He pauses a moment for dramatic effect. Then:
“Sushi.”
“Sushi?” says Will immediately. “What is this stupid game, man?”
“Will,” says Silas, “that’s not helpful, brother. We have to be respectful of people’s fears here. Okay? We don’t need to editorialize.”
Silas starts reaching in the hat for another fear, but just when his hand goes in, a voice stops him.
“Wait a second.”
It’s Fran.
“No more comments,” says Silas. “I think it’s best if we keep going. Don’t spend too long on each one.”
“No,” says Fran. “That one’s mine. I wrotesushi, and I was wondering if I could say something about it.”
Everyone’s quiet.
“We don’t have to do that tonight,” says Silas.
But Fran looks insistent. For the first time since you’ve seen her, she isn’t wearing a hoodie, and it’s like seeing a turtle without its shell. But it’s also harder to ignore her when she’s not hiding.
“All right,” says Silas finally. “If you want to talk, then I want to listen.”
“Okay,” she says. “Thanks.”
She waves some smoke from her eyes and adjusts her legs. She looks right at Will.
“I get that it’s weird, okay?”
Will looks down at his boots.
“It’s raw fish. It’s not going to hurt me. I understand that. But… my parents are divorced.”
She stops, and for a moment, you think that’s her entire explanation. Her parents are divorced, so she’s afraid of sushi. But you hold your tongue, and eventually she starts in again.
“And when they were together, they never wanted to go out to eat. We didn’t have a ton of extra money, so that was part of it. But it’s also because they couldn’t stand each other and they knew they would have to sit five feet apart all night if they went to a restaurant.
“So, on my birthday last year, of course they both want to take me to dinner. Separately. And because it’s still a big deal to go out for me, I do this dumb thing and I say yes to both of them. Like somehow if I say yes twice, their yeses will combine and we’ll actually just go out as a family like we used to.
“Of course, this would never happen because they are children. It’s got to be two dinners. Two separate dinners. I know this deep inside, but I stupidly tell them both to take me on my actual birthday, so I can feel like I’m with both of them.”
She laughs then, but it’s not a happy laugh. It’s a laugh of defeat. A laugh at the power of self-sabotage.
“You probably see where this is going. My birthday arrives, and my mom takes me to this BBQ place we like, and we’re having so much fun, I actually forget and eat, like, thirty pork ribs. We have a contest to see who can eat the most and whose face can get the messiest. But then when it’s time to go, it suddenly hits me:Oh no, the second dinner! And sure enough, when we get home there’s my dad waiting in the driveway.
“And I’m too embarrassed to tell him what I did. Instead, I just go to another dinner with him. He takes me to this sushi restaurant, and he orders this giant platter while I’m in the bathroom. Then when it shows up, I already feel so full that just looking at it is making me feel nauseous. And my dad always hated wasting food when I was growing up, so I feel like I’m going to have to eat it anyway. But it looks so bad. A buffet of misery. And when I reach for the first piece with my chopsticks, everything just shuts down.
“I can’t move my arm any farther. And then I have the worst panic attack I’ve ever had. I run back to the bathroom, and my dad doesn’t understand why I won’t come out. And eventually, a female sushi chef has to come in and get me, and she brings a single tampon. She’s holding it like a baton. And man, I wish that a single tampon would solve everything. But it’s slightly more complicated than that. I open my mouth to tell her, but nothing comes out, so instead, I just take the tampon and start crying. Then I’m in the bathroom, crying, and holding a tampon. And that’s why I never want to see a piece of sushi again.”
She brushes the hair out of her eyes and looks into the fire. And it takes a second for you all to realize she’s done. You don’t quite know what to do with the feeling that’s lingering. It was just a simple story about a restaurant, but you’ve actually never heard someone tell one like it. About the way a simple thing can go so wrong because of the anxiety. And how that feeling can hold you hostage. It’s a story that could easily have been yours.
“Is anyone going to say something?” asks Fran.
Silas adjusts the hat on his lap. He looks uncomfortable all of a sudden. Distracted again, but this time it’s like there’s arestlessness. There’s a tapping sound, and you realize it’s coming from his foot. People are just starting to notice it, when someone finally speaks.
“Yes!” says Diana. “I am.”
