CHAPTER FIVE
“Good morning, kiddo,” said Theory as she walked into the kitchen.
I smiled at her and nodded, still nervous about being in a new person’s house. I had decided to stay put this morning instead of wandering off into new rooms that could get me into trouble. I’m glad I did, because I had seen a flurry of wildlife outside the window while eating my toast that I otherwise would have missed.
“How are you getting along in the loft upstairs?” Theory asked in between sips of her tea.
I wiped my mouth free of crumbs and smiled politely. “It’s really nice, thank you.”
I had decided a few days ago, after our talk about James and Anna, that maybe Theory wasn’t so bad. She had been sincere in welcoming me to the house and seemed to always be asking about how I was getting along on my own. She never pushed me for information after my first day here in the printing press, which made me relax around her a bit more. After a lot of time reflecting in the very room she just asked about, I made the leap of faith to stay here a bit longer and see what might come of it all.
“Good, I’m glad to hear that,” she remarked, wiping the table free of her own mess. After a satisfied look settled into her face, she looked at me with a kind, yet cautious, look. “So, Sam, I was reflecting on the conversation we had the other day about your teachers and, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to revisit that soon.”
Wait, what? She had been thinking about what we talked about? I had automatically assumed she had forgotten about it the second we left the library that night. I had never known someone to talk about something in such depth, and then want to talk about it more later on. What else could she possibly want to know?
Her comment sounded like a suggestion, rather than a demand, so I let go a bit and gave in. “Uh, yeah, sure. What else do you want to know?”
She smiled. “Oh, lots! But, not right now. How about we make a plan to meet in the library later today at 4:00? That way you have the day to explore, or do whatever you’d like, and then it isn’t so close to bed that it keeps you awake all night.”
I was surprised at how much effort she had seemed to put into designating a time for us to talk. Because this was all still so new, I pushed through my budding anxiety and committed to a leap of faith. “Sure, 4:00 sounds good. Mm, should I have stuff prepared to talk about or something?”
Theory smiled bigger this time and shook her head. “No, not at all. You can let me lead. We’ll just chat about whatever comes up. Sound okay?”
This was sounding less intimidating. “Okay, yeah. Thanks.”
With a wink and pat of the table top, she stood up and began to walk out of the room. “Oh, kiddo?”
“Yeah?”
“Feel free to explore whatever you’d like.”
I studied her body language, wondering if she was testing me. But she seemed relax and her voice sounded kind. I thought back to the printing press, reminding myself that she never actually scolded me for being down there; rather, it was my own guilt that kept me away. I looked at the floor bashfully and shuffled my foot under the kitchen table. “Okay, thanks.”
“Yep. Have fun today.”
By the time I could look up to smile at her, she had disappeared behind the corner. I instantly wondered if I could find my way to the printing press.
It was 3:52 p.m. and I had been reading stacks of people’s stories for so long that my eyes felt tired. I had found my way back to the printing press and spent all day sifting through different titles of books: Lurie’s Last Lesson, Schamp’s Creek, A Thousand Oaks, The Trojan Ally. They were all written by different authors, each telling stories about personal struggles and triumphs. I couldn’t believe how many stories Theory had collected, wondering if she cared about each one of them the way she seemed to care about mine.
I took a final look around the room, estimating the books around me to be in the thousands. There was no way I would ever get through them all. What an incredible life Theory must have lived to have known all of these people. A clock in the corner of the room began to chime and I panicked about being late. “Oh, shoot!”
I dropped the book I was reading and ran upstairs, nearly tripping on it because of my fear of disrespecting Theory. She had made this kind offer to talk and now I was being rude by not showing up on time. Would she leave before I could get there? Would she decide not to talk to me if I was late? Maybe she didn’t mean what she said and would forget about our talk altogether. Either way, I should probably pick up the pace.
After making it up the stairs, I frantically looked to both sides of the hallway trying to remember where the library was.
“Gaaah, whatever,” I huffed and took off in the direction that had the most light spilling into it. After a long sprint down a hall I hardly recognized, I stumbled into the foyer. The round door to the library sat wide open and I stopped for a minute to catch my breath. Maybe she wasn’t there yet and I could get to my chair before she walked in.
Proud of myself for scheming up such an idea, I briskly trotted into the library to find Theory already sitting in her chair. A black curl fell over her face as she lifted her head to greet me. “Well, hello there.”
Her voice didn’t sound mad, but I approached my chair cautiously anyway. “Hi, yeah. I’m so sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find a clock, and then forgot how to get back upstairs, and then I thought maybe you had forgotten we said we’d meet, and then I don’t know what else.”
I wanted to crumple onto the floor and die. Why did I always ramble when I was nervous? Why couldn’t I just play it cool and pretend like I didn’t care about being late? I needed to work on that.
Theory smiled and adjusted the round frames of her glasses. “I’m not upset you’re late, Sam. But I am curious as to why you thought I might forget about our talk?”
I sat in my chair and caught my breath. I didn’t know how to answer her question, mostly because I didn’t know the answer at all. I don’t know why I always assumed people would let me down. I rubbed my forehead and cleared my throat. “I don’t know, it’s nothing. I thought maybe you’d get busy and not want to hang out or whatever.”
“Hm. It sounds like not many people have kept their word with you,” she said, watching me carefully for my reaction.
I looked at the floor, then wiped the knees of my pants to buy time, pretending they were dirty from whatever I was doing earlier. After deciding that enough of the imaginary dust had been removed, I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know.”
“Mm. Well, that’s helpful for me to know. I will be more careful with my words. But, as of now, here we both are, in the library at 4:00 to have our chat. So, it seems this one date was a successful one,” she said, all chipper.
I smiled at how proud of herself she seemed to be that this arrangement was working out. I couldn’t help but be amused by her optimism. I had no idea what we were about to talk about, but the fear of being late had definitely left my system.
“So,” she started. “what did you do today? Anything interesting?”
I hesitated about telling her that I had spent the entire day reading other people’s personal life stories. What if she meant I could explore the house, but not actually read anything? Was this stuff private? If it was, she never said anything about it. For some reason, maybe out of guilt, my eyes darted to a nearby bookshelf. “Mmm…”
Theory followed my eyes and used her hands to talk. “Ah! You did some reading today. What did you come across?”
I looked back at her, wondering when she was going to yell at me for something. Why did she always seem so easy going? Was it possible to get in trouble for anything around here? I scratched the back of my head and decided to chance the truth. “Ehh, I read a couple stories I found downstairs.”
“Oh, good. Which ones?”
Good? As in, she wanted me to read them? She certainly didn’t look upset, so maybe I was in the clear. “Uh, well, there was one about ‘Schamp’s Creek’.”
“Ah, yes, the humble hero.”
I thought back to what I had read, remembering that Schamp was a caregiver that dedicated her life to changing the fate of other people’s lives. I was impressed by her compassion right away, thinking that whoever came across her must have been just as lucky as they were to have met Theory. I nodded. “Yeah, she was pretty cool. She cared a lot about the people she worked with.”
“That she did, indeed. What else did you flip through?”
“Oh, um, well there was ‘The Trojan Ally’ that was kind of hard to finish.”
“Ah, that one. What about it made it difficult to get through?”
“Well, it was about two best friends that were separated by distance and had a hard time feeling close through it all. They had gone through so much together, but eventually time wore away at them. But they still obviously loved each other. So, I don’t know. It just surprised me how much people have been through, I guess.”
Theory smiled knowingly. “You’re right. We have all been through a tremendous amount, although some more than others…as you know.”
She bowed her head respectfully, quietly acknowledging our past conversations. It felt nice being validated. “Yeah, right. Well, every person in every story seemed to have some strength that got them through the hard times. Schamp had this sweet humor, and one of the Trojan friends was always logical while the other one was more spontaneous. It seemed to work in all of their favors.”
“Great observation,” she cheered.
I couldn’t help but smile at her encouragement. “Haha, thanks. I guess it made me wonder a bit if I had some of those traits, too.”
“Ah, yes! Well, I don’t want to blow any surprises. But, yes, Sam, you have all of those wonderful things, too. And so much more. It’s pretty neat, actually, that we humans have everything we need within us to survive and find purpose in this life. It’s all prebuilt into us; it’s just a matter of remembering it exists.”
“How so?”
Theory smiled. “Well, we are all born with a set of traits; things inside of us that make us human. These things can be the distinguishing features of our personality, such as conscientiousness, strength, fear, bravery, love, and gregariousness. Whatever the trait is though, it is something we are all born with. We are all made up of the same ingredients, you see, which is ultimately what creates a shared human experience.”
“So, like, we all have fear inside of us? And love? And the other stuff you said?”
“Absolutely.”
“But I know plenty of people that don’t show love, or the other stuff.”
“Well, mind you, not everyone expresses traits in the same way. For instance, it sounds like your beloved friend Dodger might have a tendency to be brazen and decisive. These are strong, even necessary, qualities to possess in difficult environments. When there is chaos or danger happening, it will likely be Dodger who will take an immediate leadership position to give you quick, definitive answers. Right?”
“Yeah, totally.”
“Would you say you are the same way when making a decision?”
I blushed a little thinking of Dodger, then discontentedly admitted. “No, not really. I take more time to make decisions because I want to consider all of my options.”
“Exactly,” said Theory emphatically. “which is just as valuable to do. You take your time making choices and then stick to the choice you’ve made because you know it’s the right one. So here we are: two different people with the same trait of decisiveness, but expressing it way differently. Why is this important to keep in mind?”
I mulled over the possibilities, but just kept thinking about how much more useful Dodger’s style of decision-making seemed to be. “Mm, I don’t know. I feel like my style takes too long. It’s not as good as Dodger’s.”
Theory held up a finger to pause my thought. “Wait there, kiddo. That is my point, precisely. There is no such thing as a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ trait; rather, it’s in how we use them. Traits are neutral bits of our personality, until we give them power.
“The ways in which you and Dodger use the trait of decisiveness are both important. When you think about how the two of you will work together one day, you will need both types of decisiveness to succeed. Dodger will be excellent in an emergency, obviously. He will be able to think calmly through the storm and make quick choices about where the group should go to survive.
“When the group is calm, though, and thinking about long term decisions, that is where you will shine. Because you are able to think about a problem from all sides, you will be able to make choices that will benefit the future of the group. In the end, the world needs both types of decision-makers. Does this make sense?”
“Yeah, definitely. Thank you,” I said, feeling slightly pleased that a part of my personality that had once bugged me now seemed to matter somehow.
Theory peered at me through her glasses. “What are you thinking?”
“Well, you said there is no such thing as a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ traits. But,” I scratched the front of my shoulder nervously. “what about someone who is an abuser?”
Theory listened intently. “Well, what trait would we be talking about?”
I searched the list prospects in my head, but all I could think of was “evil” or “mean.” I knew these weren’t traits, but an old anger rose within me that caused me to fidget in my chair. I finally sighed with frustration. “I don’t know? Someone who pushes other people around because they’re stronger than them, I guess.”
Theory stayed focused on the conversation, ignoring my sprouting escalation. “Okay, so, strength. Yes, well done. Strength is another human trait we all share, but again, it’s how we use it that makes all of the difference.
“Remember that a trait is neutral until we give it power. When we give it power, we can either use the trait to become a superhero, a common person, or a villain. In the case of an abuser, they have used their traits to become villains. Thinking about that, what would you say are the two sides of strength?”
Squinting my eyes for an answer, I let my anger subside to play along. “Umm…”
Theory interrupted to clarify. “What I mean is, how would you use strength to become a superhero?”
“Oh, well that’s easy. You’d use it to become a better version of yourself and help other people who felt weaker than you.”
“Good job, yes. So, with that in mind, how would you use strength to become a villain?”
I furrowed my brow, thinking of Him. “Hmph. By taking advantage of people weaker than you.”
Theory nodded her head in agreement. “Well done, Sam. So here is a perfectly indifferent trait that has been used in two entirely different ways. What does this mean ultimately?”
A light sparked within me and I felt empowered by Theory’s perspective. “That we have a choice.”
Theory came alive alongside me. “Ha! That’s right, Sam! Therein lies the most important part of this lesson: we all have a choice in how we want to use our traits. It is completely and entirely up to us.
“You have the same strength that He does, but you have chosen to use it differently than Him. You called upon strength to run away from a bad situation. You are becoming a braver version of yourself now because of it.
“You have used strength to look after your sister, to be closer to Dodger, and to share your story with me. You have chosen to become the superhero, instead of the villain. And, that, Sam, is life changing.”
I smiled shyly, surprised that I had, indeed, summoned so much strength to get where I was now. It felt a little exciting thinking about being a superhero.
Theory stood up from her chair and began to fiddle with a stack of books on the nearby desk. As she rearranged things, I began thinking of all the kids that Dodger and I would eventually rescue. I wondered how many we would be able to reach and what traits they would be proud of.
Before my daydream floated too far away though, the bug of reality bit. “Wait, Theory, you sa
id ‘give traits power.’ What do you mean by that?”
Even though her back was turned to me, I could sense her amusement in my continued curiosity. “Ah, that.”
She turned back around and held a small, blank piece of paper in her hand. “What is this?”
I looked at her confused, wondering if she had heard my question clearly. “Uh, a piece of paper.”
“Good,” she said, laying it in my lap. “Now, what could it be?”
I picked up the sheet of crisp, white paper up and looked it over. “Mm, an airplane. Oh, or a little envelope if you folded it up!”
Theory chuckled. “All true, yes. But, I know you can do better than that.”
I smiled confidently, accepting her challenge. “Well, if you used scissors to cut out a silhouette of a squirrel and taped it to the window, there would be squirrel shadows on the wall when the sun hit!”
Theory laughed louder. “There you go.”
Suddenly, the ideas came flooding in. I excitedly pointed to a whale carving sitting on the desk. “Oh! If you shredded the paper into tiny bits you could blow them over the whale and it’d look like he was swimming through a winter storm.”
Theory’s smile beamed through her laughter. “Haha, perfect!”
I folded the piece of paper in half and propped it over a map lying on the table. “Or, it could be a tent for kids wandering through the forest by themselves.”
The library grew quiet and Theory filled the space beside me. “Mm, yes. That, too.”
I knelt over, looking curiously through the opening in my tent. Ginger curves of a flattened mountain range rippled under the cleanliness of my folded paper. My mind began to build foothills around the tent and put fish into the maps’ waters. I imagined the tent living in its own universe.
As I was introducing a pretend deer into a developing forest, a single, glass-framed eye appeared on the opposite end of my tent. “Where did you go?”
I snapped out of my fantasy and stood up. “Oh, ha. Sorry, I guess I got lost in my imagination.”
Theory erected herself, too, and stood with her hands behind her back. “Mmm, your imagination. You seem to have a pretty active one.”
Sam's Theory Page 5
