Page 62 of Ambiguous
“Excellent. I’ll remind you of that. But what happens if you truly allow those feelings in?”
“I normally allow in all feelings, love. I’m an artist. I feel things strongly.” I hesitate. “But I’ve been scared of being scared.”
His voice is quiet. “We’re getting somewhere. Being scared of being scared is a secondary fear. Focus on the first fear. The fear of this octopus.”
“Well, he’s not really that big. I mean, I’ve seen larger rats.”
“If you had to box him, I think you could win.”
“But I don’t want to hurt him. Or her. Or it.” A wave of understanding washes over me. “I’m so big, and it’s so sensitive. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I’m scared of doing precisely that.”
Again, Sam doesn’t say anything. He just lets me process.
This man.
I close my eyes and focus on my body and realize, “I feel a lightness inside. I never thought I could feel this way. Not here, I mean.”
“Good!”
“I feel clean. Like the fears just, I don’t know, dissolved.”
“Are they still in there somewhere? Is there any part of you that’s still afraid?”
“I don’t want to touch the octopus.”
“Then don’t. I wouldn’t recommend it. But you can be in the same room?”
“Apparently. More importantly, I can have it in my thoughts. Before, I was scared ofthinkingabout an octopus. Is that silly?”
“It’s not silly at all. Most fear is in your mind. Unless you’re on some adventure and, like, facing a real situation, there are only imaginary octopi. The closest you’re getting to one in reality is here, behind a pane of glass. You’re safe.”
I close my eyes again and nod, feeling bouncy.
I’m also feeling like I want to kiss Sam.
“You make me feel amazing,” I admit. “I’m giddy. I walked in here with these irrational fears, and they’re just… gone.”
“I’m glad. And can you do something with that for a song?”
“Octopi in the mind?”
He nods.
“Absolutely.” I drop his hand and pull out my phone, hurrying to take notes. When I’m done, I glance over at Sam, who’s waiting patiently for me.
I end up holding his hand as we walk through other exhibits—fish and seahorses and jellyfish and all kinds of sea creatures.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to be someone who falls in love with fish,” I say. “But I’m okay with being here. Progress.”
“Good.”
When it’s time to leave, we find the security desk, and Sam lets go of my hand. “Back to reality,” I murmur. Then I give him a huge smile. I want to hug him tight and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, and I wish he were available and I could do that. But he isn’t, so I can’t, even if there were no chance of being caught by security cameras or passersby.
The stab to my chest is physical, and unlike the feelings I just experienced, I don’t want to welcome it in.
Once security has let us out and we’re on our own again, I look at him. “Thank you. I feel like I treated a wound with peroxide. It still hurts to think about my fears, but I can face them. You did that, Sam Stone. You.”
“You’re the one who was brave enough to face them,” he insists. “How many people will go in a room with spiders or snakes or whatever they’re scared of? Not many. I just walked you through it. Now, go see if it encourages you to write anything else for the new album.”
