Nerdgasm | Chaennie

PROLOGUE

ROSÉ

Six years old

I push the blue bead along on the rollercoaster maze as I wait for mommy to finish talking to the doctor. Up, down, across, around, and down again. We come here a lot, and I get sad when mommy is sad. I feel like the more we come here, the sadder she gets. As my fingers move to reach for a green bead, the conversation reaches my ears.

"Dr. Michaels, is this normal?" Mommy whispers. She sounds worried, and she doesn't know I can hear her.

"Like I've said before, Mrs. Park, nothing is wrong with Rosé." He's using the same voice she uses when she's trying to be patient. "Genetic factors could also play a role. Does anyone else in the family stutter?"

"When it first started—before my husband passed away—I remember him saying his uncle or someone else in the family stuttered. I'm just worried because it started a couple years ago and stopped on its own, but it started up again a few months ago out of nowhere."

"Some children will grow out of it; the percentage of children who stutter usually only do so for six months or more. Granted, that's more of a benchmark, so keep in mind there's a chance it'll be something she'll deal with throughout her life. I would monitor it and check in with Rosé."

"It's more severe than it was last time, and now that she's in elementary school, I don't want her to be singled out. Kids can be cruel, and I just worry about my baby," she says, clearly distraught.

I look over at her, the green bead forgotten, and she looks lost. This is all my fault. I don't want to be the reason my mommy feels this way, but I can't help how I talk. I feel out of control when I stutter, and I feel bad.

"You're her mother, so that's completely understandable. Long-term stuttering is only seen in about one percent of children, but there are treatment options. She's still very young, and I see no reason why she can't eventually make a full recovery. As I mentioned earlier, this isn't my area of expertise. If it doesn't go away and continues to become more severe, I suggest consulting a specialist if you want to look into this further."

"I can't afford it right now," she murmurs. "If she needs it though, I'll find a way. I need to do what's best for my child."

I get up from my seat on the play rug and walk over when I hear her voice crack. Slipping my hand into hers, I tug so she looks down at me, the tears in her eyes sparkling like little diamonds.

"M-m-mommy, don't be s-sad. I'm sorry s-something's w-wrong with me."

"Oh, Rosé!" she cries as she drops down so we are eye to eye. She wraps me up in a warm hug and squeezes me tightly. "Nothing is wrong with you, my sweet child."

"B-but you're always s-sad. It's b-because of m-m-me."

"I miss your daddy, and I'm just worried about you. Trust me when I say that nothing is wrong with you at all. You're perfect."

Before I can respond, Dr. Michaels drops down so he's on the same level as us. "Your mother is right, Rosé. There's nothing wrong with you; I promise. There's nothing to be sorry about. Lots of people stutter at some point in their lives. If anyone asks about it, just tell them you stutter sometimes. It's not a big deal." He smiles kindly before continuing. "How about you continue to visit me for your regular check-ups? When you stop by, we can talk about your progress. You're a bright, healthy kid, and I know you're going to excel in everything you do."

Mommy smiles at his words, which makes me want to smile too. "O-okay. Can I bring my Iron Man c-c-comic book next time, p-please?"

"Of course." Dr. Michaels nods and reaches out to ruffle my hair before he stretches back to his full height. "You're my favorite visitor, and reading comic books with you is always the highlight of my day."