Page 7 of Am I the Only One

“Not everyone wears their emotions on their sleeves.”

“You’re right, but you shouldn’t be scared of them either.”

“I’m not scared,” I defend, even though we both know I am.

“Then what is it?”

My sadness isn’t something I want to show to others, yet she continually presses me to be more vulnerable. The thing is, I used to be able to drop my guard and expose more, but after losing my parents, I can’t.

I’m scared of opening myself up to only be hurt in the end. If there’s one thing life has taught me this past year, it’s that nothing lasts forever. One way or another, all relationships eventually come to an end, and I know all too well the pain that comes along with that.

“Like I said, it isn’t their life; it’s mine,” I state with a bloom of defensiveness.

She nods. “So, what are you going to do with your life?”

Looking away into blank space, I try and fail to hone in on an answer. “I don’t know. All I do know is that I want a better life; that’s why I came here. I want to be a media strategist for politicians; a respectable job that I would enjoy waking up every day to do. I don’t want all my time and hard work here at this school to be taken away from me when I’m so close to graduating.”

My words come out in desperation, and I can clearly see Mrs. Montgomery’s sympathy, which bothers me because I don’t want people feeling sorry for me.

When the hour is up, she assures that our standing appointment will remain.

Carly

It’s evident how upset and disappointed Emma is about losing her scholarship. If there were anything I could do for her, I would do it. But it wouldn’t be ethical. I just hate seeing her dreams being crushed right in front of her eyes.

I have two more appointments on the schedule today, and as the hours pass, the sky darkens with thick, low-hanging snow clouds.

“Jenny,” I call through my opened office door.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you go on before the snow gets worse?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I have a few more things to take care of, but then I’ll be leaving myself.”

Jenny gathers her belongings and pokes her head inside my office before heading out, asking, “What about tomorrow?”

“If the campus doesn’t close, I’ll email you and let you know if I’ll be coming in.”

“Okay. Be careful driving home,” she says as she wraps her scarf around her neck.

“You too, Jenny.”

When the door closes, I pull out my cell and call Tripp.

“William Montgomery,” he answers formally, which irritates me to no end.

“Yes, I know. Didn’t my name pop up on your phone?”

“Hi, sweetheart. Sorry, I didn’t even notice.”

His lack of attention, being purposeful or not, scratches through the soft scab the day was able to form over our earlier rift.

“I’m heading home in a few minutes. Are you still having that meeting later?”

“Yes.”

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