An invitation, of sorts

Brett met me at Brews Brothers this morning so I could help him with some last minute cramming for his final in statistical physics. Don’t ask me why I’m good at that stuff, but for some reason it just clicks with me.

We were sitting there, studying, and Heather walked over and asked if she could get us anything. I was drinking orange juice because I’ve been feeling a little bit run down the past couple days and I don’t want to get a cold, not with summer starting, and even though I didn’t really feel like drinking more orange juice, I did feel like having Heather come back over to our table. “I’ll take some more juice, please,” I said, hoping that I sounded polite.

She came back over a couple minutes later with my juice and a couple peanut butter cookies. “You guys look like you need these,” she said, and she smiled as she set them on our table.

“Thanks,” I said. “Are you all ready for your recital?”

She seemed kind of surprised. I’m not sure if she was surprised that I was asking about it or surprise that I had remembered, or what, but she smiled. “I think so. I haven’t had as much time to practice as I’d like, since they’ve been so short on help here…but, yeah, I think I’m ready.”

“Do you get nervous? I think I would be terrified to stand on stage in front of a bunch of people and sing.” Terrified, like I am right now. “I mean, if I were a singer. Which I’m not. Definitely not…” Just SHUT UP, Chad! “…but if I was, I think it would be just terribly nerve-racking. Don’t you get nervous?”

“Not so much anymore. I think I used to, but I’ve been doing it for such a long time that it kind of comes naturally. Besides, most of the pieces I’m doing for my recital tonight are in Italian, so no one will know if I forget the words.”

I laughed. It wasn’t my normal laugh, either. It was my nervous, what-do-I-say-now-so-I-don’t-sound-like-a-tool laugh. “You should practice in here sometime,” I heard myself saying. Way to not sound like a tool.

Heather kind of blushed a little bit, and let me tell you that it was adorable when she blushed. “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said.

“It’d be good practice. You already have a captive audience.”

“I think I would get kind of nervous.”

“You just told me that you don’t get nervous anymore.” What are you doing, Chad? You’re being a jackass. For the love of God, shut up.

“Yeah, but that’s onstage. With the spotlights, and the piano, and the audience dark. Singing in here would be a completely different story.”

“Well, if you ever feel like giving an impromptu recital, I’d love to listen.”

Just then a big group of people came in the door, saving me from the awkwardness that was becoming my life. I have never been so happy to see customers in Brews Brothers. Heather sighed and said, “I guess I’d better go help people. But if you’re really interested in hearing me sing…my recital is tonight at 7 in the auditorium in Chapman Hall.” She didn’t give me time to say anything, or to even get a feel for whether she really wanted me to go or not, she just smiled and walked away.

I looked over at Brett, flustered. His mouth was agape.

“What was that?” he asked.

“What was what?”

“That. You couldn’t even talk, dude. What the fuck?”

“I could so.”

“It sure as hell didn’t seem like it when you were babbling. You were nervous. You were nervous around the coffee girl.”

“Her name is Heather,” I said, a little bit too defensively.

“Oh, so you’re on a first name basis. Are you going to go to her recital?” He said it in a mocking kind of voice. I did not appreciate his tone.

“I’m not sure yet,” I said as I picked up my cookie. And I really wasn’t.