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laughed.
“You’re going to tell me a story about cheese?”
    I raised my eyebrows at him in disapproval
for interrupting me even though I was happy to have made him smile,
“She gave me a slice to try before she put it away in the
refrigerator.  I really liked it and couldn’t stop thinking
about it.  After dinner, while my parents were watching TV, I
went into the kitchen and found the package of cheese.  I ate
slice after slice after slice; I couldn’t stop myself it was so
good.  I ate the whole package and put the wrapper in the
trash so no one would know.  I took my bath and I went to bed
just like always.  Later that night I woke up and was terribly
sick to my stomach over and over again.  It was the worst
night of my life.”
    I looked up and saw that Michael was no
longer smiling. He was looking very intently at me and encouraged
me to finish my story.
    “My parents were very worried and started
going through the apartment looking for whatever it was that I
might have gotten into that had made me so sick.  My mother
found the wrapper and so I told my parents what I had done.  I
felt so much better afterward.  Then they told me that it was
alright and that they were happy that I told them the truth. 
They told me that the cheese is what had made me sick, that I
simply ate too much.  They explained that it is alright to
have a little bit of something and to enjoy it but too much of
anything can be very bad for you.  They didn’t punish me but
told me that I had learned my lesson and next time I would be
stronger and better able to control myself because now I knew what
could happen if I didn’t.”
    As I finished what I was saying I could tell
that he was intrigued by what I had just told him, “Did you believe
them?  Do you think you are stronger now?”
    “Oh, yes, I know I am!  Sometimes my
mom bakes dozens of cookies and leaves them just within my reach
but I never take them.  I always ask and when I am allowed to
have one, I only have one and, oh, it is so good," I paused in
thought.  "Sometimes if you haven’t had something for a very
long time, then the next time you do it is better than you remember
and it makes you want to wait and wait and wait so it will be even
better the next time.” 
    “But what if after waiting so long it makes
you lose control again and you can’t stop after just a little
bit.”
    “Have you ever taken too much, like I did
with the cheese?”
    “Yes, many, many times; countless times,” I
could see him searching his mind, recalling all the “countless
times”.
    “I remember the time I ate the cheese and
that helps me be strong.  Maybe you have a memory that will
help you stay strong.”
    He was smiling with wonder and as he sat
there and the minutes passed I could tell that he was carefully
considering all that I had said, “You are very wise, just like your
mother.”
    I smiled, pleased with the idea that he had
taken me so seriously.
    “Thank you for your story
Elayna.  I really enjoyed talking with you.  Maybe the
next time I am not feeling so strong I will try and think
of  you .”
    He stood up and stepped towards me.  He
kissed me on my cheek and as he pulled away I felt the invisible
tendril again winding its way towards him.  He moved to the
open slider. 
    “Goodbye Michael,” I called just as he was
about to step out.
    He seemed surprised and shook his head, “You
know my name?”
    “Just now, when you kissed me, then I knew
it.”
     “Goodbye Elayna.  I hope I can
come and see you again sometime; when I am stronger.”
    I smiled, “I would like that,” I said, “I
would like us to be friends.”
    “No one else could know,” his words were
weighted with importance.
    I bit my lip hesitantly. I had never really
had a secret or kept anything from my parents. “I understand.”
    “Promise,” he tilted his head.
    I concentrated “I promise,” and watched for
the change in his expression to see if he had heard my