We walk back to his desk and Briggs takes a seat, not in his computer chair where I was a moment ago, but in the chair I usually sit in, the one facing the computer chair. Briggs, seemingly afraid I may try to leave, spins the second guest chair ninety degrees to face himself and directs me to sit in it.
He then adjusts his seat so that he is facing me directly so I know I have his full attention. I lean back in my chair and scrunch my knees up to my chest.
A long pause. We both sit here, neither of us saying anything. Briggs is looking at me, like he's playing defense on the door, terrified I'll get up and leave. His eyes are glued to me looking for any indication I'm about to book it out of here. I tug at the sleeves of my sweatshirt and pull them over my hands as I stare at the floor just to the right of him.
"Luna," he begins, "I'm going to be honest with you here, I'm not sure what the right thing to say is." He pauses again, but really he's starting to get emotional. I hug my legs tighter to my body.
"I love you to death, kid," he continues.
Oh. I love you - those three words that mean so much. I can't remember the last time someone told me that, so hearing it, especially hearing Briggs say it, means everything.
"But you gotta talk to me," he finishes, his voice breaking. Hearing his unsteady voice I look back up at him and see his eyes are red and glossy which trigger my emotions all over again.
Briggs gets up to grab a tissue to dry his eyes. He is able to quickly pull himself back together to be strong for me. He brings the box of tissues back with him to sit down. I reject a tissue, I don't know why, I guess it's a sign of weakness, and instead I wipe my eyes with my hands.
"I'm not qualified to help you through this, I think I have to report this to the school counsellor," Briggs explains in an honest, caring way.
"Please don't," I say quietly.
"I can't help you in the way you need it," he explains.
"I'll shut down, I can't talk to anyone else, I trust you. Think of how long it's taken me to talk to you, even then I didn't mean to tell you," I hesitate.
"I will literally tell you anything you want to know, please," I bargain.
"Ok." he says, taking advantage of the opportunity to gather more information. "Do you think about harming yourself?" he asks.
"What do you mean by harming," I ask in an attempt to hint at the cutting and hoping he'll ask.
He takes a deep breath, this must be hard for him too. "Luna, are you suicidal?"
"No." A lie.
"A minute ago you said you're probably going to kill yourself", he says frustrated that I'm lying to him.
"So why'd you ask?" I snap.
"So that confirms it," he says.
I shrug.
"Why'd you lie, you just said you would be completely honest with me about anything," he says.
"You're right, I'm sorry," I say, prompting him to ask again so this time I can try to tell the truth by flat out saying yes.
"And I asked so there wouldn't be any misunderstanding, we need to be on the same page," he tells me. "I am going to ask you again," he says followed by a pause.
"Are you suicidal?" he repeats.
"Yeah."
"Luna, do you plan on killing yourself?" he questions. He can't believe he has to ask this to anyone let alone me, a teenage girl who he has always known to be happy and driven.
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YOU ARE READING
Water on the Moon
General Fiction***TRIGGER WARNING*** Seventeen year old Luna Henderson has just begun her senior year of high school, but is she ready? Last year, the star athlete and former straight A student found herself quickly declining into a deep depression, consumed with...