Socially Awkward

by Stephanie Haddad

  Regardless, she’s my sister and we’ll have to find a way to work around that.

  In class, I dominate a discussion about social communication via email versus cell phones. It’s nice to finally have some experiences to recount, for a change. I even find a way to work in some information from my research project about the differences I’ve observed. My comments earn a few smiles and nods from Dr. Chase, who lets me leave after class just like everyone else. No more detention from the principal, I guess.

  Lyla, too, seems to pick up on my renewed wave of positive energy. She falls into step with me after class as I head down to the library.

  “Well hello, Little Miss Sunshine,” she smiles, patting me on the shoulder. “Did you take Auntie Lyla’s excellent advice?”

  “You could say that,” I shrug. “But really, I’m just tired of feeling bad about everything. You were right about me making a mistake, but I can’t do anything now but apologize and give her some time.”

  “Thatta girl!”

  “Hey, Lyla…” I say, struck by a sudden thought. “There’s no chance you’re looking for a roommate, is there?”

  “Jennifer Smith, you have impeccable timing,” she grins from ear to ear. “How do you feel about living with a self-proclaimed clean freak?”

  “Pretty solid, actually.”

  “Excellent! You’re hired. My roommate moves out at the end of this month. I’d much rather live with you than some stranger from Craigslist,” Lyla says, steering me toward the coffee house. “Isn’t there a saying about that? The weirdness you know is better than that you don’t?”

  “Another greeting card?”

  “If only they were scoring well in the test markets…”

  I laugh with her as we head into the coffee house to discuss roommate things and plan ahead for the future. I’ve never realized before what I’d been missing out on by keeping myself so isolated from everyone. Maybe it’s just Lyla that puts me at ease, or maybe it could’ve been this way all along… who knows?

  There’s one more thing I need to do before I can say it’s been the best day of reconciliation and positive new beginnings in history… and it involved a stop at Tom’s Workout World. Luckily, Noah is at the gym just as I expected. Even more to my delight, he looks surprised—and pleased—to see me turn up.

  “You’re back!” he says, striding towards me from the front desk. “I was starting to think I’d have to find a new client to fill your time slot.”

  “Sorry about that…” I grimace. “I’ll have to repent with extra mileage on that treadmill, I guess.”

  “That’s just the beginning of your repentance,” he counters, a mischievous gleam lighting his eye.

  I take a deep breath and exhale a sigh. Things might be a bit awkward after what passed between us the last time I was here with him, but it was a relief to see that he didn’t want to make a fuss about it anymore than I did.

  Without my hearing aids in, I spent a decent amount of time letting Noah kick my lazy butt all around the gym. He even sent me to machines I’d never touched before, yelling just enough for me to hear him without screaming in my face. It felt good to be back in the zone, clicking with my trainer like this, ready to tackle anything he could through at me.

  And holy cow, am I going to have trouble moving tomorrow!

  When it’s finally over, I collapse onto the mat with my bottle of water and just exist for a few minutes. I breathe deeply to lower my heart rate, just like Noah taught me weeks ago when we were training outdoors, and close my eyes. The post-workout adrenaline pulses through my body, awakening all my senses and leaving me with a feeling of accomplishment like no other. It’s no wonder I’ve been feeling so down and out lately; all I needed was a good sweat to clear my head.

  The mat crunches quietly as Noah sits beside me. He gently touches a hand to my arm and my eyes dart open. “What’s really going on, Jen?”

  “School… family stuff…” I say, forcing a half-smile. “You know, life.”

  “Come on,” he says, standing up. “My last client canceled today, so I’m taking off early. You’re coming with me, got it?”

  Too tired to argue, and a little bit intrigued, I accept and follow Noah to his car without asking any questions. He throws my bag in the back and starts driving. Staring silently at my lap, thinking how badly I want to take a shower, I don’t even pay attention to where we’re going.

  I guess it doesn’t really matter to me.

  “Are you hungry?” he says after a few moments. I’ve grown oddly comfortable in the silence, so the sound of his voice startles me out of my daze.

  “Uhhh… no, not really. I can never really eat anything substantial after a workout.”

  “Want to get a coffee or something instead? I’m not really hungry either.”

  “Sure.” I look out the window, watching the street lights blur against the snow-covered scenery. Noah stops in at a Dunkin Donuts drive-thru and buys two medium hot chocolates with whipped cream. Aww, sweet.

  “Thanks, Noah,” I offers him a genuine smile as he passes me one of the Styrofoam travel mugs. “Where did you want to go with our drinks?”

  “I’ve been avoiding saying ‘your place or mine’ for this entire car ride, but to be honest, I can’t think of anywhere else. I’m sure neither of us really wants to go anywhere in public after a day at the gym.”

  I laugh at his blunt honesty, and decide to extend the invite to my apartment. At the very least, I can sneak in a shower before we decide to go out somewhere or… I don’t know. I don’t know what I expect to happen, but I know I should be prepared for just about anything. Noah is full of thrilling surprises, so I’ve been learning.

  Back in my apartment, which still feels eerie without Claire in it—weird how a temporary guest can shake things up like that, isn’t it?—we sit down at my kitchen table with our hot chocolate and stare at each other. I try clearing my throat to get him to talk, pick at the plastic tab on the top of my hot chocolate, even tap the table with my fingertips.

  “Noah…” I finally say, my impatience growing into something more lethal. “What’s going on?”

  Our eyes connect for a moment, across my rickety kitchen table for two, and then he looks away just as suddenly. When he does finally speak, it isn’t in regards to anything I anticipate.

  “What happened between you and Claire?”

  “Me…and Claire?”

  “Yeah, the two of you were so close. I would’ve never thought to see the day you weren’t speaking. If it’s none of my business, just say so. But as your friend…” His eyes seek mine as his voice trails off. I nod for him to continue. We can be friends and that’s fine by me. “As your friend, I can’t just sit by and watch you both implode. It’s going to start affecting you, and not just in the gym.”

  “Is that what you’re worried about?”

  “It’s not the only thing, or even the most important. It’s just the one aspect of your life I can guarantee I’ll be there to witness.” He stands up, abandoning his empty cup on the counter, and starts pacing the tiny square of space in front of the sink. “So what happened? Was it Tom?”

  “Kinda.” I shrug, for lack of a better answer to that question.

  “Did he… try anything with you?”

  “Well, not exactly,” I look away from him. His pacing makes me nervous and these questions aren’t going somewhere I’m ready to bring Noah. “It’s kind of complicated and I’m not sure—”

  “Jesus, Jen, I have to work with the guy. No, for the guy. If he’s messing around with the customers, I can’t just stand by and let it happen. First Claire and then you, I just…” He trails off, looking to me for the answers.

  “Look, it wasn’t like that, okay? Tom’s an asshole, but he’s not messing around with the customers,” I pause, not sure where to go. Noah’s furrowed brow tells me he needs to hear more to be satisfied. But there isn’t a good way to explain this, except to start from the beginning. “I’m a Sociology studen
t, okay?”

  Noah blinks. “What has that got to do with anything?”

  “It features prominently, trust me,” I say, sighing. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

  He nods and then listens. About halfway through the story, somewhere around the part where Sean thinks Claire is Olivia, he sits back down in the kitchen chair. Otherwise, he does a good job keeping his own personal feelings on the subject under wraps. I’m really sure what his response will be when I finally stop talking, but I know that I’m nervous it won’t be favorable.

  “So that’s it,” I say, talking to my hands. My hot chocolate has grown cold, my emotions thin. Until telling the story a second time, I didn’t realize how much the experiences of the previous couple of months has affected me. Mostly, I’m exhausted, like I can curl up on my couch and sleep for several days. I also feel cold and distant, like I’ve been living in a cave. I never wanted to be so isolated, especially because of a stupid class project. As I study the skeptical look in Noah’s eyes, I have to add, “I hope you don’t hate me like everyone else.”

  “Hate you?” he bites back his laughter, at least, but the amusement in his face is clear. “Why would I hate you, Jen? You didn’t do anything to me.”

  I swallow my defensive retort. “But… you think I do deserve to have everyone else mad at me?”

  “No, not really,” he shrugs. “People make mistakes. You got a little carried away, but you didn’t really do any harm. Maybe she just didn’t expect your project to affect her like that. But if it hadn’t been you—er, Olivia—that Tom propositioned, it would’ve been some other girl. Someone Claire might never have known about.”

  Noah was pretty wise, and understood how these interpersonal relations worked, maybe better than me, the constant student. I’m so grateful, I don’t know how to express it.

  “There is one thing that does bother me, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “This Sean guy… what’s the real story there? He’s the one from the Common, right?”

  Apparently, Noah’s got a better mind for names than Sean does, that much is clear. “Yeah, that’s the same one… and to answer your question, there’s nothing going on between us. He’s with Claire now, or at least as far as I know.”

  As much as I want to keep Noah in the dark about my past with Sean, the probing questions he starts to ask are leading me down the road less traveled. Well, not traveled at all, actually. I’ve never told anyone about what happened all those years ago. As Noah asks why Sean mattered so much, what happened between us, and things like that, I can’t keep him satisfied.

  “You don’t have to tell me anything, you know, Jen,” he finally says, sighing in defeat. “But it really matters to me… personally.”

  I see it in his eyes before his words become clear. Noah likes me… no, more than that. Noah’s interested in me and he wants to know where my heart is at too. Of course, he should be nervous after hearing a story like the one I just told. I’m surprised he’s handling it so well, actually.

  “He broke my heart,” I blurt out, motivated by the feelings I see in Noah’s eyes. “He was the first guy I ever liked. It was a long time ago.”

  “What happened?” The question takes all of his courage, I can see. He swallows hard, watching me for a reaction. Maybe even praying to himself that I’ll answer him.

  “I was a love-sick teenager and thought I had a special connection with him, but I was wrong…”

  He nods, taking my hand in his. The sensation of his warmth, his skin touching mine, it inspires me to tell him everything.

  “It was years before he even noticed I was alive. Then, one day, just before prom, he visited my locker. He brought me a rose and asked me out to dinner. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven, I was just so happy to be noticed… but not just noticed, either. He wanted to take me out on a date!” I cringe at the memory. Noah squeezes my hand and I continue. “I should’ve known something was wrong when he looked over at a group of the other jocks and winked. They were rolling with laughter… Stupid me, I thought he was asking me out despite them, not to have a good laugh with his buddies.”

  Noah shifts in his chair, his brow furrows. He’s actually upset with Sean about this, and the thought comforts me. Noah would have protected me, would have fought to stop all the teasing. Where was Noah when I was a teenager?

  “I went out to dinner with him and he was so sweet, holding my hand and smiling at me. He drove me home and played total gentleman, opening my door for me and walking me to the porch. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was! And then, just as he leaned in to kiss me, the front door flew open. It was my sister and she was fuming.”

  “Claire?” Noah whispers.

  “Only sister I have,” I say, smiling weakly. “Anyway, she screamed at him. ‘How could you do this to her?’ and ‘This isn’t what I meant at all!’ and ‘You’re disgusting, get out of my house.’ The whole time, Sean’s just gaping at her. He stands there until she finally runs out of steam and shrugs his shoulders. Then he said…”

  I take a deep breath, not willing to relive this painful moment. Noah wipes a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, kissing my forehead. “You don’t have to…”

  “No, I do,” I choke out the words. “I need to tell someone. It’s been long enough.”

  “Okay,” he resigns. “What did he say to you?”

  “He said, ‘I only took this cow out for dinner because I thought it’s what you wanted, Claire. You said if I could prove I was a nice guy, you’d go to prom with me…’ It was so blunt, I didn’t know what to do. After that, I locked myself in my room and just cried for the rest of the weekend. That’s when I started hiding Hostess cupcakes in my sock drawer, too.”

  “Oh, Jen,” he says breathlessly, gathering me against his chest. I let the last of my tears fall onto his shoulder. They absorb into the cotton of his t-shirt, temporary proof of my pain. “Oh, Jen.”

  “You want to kill him don’t you?” I sputter the words out, a lame attempt at a joke.

  He chuckles, deep in his chest. “Maybe later,” he says. “But right now, I had another plan in mind.”

  At first. Noah’s kiss is intense, but nothing I can’t handle. At least, not until he gently moves my lips apart and slides his tongue against mine. It’s enough to break the dam of my self-control, and there’s nothing I could do to stop myself after that. In one fluid movement, I wind my arms back around his neck and hop up onto his waist. I don’t give him any warning, but Noah doesn’t need it. He catches my legs on either side of his hips, supporting my weight around his waist—like we’ve planned for this to happen or something.

  Noah stumbles backwards as he adjusts his balance, and slams back against my kitchen counter. He sends several things flying in all directions, but neither of us is bothered by the clatter. We just keep kissing each other as though our lives depend upon this passionate connection, like we’d wither up and die if we broke apart. It feels nice to see so much of my own need reflected back at me, to be the one needed by another.

  A sigh escapes my lips then and Noah’s mouth grows hungrier for mine. He presses toward me so hard, we almost lose balance again and, this time, stumble into the kitchen table. My half-drunk hot chocolate flies from the table, exploding its contents all over the wall. Neither of us care very much about this at all. We notice it happen, then leave it to harden and dry on the yellow-tiled wall.

  I know, however, that if we carry on this way, either one of us would wind up injured or my mother will let herself in to see what the racket is all about. Quite frankly, neither of those options appeals to me. So I break away from him, long enough to exclaim a quick, “Wait!”

  “What? What’s wrong?” Noah lets go of me immediately, guiding my feet back to the dirtied kitchen floor.

  I giggle, like I’m frickin’ twelve or something.

  “Why are you laughing?” His face falls.

  “Well, we’ve kinda destroyed my kitchen,
” I say, shrugging. I smile playfully so he can see I’m not exactly upset about it. “And I just thought it might be safer for all parties involved if we went somewhere with more space.”

  As the words sink in, Noah returns my playful smile. “Oh, I see,” he says, leaning in to kiss me again. “Then let’s continue this conversation elsewhere.”

  A moment later, I find myself hanging over Noah’s shoulder like a rag doll. I laugh even as I wriggle to free my legs from his grasp. “Put me down!”

  “I’ll put you down,” he says, fighting to keep a serious tone in his voice. “As soon as I find a good spot.”

  Noah marches around my little apartment with me slung over his shoulder and makes a big production of searching for more space. “Well this room is far too tiny,” he declares, standing in my living room. “That TV doesn’t stand a chance. How about in here?”