Stutter Something Profound

The first time I stuttered was in the second grade. I was reciting my favorite poem to the class just like the teacher had asked the night before. My palms were sweaty, my face felt hot, and my voice was slightly shaky. So slightly, you couldn’t even notice the nervousness that I felt. But then I stuttered.

My ears were filled almost instantly with my classmate’s laughter. Taunting me. From that moment on, I vowed to make sure that I never stuttered again. And there was only one way to do that. I stopped talking. I didn’t care that for the rest of my days in elementary school, junior high, and high school that everyone referred to me as a freak. A mute. She never talks.

I think about talking all the time. Just saying one word even. But there was always that fear. That fear of stuttering. Fear of being laughed at. Picked on.

But I was already picked on. Laughed at. Just for not talking. I didn’t even need to stutter.
I remember, back in second grade, each child’s face as they laughed at me. Even the teacher. She tried to hide it as she tried to quiet the class. But I saw her. She couldn’t hide the smile.

There was only one person that didn’t laugh. A boy. I stared at him as the others laughed. He watched me as I went back to my seat, face flushed. Embarrassed. His big brown eyes. They were kind. Not laughing. Not teasing.

I fell in love with that boy.

I don’t know how it happened, seeing as I became a mute, but after that day we somehow became friends. He didn’t mind that I didn’t talk to him. He did all the talking. And I didn’t mind. I loved the sound of his voice and looked forward to hearing it every day.

I didn’t know if Brendon had other friends. I never saw him with anyone else. Though he was picked on as well. But there was nothing wrong with him. He just hangs out with the freak. He should just ditch her. He’d be better off.

When Brendon and I would be in the hallway, Brendon talking to me about something, people would come up to us.

“What are you two talking about?” they would ask. And they always looked at me immediately after the words left their mouths. “Oh. That’s right. Nothing.”

That’s when Brendon would tell me to wait for him outside. And I would. Even though I should make Brendon come with me. A majority of the time, Brendon would come outside with a bloody nose or a new bruise would be starting to form. But Brendon would be all smiles. That boy was always happy. No matter what. He’d ignore my worried looks and just continue talking to me as if nothing had happened.

We’d walk home together (Brendon lived next door) and he always knew that I was upset. And when he knew I was upset, when I was watching my feet as we walked home, he’d reach over and take my hand to give it a quick squeeze before dropping it. He’d never know, but those reassuring squeezes made my heart pound. They made me want to just open my mouth and say clearly: “I love you.”

But I never did. I knew that if I spoke, I’d probably stutter. And I didn’t want that to happen.

---------------------------------------------

It was after the start of my senior year when things started to change. Things were fine at school during the week, but on the weekends I started to see less of Brendon. Normally we would hang out as much as we could, but Brendon seemed to have less time for me. And I felt lonely. But I didn’t blame him for spending less time with me. It’s not like I was a very exciting person to hang out with. I guess after talking to someone constantly for almost ten years, you eventually run out of things to say.

It was a Saturday in January when Brendon came over around noon.

“Can you come with me?” Brendon asked, standing at my door. “I want you to meet some people.”

I nodded my head, glad to see Brendon. I would do anything for him. We walked next door and I noticed that Brendon’s parents weren’t home. When we walked through Brendon’s front door, my ears were met by three distinct and unfamiliar voices. My eyes widened in fear as I looked at Brendon. He noticed and reached for my hand, giving it that comforting, gentle squeeze.

“It’s going to be ok,” he whispered as he let go of my hand. “They’re really nice. You’ll see.”

Still nervous, I followed Brendon to his living room. There were three guys sitting on the couch. They looked at us as we entered, and their eyes looked at me with curiosity as they fell silent.

“Guys this is Sarah,” Brendon said. “Sarah this is Ryan, Spencer, and Brent.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” the guy named Ryan said, standing up. “We’ve heard enough about you.”

I gave him a small smile and he looked at me expectantly. Suddenly confused I looked around and my eyes met Brendon’s. He shrugged. I looked back at Ryan and he turned to look at Brendon now.

“She’s really shy, isn’t she?” Ryan asked.

“What?” Brendon asked, looking at me and then at Ryan. “Oh, shit. I completely forgot to tell you. Um, Sarah doesn’t exactly talk.”

“What?” Ryan asked, looking at me. I could feel my face heating up, and tears of embarrassment building up in my eyes. I blinked them back as I pulled out the little notepad I carried with me and a pen and wrote on it.

I’m going to go home.

I tore out the paper and shoved it in Brendon’s hand, not bothering to look at him. As I went out the front door, I heard Brendon calling my name. I didn’t want to see him right now though. The tears were returning. As I reached my own front door, they were already sliding down my face. I went inside my house and started to close the door, but something was in the way. A foot. I looked up and saw Brendon staring back at me, a pained expression on his face. This only caused me to cry more, and I backed away from the door, letting Brendon come in. His arms were around me instantly, pulling me close to him; trying to comfort me.

“I’m really sorry Sarah,” he was saying. “You should know that I would never intentionally hurt you. I’m just so used to you not talking that it didn’t even cross my mind to tell them.”

I just buried my face in his chest, trying to get the tears to stop. He pushed me back gently so that he could look at my face.

“It’s important to me that you met them,” Brendon said. “And I want you to know that they’re really cool guys. You see, I’m part of their band. I sing. And we might be getting a record deal. I only introduced you to them now because I didn’t want you to meet them unless we thought for sure that we were going to go somewhere.”

I could see his eyes light up as he talked about it. I pulled out my notepad.

I’m really happy for you.

He read it and smiled at me. I tried to smile back, but I was still crying slightly. Brendon wiped off my face, drying it slightly.

“I hate seeing you cry,” he said. “I really am sorry Sarah. I also wanted to let you know that if this record deal goes through, I’m going to be leaving after the school year ends…and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

My eyes widened as I looked back at him. I started to shake my head as more tears threatened to spill. My hands shook as I went to write in my notepad. But I didn’t know what to write. I dropped the pen and the notepad, burying my face in my hands, crying again. I felt Brendon’s hand touch my shoulder softly.

“Sarah,” I could hear the pain in his voice. He sighed. “I just—I want you to know, that I love you. I know it’s not the best time to tell you, but I want you to know. I’ve loved you for a while now. I’ve wanted to say it so many times, but funnily enough I never mentioned it when I talk to you.”

It was silent now. Brendon waited for a minute, maybe hoping for some reaction from me. But I was in shock. Utter shock and all I could do was cry. I had dreamed of this moment. How it would happen. And it didn’t happen like this. I wasn’t sobbing in these dreams.

Finally, Brendon’s hand left my shoulder and I heard footsteps as he left my house. I wanted to tell Brendon that I loved him. He had to know. I looked up, realizing that he was already on his way back over to his house. I rushed out the front door and was glad to see that he was only half-way back to his own house. I ran and caught up to him, grabbing his wrist to get him to stop walking. He turned around to look at me expectantly. I let go of his wrist and reached for the pocket I kept my notepad and pen. But it wasn’t there. I looked back at my house and back at Brendon. I couldn’t help but notice the hurt in his eyes. I tried to give him a pleading look. A look full of love even.

“It’s ok,” Brendon said. “I understand.”

He turned away and took a step towards his house.

He didn’t understand though. He took another step.

Why did I leave my notepad in the house? He was almost to his front door. I had to tell him now. I needed to tell him now. His hand was on the door knob.

“B-Brendon,” I said. I flinched as I stuttered. If it had been some other time, I would have been mortified. I would definitely never speak again. But right now it was very important for me to speak.

Brendon froze before turning slowly to look at me. I’m sure I looked like a deer in headlights, scared out of my mind. I had just spoken. And I stuttered. But no one was laughing. Brendon stepped away from his front door and took another step towards me, looking at me in surprise.

“Y-Yeah?” he said, stuttering as well. Hearing him stutter made me feel better in an instant, giving me courage to speak again.

“Brendon,” I said again. Smiling as I didn’t hear a stutter. He took another step toward me. “Brendon, I-I love y-you.”

The grin on Brendon’s face grew as the words I had just spoken sunk in and I found myself moving towards him, closing the gap between us until finally I was standing directly in front of him.

“You love me?” Brendon asked. I nodded my head.

“Y-Yes,” I said. Brendon pushed a stray strand of hair out of my face and I closed my eyes at his touched. When I reopened my eyes, Brendon’s face was moving closer to mine. And finally his lips were on mine, kissing me softly. He pulled away, resting his forehead against mine, his eyes closed.

“Say my name again,” he said quietly.

“Brendon,” I said. He smiled before kissing me again. As he pulled away, he took a hold of my hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“It’s nice to hear your voice,” Brendon murmured. I felt my face redden and I looked down. “Hey. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

I didn’t say anything and Brendon squeezed my hand again.

“Don’t stop talking now,” Brendon said. “Please?”

I looked at him and smiled.

“I just—I need to get used to it,” I said. He nodded his head and smiled.

“As long as you talk,” he said. “Cause hearing you say my name is a major turn on.”

I felt myself blush and Brendon kissed me again.

“Can you say my name again?” Brendon asked. I smiled sheepishly at him as I shook my head. “Please?”

He squeezed my hand as he stared pleadingly at me.

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes at him, but smiling at the same time. “Brendon.”