Beard Up(19)

That would convince her to come inside.

Not. 

Everyone wanted to hang out with a sweating seventeen-year-old, right?

Whatever, I couldn't help what my body did.

I took the last step and tapped my foot seven times on the last step, gritting my teeth as I did.

I didn't want to do the things that I did, but I couldn't help it, either.

I had OCD. A mild form of it, yes, but OCD nonetheless.

I was an awkward teen, and that was due to the fact that most people found me weird.

No one could understand why I had to tap seven times on the last step. Nor the fact that I usually only stuttered on my Ys and Ps. Then there were the other things like the constant need to wash my hands, the need to always walk on the left, even when you're supposed to walk on the right. Oh, and let's not forget the most fun one-the overwhelming need to count absolutely everything. That one always made me the latest.

It didn't matter where I was, or what I was doing, I always had to know the number of people in the room. That was why I'd only gone to a pep rally one time and only that one time.

Leaving that rally unsure exactly how many people had been in the gym had left me upset for days.

But as I finally walked down the path to the old, beat up car that was parked at the end of our half-moon driveway, I was determined to make this happen.

I would not watch her sweat her tiny ass off in that car one more day. I would bring her inside, keeping her out of my parents' view, and have her stay in my room with me until her mother was ready to leave. Then I'd sneak her back down and deposit her back into her car with no one any the wiser.

I just couldn't stand to watch her suffer one more day.

It was terrible, and it happened every day her mother worked for us.

Even if she thought I was a weirdo.

I tapped on the roof of the car and started to speak, startling her.

"Y-y-you need to come inside with me," I cajoled. "I hate seeing y-y-you suffer."

Then her eyes met mine, and everything in my mind went quiet. Everything. Absolutely-freaking-everything.

No longer did I care that there were fifteen people on the grounds, eight of those from the grass company, four of them from the landscaping, and three looking at the pool.

No longer did I need to do anything that my disorder usually demanded that I do.

Why?

Because I couldn't take my eyes off of this girl in front of me.

She was beautiful. Absolutely stunning, and I wanted to wrap her in my arms and never let her go.

"Hey," she whispered. "I'm okay."

I licked my suddenly dry lips. "Y-y-you don't look okay."

Holy crap.

This girl didn't know it, but she was a miracle worker. My head was quiet for the first time that I could remember.

"But I'm really … " I interrupted her lie.

"You're sweating, your face is really red, and I'm pretty sure I haven't seen you take a drink of water the entire time your mother has been cleaning," I pointed out.

She looked down at her lap.

"My mother said I was to wait right here and not move," she said stiffly, then shook her head as if she couldn't believe she was even telling me this. "If I move, she'll get pissed."

"Seems to me your mother's too busy to know if you moved or not," I said. "I haven't once seen her look out a window to check on you."

"You're certain?" she bit her lip, sounding slightly more hopeful now. "Because even getting out of the car will help." She looked at the trees on the edge of the lawn. "Being in this car feels like an oven every day, but if she finds out, the repercussions will be worse than this hot car."


      ///
       
         
       
        

A hot flash of anger rolled through me at the idea of this girl having any ‘repercussions' for protecting herself from the hot Louisiana sun.

She looked up at me with those soulful brown eyes, and I realized right then and there that this girl was going to save me.

And when she stepped out of that car? Her little frame came up to just above chest height on me, and I realized that despite being tiny, she had the ability to change my world.





***


"Thank you," my wife whispered.

Thank God for the shades that were covering my eyes.

I knew that my face was different enough, but my eyes weren't. And I'd only seen three people with the exact same color as my eyes before. My daughter, my sister and Lynn.

I nodded instead of speaking, not trusting my voice with her.

And not because I thought she would recognize it.

She wouldn't. The smoke inhalation had permanently damaged my larynx and vocal chords. I didn't sound the same, not even close.