Letters to Audrine

18- You're Too Cute

"I'm not grieving anymore," Silas tells me, and it takes me by surprise so much that I don't even know how to respond. I know that he said his mom died when he was fifteen years old, but it's only been five years. I know that's a long time, but I feel like I'll be grieving for my grandpa for the rest of my life. Even when I do talk about him, remembering the great memories that I have with him, I still feel a little bit of sadness remembering that he's gone. And Silas says it so smoothly, like it's no big deal at all.

I get that people handle death differently, and I don't want to judge his way of dealing with his mom's death, but I also don't know how to handle it.

"I don't think I'll ever stop grieving," I say honestly. It has only been a few months since my grandpa's death though, so maybe it does get easier with time in a way that I can't imagine yet.

"I don't know, I guess we're all different," he says with a shrug. He then pulls his hand out of the water with a shell resting in his palm, a spiral one like the one that I found. Except, I can see a little crab poking his rust colored head out from the opening. "I found a hermit crab."

"He's so cute," I know that he's just trying to change the subject the same way that he did earlier when we were talking about his mom. I let him. We have only known each other for six weeks, so maybe he just doesn't want to talk about something so sensitive with me. "They don't pinch, do they?"

"Of course they do, he's a crab," Silas says with a laugh. "But he won't pinch unless you make him mad."

Just because I talk about my grandpa with him doesn't mean that I have a right to hear his story, and I know that, but the way he pushes the conversation under the rug makes me feel like he doesn't talk about his mom with anybody. Not because he just doesn't want to, but because he chooses to suppress that greif rather than accept it and deal with it. Maybe I'm psychoanalyzing him too much, and I should mind my own business.

"Is everything okay?" he interrupts my thoughts.

"Yeah," I snap out of it, watching as Silas releases the crab back into the water.

"Death is a bummer to talk about," he says, apparently sensing that I'm not actually that fine.

"It's important to talk about it though," I respond quickly.

"Not for me," he insists. "I'm fine."

"Are you?" I question him skeptically. I know that I should leave well enough alone and stop prodding, but it's so off putting how nonchalant he seems to be about the death of his mom and all of the hardships he's had early in his life.

Silas looks at me with his big eyes that are almost as blue as the water we're swimming in, but he doesn't answer me for a very long time. He just looks at me, and eventually he says, "I'm not good with talking about things like that."

"Why not?" I continue to ask him questions, hoping that he doesn't get upset for pushing a subject that he obviously doesn't want to talk about.

"I always had to be okay when I was younger," he finally starts to talk, his eyes downcast now, staring down at the small waves that move around us. "It was hard on me when my parents got divorced, but I had to be there for my mom and I pretty much just bottled it all up. And when my mom died, I had to be there for mamé, so I bottled it up. I always had to be the rock for somebody else, so I didn't have a choice. I always had to be okay."

Finally, the way that he's been acting makes a lot more sense. I understand why he's felt the need to not feel upset by these two very traumatic experiences in his life, and I feel absolutely devastated for him, that he feels like he can't open up about the pain that he must feel in dealing with the loss of his parents.

"I'm sorry that you've felt like you always have to be the strong one," I say in a soft voice, holding one of his hands under the water. "But it's okay to feel sad sometimes and to just not be okay. And like you told me, what we have involves me caring about you, and I'm here if you need anything."

"Thanks, Maisie," he forces an uncomfortable smile onto his face.

"Where did you see that hermit crab?" I change the subject now, because I can tell that he is clearly uncomfortable. I feel so guilty for even pushing him so much, but I'm glad that he finally opened up a little bit. "I want to see if he has a family."

"He went that way," he points to his right. It's hard to see the sandy floor, so it's pretty impossible to find any more hermit crabs, but I look anyway just to keep the conversation moving. The entire time I've known Silas, I've been convinced that he's so perfect- completely flawless. Hearing him open up about his struggle to express any real sadness or grief somehow makes him seem more human to me.

"Actually, I don't want to get pinched," I finally decide. "I'll just leave them alone."

"Yeah, you're too cute not to pinch," Silas says, and then I feel a soft pinch on my left hip that makes me shriek and jump out of the water, but when I look back down and see Silas laughing at me, I realize that it was Silas that pinched me and not an evil sea creature.

"You are unbelievable," I shake my head at him, and then leap toward him to push him under the water to get my revenge. Our second water battle of the day ensues, and it doesn't end until Silas gets water in his nose and has to get out of the water and call a truce.

I smile triumphantly, glad that I could at least win one of our battles. I know that he's taller and stronger than me, but I think that I was a little bit faster and sneakier.

I gloat about how I beat him in a water war as we build a small sand castle on the beach near our clothes. He seems to be in a good mood now, despite the sad conversation earlier, but I wonder if he actually is in a good mood or if he really is that good at hiding how he feels. I would give anything to know what was going on in his mind, what he's thinking, how he's feeling.

But I can't do that, so for now, we will build a kingdom made of sand and pretend like our problems don't exist.