Page 75 of The Tattered Gloves
“At first, I thought we’d never get along. She was too perky. Too normal. I was a messed up former rich girl, nearly living on the streets. We were nothing alike.”
“Let me guess, she wasn’t what she seemed to be?”
She laughed. “No, she really was that perky and normal. I mean, at least compared to me. She came from a good home, went to church on Sundays, loved her parents.”
I was confused. “So, how did she change your perspective then?”
“She was incredibly persistent. For a while, I was convinced I was her Sunday school project or something. But, really, she just wanted to get to know me.
“When I finally gave in and told her who I was and everything that had happened to me… none of it mattered. To this day, I can recall the exact color of her big green eyes, full of fire and spunk, as she told me all the reasons I was wrong about myself. She was a small woman, but she could be mighty intimidating when she wanted to be. Or, at least, she was back then,” she added.
“I still remember her telling me I could hold on to my past or I could set it free. And then she told me the most ridiculous story ever.”
My brow lifted in curiosity.
“‘When she was little,’” Addy said, “Laura had a problem with stuttering. I had a friend growing up who struggled with it. It’s not easy. Anyway, she went on to say that her parents tried everything to cure it, but she still could barely say a single sentence without tripping over herself. When she entered the fourth grade and student elections were being held, she threw her name into the ring for vice president. Little did she know, she’d have to give a speech to the entire school. Her parents tried to talk her out of it, of course, but little Laura was determined.”
My face scrunched, already guessing what was going to happen.
“She was laughed off stage.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. And I felt for her; I really did. But as I stood there, in the diner where I made minimum wage and barely got by, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why this woman was telling me this. She always was a bit of a rambler.”
“Runs in the family,” I muttered.
“But she eventually got to her point. She said, although she’d lost that year, it’d propelled her to work day and night, and the next year, she won, blowing away the competition with her flawless speech.”
“And that somehow changed your life?” I asked.
“Well, no, but it’s a nice story about Sam’s mom, right?”
I rolled my eyes.
“There wasn’t one specific thing that Laura did to change my perspective. She didn’t have any grand words of wisdom that suddenly changed my mind. It was just the fact that she was there. She befriended me when I was at my lowest point, uncaring of who I was or where I was from. That was what made the ultimate difference.”
She smiled once again. “I always remembered that story though. She’d remind me of it every time I wanted to quit. Every time I wanted to throw in the towel and give up. She’d say, ‘You haven’t given your speech yet, Addy.’”
Her face turned slightly sad as she thought of her friend who had long since vanished.
“What happened?” I finally asked. “What made her leave?”
She took a deep breath, relaxing a bit more against the counter. “That isn’t my story to tell. But I’m sure Sam will share it with you soon enough.”
Finishing my last sip of cocoa, I frowned. “Why do you think that?”
“You two seem pretty close.”
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “We’re just friends. I mean, I don’t even see him outside of school and work.”
“Really?” Her smile grew. “Is that why he called and asked if he could join us for breakfast this morning?”
My eyes widened as I watched her smile break into a laugh.
“What? When? Why?”
“You have an hour. I suggest you—”
