the prom: part 1

"Ehrrmm... Ehm. Ehm."

These sounds were the most I could manage to croak out from my vocal cords. My hands still were clammy and wet, even though I constantly rubbed them onto my pants.

I was at the backseat of my aunt's Mercedes, sitting uncomfortably beside Tintin, my date. We were on the way to her senior high school prom.

I knew Tintin since we first came here in Texas two years ago. She was the daughter of my aunt and mother's close family friend, Tita Wilma; to call her their inaanak is quite appropriate. But, I rarely talked to her - almost all the words that we utter to each other are "Hello" or "Bye".

So, what's the problem? you ask. It's not about Tintin; she's very nice and friendly, unlike most of the teenagers here. She's fond of reading, too - which is vast common ground for both of us. I remember that I met one of my closest friends in Kalayaan when I overheard him talking about books in the lobby ("Hi Jerome!" hehehe. sorry about that, Lance).

It's my English. Since then, and until now, I can't talk conversational English with people I meet. Everytime an American asks me a question, I pause after every word I answer and stutter. Maybe my speech communication skills have degenerated due to some unknown reason. Maybe because I'm too conscious of my enunciation, too afraid of that moment when I might blurt "school bas" or "yes ples". Whatever the reason, speaking straight English proves very difficult for me.

Because of this I sat silent in the car, frantically arranging and looking for apt words that I should answer when Tintin's friends ask me about myself.

The car sped on, carrying a hapless victim of language impediment into a grim and bloody fate.

Or so I thought.