The Man Box

We're all just average boys who work hard in school, enjoy every second of our free time together during the summer, and try our best to appear carefree. As the sun sets on a warm July evening, the facts remain the same. As we leave Ben's house, Sam and I say our goodbyes.

"Is it okay if my sister comes to get me while we're out walking?" That's what I'm wondering.

“Yeah.”

She might even be able to drive you home, if need be.

Sam responds, "Sounds good," but his usual upbeat, comedic energy is missing. The two of us keep walking without saying anything else, which is fine with me. As the warm summer breeze caresses my face, I take in the quiet beauty of the park. There's a faint hum of passing traffic, but there are crickets chirping and an owl singing in the distance. Serenity is nature's soundtrack.

Until Sam said, "Can I ask you a weird question?" I had forgotten Sam was with me.

"Sure," I respond, anticipating a snide remark.

Before asking, he says, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

I say, "O.K." a little more hesitantly.

"Do you have a confidante with whom you can discuss more serious matters...?" "Would you prefer something a little more emotional?" The crickets stop chirping, the owl stops hooting, and even the passing cars stop. It's unbearable. To my surprise, Sam asked the question, who is one of the most upbeat and amusing people I know.

I have a few questions about that. When I am unable to come up with a name, my disappointment sets in almost as quickly as my hope does. To sum it up, the closest thing I can think of is the book I occasionally write in when I'm feeling depressed or anxious.

That never occurred to me, but I guess not," I mumble under my breath.

Yes, I didn't either, but at camp we did activities and talked about things that sparked more emotional discussions." But it's mostly jealousy that I'm secretly harboring in my heart.

In English, we used to make fun of the TED Talk speaker who talked about the "man box," but it's actually very true. We shouldn't be afraid to bring up more serious topics like that.

Sam laughed as he said, "Yeah." The blanket of silence envelops us once more, but this time it's softer. I'm unable to come up with anything to say because there is so much to cover. I've never had the chance to do something like this. Even though it's with Sam, it's not shocking or overwhelming; instead, it's therapeutic.

Sam's voice is heard once more over the din:

The fact that my parents divorced is something I've never mentioned to you guys.

As I say, "That really sucks," I mumble, "I-I-I'm sorry." I'm sorry that I didn't say more.

There is nothing wrong with what Sam claims, but I know he is lying. My heart goes out to him.

I'm struggling to come up with something to say as I'm engulfed in my own thoughts. But I'm running out of things to say. There are simply too many options after 16 years of silence.

We see the headlights in front of us, and for a brief moment, I feel relieved. However, that relief quickly turns to regret.

"If you ever want to talk again just let me know," I quickly tell Sam, realizing it's Rose.

I greet Rose, pretending to be tired in order to hide my pensive mood. Finally, nature resumes her song, and Sam and I reluctantly get into our car.