Sam's Theory

by Sarah Mendivel

  “What are you afraid of?” Theory probed, not wasting time being gentle. She knew that I could handle harder questions now.

  I rubbed my eyes, hoping secretly that Theory and all of her questions would disappear when I opened them again.

  Nope. She was still there.

  I sighed again. “So, I’m different now. I know it’s in a good way, but it’s still different. Nobody really knows this new Sam. I mean, I barely know her myself.”

  “What part of you are you worried he won’t like?” she asked without missing a beat.

  I rolled my eyes, almost trying not to laugh at how easy it was for Theory to get stuff out of me nowadays. “All of the strong stuff.”

  “You’re afraid he won’t like that you’re more independent and less nice?” she asked, shoving herself into my head.

  “Yeah, basically,” I huffed.

  “Do you want to be around someone who doesn’t appreciate those things in you?” she said, almost defensively.

  “No, of course not. Well, but it’s Dodger,” I said, trying to explain my feelings for him without actually having to explain them.

  “I see. Well, it sounds like this friend of yours has always been a bit more than just a friend. And if he feels even half of what you feel for him, then I doubt the ‘new you’ will intimidate him much. In fact, I think he will be pleased to see that you are happy, healthy, and more capable of connecting with him then you once were.”

  I sat up in my chair, appreciating Theory’s optimistic perspective. “True.”

  “Well, what if the tables were turned? What if you saw Dodger tomorrow and he seemed brighter and more put together than when you last saw him? What would be your initial reaction?”

  This was an easy one. “Pff, I’d be excited for him!”

  “Exactly. So why would he act any other way toward you?”

  “Hm,” I answered.

  “Hm, indeed,” Theory said sarcastically. She paused for a moment, then offered advice. “When you start to change, Sam, the world around you will begin to change as well. It’s something that naturally happens. People fall into this trap of ‘wanting to change the world’, when, in fact, it is themselves they should be focusing on. You’ll see it when you’re back out there socializing with people. For instance, try being extra nice around someone having a hard day. You’ll see how quickly their attitude will lighten up. Ultimately, the only thing we have control over is how we react to the world around us. So, it is in your best interest to always chose the stronger, happier choice if it exists.

  If you lead, people will follow. When you start becoming healthy and happy, it infects everyone around you. Whether it’s the friends you’re about to meet at the lake, or a cashier ringing you up at the grocery store. Every bit of nice makes a difference. Trust me.”

  “Yeah,” I said reluctantly. “I get that. But I feel like there’s always going to be someone that hates that you’re happy.”

  “Oh goodness, of course there will be,” Theory scoffed. “That just means they’re suffering inside more than the others. If you stay consistent and just be yourself, eventually those people will come around as well. But again, it isn’t your job to save them. It’s just your job to stay upbeat for your own reasons, and eventually show them, by example, how to live.

  “People want to be happy, they just lose sight of how to do it by themselves. We learn by observing. So let them observe you being you. Never force anything on anyone, because it will backfire. But if you live with sincerity, they will see that and eventually warm up.”

  I thought back to some of the girls I met in rez, how guarded and angry they seemed all of the time. I never blamed them for it, knowing they had it just as hard as I did. But it got exhausting being in an environment where there was nowhere else to put the anger except onto one another. I wondered how they would respond to me now, if I just naturally became more encouraging around them. Or I wondered how different they would act if the staff there truly understood and cared about their experiences, the way Theory did. Staff always seemed too burned out to care about us fully, though. Why didn’t someone help them feel more important, so that they could make us feel more important? Who takes care of people who take care of people?

  Suddenly, I realized how much kids in general weren’t being heard. Why didn’t society care about kids as much as they needed to be cared for? Was it just easier to pretend that we can’t think for ourselves? Do adults really not understand how much we see and hear and understand? Why did they always think we were too young to get something? I knew full well when bad stuff was happening around me, no matter what age I was.

  Every single kid around me also knew what was happening, which was why they always “acted out”. I never understood why it was such a mystery to adults why a kid was screaming weeks after being taken away from their family. Why wouldn’t he be? Did they not see the rage and loneliness that lived inside of him? Was it that hard to give him a hug instead of punishing him for being disruptive? At what point would adults learn that we were a generation of broken hearts that needed compassion and patience to bounce back?

  No, it wasn’t that kids were too young to understand things; it was that adults were too scared of admitting what the problem was out loud. Kids, in fact, were just symptoms of what was happening with the adults around them. We, unfortunately, reminded them of the truth that they couldn’t handle. At what point would we get credit for being strong through all of it, instead of pushed to the side and ignored? All of this made me angry for kids and sad for adults.

  I never wanted to go back to that environment. I wanted to fix it and make it all better, the way Theory had done for me. I wondered if there was a way I could get to these kids and let them know that kindness and healing existed outside of the situation they were in now. Maybe I could write a letter or send some kind of mass message to them.

  “Sam?” Theory said from a faraway place.

  I snapped back into the room with her. “Yeah, sorry.”

  “What else is bothering you?” asked Theory.

  I fidgeted in my chair, not wanting to admit my hesitation about leaving the house. I knew I’d have to talk about it eventually though, so decided to just bite the bullet and try. I ran my hands through my bangs and made myself say it. “Mmm, I guess I don’t know if I’m ready to leave here yet.” I didn’t make eye contact with her, just in case what I said sounded ridiculous.

  “I can understand that. I’m sure branching out on your own feels a little intimidating after all we’ve done together,” she said, thankfully putting the words into my mouth.

  Intimidating. Yes, that was the word. I looked up at her, feeling shy about being so attached to her suddenly. “Yes, a little.”

  “You know you can always come back here, right? I’m not going anywhere.”

  A wave of relief washed over me. Hearing that I still got to keep Theory, even if she wasn’t around, somehow put my fears to rest right away. I just needed to know that she would still be around. “Oh, okay.”

  “Sam, you’re ready. You will be just a few miles away and you know your way back here if you need anything. Until then, you have all of the skills you need to do this part on your own. You have accomplished a great deal so far, no?”

  I smiled, feeling proud of the work I had done. “Yeah, definitely.”

  Theory smiled like a proud parent. “Yes, definitely. Good, then I will lay out some things you should have for your hike and let you rest up for tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” I said, still smiling. Hearing her confidence in my abilities made me more confident in them, too. It felt like Theory had lit a pilot light in me, in a space that was once damp and vacant. I had been given her blessing to leave and return. This must be what healthy love looked like. It wasn’t possessive or hurtful; it instead encouraged freedom and a sense of security, despite distance.

  “Come on, kiddo,” she said, getting up from her chair and walking toward the door. “Why don’t you have some
dinner so you feel ready for your big day?”

  “Yes, please,” I said, trying in some weak way to tell Theory that I loved her.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The sun burst through the windows of the living room, boasting of spring’s first official day. Today I would see Dodger again, hopefully.

  I felt ready.

  I rushed into the library, expecting to see Theory, but instead all I saw was a folded piece of paper sitting comfortably on my chair. I walked up to it, wondering if she had accidentally dropped something while organizing her pile of stuff on the corner desk.

  I picked up the paper, rubbing the thickness of it between my fingers. As I unfolded it, I could tell immediately that it was a map.

  “No way,” I laughed out loud, thrilled that Theory had finally given me the map to Lake Isabel that she had promised months ago.

  I studied the layout of terrain, noting a shockingly gorgeous array of detail sprawled out before me. Hand sketched mountains and landmarks hugged an ink-soaked trail that went from the tree house to Lake Isabel. On the bottom right corner of the map was a foil embossed compass. The prismatic letters of direction gleamed with copper tones in the sunshine. Studying the hand-crafted trail, I made out a sooty mass of rocks, two frosty blue waterfalls, and a fiery orange cedar. My heart stirred at the prospect of discovery!

  I peered out the window thinking of all of the things I might encounter. I tried to remind myself how much fun I had the last few times I had ventured outside. I had found the elk next to the river, built a fire in the rain, and discovered new hiding places. Despite the list of cool accomplishments though, the angst about the growling creature continued to nip at me.

  I folded the map down until it fit comfortably into my front pocket and headed toward the front door. I double checked my day pack to make sure I had all of my Lake Isabel hiking essentials: Theory’s hand-drawn map, snacks, a rain jacket, first aid kit, water, and my notepad.

  As I zipped my pack shut, I looked over the library. I couldn’t believe how much important work I had done in that room during the last few months. I almost didn’t recognize the person I was when I first got here.

  I had figured out how to be brave enough to tell someone my secrets, the things that I thought would always separate me from other people. I had risen to the challenge of defeating everything that had always terrified me. I had learned to use my imagination to get me out of hard situations and started to ask for help. I had become a stronger, better version of myself in that room. And now, I was leaving it, to see how I did with all of those lessons in the outside world.

  Yes, I was definitely ready.

  I threw the pack over my shoulders and clicked the door shut behind me. I took a final look at Theory’s house through the glass wall. Just because I hadn’t seen her this morning, it didn’t mean she wasn’t puttering around somewhere nearby. I placed my hand on the window and smiled, quietly saying goodbye for the time being.

  I was glad to know that at least half of the hike would be familiar since I had spent so many weeks exploring the woods around the house. Despite feeling braver, I leaned over to pick up a large stick to carry, just in case.

  I walked under a long canopy of pine trees, playing hopscotch with the dots of sun that landed onto the soil in front of me. It was the first time I had seen the ground this dry in weeks. The smells of the forest were different when it was dry outside; hints of bark and kicks of dust floated past me.

  As I approached the landmark of mossy rocks, I stopped for a drink of water. The shade was cool and I could hear the rush of the twin waterfalls nearby, remembering the growling again suddenly. Growing apprehensive about what might be walking in the forest floor ahead, I packed away my water and tightened the straps on my pack, making sure I was ready to run from anything that might still be lurking. With the stick in my hand secured for a fight, I walked forward. If little-me could battle Him, surely I could handle whatever scary surprises might be hiding in the trees.

  Rounding the corner, I was met by two gushing waterfalls. They were both tall and hearty, spilling themselves into a pond from several stories above. The falls slammed into the top of the water with such force that I wondered if they were a funnel for the world’s anger. Where else does the universe put all of the emotions and energy we create?

  Snap!

  What was that?!

  I crouched onto the forest floor instantly, readying my stick for a battle. I scanned the trees, but all I saw was a squirrel hopping from one branch to another.

  Snap!

  As the squirrel jumped to a higher branch, that one cracked too. Apparently this squirrel had been well fed during the winter, because the weight of his tail alone seemed to be splitting more wood than a lumberjack. I smiled and shook my head, relieved that the noise had been a false alarm.

  “All right,” I said out loud to get refocused. “let’s do the rest of this thing.”

  I made my way past the waterfalls and out of the thick clump of tees.

  New territory.

  The trail began to climb again, forcing me to use leg muscles I had forgotten I had. I’d spent so much time drawing and reading over the last few weeks that my body had gotten comfortable with sitting. I looked ahead now, trying to estimate how far I would have to hike this hard. The natural stairs made of roots and rocks made everything look like effort, so I decided to just grit my teeth and push through it the best I could. At least it wasn’t raining.

  I leaned forward, huffing through the last few steps that led me out of the forest completely. Finally I could make out the top of the hill, noticing that it was completely bare. Only the sky surrounded it.

  As I approached the ledge of the hill, another colossal, sun-drenched mountain rose to meet me. I leaned over the edge of the mountain I stood on top of, barely stopping myself from falling over into a canyon that fell thousands of feet into the earth below. My heart, still beating like a drum from the hike, now raced from the grandiose view before me.

  The other mountain was gigantic, blue, and still wore a tiny snow cap from the disappearing winter. A chilly spring breeze blew through my clothes, making the fabric in my pants flap against my leg. I took a deep breath of clean, mountain air and felt the call to adventure. I had the sudden urge to run and play, not knowing what to do first, but wanting to try it all. I lifted my arms out like wings and took it all in.

  This sense of absolute freedom made me think of how much easier it would be to just stay out here in the wilderness, miles away from any kind of contact with people. I was happy for the first time in my life. Maybe I would just stay out here. And why not? Would anyone even miss me?

  I thought of Theory living out here by herself, wondering if she felt the same sense of peace and liberty that I had right now. This landscape was something out of a movie. No wonder Dodger had talked so much about these mountains when we were in rez.

  Oh, yeah, Dodger!

  I wondered if he had been to this spot and seen the blue mountain, too. I decided I’d show him when he got here. Unless he was already at Lake Isabel? Either way, I should probably keep hiking.

  I took a final look at the mountain, letting the wind dance through my hair. Smiling, I realized that being alone might have been the safer bet for now, but being able to share big moments like this with someone you cared about would also be pretty epic. I shifted the pack tighter onto my back and set back on the trail toward Dodger and Isabel.

  The air in my lungs felt pure and reenergized my steps. I continued climbing over the ridgeback until the sun hung directly over me. I thought of Theory again, curious about when she last hiked this trail. How long had she lived out here? She must have had this entire mountain range memorized. I couldn’t imagine knowing every tree and river that intimately, although the woods around her house had started to feel familiar to me recently. I guessed it was possible to know nature the way you would a city.

  With my thumbs shoved under the straps of my pack, I noticed the ground
finally began to level out in front of me. My hike eased into a stroll, slowing my expedition down enough to catch my breath and pay attention to the buds of wildflowers around me. The trees grew further and further apart, leaving room for large meadows of grass and white rock to peek up at the sun.

  As the trees became fewer, the shade disappeared and I had to squint to see the terrain in front of me. I walked a few more minutes until the ground dipped into a small hill. I bent my knees and spread my arms to balance myself for the climb down. Despite my strategic footing, I still managed to accidentally slip and slide the rest of the way down.

  “Dangit,” I huffed out loud, dusting the dirt off my pants. Great, now I’d be dirty when I see Dodger. What a mess.

  I looked over my outfit and decided that it didn’t look so bad. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

  Walking away from the hill, still frustrated over the state of my outfit, I was startled by a sparkling blue light between the trees in front of me. A flush of excitement hit and I took off running. As I pushed through the branches, the beam of twinkling water welcomed me.

  “Wow, no way,” I said quietly. “Lake Isabel.”

  Settled into the subalpine basin of the Olympics was a lake so crystal clear that it created a perfect mirror reflection of its surroundings. It was small, yet just wide enough that a swim across would be challenging. Enclosed in a perimeter of mountain ridges and trees, far away from the rest of the world, I saw that Dodger was right; no one would ever find us here.

  Looking around, I spotted a massive spruce tree sloping into the lake from a nearby hill. I shrugged out of my backpack and walked toward the water’s edge. Small patches of leftover snow melted in the sun and into the lake, creating turquoise water. I kneeled down and ran my fingers over the surface, noting how cool it felt. Sleepy shells and wisps of green grass rested in the clay bottoms of the beach.