"Shhh," I murmured softly, "Everything's going to be alright… Don't you worry," as I gently rocked her back and forth as my own tears fell silently from my eyes, "Everything's going to be alright…"

I felt slightly guilty, reassuring her like this, who was I to say that everything would be alright? I angrily pushed the thought away, why did I always have to be so pessimistic? Why couldn't I be more like Brendon? This girl was sobbing on a strangers shoulder, my shoulder, because she obviously had no one else to go to, I wasn't going to tear down her hopes… I wouldn't do that to her.

I would never forgive myself if I did. There were already too many things I couldn't forgive myself for.

She pulled away slightly, rubbing at her face with shaking hands, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to… I'm sorry."

I practically flung my arms away from her, "It's alright," I muttered, and my face burned with humiliation. I said mumbled something about getting some water and took the opportunity to flee from the emotions that threatened to turn my insides to mush.

I was very comfortable around Brendon now, but to any other person, I was that same weird girl who sat in the corner every day, doing nothing with her life. I still hadn't gotten back into the swing of having normal friendships, after all, the only chance I've really had has been Brendon.

I swept past a table, making my way towards the counter; I snatched a napkin from the dispenser and wiped away the tears and the smeared makeup so that the tissue was both damp and black.

As I slid back into my booth, safely on my side this time, I shoved a glass towards her. I was too violent though and the water sloshed over the rim making small puddles on the table but she didn't even notice.

She was composed now, face dry and excess makeup carefully fixed, but her eyes still held that watery, vulnerable look… but I could ignore that. Maybe.

Unfortunately, we were back to silence and I never know how to fill silences. Usually, I find that if I don't say anything, the other person will.

She dabbed at the corner of her eyes where more tears were threatening to spill over, "I'm sorry about that." She looked me straight in the eye, with dark eyes, not unlike Brendon's, "I don't expect you to tell me anything, I just needed someone to tell this to."

I found I did need to say something though, "Do you have anyone close to you?"

She looked confused.

"Like someone you can talk to?" I asked.

She shook her head, "Not anyone that wasn't involved in this or that I trust enough."

Interesting. That she would trust me, a total stranger, rather than people she knows. But then again, perhaps a stranger would be the one to trust, after all, who are they going to tell?

"Ok," I said, "One more thing. Why now? Why did you pick now to find me?"

One tear made its way down her cheek, "We just had a fight… or I don't know what to call it," she said, "and I… I don't know if I can go back there."

"You can," I told her, surprising myself with my boldness for the umpteenth time today.

"How do you know?" she asked, scrutinizing my face, her cheeks shining a little from the tears partially wiped away.

"Because you came here," I replied confidently, growing surer of myself with every word. "You came here, and you obviously care about this boy more than you know, more that yourself probably. You would throw yourself in front of a bus to save him, no questions asked. Like you said, you are so afraid of losing him because of how much he means to you… how much you love him."

She blinked and sniffled.

"You're right," she said softly, lost in thought. When her eyes snapped back to reality and she made eye contact with me, "Thank you."

I dipped my head and she slid out of the booth, I knew she didn't need me anymore.

"Goodbye," she said softly and turned and seemed to drift out of the diner. She would be alright; somehow I knew that she'd work it out.

I spent the longest time watching her leave, musing on what would become of her and this Spencer's relationship. Then it hit me. I didn't even know her name. It surprised me, I hadn't even thought to ask. Maybe that anonymity was good though. Maybe the fact that she was nameless would let me see her as myself. No my situation wasn't like hers, ok maybe it overlapped a little, but I could take the essence of her troubles and her solution and apply it to my own life.

Maybe, just maybe, Brendon was my me. If that makes any sense… He was the one who I should spill to, except he's not a stranger. I wouldn't be able to just walk away like this girl just did, and that's what I needed, someone to turn to who would always be there. I had to stay put. I couldn't run. I can't run.

I had always avoided asking about Brendon's little freak out and of course he acted like I never happened. But that was ok. He's entitled to his secrets, just as much as I was entitled to keep mine. But I'm ready to share those secrets, and maybe he's not ready to face them, or at least not ready to tell me about his. But I'm ready. I will tell him.

When Brendon walked into that door, the same door she left from, I thought I was ready to tell him everything. I thought I was ready to unburden myself. But I couldn't.

I couldn't lay all my fears out in front of them. I couldn't lay my troubles at his feet and wait for his pity. I couldn't get up enough courage to do what I needed to do. So instead I acted like everything was normal and muted the voice screaming in my head to tell him.

Yes. I'm a coward. I know.

As I sat across from him as he talked nonstop, and Brendon's voice was muted and my vision flickered. I knew exactly what was coming. The pressure in my head was intense and then -

I sat down in my desk, glancing left and right at the other kids in my class who were all silently writing. I had come in late, embarrassed, but happy. I had just been kissed by the boy I had a crush on, Bobby was his name, and he turned out to be more than just a fling. But it was the first time I had ever done anything like that and I felt the excitement of it all coursing through my veins.

As I looked around the classroom, trying to wipe the grin off my face and figure out what we were doing, Liam caught my eye and laughed silently at my expression. I just rolled my eyes and was about to silently ask him what we were doing when he shot his gaze back to his paper and started writing furiously.

Of course she was behind me. The teacher, I mean. I had signed up for creative writing thinking that it would be a fun class but the teacher was an absolute witch.

I turned to look at her, "Miss Maddox," she icily, "I expect that when you are late you find your seat immediately and refrain from distracting other," her eyes flicked to where Liam sat, "students from their work."

"I'm sorry," I said, fearing her wrath.

Her eyes bored into me and I had to lower my eyes, "You should be quiet. And writing about something you've done that's made you proud."

I picked up my pen and acted like I was going to write until she walked back to the front of the room and I looked back at Liam who smirked.

"MISS Maddox." I cringed as I heard her gravelly voice, making my friends around me snicker, "Are there any directions that you can follow?"

"Yes," I said meekly.

"Then you can find your way to detention this afternoon. Now be quiet."

My high spirits dampened I turned to the task in front of me, tying to keep Bobby's pretty face from popping up in my mind because he didn't really have anything to with my proudest moment. What was my proudest moment though?

A senior in high school, my life was painstakingly average. I've never done anything remotely heroic, and I've never done anything that anyone will remember me for.

I began to write, I, Parker Maddox, have not done anything that will go down in the history books as important. I've never saved the earth from catastrophic disaster. I've never even saved someone from choking. I've never saved someone from a burning building. I've never rescued someone drowning. I am as ordinary as ordinary comes, which is probably why I can't think of anything. How many ordinary people are heroes? Then again, I think someone like a single mother is a hero, someone who takes the times to visit their grandparents in a nursing home, or a teacher who deals with lower wages to keep teaching the children she cares about. The problem is, I've never even done any of these things. So, granted I'm probably going to fail this ten point assignment, maybe in the future I can try to be an ordinary hero, but I'm going to go ahead and say that I haven't done anything that I'm proud of. I just do stuff that I should do and stuff that everyone should do.

A week later I got the little paragraph back. The only comment was: You are only cheating yourself.

I got a zero out of ten.

Brendon's face snapped back into view and for the rest of the afternoon, my mind was not on the conversations at hand. Rather I was trying to work things out, because really, it's amazing what my mind can come up with and I have no idea how it works.