Jenna Talks to Michael

"Just come up to Beckie's office with me now and we can check on the TV assignment," I told Michael, my back to him as I erased the whiteboard and gathered my books.

"OK."

As we turned the corner to go up the stairs, we couldn't help but notice a guy on his cell phone. DTRs were never a good thing to have on the phone, especially in public places. I slyly listened in on what he was saying.

"Stacey, that is not what I said...NO! You're twisting my wor--" he stopped walking and clenched his fist in frustration. "Mmhmm...Yeah...OK..." He turned the mouthpiece away as he sighed heavily. Rolling his eyes and nodding his head he finished the conversation. "I love you, too. See you tonight." Michael and I continued past. I thought I heard the guy mumble some profane name or another under his breath. As we came to the top of the stairs, I spoke without thinking, the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"Don't you ever feel like you wear a mask? That it's easier to pretend to be the person people think you are rather than act how you really feel?"

"Every damn minute of my life."

Michael's immediate and hearty agreement with my statement set me to thinking. What did he have to hide? So I decided to do what I do best. Dig.

"I think everybody is hiding something; even if it is for the sake of having something to hide," I carefully baited.

"I think people hide for survival. If people knew their secrets they would be socially murdered."

"Ever feel suicidal?" I half-played. He didn't speak, but his answer shouted from his slight grunt, the barely-perceptible nodding of his head, and the faint smile of recognition that played across his lips.

"Me too," my response startled him.

"What could you possibly have to hide? You're like Miss Perfect. Your boss loves you, you get good grades, you don't live in a hole...people actually like you. You have everything," he practically snapped.

"People who have everything have it all to lose. Especially when they have secrets. Secrets that would change everything everybody knew about them," my tone was icier than I intended. How could this schmuck possibly understand what I was going through? He wasn't the one living a double life. He wasn't going against every value and moral his parents had drilled into him. But the worst part was, he wasn't doing it and not feeling bad about it.