A Woman's Tears

... Adorn The Celestial Skies

In one of the first meetings I had with Mr. P., he made a remark on the way I treat the boys. He'd overheard my conversation with Germ about the dinner I was supposed to meet the Trinity for after my meeting with Mr. P.

You're quite demanding, was what Mr. P. said.

"It works this way," I'd explained, "I give in to the girls, so I expect the boys to give in to me."

Then Mr. P. had asked me about the bit about the girls, and I told him, "I just feel the need to give in to them ... Also, I'm terrified of their crying."

:::

It always starts this way: we become friends, we talk, she tells me her bad past and I feel all indignant about it ... and the desire to help her.

On Sunday, she sent me a text which said "something terrible happened" and she needed to talk to me because her best friend was in camp. Next thing I knew, she was crying on the phone as she told me what happened.

When we met today, more bits about her "bad past" (her words) tumbled out, and I felt I needed to help her - more than just shielding her, which I'm already doing.

But what really sealed it for me was how, as we dashed through the ferocious thunderstorm, she'd put her arm around my shoulder - as if she was trying to protect me - because I'd confessed I was terrified of the thunder and lightning.

That was when I decided I must help her.

But I won't.

Because, come once with tears, then twice, and by the third time, she'd have made me feel drowned.

Maybe that's why I myself don't cry: I'm a fish who's afraid to drown ... in water.

Still, there's always something about a girl in tears ...