Maja began her speech three times, forgetting the word after her greeting each time. The classroom was small, with seven adults as an audience, but felt like a full hall. She enrolled in public speaking because her job required presenting ideas rather than merely sending them to others. The man in the second row moved his chair so she could see his face between two tall people. He didn't shout encouragement. He simply listened.
His name was Andrej. His problem was the opposite: he spoke so rehearsedly that nobody knew what he truly thought. Once, the instructor removed his notes and asked him to discuss an ordinary object in his pocket. He produced an old key ring his daughter gave him and paused mid-sentence for the first time. Maja then wanted to know him better, precisely when he felt he was losing control of his speech.
They practiced together after class. Andrej helped shorten her lengthy introduction. She removed sentences of his that could belong to anyone. When he proposed recording speeches, Maja agreed only if recordings were deleted after review. He respected the arrangement without persuasion. His attention to a small request meant more than praise delivered after every practice.
One evening, heavy rain kept them in the classroom. Andrej said he had an unprepared question. Maja laughed and asked him not to announce it like an important business proposal. He invited her to dinner. She said she wanted to, but not that evening, because she was tired and wanted home. Disappointment crossed his face, followed by understanding. They arranged Friday. He didn't need immediate acceptance for the invitation to succeed.
Over dinner, Maja spoke easily until Andrej tried describing what he liked about her. He began too neatly, with three prearranged qualities. She stopped him, laughing. "Say one thing you haven't practiced." He looked at her and said he loved how she became annoyed by an imprecise word. Maja felt her cheeks warm. It wasn't a compliment he could send another person unchanged.
At the final class, both gave good, imperfect speeches. Maja paused, breathed, and continued. Andrej lost his place in his notes and finished in his own words. Afterwards, they had coffee without discussing scores. When he offered his hand across the table, he prepared no introduction. She took it and continued describing a day that deserved no audience, but deserved someone who would listen.