Carl sat across from him eating a salad and sipping water. He’d been pretty quiet since they’d woken from their nap. They were both freshly scrubbed from a shower that hadn’t gotten sexy, which had surprised Devon until he’d heard the rumbling from Carl’s tummy. Then he’d understood that he was just hungry for food and not dick.
“And why does it taste so weird,” Devon said, frowning. “It’s like meat, but not meat.”
“It’s tofu.”
“Tofu?”
“Vegan.”
“Why?” Devon boggled. “I mean, are you vegan?”
“No, but I told her that meat was a bad idea if we’re going t-to…at least, that’s what I read online. Wh-when I w-w—argh,” he let out in frustration. “It’s what I read online,” he finished in a rush.
That stutter again.
Devon considered and then said, “So, I didn’t really know you had a stutter. I mean, before today you’ve hardly said a word around me all these years, you know?”
Carl shrugged.
“Is it annoying for you?” Devon asked.
“Yes. Of course it is. Is it for you?”
“No. Of course not.”
“It only happens when I have big feelings or…” Carl cleared his throat and his cheekbones glowed pink. “Or wh-when I feel out of control.”
“You feel out of control right now?”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“But earlier, when I got here, you were so cool and calm.”
“I was still in c-control then, because you hadn’t said yes.” He frowned for a moment and then said in a rush, “I could still pretend to be someone else.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a trick I do to keep from stuttering. My speech th-therapist t-t-taught it t-to me,” Carl said. He took a slow deep breath, and that icy exterior that Devon recalled from every prior interaction with Carl dropped over him. “This. I don’t stutter as much when I do this. Actors with stutters almost never have trouble with fluency on the stage, and I don’t stutter when I’m on stage either—even when I’m not singing, when I’m just talking between the songs.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Carl let it go, and the coldness thawed. He cleared his throat. “My…my therapist suggested acting like I’m on ss-stage when the st-stutter is a pr-problem.”
“Do you always have to act then? Like with Hope? Or your mom?”
He shook his head. “But they don’t make me feel v-vulnerable like y-y—” He rolled his eyes.
“I make you feel vulnerable?”
He nodded.
Devon pondered that, and then asked, “Are there particular sounds that are harder than others?”
He took a slow breath. “Most consonants can be hard if I’m nervous. I use my breathing carefully, too. That’s another str-strategy.”
“When we’re in bed, though, the only time you stuttered was when I was the one who—” Devon sat up straighter. “Oh. When you’re in control, you don’t stutter. Are you being that other person then? While we’re in bed?”
He shook his head. “No. That’s me.”
