Chapter Forty-one | Graceland Too
♫ Graceland Too by Phoebe Bridgers

As the academic year advances, I'm proud to say that I'm doing just fine.

I've come to the realization that I'm lucky to have the resources I do, and that I should use them to my advantage. Resources like Flynn and Elle and their tiny apartment in Greenwich. Or Sofia and the fact that she's only one phone call away at all times. Resources like Logan and Olivia, who have bonded over their indecisiveness when it to their futures after our little ice cream trip that one day. And resources like doctor Hyde and our Monday afternoon meetings, in which no topic is too strange to discuss.

The latter has, however, changed. On a random Tuesday in April, Hyde sends me a long message that says,

"Subject: Exciting News and an Important Request!

Dear Nova,

I hope this email finds you well. As we wrap up the academic year, I wanted to take a moment to express my admiration for your incredible journey and the impact you have made during our support meetings. Your determination and positive outlook have been truly inspiring, and I have thoroughly enjoyed witnessing your growth and success.

From our very first meeting, I saw a young individual who exuded both fear and determination. Your unwavering hope for your time here at New York University has always resonated with me, and I have been rooting for you every step of the way. I vividly remember that September meeting when you connected with Isla, Emmy, and Philip. It was heartening to witness those friendships form.

What's even more remarkable is that you continued to foster connections throughout the year, forming friendships with Anita, Zahara, Josh, and Rashad. I must confess, I overheard your encouraging words to them during Suvi's recital, and I was deeply moved by your support. Your empathy and compassion made a meaningful impact on them.

I admit that a significant reason why I hold you in such high regard is that I see my own daughter reflected in you. Both of you share an incredible creativity and emotional strength that is truly exceptional. I hope that as my daughter grows older, she can develop the same confidence and self-belief that you have demonstrated. As I have mentioned before, I care for each of you as if you were my own. Please know that I am immensely proud of you.

On that note, I am thrilled to share some exciting news. Starting from the next academic year, NYU will officially recognize our group as a student association! This recognition comes with several benefits, including an upgraded lounge for our meetings, funding for field trips and guest speakers, and the opportunity to choose an official name and logo. I will discuss all these details in our next meeting, so make sure to mark your calendar. (Don't miss it!)

Now, the reason I am sharing this secret with you is because I have an important favor to ask. As a student association, we have been given the responsibility of organizing an orientation day for new and current physically disabled students who are interested in joining our group next year. This day will feature workshops, games, guest speakers, and most importantly, a speech from one or more members of the OG group.

I understand that you are not fond of public speaking and doubt your abilities in that realm. However, I respectfully disagree with your assessment. Your heartfelt words at the recital were proof of your talent, as well as your personal growth throughout the year. Your story holds immeasurable value, particularly for the young, incoming students.

I want you to remember how you felt when you first arrived at NYU. Imagine having an older version of yourself standing there, assuring you that everything will be alright. Your presence and words would have instilled a belief in their hearts, knowing that your journey serves as a testament to the truth of their own potential and reassurances.

Now, you have the incredible opportunity to be that guiding presence for countless others. I firmly believe that this challenge is too extraordinary to pass up. Rest assured, I am fully committed to creating a comfortable, nurturing, and supportive environment for you to share your story and inspire the next generation to embrace their own journey of self-discovery and creation. You will never be alone throughout this process.

Nova, I implore you to seriously consider this request, knowing that we have complete faith in your abilities. Your decision to participate will undoubtedly shape the lives of many, and I eagerly await your response.

Please do not hesitate to reach out to me if you have any questions or concerns. I sincerely hope to hear from you soon.

Warm regards,

Dr. Jordan Hyde New York University."

The first time I read his email was also my second, third and fourth time, as I was so flattered and touched that I had to go back and read it again.

Only during my fifth read did it dawn on me what Hyde is asking, exactly.

He wants me to speak in front of an audience. An audience of which we don't even know the size yet. His request comes from a place of faith, but still. Me talking to the others at Suvi's ballet recital was me talking to my friends. I'd argue that's pretty different to giving a speech.

"Olivia, I need your opinion," I announce, turning halfway to her as we walk down the sidewalk. I'm accompanying her as she goes from one class to another, as we decided to have lunch together in the time between.

"I'm always eager to share my opinion. What's up?"

I grin at her comment. "This morning, Hyde asked me to give a speech at an introduction day about my year and my growth, all that. He says I could inspire and motivate new students. But I don't know if I should do it."

She furrows her eyebrows. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Public speaking is not exactly my strong suit. I get sweaty palms, I start stuttering, I forget how to breathe, even." I snort. "What's inspiring and motivating about that? People will look at me and see a personification of their worst parts."

Silence ensues as Olivia considers my words. For a moment, I regret telling her. This is something to discuss with Hyde, who'd understand, not Olivia. Maybe I'm putting her in an awkward position.

But then she surprises me. "A fear of public speaking is valid, but it's a lot more common than you think. And I know you. You usually have to settle into settings and conversations, and then you're doing fine by the end."

I doubt that, I want to say, but Olivia continues.

"And when it comes to being inspiring and motivating... I think you're putting too much pressure on yourself. The fact that you've survived a year at NYU is inspiring. So is the fact that you're at that introduction day and that you're going up on that stage. It's not some do-or-die situation that you can mess up. People will look up to you even if you stutter and forget to breathe. They might even be relieved to see their own struggles in someone else, especially if that person is doing things like giving speeches regardless of their disability."

"Maybe it's just me, but I don't see it that way," I counter. "Do you know what happens when I see other people being obviously disabled? I cringe. I get upset thinking about the fact that I look like that, too."

"That sounds like something personal you need to work through, Nov," Olivia says. There's not an ounce of playfulness in her tone. She says it how it is. It's something personal I need to work through.

She throws an unexpected arm around my shoulder, startling me as she pulls me closer. "Let me just give you a piece of advice," she says, as if she's telling me a secret. "When it comes to making decisions, it's really about where you want to be, not about where you feel are. Do you want to be the kind of person who gives speeches and inspires people?"

I don't have to think about that. "Yes. Of course."

"Then there's your answer. You're one 'yes' closer to being that person," Olivia concludes with an easy smile, loosening her arm around me.

It makes me want to laugh. My doubts linger in the back of my mind, still, but I'd like to believe it's really as easy as she's suggesting.

"I still have a problem, though," I think aloud.

Olivia glances over at me.

I give her a sheepish grin. "Now I have a speech to write."

Writing has never been something I struggle with. In fact, it's something that comes naturally. When I was younger I was used to having the words and lacking the voice for them, so I wove them into journal entries and fictional short stories.

But the reason I never struggled was because I never wrote for anyone else. Not even myself, really. I wrote down what I felt, either literally or through characters conjured up from my head, and then I shoved all of it away, never to look at it again.

This speech is important. How will I carry the responsibility of writing something people like me resonate with and feel encouraged by? What if I'm unable to?

If there's anyone who should be able to offer me advice on speeches, it's Atlas Wilder and his group of friends— now including Ramona. Once he catches wind of my newest endeavours, he invites me back to Tesselate Pit, the restaurant where I met Liz, Kaitlyn and Maxwell in the introduction week.

I can tell he takes it seriously by the fact that he brought his laptop and a notepad and has already ordered me a cup of coffee when I plop down in the booth they're occupying.

"I'm... grateful you're all here," I say to them, eyeing Ramona next to me. She gives me what, for just a second, looks like a smile.

"Of course. We're part of the Nova support gang," says Liz. "Also, Atlas promised us free brunch."

We both jump when Atlas slams his pen onto the tabletop, demanding our attention and Liz's silence. "I have to be at my Dad's office in sixty-four minutes. That means we have thirty-nine minutes to instill Carter with the necessary skills and confidence to ace this speech."

I lean in closer to him where he's sitting across from me. "You know I'm not getting graded for this, right?"

"It doesn't matter," Maxwell tells me, shaking his head. "When it comes to speeches, my father always tells me the key to confidence is believing that you're telling the most stupid people the most important news. It's all about power."

I don't like Sergei Macarevich, which is why I really want to tell Maxwell something snarky like I'm not surprised your father would make an inspirational speech about his own power, but it's still his Dad and I don't want to hurt Maxwell's feelings, so I stay quiet.

"I disagree," Kaitlyn butts in. "Presenting is about knowing your stuff so well that you can slip into auto-pilot."

"That's more for objective, theoretical presentations. Nova's expected to speak from the heart," Liz tells her, emphasizing the heart at the end and placing a hand on her chest.

"Right," says Atlas decisively. "In my opinion, the key to presenting well is maintaining a calm and balanced demeanor. People can tell when you address them with intent and respect. If you have a way to keep yourself breathing and keep thinking of your audience as people, your natural charm will easily shine through."

He writes down on his notepad, find ways to stay calm and take normal breaths, with right below it, see your audience as individual people (not as one group there to perceive and judge you).

As we sip our coffees, the group takes turns offering me their best pieces of advice.

Maxwell insists public speaking is about sticking to the script. He tells me to prepare my speech meticulously and to ensure that my story is logical and 'flows well'. You cannot be too concise, he insists.

Kaitlyn is a lot more idealistic than that. She says people pay more attention if my speech is creative, and that it'll allow them to focus on other things than myself. "You're good at storytelling," she notices enthusiastically, "have fun with it! Use vivid examples. Use props, even!"

Liz believes that I should keep it fluid. If I engage with my audience, she says, I can gauge their reactions and have different 'paths' ready for however they take it. According to her, I should tap into my resourcefulness.

At last, I turn to Ramona, who sat idly by the entire time.

She notices me stare at her. "You want my advice?" she asks ludricously.

I nod eagerly.

"Oh," she says, adjusting herself. "Okay. My advice is, don't be pathetic."

"What's she supposed to do with that?" Maxwell wonders, pulling a face. He almost seems offended for me.

Ramona tips her chin up and gives me one more glance out of the corner of her eye. "Nova gets it."

I nod again, unable to be hide my smile. "I do," I confirm to the others. "I definitely get it."

After all, between our elevator adventure and my afternoon at her apartment, a lot got better between us. She wasn't nice to me when we first met, but at least she admitted to it and explained her reasoning— and I've forgiven her, because in the way she's doted on me since, her apology is apparent.

"So, this speech, what's it about?" Atlas asks me.

I sit on that question for a while. "It's about growth," I then tell him. "In all senses of the word. If you want to know more..."

They get the hint. Kaitlyn leaps forward over the table, nearly knocking over her coffee, to take both of my hands in hers. "We'll all definitely be there, Nova!" she promises.

Atlas smiles briefly at that, confirming it with a moment of eye contact, then lets it slip from his face. "Will you... will you invite Milo?"

Next to him, Maxwell stiffens and reaches for his cup, putting it to his lips and swallowing without having taken a single sip.

"I don't want him to feel torn between coming back for some speech and staying in Italy, where he wants to be," I say, earnestly. "I'm sure someone will record it, I'll show that to him. Or I can send him the document later on."

"You're underestimating the things he'd do for you," Atlas tells me. "If I'd tell him you had somehow gotten hurt, he would've been back before I had even finished that sentence."

"Maybe that's why it's better not to tell him," I say, ignoring the strange, fluttery feeling I get from knowing what Atlas says is true. "He deserves to enjoy Italy without worrying about what's happening here, don't you think?"

The group has nothing to say about that.

"I miss Milo," Kaitlyn ponders after a moment of silence.

"I just can't believe he packed up and left," Liz says, "Remember him in high school?"

Next to me, Ramona lets out a scoff. "How can we forget? You know, he keeps complaining that I was mean to him in high school, but can you blame me?"

"I can most certainly blame you," Maxwell says to her, without even hesitating. "He was fifteen and you were definitely mean to him."

"I was just trying to get him to grow a backbone. He was so quiet and submissive, it hurt to watch," Ramona argues.

I blink. "Milo was quiet and submissive?"

"Yes," the group says in unison.

"How does that even work?"

Liz shrugs. "It was just his personality, growing up. We used to physically drag him along to make him hang out with us, because otherwise he'd just prefer to do nothing."

I adjust myself in the booth, sitting up straighter and frowning when I realize they're not pulling a prank on me. "When did that change? He's the opposite, the way I know him."

"When did that change?" Liz asks, turning to Kaitlyn as they both think it over.

Atlas smiles to himself. "It changed when a certain girl came along."

I swallow. My hands are starting to get clammy. "What girl?" There was a girl?

Ramona pinches me in my side. "Are you dumb?"

"He was about to drop out," Maxwell tells me. "His first year at NYU was so overwhelming to him, so that summer he was constantly anxious about going back. I told him he maybe just needed to experience it differently, be more involved, so he agreed to help out at orientation. Then he met you."

"He's become a better person for it," Atlas adds. "Someone none of us recognised... but all of us were so happy with. Even Ramona."

Ramona rolls her eyes. "I wouldn't say I'm happy with him. But at the very least, I can verbally fight him on the phone now."

"He picks up your calls?" Kaitlyn asks, at the exact same time that Liz exclaims, "I can't believe you call him!"

I laugh. It's at them and at Ramona's squirms and at the absurdity of it all. I can't imagine Milo any less lively than he is now. I don't want to experience him that way. I think I could do anything to keep him as happy as he deserves to be — which is exactly why I don't even want to make him suspicious of the fact that I need him.

We finish everything up in time for Atlas to make it to his Dad's office when he's supposed to. Early, even, because while everyone goes in different directions once outside, he lingers near me.

"Don't you have to leave?" I ask, stuffing the notepad he gave me in my bag. He's collected all of their tips on the front page, then just gave me the whole thing.

"Yeah. I just wanted to ask you if..."

He stops there, suddenly hesitant as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

I'm about to ask what's up, when he takes a breath and says, "I wanted to tell you to invite him."

"Atlas, I—"

"I know," he interjects. "I know you're going to say something about how he deserves to be happy, but we both know that's an excuse, Carter. Just like we both know he was happy here, too, with you. You should just take a chance here. You should invite him."

"He's left all of this behind," I tell him, intending to end the conversation with it.

"Not all of it."

Michael is waiting for him in the car. Atlas gives me one last look, one of resignation and encouragement, before slipping into the car and speeding off.

I stand there for what feels like forever. Only when my legs start to burn do I walk, aimlessly, fisting my phone in my hand.

Finally, I twist the screen upwards and click on the familiar contact.

"Hey," I say, once he picks up.

"Nova. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Logan asks.

"Can I come write a speech at your place?"

"A speech? I'm curious. Come on over."

He ends the call first, which bums me out because now I'm back to staring at my phone.

Milo is, admittedly, still on speech dial. If I really wanted to, I could click one widget on my homescreen and talk to him within seconds, but what I want is being overshadowed by what I fear, and what I fear I cannot name.

So, I lock my phone and cross the streets, navigating easily. My feelings for Milo have been brewing inside of me like a warm potion for months, now joined by my nerves about this speech. It's a strange feeling, or more like a sensation.

I've had this other being under my skin since the moment I was born, something I've constantly been fighting, but this is the first time I've had something kind inside of me, too. Something stemming from love— or maybe love itself.

And it is because it's love, that I don't make that other call.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

You have three push notifications.