The third time I saw Alexa San Roman, she was passed out against a tree on her front lawn.
And, believe me, I was terrified.
Because, Alexa wasn't one to sleep in public. She wasn't one to lay under trees. But, she was one to douse her problems. She took her pain out in pills, and drowned her demons in alcohol. That's what scared me. That's what put me on the brink of despair, waking the neighbours and calling the cops the night before school started, at 10:48 p.m. on a rainy night, all for this girl I'd seen twice before.
At fifteen, I thought that meant I didn't care. When you care, you knock on the door and tell parents or whatever family they have. When you care, maybe you're there to stop them. I suppose I thought I didn't care because I didn't know her well enough, or I couldn't bare letting her leave my life so quickly after she had made her humble entrance. I was a selfish kid. I only seemed to care about when people were helping or harming me, but maybe that was all a front. Because, right then, I had finally came to realisation that I can't revolve around myself.
The third time I saw Alexa San Roman was the first time I had ever trusted myself with someone else.
Looking back, I maybe I didn't care. But, I called because I wasn't indifferent. I called because I was beginning to feel.
That made me nervous.