Flashcards On The Wall

Chapter 7: Study Session

Gabe's supposed to stop by today to review for a test he's having. I volunteered to tutor him outside of my hours at the tutoring center when his work schedule changed. We've been meeting at the library but with midterms it's been flooded with student I answer the door not knowing if things will feel weird.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi. Come in," I respond.

He does and scans the apartment as we go past the living room to the dining table.

"Nice place," he comments, "It's very...clean."

"Thanks?"

"How many roommates do you have here?" he asks.

"One," I say as we sit down at the table.

"Only two of you? Isn't that expensive?"

"A little, but we like it. How many people do you live with?"

"It's three of us. Just a couple blocks over actually," he volunteers.

He lives close by?

"How long were you out there the other day?" he refers to last week when I was tabling for the university counseling center.

"A couple hours," I say.

"It really is important to you, isn't it?" Gabe's a sceptic. I sensed that while talking that day.

"It is a bit out of my comfort zone to make conversations with complete strangers. With my anxiety, I see most forms of face to face communication as a giant step forward. But really, I do it because I see them. The few that are a little bit curious. That aren't sure where to go. I try to be as approachable as possible because sometimes things that come easily to one person, can be a lot of work for another. I know what it's like. I used their services quite often last year and it was amazing the amount of help they gave me. Trying to just survive is hard sometimes. Mental health is important. That's where I met my friend Lo. You know, you can't do it alone. The people at the center did so much for me. I really...I owe them a lot. I get it that it can be hard to understand. I'm sure you have things you care about," I say.

"I do," Gabriel replies.

I thought he would say what it was, but when he didn't, I figured he wasn't very willing to talk about it.

"As long students see it and that they know they have somewhere to turn to if they want or need to I'm happy to lend my time."

"You volunteer?" he asks.

"Yes," I answer.

"That's noble of you," he comments.

"It's nowhere near enough," I reply, "Ready to start?"

During a break, Gabriel notices what I make a habit of doing these days. His gaze focuses on the ink on my hands.

"Why not use paper?" he points at the words written in blue.

I stare at my hands and suddenly get self-conscious.

"Because that would make sense," I answer.

He eyes me curiously.

"Sometimes I think, or read, or hear something that gives me an idea that I don't want to forget, so I write down," I explain.

"For?" he asks.

"Myself," I respond.

"You write?" Gabriel questions me.

"Sometimes," I admit self consciously since it's not something I share with people.