Page 5 of That Thing You Brew
“I’m—” She took a deep breath and gave a quick, tight smile. “Fine.”
I tilted my head, challenging her reply. She shrugged.
“Take my sunglasses?” I pulled them off my head and held them out to her. “Sometimes it’s easier for me to speak when I can’t see who I’m talking to or there’s a barrier between us. Like my helmet’s visor or a camera lens. It creates distance, and sometimes I even trick myself into thinking I’m someone else behind the glass.”
Penny pressed her lips together and took the sunglasses, turning them over in her hands. Slowly, she slid them on and checked her reflection in the rearview.
I squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “What do you think?”
She chewed on her lip, then turned her head towards me. “Cool.”
I laughed. “The coolest girl I know.”
She pressed her lips together again, and her cheeks flushed where her makeup had been rubbed away.
How could I make her smile? I glanced at the dash again. I had ten minutes if we were going to make it on time.
“You ssh-should go.” She removed the sunglasses and handed them back to me. Her chin dipped into her chest. “T-Tasha can m-make coffee.”
I studied her, and it occurred to me that this was the most she’d spoken to me in the years since I’d been frequenting the Bevvie Bar. She wasn’t crying anymore or breathing heavily, yet she was stuttering. Did I make her nervous?
I retracted my hand and hung my head. I owed her an apology. She obviously wanted to be alone and was only being polite, letting me into her car and allowing my knight-in-shining-armor attempt to fix her problems.
I was always trying to fix people’s problems. Mine, my sisters’, my teammates. It wasn’t until recently I realized that not everyone wanted solutions. Some just wanted a listener. I wasn’t wired that way, but if that was what Penny needed, I’d be that for her.
I clutched the door handle. “I’m sorry, Penny. It’s not my business or my place to offer help. But if you ever need anything?—”
She laughed mirthfully and fixed her gaze on the back of the building. “N-not unless y-you c-can help me s-speak.”
Memories of being pulled out of class in elementary school rushed into my mind, and an idea occurred to me. I chose my words carefully. “I had a speech impediment when I was a kid.”
She turned her head and regarded me curiously but didn’t speak.
“I had lessons three times a week. I remember them clearly. Maybe I could help?”
Penny shook her head. “N-not im-im-pedi-mment. N-nerves.”
I sat back into the seat and tried to keep my expression open and neutral. If Penny’s condition was due to nerves, that meant I was making her nervous, too.
Had she had this condition all her life? Was that why she’d become fluent in ASL?
I needed her to know she didn’t have any reason to be nervous around me.
Shifting in my seat again, I turned towards her. “You’re safe with me, Penny. I hate that I make you nervous.”
Her face fell into her hands again, hitting the steering wheel. It let out an angryhonk!We both jumped.
I wanted to laugh but held it in. She didn’t react. I’d made the situation worse.Way to go, dummy.
“I’m sorry.” I reached for the door handle, and her arm shot out to stop me.
“Wait … please.”
Penny reached behind my seat and retrieved a small red purse. She dug around inside and pulled out a pen and one of those skinny receipts you get at a gas station. I watched as she wrote a message on the back of it, in a tiny, perfect script.
I blew the audition because I can’t speak properly when I’m nervous or anxious. People I don’t know make me nervous. Addressing a group, especially an interview panel, paralyzes me. And if Iamable to get words out, they’re rushed and undecipherable. I can perform and imagine them all away, but before the music starts and after it ends, I stutter. It’s crippling and embarrassing and I’m so ashamed. I hate that you know my secret. But I hate living like this even more. So I’d like to try whatever you think might help. But I’m not hopeful. Fourteen years of speech therapy did absolutely nothing.
As I read, that achy feeling in my chest returned.
