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She stares at me as though I’ve just invited her to frat row. “You’re nervous to talk in front of people? How? You’re social. I see you talk to people all the time.”
“Public speaking and meeting people are on different planets,” I tell her.
Her dead stare tells me she doesn’t agree.
“There’s so much pressure when it comes to public speaking,” I say, feeling the weight of stress that consumes me at the mere thought. “Meeting new people is easy. Talking casually is easy because you’re swapping stories and engaging with each other. With public speaking, you’re up there alone, talking to everyone while they’re supposed to be silent, staring at you, judging you. It’s a lot.”
“Judge them,” Katie replies, grabbing more popcorn. “I do.”
“I get a little preoccupied remembering how to breathe to judge other people.”
Katie pauses mid-chew. “You’re not kidding? This really rattles you?”
“Like Jacob Marley’s chains inA Christmas Carol.”
“Hmm. I never would have guessed.” Her gaze becomes one of intrigue, staring at me like a new academic study. “Can you talk about someone from the past? You could talk about Edith Wilson, and how she should be recognized as the first woman US president.”
“I don’t think most are going to be interested in another person that history wronged. Things are too divisive right now.”
“But we need to be having these discussions. People need to discuss things that make them feel uncomfortable.”
“Is that a knock against my fear of public speaking?” I ask, working to lighten the mood because while I agree with her sentiment, I don’t have the mental bandwidth to have this discussion.
Nolan finishes his chicken strip and dusts his fingers off in the sink rather than the counters I’d cleared or his shirt like Ezra used to. I hate that I notice the redeemable quality.
Katie chuckles. “It was not. I’m just tired of everyone getting so defensive over everything.” She dusts her hands off in the sink as well. “I have to go, but you really should consider going out. Maybe not obsessing over your speech will help clear room for new ideas.”
“I haven’t been obsessing.”
She lowers her chin. “You made three lasagnas this week. That’s the definition of you obsessing.”
I turn to look at the pan of lasagna still cooling on the stovetop. “Don’t forget to try some tomorrow. And have Carsen try some, too.”
Katie nods, one step out of the kitchen. “And, Nolan, I’m serious—no parties. And make sure you don’t bring your food downstairs. It attracts cockroaches.”
He nods. “Item two on the house rules. I got it. All six versions.”
“I’m nothing if not thorough,” Katie says, grabbing a final piece of popcorn before heading for the stairs that lead to the second story, leaving me too close to her brother with not nearly enough distractions.
“Do you know what I hate about public speaking?” Nolan asks, biting into a second chicken finger. “The way people start fidgeting and looking at their phones like you’re boring them. Or when they do that hard blinking look, and you start to question if you mispronounced a word or have something stuck in your teeth.”
“Are you trying to be unhelpful or just exceeding with zero intention?”
His smile is instant as it is so often. There’s something about his quick and ever-present smile that makes me feel the claw of jealousy in my stomach. I’ve always wanted to be sunshine, the happy one—the constantly smiling one—and yet, reason, logic, and responsibility always have me weighing outcomes and odds, searching for flaws or potential problems. I’m not a cynic. I’m not even a realist. I’m a want to be glass-half-full but not even sure I even have a glass type.
“Which one is worse?” he asks, raising his beveled chin, as though he knows all his best angles.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“If you’re trying to be a masochist or if you’re like a puppy and are blissfully unaware.”
“And she’s sarcastic…” He turns his head, giving another best angle before shaking his head. I have no idea if he’s condemning me or simply surprised. I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care.
“Listen, about this game or retaliation or whatever, can we just … make amends? I won’t use the shower before six and I won’t use this shower down here ever, so you can do,” I swallow thickly as he turns amused eyes on me, “whatever you want. It’s none of my business.”
