I kept catching myself thinking of that meeting. Every spare moment for the next week was spent halting myself mid-spiral, unable to focus on anything other than my inability to speak when it was my turn. No matter what topic I started on, I kept making my way back to the same core set of thoughts:

I've never been at a loss for words before. This is unacceptable. What if I needed to do something like this for a mission? Even if I can't talk about my loved ones, I should at least be able to talk about something inconsequential.

I could just lie…but an unnecessary lie should be avoided. Lies have a tendency to take on a life of their own.
Maybe I could talk about what I'm reading? No, that's…probably inappropriate.

Maybe the kids I'm mentoring? Then I might have to explain what I'm mentoring them in, and that won't do.

I managed to make some fried eggplant without burning it or turning it to mush last weekend. That'll do. I can share that, just to prove to myself that I am able to speak in group meetings, and then I'll never have to go again.

I was ten minutes late next Wednesday too. The snack today was red punch and small packs of barbecue flavored chips, which Choza had grabbed several of. Four of them were in a pile under his chair, and one was in his hand. Shikaku was absent. Someone had cleaned the windows since last time, but the clock was still slow and the light was still humming in the corner.

I meant to come by and fix that…I've really been off my game.

Most of the seats were full already. I slipped into one directly across from the door. Rital sat on my right, and a stranger sat on my left.

They're both strangers, really.

Rital was sniffling, her hands tightly clenching the sides of her chair.

Someone check on her.

I glanced around the room. No one seemed particularly likely to come to her aid. In fact, no one seemed to be looking in our direction at all.

I can handle some small talk, and she's clearly in distress. It's my job to help people.

I painted on the friendliest expression I could manage and addressed her.

"Hey, I think I remember you from last week. How's it going?"

She sniffed loudly before answering me in a thin, strained voice.

"I would really rather save it for the group."

…Nevermind.

We sat together in an uncomfortable silence and waited for the group to begin. Ena finally stood in front of her chair, clapping for attention.

"Good afternoon everyone!"

"Good afternoon!" the crowd answered, murmuring as one. I tried to join the greeting, but my voice stood out too much.

"I don't see anyone new this week, but I do believe we may be missing a few faces. Does anyone know where Shikaku is?"

Choza called out an answer for him.

"He's busy with work this week, but he wants everyone to know that he'll be back soon and there's no need to worry."

A chorus of 'ah', and 'heard', and 'isn't that always the worst' rolled over the group, and Ena waited for silence before she continued.

"And Ruey has reached out to me privately to let me know he doesn't think this group will be a good fit for him, but that he hopes everyone here finds peace."

Am I supposed to reach out when I leave, too?

"Moving right along. This week I would like to share that my cousin will be in town soon. I'm accepting suggestions on where to take her for some sightseeing."

The crowd answered: "The hot springs!", "My aunt owns a gift shop downtown she might like.", "You gotta take her by Ichiraku Ramen Shop. Ask for an extra egg, it's worth it."

She laughed.

"Thank you everyone, I can always count on you."

She sat down, and the person to her left stood.

The one with the purple earrings, who was having trouble with their garden last week.

"Hey everyone! I just wanted to share that thanks to Shikaku's help I determined that I didn't have a gopher problem at all. What I had was a slug problem all along."

I tightened my facial features to keep them neutral. It seemed kinder than showing my amusement.

Those problems aren't even remotely similar.

"So I'm growing a few other plants that they should like more now. Hopefully they'll take that as tribute and leave my tomatoes alone."

The group laughed. "Good luck!", "Try salt.", "That's a great solution, my sister does something like that."

They sat back down, and the person beside them rose.

Just remember. Deep breaths, tell them about frying some eggplant, and then sit back down. Breathe and smile. Keep it light and conversational. This doesn't have to be hard. You can do this.

Two more people rose and spoke. I didn't absorb a word of what they were saying. I felt the spiral of my thoughts tightening down.

It's just eggplant. Nothing of consequence. This'll be easy.

Rital was standing now. She was hyperventilating while she spoke.

"I want-ted to sha-are that m-my…"

The person on her other side stood, wrapping an arm around her.

They must be close, I think I saw them speaking after the group last time too.

She took another deep breath, then tried again. She wrung her hands together in front of her.

A nervous tic? It seems habitual. She seems to be using the motion to ground herself.

"I wanted to share that my brother had his baby. They're naming her after our mother. I swear, when I saw that little baby, she smiled at me just like Mom used to."

Rital collapsed onto the shoulder of the person beside her, who rubbed her back in a comforting way while helping her back into her seat.

The group answered with "That's a beautiful way to honor your mother.", "I hope she grows up strong and healthy.", "Sending love to you and your family."

Rital sniffled out a "Thank you, everyone."

All eyes shifted to me. I rose unsteadily.

I can't follow that level of emotional outpour with eggplant. Shit.

"Hi, I-uhm."

I felt nauseous. The hum of the fluorescent lights buzzed inside of my skull and drowned out any attempt at thought.

Did I introduce myself? Do I need to do that again?

I swallowed air, unable to will myself to speak. If I planned to sound conversational, then I was running out of time . Standing here silently for so long has to seem very strange.

Have I been standing here for a second? An hour? Is this some kind of genjustu?

The room seemed to fade into darkness, the only remaining light shining from the beady eyes of the group as it closed in around me.

Don't talk about eggplant, not after Rital poured her heart out. Don't talk about what I'm reading. Don't talk about my students. What do I say, what do I say!? Why is my mouth so dry?

I searched for Shikaku, not remembering for a moment that he was absent.

Of course he's gone when I need him.

Instead, I my eyes settled on Shibi. The light began to return, and I knew again what to do.

"Pass."

I sat down quickly, balancing on the edge of my chair. I spent the next several moments calming myself down without absorbing a single word from the people sharing after me. Then Choza rose.

"Good afternoon everyone! I didn't come in with anything to share, but I actually found something to talk about while I was here. These chips," he gestured to the bags below his chair, "are my son's favorite flavor and I'm excited to bring them home to him."

The group chuckled, "He'll be grateful.", "You're so good to him.", "He'll be so surprised!".

He sat down, beaming with joy at the thought of bringing something that would make Choji happy home.

I wonder if my father ever thought about me like that?

I shook my head, physically shaking the thought away.

None of that. I do not have the energy for that.

Shibi rose, passing on his turn without preamble. Rital shuddered when he spoke, but didn't interrupt the meeting about it.

Is that how she feels when I pass, too?

The rest of the group washed over me. I was unable to force myself to focus on the stories of strangers.

I couldn't speak again. Why is that?

Shibi slipped out the door before I realized that people were leaving, gone without a word.