Adrenaline

12 | catch me if you can

Talking about myself is one thing. Having my words interpreted and repackaged for public consumption is terrifying, even when I've heard good things about the woman sitting in front of me.

Her eyes are sharp, but not at much as the wit that snakes out through the stream of words trailing behind her pen. Her attire is pristine and clean, a direct contrast to our surroundings. Even her hair is slicked back into a tight ponytail that gives even me a headache just from looking at it. She's somehow exactly how I imagined but also a complete enigma.

They've done their best to place us in a comfortable setting for our interviews. Rami, our unofficial leader of the group, has already taken his turn.

"Did you want some apple juice?" the journalist asks after sitting with a notebook in her lap. It looks more like Rami's than mine. "I heard it's your favorite."

My wrist begins to itch and my breath catches in my throat, but I force myself to inhale and exhale. Once and then once more and then once more until it returns to a steady rhythm.

"You have nothing to be nervous about," she says.

"Thank you but it's easier said than done."

"True," she concedes. "This piece will work best if everything is honest, and I find people give more of that when they feel at ease."

Answering truthfully, I reply, "I think this is the best state you'll get from me. It's nothing personal. I just....don't enjoy talking about myself."

"That's understandable." She nods. "I might spend most of my life telling other people's stories but I'd be a blubbering mess if someone tried to tell mine."

It's a small confession meant to help ease my worry, and admittedly it does somewhat. Not enough to stop the unnoticeable shaking, but enough that I feel a little more comfortable about opening up.

"So," the journalist flips her pen over in her hand, scooting her notebook out of view. "I've been to Hawaii a few times. Must have been quite a change moving to Los Angeles."

I shrug my shoulders. "They move at different speeds. That was the first thing I noticed. Life is manufactured in LA. Life is just a thing that happens in Hawaii."

"Do you have a preference?"

"Yes." I pause. "But I was born with it."

She smiles and writes something down. Short and simple; her thoughts are organized in bullet points. "What are some other things you miss about being in Hawaii?"

"I think an easier question would be what do I not miss about Hawaii," I laugh.

"Has everyone adjusted well to the move?"

"You'd probably have to ask everyone else what they think but, just my observation, we have. I think having a group of friends to rely on helps with the adjustment. I wouldn't have adapted as well if I came here on my own."

The journalist takes a few brief notes. "And how does that translate to working together?"

Not quite sure how much I'm willing to divulge about the inner workings of our group, I shrug. "There's no such thing as a perfect group, but we listen to each other, trust each other, want each other to grow and be the best we can be. There are a lot of people I love with whom I would never want to work with. But I have no reservation about these people. They're everything I can ask for in a team."

"It sounds like you've all got your heads screwed on right. Must make your parents proud."

I find it amusing she knows apple juice is my favorite drink but not that I don't have parents to make proud anymore.