Alexis wept into her hands from within a locked bathroom stall. Her solitary whimpers reverberated around her like little mocking reminders of her own failure. The bathroom door opened. Alexis quickly willed herself to silence. She held her breath, listening. Footsteps clicked on the tile, then stopped.
"Alexis?" It was Isaac. "Alexis, I'm not gonna baby you. I think you did pretty well, but yeah, there were others who did better. I'm willing to bet that no one judged you as harshly as you judged yourself, though." His voice was soft, even amplified by the bathroom tiling. He waited while his echo faded. "No one expected you to be perfect after only a month of practicing. You were dedicated, and you improved a lot in that short amount of time. Anyone would be proud of that."
Alexis still didn't answer, even after Isaac gave her a long time, just standing there. The weight of his empathy was oppressive. He could feel her sorrow and ached to help, but no other words came to him. Should he just leave? Looking at her shoes beneath the stall, he impulsively grinned. "I hope those are your mary-janes I'm seeing there, or I'm gonna be embarrassed."
The shoes clicked to the floor, then the stall burst open and Alexis came rushing out, flinging her arms around his waist. Face buried in his chest, she sobbed, talking rapidly. "I don't know what I was thinking! I did my best but why did I wear these clothes? I'm not some great drummer. I'm not a star. I'm just a stupid girl who never does anything right. I made a fool of myself in front of everyone. Everyone hates me."
Isaac stroked her hair and held her close, cooing, "If they all hated you, they'd all be bad people. That's pretty unlikely. You didn't do everything wrong. A lot of things," he joked, "but not everything."
Alexis's sobs turned to half-laughs. Isaac could feel her warm breath soaking through his shirt. She began to calm. Her arms dropped from his waist and hung limply, while her face and forehead stayed mashed against his chest. "I should have done better." Her shoulders shook as if she were about to enter another crying fit.
"Those girls have probably practiced a long time. Not all of them were better than you. Some were worse. You don't get good without months and maybe years of practice."
"I know," she said. Then she stood straight and looked at him with teary eyes. "I just wanted to be better than was realistic."
"I get it."
Alexis took his shirt and wiped the tears from her eyes.
"Hey," Isaac protested, but it was gentle and he'd have let her blow her nose on his shirt at that moment if she'd wanted to.
She smiled at him, but then she frowned. "Wait a minute." Throwing up an accusatory finger, she exclaimed, "Why are you in the girls' bathroom?"
Isaac hooked a thumb over at the urinals.
"What!" Alexis grabbed him by the shirt collar. "Why didn't you tell me? What if someone came in here? You are trying to embarrass me!"
The physical assault is how Isaac knew she was O.K.