Chapter 8
Brian
Ishouldn’t have walked out of work the way I did over something as minor as embarrassment.
Running away was the coward’s way out of difficult situations, but it seemed to be a default setting for me when all my inadequacies were laid bare.
I should have been beyond being crushed by the truth, but not being able to read in my mid-twenties was more than just a shortcoming.
It was a handicap that made me feel like dirt.
By the time I reached home, I felt lower than dirt.
Not just because Gilbert had snapped at me, but because I just knew Sam was on the verge of figuring things out, and once he did, he wouldn’t want anything to do with a dummy like me anymore.
Whatever pride I had left was about to turn into ugly crying as I let myself into the apartment, then closed the door behind me and leaned against it, lowering my head.
“Whoa,” Kendra greeted me as she stepped out of her bedroom in her pajamas, carrying an empty mug. “You’re home early, and you do not look good.”
I jerked straight, my eyes going wide. “You’re still up.”
“I was just about to head to bed,” she said, continuing on to the kitchen, “but it looks like you might need me to stay up a while longer for some sort of therapy session.”
My stomach twisted in shame, but I followed Kendra slowly into the kitchen all the same. “I got yelled at this morning at work,” I confessed, hanging my head.
Kendra put her mug in the sink, then turned to me with an incredulous look. “You? At work? Who in their right mind over there would have anything to yell at you about?”
I sighed and leaned against the counter.
The whole thing was so embarrassing, and I’d reacted to it all wrong, but the best way to save face and start to grow a backbone again was to come clean about everything.
“Sam and Gilbert were having a meeting in the office. There was some sort of sign posted on the door that I couldn’t read.
I let myself in to bring them coffee, since they were both having a rough morning, and I got yelled at for not reading the sign. ”
Kendra looked like she might murder someone. “You were being nice and Sam shouted at you?”
I shook my head. “Not Sam, Gilbert. He called me out for not reading the sign.”
A different expression came over Kendra. She crossed her arms and studied me. “They still don’t know?”
Prickles of shame washed through me. I shrugged, and the gesture turned into something more like flailing desperately as old emotions tried to drag me under.
“What am I supposed to tell them? That they hired an illiterate idiot who can’t even read the labels on cleaning supplies?
Do you think Sam would really want to date someone who has to show up early at the restaurant for a date so he can ask the server all about the menu so he doesn’t look like a moron? ”
“Don’t talk about yourself that way, Brian,” Kendra said, sadness settling over her. “You’ve got a learning disability. That’s a brain thing. It doesn’t mean you’re dumb. Far from it.”
“I got yelled at for failing to read a simple sign on a door,” I reminded her in a flat voice.
She took that in, but instead of answering it directly, she said, “How long were you planning to date Sam before telling him the truth?”
She had me there. I let out a breath and leaned heavily against the counter, lowering my head. “I don’t know. He’s such a smart, competent guy. He’s already way out of my league.”
“Well, I don’t believe in leagues,” Kendra said. “People fall in love all the time. I’ve seen the two of you together, and you’re adorable. I promise you, Sam won’t hold any of this against you. He’ll probably want to help you.”
“That’s a whole other kettle of fish,” I said. “I want to be his boyfriend, not his project. I would hate it if our entire relationship turned into him trying to cure me of dyslexia.”
“You don’t know if that’s what would happen,” Kendra argued. “If you really love him, if you really want to build a relationship with him, you need to trust him with this thing and give him a chance to prove himself before you run away from the best thing that’s happened to you in a while.”
She was right. I knew she was right, and that made the way I’d dashed out of the café even more embarrassing.
Which meant it would be three times harder to go back that evening for games night.
But I knew I had to do it. Especially after Sam texted me.
I used the handy app I’d found to read his message aloud, then I replied with a voice message of my own, letting Sam know I’d be there for games night. It was the least I could do.
That’s not to say it was easy. Far from it.
I spent the day fretting about everything that had happened and debating with myself whether I should come clean and explain my dyslexia and the reasons I’d left Pittsburgh to Sam.
I went out to take a walk as I mulled it over so Kendra would go to sleep instead of sitting with me trying to work through the muddle.
She needed her sleep, and I hated the idea that my problems were disrupting everyone I cared about.
Diccon called in the early afternoon to make sure I was okay.
“Gilbert is sorry he shouted at you,” he said after I assured him I was fine. “You know he’s got a temper these days because of the construction.”
“I barged in on a meeting because I couldn’t read the sign on the door,” I said. “I would have yelled at me, too.”
“That’s still no excuse,” Diccon said. There was enough hesitation in his voice that I knew my best friend wanted to say more.
But what he said was, “You’re still coming to run games night tonight, right?
Last week went so well, and you can’t let Sam win by saying his format for a games night is more profitable than yours. ”
I grinned and huffed a laugh. “I’ll be there,” I promised. “I might be a little bruised at the moment, but I’m still going to make sure my idea wins.”
Thinking about games night was exactly what I needed to get myself back on track. It gave me something to focus on for the rest of the day. I even visited a few of the local thrift stores to see if they had any new boardgames for sale that I could bring to the café.
I actually found an old strategy game at one store, and by the time I walked into Common Grounds around six o’clock, I was back to feeling like I had something worthy to contribute to the place I loved so much and the people I cared about.
The café was only minimally busy, which was a little bit of a problem in its own right.
It meant I could slip into the back room relatively unnoticed and start to set up the tables for the evening.
My entire body buzzed in anticipation of facing Sam again.
I knew everything would be okay, really, I did.
Sam was a good guy. He wouldn’t chuck me to the curb because of a misunderstanding. We would be able to make this work.
I’d convinced myself of that by the time I left the backroom and headed for the closet where the games were stored, which was right next to the office.
That’s when I heard them talking.
“It’s a problem, I’ll admit,” Sam’s voice sounded from inside the office. The door was halfway open, so I could hear everything, but I couldn’t see who was inside. Which meant they couldn’t see me.
“The stupidity of it all is really getting to me,” Gilbert answered, clearly exasperated. “There’s no two ways about it, the man is an idiot. I mean, what was all that business with the sign?”
I froze halfway through opening the closet door, chills washing through me. They were talking about me. It couldn’t be anyone other than me. The sign thing was a dead giveaway.
“I’ll admit, the fuss over the sign was a bit much,” Sam said, sounding tired. “And the man’s attitude is becoming more of a problem.”
I shrunk back a little. Attitude? I didn’t have an attitude, did I?
Then again, I had gotten a little cocky about the games night thing. I’d thought Sam and I were just teasing each other. Maybe me standing up to Sam, my boss, and ragging on him a little was seen as having an attitude.
“I don’t know how much more of this incompetence I can handle,” Gilbert went on. “The way he’s barged in here like he owns the place is one thing, but I keep waiting for him to make more serious mistakes. He needs to stick to what he knows and not try to interfere with everything else.”
Heat flushed my entire body, but especially my face. I grabbed the boxes of games from the closet as fast as I could and crept away to the backroom before I heard anything else that could crush me even more than I’d just been crushed.
I had overstepped my bounds. Suggesting games night was going too far. I should have trusted Sam to run his business instead of waltzing in and telling him what to do. I did have a tendency to barge into rooms and conversations where I wasn’t wanted or needed. And Gilbert was right, I was stupid.
I felt numb as I went back to work setting up various games on the tables in the backroom. What was I even doing? Was Sam just humoring this silly idea of mine because…because why?
But no, games night had been a success so far, both my open format and Sam’s tournament-style night. We’d brought people into the café. Those people had spent money. We were making the best of a bad situation and finding ways to survive during construction.
On the other hand, we’d only done each of our games night ideas once. Maybe the novelty would wear off too quickly and the whole thing would prove to be a flop after all.
My thoughts bounced around, making me jittery as I did everything I could to set up. A few people did show up early, which was a relief, and settled in to play the new strategy game I’d found at the thrift store.
As soon as Sam wandered into the backroom, though, my anxiety flew off the charts.
“Hey,” he greeted me with a warm smile, coming over to give me a hug and a quick kiss.