A Chance for Sunny Skies Read Free Page B

I had graduated, my counselor, Tim, had started me on a series of exercises, going out into public and putting myself into social situations (albeit very controlled ones) where I could work through some of my more debilitating anxieties. I was still a temp without insurance, so starting up counseling again was out. But who was to say I couldn't start practicing what I had learned?
    I stepped into the large, plastic and metal filled room feeling confident and happy, but immediately broke into a sweat. My instinct was to go sit by myself, hunched over, scarfing down my food so I could spend as little time as possible being the person eating alone. I pressed my lips together. I needed to go against my instinct. I needed to try something different.
    I spotted a group of people who worked in my department, Molly, Greg, Francine, and Jesse. I knew each of their names, but my neck felt hot and red wondering if they knew mine. My heart ached with wanting them to know it, with wanting friends. I walked forward anyway and sat down in the seat next to Molly.
    She looked at me, did a second pass, and her eyes widened. The group looked up and their conversation sputtered like a car running out of gas. Luckily they found their reserves and kept going. They were gossiping about people at the station. I could tell. I'd gotten really good at recognizing when people were being made fun of because it was usually me. I smiled at them and looked down at my salad. But my face heated up to an it-might-just-melt-off temperature. Holy goodness. I'd sat down without a plan! Tim and I had practiced for hours before going into a social exercise. I had planned this in all of thirty seconds. What had I been thinking? I was going to miraculously be able to talk all of a sudden? I couldn't talk to them.
    My coworkers were eyeing each other in a "what the hell is this?" kind of way. I was freaking them out. So, talking was out. What else could I do? I needed desperately to act normal and quick. They picked at their food and a freaking spotlight turned on in my brain. Eat! I should be eating. That would be normal. I ripped open my salad and started shoving it into my mouth. This seemed to calm the poor people I'd sat with, a bit. My heart began to settle and my skin cooled.
    Then I felt a piece of the lettuce I'd jammed in my mouth become uncomfortably lodged in my throat. Ouch. At first, I tried to keep the coughing quiet. I left my mouth closed and figured a clearing-my-throat sound might move it. When that didn't work, I coughed forcefully into my hand. The tactic moved it slightly, it started to tickle, and my body started a fierce bout of uncontrollable, open-mouthed, lettuce-pieces-flying-everywhere coughing.
    Molly looked up and cringed at the mess of slobbery lettuce chunks all over the table. "You okay?" she asked, but it was as if she was in one of those kung-fu movies where their mouths and expressions don't match what they're saying, because I swear what she said instead was, "Eew. Gross."
    I nodded and, yet again, when I went to open my mouth, all that came out was that terrible cackly-awkward laugh. I swiped up the mess, grabbed my salad, and ran out of there as fast as a flying piece of throat lettuce.
    Luckily, when I reached it, I had the elevator to myself. What had I been thinking? I couldn't change. I was weird. I had no friends. I had no career. I should've just drowned. Tears started pushing forward like teenagers at a concert. I didn't even go back to my desk. Instead, I traveled to the upper floors and knocked quietly on my supervisor's door after getting the okay-head-nod from his secretary.
    "Come in."
    I took a deep breath and tried to remember the tips Tim had taught me in our sessions. Visualize yourself talking. Plan what you're going to say. Keep it short. I nodded to myself; this time I had a plan. The door creaked and I walked in.
    "Um - er - Mr. Fredricks, I'm not feeling well. Do you think I could head home early