Page 13 of His Shy Girl

Again, she swallows so deeply I can see her nerves rolling thickly down her throat.

“B-b-be-c-c-cause I c-c-can’t sp-sp-speak.”

She turns away from me, working to get her car door open and I’m at a loss for my own words. I don’t know what to say or do. I’ve literally spooked her. Scared her to the point that she can’t form words.

“I’m not trying to make you nervous, babe. If you want, you can just listen. I just wanted to tell you that I have feelings for you, and I didn’t want to have to say it over the computer screen.” I’m literally confessing my deepest truth to the back of her head. My stomach is matted up into a ball. She won’t even turn and look at me.

“I know you said you wanted to keep things online, but it’s different with you, Willow. I really believe there could besomething real between us. My feelings are already running pretty deep, babe, and this isn’t something I can turn my back on. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

She opens her car door and tosses her bag to her passenger seat.

“I-I-I’m s-s-s-or-ry.” She struggles to get her words out again, barely glancing at me, but it’s long enough for me to catch the tears in her eyes before she turns away and climbs into her car. She doesn’t even look up as she pulls the door closed and starts her engine. Doesn’t even look at me as she pulls out of the parking spot and starts to drive off.

I’m fucking cut. I feel like my heart is being run right over by those tires as she pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street. She wouldn’t even talk to me.

She turns left, disappearing down the road, and I feel like that’s the last time I’m ever going to see her. I don’t even want to get in my truck and go home to face the rejection that I know will be waiting for me when I log onto the game. Fuck. I don’t know how that could’ve gone so wrong. Never in a million fucking years would I have guessed that would’ve been her reaction. I could imagine her being a little nervous but upset to the point of tears? I don’t get it.

9

Willow

Idart past the kitchen, running up to my room before my mom spots me. One look at my tear-streaked face and she’ll be worried. I shut my door and flop onto my bed, drowning in my embarrassment. Utterly wrecked in my sadness. The look on his face is exactly what I expected. He didn’t know what was wrong with me. He looked horrified when I opened my mouth and told him I couldn’t speak. His eyes were full of disappointment and a hint of sorrow, and he backed away, getting out of the splatter zone so I wouldn’t spit on him.

“Willow, sweetie.” My door opens, and I regret the fact that I didn’t lock it as Mom walks right in. She takes one look at me and rushes over, panicked. Exactly what I was trying to avoid.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? What happened?”

She sits down on my bed, brushing the hair out of my face as I hug my pillow tighter. I’m too upset to even get the words out. Ihate that I can’t speak. None of this would’ve happened if I could just talk right.

“Did someone say something to you or do something?”

When I was younger, I used to come home crying when kids would make fun of me. My skin finally grew thick enough that it no longer shatters me when people call me names. But seeing the look in Brennon’s eyes… That broke me.

“Just breathe, sweetheart. Whatever it is, we can fix it. And if a kid was mean, that’s a problem with them, not you.”

I don’t think she can fix this. Not unless she has the cure for a broken heart. Because it feels like mine is breaking in two.

“Can I get you some paper?”

I nod my head. It’s the only way I can speak right now.

She gets up and goes to my desk, and in walks my sweet kitty, hopping up onto my bed, settling right on her perch. I wish I had her life. Strutting around without a care in the world. Meowing to get what she wants. Even my cat can communicate better than me.

Mom hands me a notepad and pen, taking a seat on my bed again. I’m not really sure what to say. I don’t know how much I want to tell her.

I met a boy in the incoming freshman forum. He’s from around here, so we started chatting, and it turns out we have a lot in common. Over the last two months, we’ve become good friends. It was the first time I connected with someone on every level. But I didn’t tell him about my speech. And today, he showed up to surprise me after school. When I saw him, I panicked. He tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t get any words out. I was so embarrassed that I ran. And now, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, Mom. But I doubt he’ll ever speak to me again. I hate that I’m like this. I just want to be normal.

I shakily hand her the paper, watching the shock in her eyes as she reads over my words. Processing them slowly. Her brow narrowing as the worry lines form around the edges.

“I know it’s hard, Willow.” She finally looks up and there are tears in her eyes, making me feel even worse. I hate that she couldn’t have had a perfect child. All the meetings and appointments with speech pathologists, doctors, counselors, she’s given up so much to help me. “I’m sorry that you struggle so much, sweetheart. If I could take it away, I would. But just because you have a speech impediment, it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. It doesn’t make you abnormal. Or strange. Or any less worthy.”

But I don’t feel normal. I feel awkward and stupid. The way people look at me. The things they say. To them, I am strange.

“You’re the most amazing girl I know, Willow. Beautiful and talented. So smart and sweet. I’m very proud of all the strides you’ve made and all that you’ve accomplished given your challenges. Even your therapists are thrilled with how far you’ve come.”

Yes, but it’s not far enough. I want the anxiety to go away. I want the words to come out crisp and smooth. I want to be able to talk to Brennon and go on a date. Have a normal teenage experience.

“Now, as for this boy, it sounds like you like him as more than a friend.”

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