Tongue Tied

September 2018

Even though I was surrounded by people, I could only feel him. He was everywhere, all over me, all around me, swimming through me...yet somehow barely even looking at me. After one little greeting, we hadn't said much to one another. It was so strange.

Was he still hurt? Did he not want to be around me? Did he hate me for giving up on us? Maybe he blamed me even more than I did myself. I didn't know if that was possible, but something had to be going on. Every nerve inside my body stood on edge as I silently tried to figure him out.

"So, no," I heard him telling one of the other guys in the group. "I'm not exactly working with my acting, but who is? Getting a dream job doesn't just happen. Anyway, I like what I'm doing now even better."

If I hadn't been such an emotional mess, that comment might've made me smile. Only Scott could turn not using his degree into something positive.

"At the moment, I'm working with a youth group, but I'm actually training to be a teacher."

That shocked me, I couldn't ever imagine him teaching. It seemed like the sort of thing I'd be more suited to on paper. But no, after being such a high-achiever at uni, I was the one left miserable with my career.

He laughed loudly, a sound which came right from the pit of his belly, sending a shiver racing down my spine. My ears buzzed, my brain span, I wasn't even sure if I remained standing upright. I could've been a heap on the floor and I wouldn't have known!

"Carlie." A hand rested on my shoulder, making me jump. I turned rapidly, trying to hide my odd behaviour. "How are you doing? I haven't seen you for ages!"

I blinked, scanning my brain desperately as I tried to figure out who this person was. I stared at a face I half-recognised, that I knew from my past, but I couldn't put a name to the face. Molly? Millie? It left me with two choices; own the fact I didn't remember and simply ask her, or play along and cover up my embarrassment. In a typical British polite way, I ended up steering towards the latter.

"Oh, right. Of course! How are you?" I reached out and embraced her. "It has been a while."

"Yeah, a long time since the good old days of English lectures."

The tight coiling sensation in my stomach loosened. At least I now knew it was someone I studied with. This didn't bring back any more memories but it was something to go on.

"Good old Mr. Turner." I laughed and rolled my eyes. "God, I'm glad to be away from him."

"Actually..." She bit down on her bottom lip and smiled. "I see him all the time. I work at the university now as an assistant to the English department and I love it. It's such an exciting job, working with the staff and students. I get times when I really feel like I'm making a difference in people's lives."

She delivered another gut punch, another reminder I hadn't achieved anything half as positive. I still couldn't work out why I'd let things get so bad. Why hadn't I acted sooner? Why did it take the car crash for me to even realize there was something wrong? Had I been living this existence with blinkers on, staring blindly forwards so I didn't have to acknowledge anything?

The job never really inspired me, even from the beginning. I tried to convince myself I liked it because it was vaguely linked to my degree, but that wasn't ever the truth, so why didn't I continue to search for more? I couldn't understand what motivated me to stick to something I didn't enjoy. The job title, maybe, or comfort perhaps. Something deeper...

I didn't want to think about Mum's words for me, the way she described me as shut off from the world, but perhaps there was something to it.

"Wow, that's really..." I coughed awkwardly, trying to cover up the bitter bile filling my throat. "That's really something."