Eloquence

by rani Jayakumar

Every day when I’m near her, I’m tongue-tied, not knowing what to say, as if an invisible black cat had my tongue, bringing ill-luck to all my interactions with her, including, inevitably, spilling my coke on her shirt. Around others, I can speak with the fluency of a linguist, and my English teachers even nominated me for the debate team, where I won in both extemporaneous and persuasive speech. So when Mrs. Morris told her I could help her with her talk for the PTA, and she came up to ask me, I could only stare blindly, babble, trip over my own feet, and mumble something about needing to go to the bathroom, only to find myself standing inside, hands clammy, unsure how I got there. A week later, she simply showed up at my house (we’re neighbors), and my sister pointed up the stairs, which is how I found myself, mouth hanging open, while she stood in the doorway, shiny hair bobbing, her smile lighting up the room like the sun. Suddenly, we were inseparable, with her telling me personal things about her life I was sure she told no one else, working straight from school until dinnertime on her speech as I made corrections, starting with only mumbles and eventually getting to moderate conversation, though still nothing near my usual eloquence. She gave her talk that day, while I stood in the back, smiling and proud of my student, still ridiculously in love, blissfully unaware that tomorrow she would be back to just being an acquaintance at school, and I would be changed forever.

6S

rani Jayakumar has written for Ab Terra Flash Fiction, Secret Attic, 365 Tomorrows, Raven and Drake, and other publications. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area, and teaches music and mindfulness. Follow her writings and life here.