Don't Cry

He walked fast to get to her. She was crying and couldn't even look up.

"Hey, wait. It's okay, we will get your bike. Don't cry." Davis tried to comfort her.

She was crying and her tears seemed to have a deeper message than she was telling. This particular cousin of hers was a very important person in her life. Where had he gone? Or maybe he had died. Davis knew that he was becoming deeply concerned about Diaz. He could see his little sister in her. Getting to know her and what she was going through made him feel even more responsible.

"I need to get to it. I need that bike."

"Okay, okay. I understand that. Let's go get it. But I need you to stop crying."

Everyone was running away from the mall except for the police and the two daredevils on a quest. Davis looked at Diaz with a lot of emotion. He could not even understand his own feelings and how they had grown very fast. He had even forgotten how important it was for him to have a change of clothes.

The stench in his clothes was becoming unbearable. He had started feeling itchy all over his body. He was very uncomfortable. This could not be changed today but he had to find someone else that would help him.

They walked back to the mall only to find people still trying to leave. However, the situation had been alleviated and the dust cloud was becoming less dense by the minute. Davis tried looking for a way to get through the stampede so that he could help Diaz get her bike.

"Where is the bike?" He turned to Diaz to make sure he would get a path that would lead them to it.

She looked at him and all her eyes would say was that she was determined to get it. She was sad. Davis felt a lot of pity. Looking at the crowd, he knew that they only had one option. They had to wait for it to clear up. The mall had several floors and this meant that it might take a lot of time.

"You know, you remind me of my sister." Davis was opening up to her.

All his walls had just crumbled.

"My sister was taken from us three years ago by people we used to hear about but never saw until that day. No one believed our story so no one ever helped us to look for her." He got her attention.

This was an emotional story for him. He only told few people about it. Only his closest friends knew. Diaz lifted her head to look at him to suggest that he should continue. This was not the plan but saying anything that made her understand he knew exactly how she was feeling was the intention.

"Flower was her name." He sighed and hesitated to go on.

"She was the only sibling I had. Flower used to be very lively when we were young. She loved being around people and always had the energy to start and stir up a conversation. She was never sad. In fact, she used to get angry at me whenever she found me venting.

Her smile was contagious and she made sure everyone close to her smiled too even when they did not feel like it. She was always the center of my mother's joy. Those two were pretty close. " He looked sideways for a second.

He was getting too emotional. Tears were peeping close to the base of his eyes. A few more words and all his masculinity would go down the drain. Davis loved his sister so much and regretted failing to believe her back then. He always felt like he would have prevented her abduction.

"You really loved your sister. I can see it in your eyes. You really should stick to your advice. You were asking me not to cry and now you are going to flood your dirty shirt. At least it will get clean though." She had gotten back her mojo.

"Who's crying? I'm not crying, it's the dust. I'm allergic." He made 'half a smile'.

"Okay. Allergic lying stranger, what happened?" She was eager.

His plan had worked but it led him to a situation he had not prepared himself for. He had to finish his narration but doing that without shedding tears was not going to be easy. He manned up, wiped his eyes, and prepared to march on with his sensitive memory.

"So one time she just started being different. She came home after school when we were teenagers and was not okay. She did not talk to anyone about it for weeks however much we asked. she had become very secretive and we wondered what would help her get better.

My mother suggested that she sees a psychiatrist for a psychological evaluation but she kept saying she was fine. After insisting, she had no choice but to see a psychiatrist. When they came back from her evaluation mother called me to tell me that she did not know what was wrong with Flower. She did not speak a word in the psychiatrist's office.

They did not know what was wrong with her but they knew she was sad. The psychiatrist told my mother to locate a community resource that helped teenagers who are suffering from depressive disorders and to take her back for an evaluation after four weeks of therapy." The lining on Davis' eyes was completely watered with tears, the only thing that remained was a push from sensitivity and tears would flow to his cheeks.

He looked down. The story became more than the lesson he was trying to give Diaz. His guilt was flowing back. His veins coursed with sadness. He knew that anytime he would find tears reaching the ground. This was a part of his memories that he kept hidden and never wanted to get to the surface.

"I begged her to tell me what was up but all she could tell me was that she is okay and I should not worry. Everyone knew that this was a lie she kept telling but no one knew how to get her to talk. Mother thought that therapy would help her and she took her to a resource that was just close to home.

She attended the first four sessions and was taken back to the psychiatrist for an evaluation. She still said nothing. She kept saying that she was okay but her actions and change of personality said something different. It was as if we were living with a different version of her.

I was not ready to let go of my efforts to get her to talk so I chose a different approach. I kept talking to her and taking her to lunch. For a while, she was no different but after a short time, she started talking. She started smiling and this was all I wanted to see. I cared no less about her issue anymore. So long as she was smiling I was okay.

We started talking regularly and she opened up to me. I usually started by asking about her day and the conversation would cruise on from there. one day she came home sad and I asked what had happened. What she told me that evening made me see that she needed psychological help." Davis was not able to keep up with the emotions anymore.

"Don't cry, you are ruining the story. What did she say?" Diaz felt his pain and guilt but wanted to know what she said.