18. Adam
Chapter eighteen
Adam
O ur next session goes slightly better. I have my script ready this time, so Nicole has me up behind the podium.
“Okay,” she directs. “Let’s start by visualizing your presentation. Think through the whole thing in your mind. From the start when the moderator introduces us, all the way through to questions at the end. Visualize yourself commanding the room, speaking confidently–”
“Not puking?” I cut in.
She closes her eyes briefly and sighs. “Yes, Adam. It would be preferable if you don’t vomit during our presentation.”
“Okay, wait a second.” I circle around the podium and pick up my legal pad and pen from the nearby table. I write, while saying the words aloud, “No vomiting. Got it. ”
I lift my head to see Nicole’s reaction and am rewarded when a puff of laughter escapes her lips. She shakes her head, trying to hold it back. I grin. Making her laugh is everything.
“Behind the podium!” she chastises, and I quickly move back into place.
“Alright,” I say. “I have visualized the presentation. What’s next?”
“Now,” she commands, “use the podium to your advantage. Think of it as a touchstone. Touch it or hold the edges to steady yourself. The rigidity of the podium is a reminder that you’re safe. The ground is steady at your feet.”
I press my hands against the podium and stomp my feet lightly against the floor. “Yeah,” I say. “I can see that. It’s a grounding technique, reminding my body that I’m safe and it doesn’t need to go into a fight, flight, or freeze mode.”
“Exactly. So, I think we’re ready to run through your script now. Whenever you’re ready.”
I walk through a round of box breathing, grip the edge of the podium, and shuffle my feet against the ground. Then, I start reading from my script.
Nicole lets me go on for a few minutes before she stops me. “Overall, not bad, but I have some notes.”
Pinching my lips together, I gesture for her to continue. “First, I know you’re just reading through on this go-round, but during the real thing, you’re going to want to be comfortable enough to look up at the audience and make eye contact every so often.”
“Yes,” I agree. “It would be fantastic if I were comfortable enough to do that. ”
“But you don’t think you will be?”
I click my tongue and point at her. Nailed it.
“Fine, we’ll see. But second, you’re fidgeting too much up there.”
I am? I don’t remember fidgeting. But even here, in a room containing only Nicole, reading the script felt almost like an out-of-body experience. Who knows what I did.
“Start again,” Nicole urges, “but this time focus on holding your hands and feet still.”
I take a deep breath and start reading again from the beginning of my script. I don’t get nearly as far as the first time before Nicole stops me.
“No, you’re still … you’re still fidgeting.” She blows out an exasperated breath. “Here, I have an idea.”
She stands and circles around the podium to walk up behind me. Positioning her arm below mine, she takes the pen I’m still holding out of my hand. “First, we’ll put this down. Actually, let’s move it out of the way completely.” She tosses it across the room.
“Hey!” I protest.
“It’s for the best,” she insists. “You were spinning it around and clicking it and it was distracting from your words. No pens around you during the presentation.”
“Oh,” I say, chagrined. Didn’t realize I was doing all that. “Yeah, that’s a good plan.”
“Now,” she says, reaching her other arm around and positioning it below my other arm. We’re standing with my back to her front, with her arms underneath mine, her hands curled around my wrists. Because of the size difference, she’s practically plastered against me, and I feel the weight of her on my back like pressure points. “I’ll hold you steady while you talk so that you don’t fidget. Start again.”
I take another breath, but my heart is racing, and it has nothing to do with public speaking. I start reading. Her hands grip my wrists with more pressure, keeping them firm against the podium. I realize with a start that I had been trying to lift them. She’s right about the fidgeting.
I continue, losing focus on the words I’m saying as the warmth from Nicole’s body seeps into mine. I’m sure she can feel my pulse going crazy in my wrists. But tuning into my body for a moment while my eyes continue reading and my mouth continues saying words, I recognize a flutter on my wrist—Nicole’s thumb skating almost imperceptibly across my skin. Back and forth in a very intentional-seeming path. Against my back, I feel her heartbeat drumming at a wild pace. Farther up, her cheek rests against the top of my spine.
I close my eyes; the words coming out of my mouth slow and then stop altogether. But Nicole doesn’t say anything, doesn’t seem to notice. My pulse slows, and her heartbeat matches the pace. And then we’re quiet, hearts beating together in a steady rhythm. I hold still, reluctant to move and break this spell, knowing that at any second, Nicole could pull away, realize what we’re doing and put a stop to it.
And then, as predicted, she does. Her arms drop, and she steps away. I immediately feel the absence of her heat against my back. I want to spin around and pull her to me, tuck her head under my chin and continue holding her. But I don’t. Instead, I move to the side, giving her space.
I clear my throat and looking her in the eye, I ask, “Was that any better?”
She holds her arms, hands moving over the fabric of her sleeves as if she’s trying to warm herself up, but her cheeks are flushed. She glances away and says into the distance, “Yeah, that should work.”
The conference is next week. In between creating slides and public speaking practice and my normal job, I’ve registered for the conference, booked my hotel room, and reserved a spot for Joan at a local doggie resort. I told my mother about the conference, of course, and she’s excited for me. More so after I told her the presentation topic, and she realized it was based on the project I had been working on with Nicole. Yes, I had explained to her, Nicole is also going to the conference. Yes, we’re driving together.
For our final public speaking session, Nicole decides we should do a full run through of the presentation with our slide deck and both of us speaking. And an audience. Considering the first two sessions, I wonder if inviting the small audience has more to do with practice for me or protection for herself. Not protection against me, to be clear, but protection against herself since she, for some reason, feels like she needs to resist anything happening between us.
We meet during work hours to make things easier for our audience, which consists of Tasha, Herb, and Susan from the library, and Ashley, who Nicole has apparently developed a friendship with since Soapbox. Definitely feeling smug about that one.
I treat the rehearsal as if it’s the real presentation. I arrive in the classroom thirty minutes before we’re supposed to start. I get the laptop connected and pull up the slide deck, making sure that the projector is working, and the screen is in place. Before anyone else arrives, I do the whole shaking-out-my-jitters thing, rolling my shoulders and jogging in place for a few minutes.
Nicole comes in with Ashley, the two of them laughing about something. Ashley takes a seat, and Nicole joins me at the front of the room.
“You doing okay?” she whispers.
“So far, so good,” I answer. “I still need to do my breathing.”
She fiddles with the slide deck to give me space. I do a couple rounds of box breathing as the rest of our audience trickles in. I even take a minute to visualize the presentation. Not sure how effective it is though, because while I imagine Nicole’s portions going flawlessly, mine look a little shaky in my mind’s eye.
After a few minutes, Nicole gets everyone’s attention, and we start. She speaks first and when she transitions to me, she gives me an encouraging smile. I stand at the podium, my hands flat against the surface. I focus on keeping still and looking up from my script at the audience every so often. Nicole is in charge of advancing the slides, so I don’t need to worry about how I’ll fumble that. When I pass the figurative mic back to Nicole to finish the presentation, I breathe a sigh of relief. Nicole wraps up her last section and then calls for questions, signaling the end .
Our makeshift audience applauds, and Nicole bows theatrically. Turning to me, she says quietly, “We’ll debrief in a few minutes.” Then, she walks over to our colleagues in the room to talk to them.
Herb approaches me. “Excellent presentation!” he says as he pats me on the back. “You’ll both make us proud at the conference next week.”
“Thank you,” I say, chagrined.
When the audience members have all filed out of the room, Nicole comes back up front where I’m still standing.
Palms up, I lift my hands in question. “How was it?” I ask, cringing to hear the answer.
But Nicole smiles. “Not bad at all,” she says. “Your voice was a little shaky, but you didn’t fidget, and you looked up enough. How did you feel?”
“Drained,” I answer. “But I can see how this practice run will make it easier to present at the conference. I have a better idea of what to expect now. Thank you.”
Nicole grins. “Don’t thank me. It was all self-serving. This is my presentation, too, and I can’t have someone puking in the middle of it.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Maybe I won’t eat that day, just in case.”