Sam's Theory

by Sarah Mendivel

  I grabbed the front of my hoodie with both hands and squeezed tightly, hoping that it would be secure enough to hold me in place while I opened my eyes back up to confess. “Fear.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I took a bite of my sandwich and melted into the back of my chair. It was nice having a break finally. I sat and watched the branches gently wave in the breeze outside, wondering how I had made it this far.

  Theory sauntered into the library with her own food, taking up the space around us with calming grace. “How are you doing?”

  “Better, thanks,” I said, appreciating her check-in. I started to think about our conversation earlier, trying to parse the memories that came along with them. The more I worked to remember specific experiences though, the harder it was to recall the details of them. My brain seemed to always be broken and made me feel incompetent, as if it took immense satisfaction in making fun of me.

  “Theory?”

  “Yeah, kiddo?”

  “Why is it so hard to remember stuff sometimes? Like, there are whole parts of my life I can’t bring up,” I admitted. I felt more open to talking, now that I had had some space to reflect and a meal to reenergize me.

  She looked at me with kind eyes, then turned toward the corner table to set her food down. “Well, do you know how memories get stored in our brain?”

  I shrugged my shoulders as I ate, not quite willing to give her all of my attention again.

  She smiled, shook her head, then began lighting candles around the room as she talked. “Well, we typically only remember something that has a strong emotion attached to it. This might come as some surprise, but our brains don’t actually care about the details. They really only care about feelings.”

  I chewed on the last of my bread, trying to make the connection between feelings and how they determined what I would ultimately be able to remember. Theory turned around to investigate as to why I hadn’t responded to her sentiment yet, then realized I was still eating. “Ah, I see. I caught you with your mouth full! Well, while you mull over that idea, I can explain more about what I mean.”

  I nodded my head, please that she was doing all the work for once. She lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head. “So, most of us remember the first time we learned how to ride a bike, right? Now, we don’t remember it because of the specific mechanics of our feet or the velocity of our movement, rather this experience is ingrained into our memory banks because of the nervousness and anticipation that came with being wobbly on our first try. And then, the memory was solidified by the freedom and excitement that came when we took our first peddle independently!”

  I smirked a bit, remembering the rush of my first bike ride; how I had successfully flew down the sidewalk for the first time on my own. It was one of the few happy moments I could force to the surface from my childhood, or lack thereof.

  Theory continued. “Or, the first time we crashed our bikes, and the pain and bruising that it may have come with. It likely taught us to ride more cautiously the next time. You know, perhaps with a helmet.”

  She winked as I chuckled and sat back in my seat. The leather whined and conformed to my slumped posture.

  Theory lightly waved her hand over a candle flame, guiding the tiny stream of smoke away from where our chairs sat. She readjusted the ceramic dish the candle sat in and lingered in thought before rejoining me in her chair.

  She then looked at me studiously. “Human beings aren’t meant to live life in the details, Sam. When you look back on your life, no matter what experiences you have, you will remember the way they made you feel, not the details of what caused them.

  “This is why it is so important to treat people with kindness at all times. Because, they won’t remember what question you missed on exam, or what shirt you tried to wear to fit in, or what idiot stunt you opted out of after school one day. They will remember that you were funny and laid back. They will remember that you were the one that accepted them and made them feel seen. I mean, that is all anyone ever wants, after all.

  “The same will be true of when you grow up and start working. The memory of emails and meetings will dissolve with time. Those things are insignificant in the long run. The feeling you get from your coworkers, though, will continue. The impact you make, the legacy you leave, will be what matters most.”

  I sat quietly absorbing everything Theory was saying. Just before it got too deep though, she quipped. “Just don’t get fired from a future job for not showing up to a meeting because I told you they’d eventually be irrelevant.”

  I laughed as she winked at me again. “I’ve gotten a bit off track, though. Back to how memories work.”

  I sat up in my chair, suddenly intrigued to know the rest.

  “We all remember our affair with bikes, but hardly any of us remember learning the word ‘the.’ Or, the number ‘4’.” Theory paused in the instance I might. “Oh, unless you do?”

  I shrugged my shoulders sarcastically and shook my head. I had no idea.

  “Exactly. Because, who cares! Yes, we use these details all the time to fill our thoughts and activities, but none of us feel particularly moved by the word ‘the’ because there is no feeling associated to it.”

  I started to parse apart my memories, wondering which feelings belonged to which experiences. Suddenly a series of images and experiences began to surface. My tenth birthday party, a balloon-twisting carnival worker, a cute guy from my history class, and a goodbye card I had written my sixth grade teacher.

  Did all of these memories have feelings attached to them? I recognized joy, interest, and sadness in these images. But, there were also subtle differences in how they appeared. I realized there was something missing and looked up at Theory. “So, mmm, is there a difference between how good and bad memories are stored?”

  A proud smile washed over her face and she leaned into me. “Yes.”

  I smiled back, admittedly a little proud of myself for recognizing the difference intuitively.

  She sat back and used her hands to talk. “When good, exciting things happen to us we usually remember the experience as a whole. Any chance you like caramel popcorn?”

  My eyebrows raised and stomach growled. “I don’t hate it!”

  She laughed. “Wonderful! Then you know that it tastes best when it’s warm. And that it crunches. And that it smells like heaven on a cold night at the circus. Every part of the memory, including the smell, taste, sound and feel, is embedded into your brain equally.”

  My eyes squinted to consider the opposite. “And bad memories?”

  Theory’s energy shifted and grew more focused. “Bad memories are very different. When something very scary or overwhelming happens, the parts of the memory are split up into different parts of our brain.

  “For instance, a car accident. Maybe you’re in a scary car crash and the smell of the tires burning across the pavement sticks with you. But, when you try to remember the color of the other car that hit you, it’s blank. And when someone asks you how many times someone yelled your name to see if you were okay, you aren’t quite sure you heard anything at all.

  “This is because scary memories get split up in our brains, to protect us. I am simplifying things, obviously, but the smells of the memory will go one place, while the visuals of the memory will go elsewhere. Sometimes our brains become overwhelmed by an experience and need to put different parts into different boxes in our mind so it isn’t so terrifying for us later on.”

  An anxious feeling crept into my throat. Which parts of my scary memories was I missing? Was I missing stuff at all? Did I want to know what I had put away in “different boxes?”

  Suddenly my heart began to race and I couldn’t help but to reach for an answer. “So, is there a way to bring all the parts back together again so that a bad memory can…I don’t know… go away?”

  Theory sat still, answering firmly. “Yes.”

  “Whoa, what? Really? How?!”

  “By star tracking,” she said.
/>   “What is ‘star tracking’?”

  Theory smiled and stood from her chair without saying a word.

  The room suddenly dimmed around us and I sat up nervously, wondering why she had turned down the lights. The dark made me nervous.

  Really nervous.

  Bad things usually happened in the dark. Unwanted visitors and intimidation happened in the dark. The dark had not been kind to me in the past and I wasn’t sure how it’d play out for me now.

  I caught myself breathing quickly and immediately tried to correct it, hoping Theory hadn’t noticed. Embarrassed to be outwardly afraid in front of someone new, I tried looking calm and unmoved by the change in ambience. Theory’s soothing voice punctuated my anxiety. “Sam, everything’s okay. I have something cool to show you. I promise it’s safe,” she continued.

  I studied Theory’s silhouette in the dark, sizing up its features, making sure it was still really her. From the seat of her chair rose a long, dark arm. I watched her intently, making sure she stayed in her own space. I could feel my hands sweating with anticipation.

  Suddenly, from the tip of her index finger, a single sparkling speck appeared in the atmosphere between us. It radiated like a tiny star, floating carelessly in front of both of us. I leaned forward to study it, letting curiosity gradually replace my fear.

  With a graceful movement to the right, Theory poked another twinkling star into the air. I smiled a bit, fascinated at how she was manipulating the room. She continued poking bits of light into the dark around us until it looked like we were sitting in our own private galaxy.

  I was sitting up straight now, entranced by the cosmos around me. They floated and sparkled, proudly saying hello and laughing alongside their creator. Excited by Theory’s latest trick, I felt my own arm float upwards to touch one of her teeny creations. My fingers ghosted through a star as it twinkled in response to my movement.

  I couldn’t help but smile and laugh. “This is amazing!”

  I could hear Theory’s smile in her voice. “I thought you would enjoy it.”

  She added several more stars, making them all a uniform silver. After letting them float in place for a few moments, she lifted her hand slowly to rotate the galaxy as a whole. The collection of stars spun in slow motion above us, exposing different hues of yellow and white. Theory then spread her fingers and expanded the universe to engulf the whole room.

  I stood slowly until I was on my tip toes, stretching my arms above my head to touch a cluster of stars above me. They eluded my grasp, zipping in and out of my fingers as if wanting to play. Theory continued to show off by spinning our galaxy into different constellations and even sending a pair shooting stars through the blanket of specks.

  “Whoa! That one went right past me!” I yelled excitedly.

  “Want another one?” she teased.

  “Heck yeah!” I trumpeted. And with that, a meteor shower began to rain from the ceiling. Golf ball-sized stars with thick tails sped past us, illuminating our faces as they rushed toward the floor.

  Zip!

  Swish!

  Foosh!

  More and more stormed down from the sky until both Theory and I stood glowing in a strobe light of stars. We laughed and spun around, each trying to catch the speedy nighttime tadpoles.

  I had gotten so caught up in the outbreak of meteors that I had almost missed the single green star floating in suspense. It hung completely still, in a shocking lime aura, untouched by its wild counterparts. I walked a few feet through the last of the hailing lights and paused in front of the aberration.

  Theory rose to meet me while simultaneously bringing the rotation of lights to a halt. I held my finger to the phantom star, surprised that it didn’t budge like the others. “What is this one for?”

  “This is the tracking star. Its job is to help recover and process memories so that they don’t bother you anymore.”

  “It will take away all the stuff that happened to me?” I asked, suddenly intrigued by this magic floating in front of me.

  Theory watched the star pulsing light. “Not quite. But it will take away all of the hard feelings and bad thoughts you have about the stuff that happened to you. This star helps neutralize memories, so that they don’t overwhelm you anymore.”

  “How do you use it?”

  “Well, it’s easy to use. You just track it with your eyes, from left to right as you think of your scary memory.”

  “Star tracking,” I said, putting it all together.

  “Exactly,” Theory lifted her hand and pushed the star back between our chairs. “Would you like to try it?”

  I hesitated. Although getting rid of all of the fear, doubt, and self-criticism that had plagued me since childhood sounded like a dream come true, the idea of having to relive my abuse wasn’t too appealing. I sat back down in my chair and studied the star. “I don’t know.”

  Theory remained neutral. “What worries you about trying it?”

  I looked at Theory, noting how different her features looked in a green light. “I guess I’m afraid of thinking about all of that bad stuff again.”

  “Of course you are,” she asserted. “And you must think I’m crazy to suggest it at all.”

  I smiled sarcastically and watched her laugh at my reaction. She tilted her head sincerely and came back to the moment. “Have you ever broken a bone, Sam?”

  I thought back to the slew of school nurse visits I had to endure when the teachers started suspecting something was going on at home. I had had plenty of scrapes and bruises, but never in places where school nurses were allowed to check. Luckily, a broken bone was one of the few injuries I had escaped.

  I shook my head no and set my elbows on the arms of the chair.

  “Well, when the break originally happens it’s an excruciating pain. It feels as if needles are digging into the entire side of your body. Let’s say it’s your arm, for the sake of an example.

  “Let’s say you start sweating because your body sounds the alarm that something horrible has happened and it needs to repair itself. One of the first things it does is begin to swell. Your body rushes blood to the injury in hopes that it can fix whatever just happened. This system works for a lot of injuries, but if the break is bad enough, the body is beyond its own capacity to recover right away. It needs outside help.

  “This is when the ambulance is called. You visit the ER, get a splint, and hope for the best. Except a week later, you haven’t moved your arm at all because it’s in a splint, and so now your muscles have weakened. It still hurts and you aren’t able to sleep at night because of the pain. You are afraid of doing the things you used to love because you don’t want to get hurt again or aggravate the injury you already have. Meanwhile, because the bone is out of place, it isn’t healing properly. What would you suggest be the next intervention?”

  I raised my eyebrows and stated the obvious. “Get surgery!”

  Theory smiled. “Yes, Sam. Surgery is the outside help that the body needs to heal completely because it can’t do it by itself. Putting in a plate that would fuse the bone and allow it to grow back together is something the doctor would help your body do. What do you think would happen if you let this particular arm go without surgical intervention?”

  I thought back to my science classes, trying to recall anything that I could. “The bone could die?”

  Theory’s face flushed over with pride. “It can. But it also continues hurting and you’re never able to use it again the way you used to. Can you imagine living life with only one arm because you’re afraid of the surgery that will fix it?”

  “Mm, yeah. I imagine that would suck pretty hard,” I scoffed. Seeing Theory’s face turn awkward suddenly reminded me of my manners and I cleaned up my response. “I mean, you couldn’t do the things you love anymore, like you said. I can see why surgery would be the way to go.”

  Theory’s face straightened back out. “Right. And it’s always easier to talk about getting help for our bodies instead of our mi
nds, isn’t it? Everyone can understand that when we get hurt physically, we need first aid. It isn’t as easy or comfortable for people to talk about emotional injuries, or see that they are just as critical as physical ones.

  “Scary experiences change and hurt our brains the same way a hit to the head can. When your brain is changed by trauma, all of your reactions to the outside world are changed as well. Maybe it means that you’re afraid of people now, or constantly angry, or unable to trust. Emotional injuries manifest differently in everyone.

  “But the bottom line is the same- when you are seriously hurt by someone, it causes an emotional injury that has the potential to change the way you live the rest of your life. The sooner people understand and accept this, the sooner we can all move toward being a healthier, more authentic version of ourselves. There is no shame in a broken arm and there should be no shame in having a broken heart, either.”

  I sat in silence, stunned by Theory’s words. I started considering what the world would look like if we looked at emotional injuries the same way we looked at physical ones. Would there be hospitals for heartache? What if there was a bandage you could wear to let people know you were hurting inside and needed extra kindness that day? Would people be able to sue their abusers for therapy for compensation in court the way some people sue a person to cover their medical bills when they get hit by a car? Instead of getting a flu shot every year, what if it was also mandatory to see a therapist for a check-up? Would the world feel better having their story heard? Would it stop bad stuff from happening to other kids?

  Theory wedged back into my world. “This star, Sam, is like that surgery. It isn’t meant to remove anything from you or to change who you are at all. Rather, using it will help heal the parts that are broken and separated inside of you currently. Star tracking gives you a chance at being a whole person again…even if the surgery itself is the scary part of healing.”

  Her words settled into me, humbling any more arguments I had. I watched Sage and Cadence purring in their sleep, wondering if cats ever had to go through any horrible memory-surgeries to get rid of scary dog chases or the irritability of uncaught birds.