Sobbing

I think I’ve made it clear that I have no skills dealing with distraught people. Uncontrollable sobbing makes me want to bolt. So imagine my consternation when I’m on the quiet floor of Library X making my way to the stairwell to head back upstairs when the sounds of a man wailing erupt. The sounds emanate from the stairway doors. I stop in my tracks and stare at the metal doors like a scared woodland creature at the entrance to the den of a nasty predator. My heart begins to race.

The students studying nearby are looking at the closed doors with worry and sympathy. They’re also darting glances at me. The glances make their expectations clear: I’m supposed to go into the stairwell and help this man. With a petulant mental stomp, I wonder why I gotta be the responsible adult here and check on the guy whose world is crumbling around his ears. It sounds like there may even be shirt rending happening.

I stall. With my head bowed, I pace back and forth in front of the doors. Every shuddering sob makes me wince. I try to figure out what I’ll say to the guy. I need to get him out of the stairwell and somewhere quieter. His sobbing is probably echoing up the four flights of stairs into every floor. But how do I say that without coming off as a cold, heartless bitch, and where the hell am I gonna move him?

I wonder what has upset the guy. It could be a romantic break-up, death in the family, a poor grade, or some other catastrophe. It is clearly something major for this young man, and I have absolutely no clue of how to console him. I am now pacing, wringing my hands, and becoming upset myself. I know I look ridiculous. If I don’t do something soon, I may begin to cry. I clutch my two books and head to the stairwell. I have no clue what I’ll say, but I’m going. My feet are in motion. My steps are purposeful. I’m going to do it. I’m going into the stairwell.

I clasp the door handle and pull...only to find the door swinging toward me as a teary-eyed student comes slinking in with a friend. The friend is murmuring something about getting their stuff and heading out. I watch the young man sniffle and go to a study table to collect his things.

There is such a huge wave of relief flowing over me that I am temporarily paralyzed. Once the euphoria lessens, I jog up the stairs with a little spring in my step. I avoided a very icky emotional kerfuffle. It makes me happy. Yes, I’m a poor human being for not reaching out to help this distraught man, but you know what? I’m still relieved.

You may begin the scolding.