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I served a woman who made fun of me all through high school and finally got my revenge after 20 years

After years of being bullied in high school, Lily is finally able to confront her bully, Karen. Karen walks into Lily’s restaurant and falls into her mean high school personality, but when she realizes that Lily has successfully overcome her lisp and stutter, and owns a successful business, Karen runs away.

Under the soft glow of the evening lights, the restaurant vibrated with the joyous roar of a successful evening. However, as I moved between the tables, careful not to hit any sharp corners, a familiar and unwanted face caught my attention: Karen.

An interior of a restaurant | Source: Pexels

She hadn’t changed at all. Even after 20 years, the same haughty expression adorned her face, a look that had tormented me during my school years with her cruel teasing about my lisp and stutter.

Suddenly, I was taken back to high school, where my lisp was worse, making me hesitant to speak.

An angry woman with her arms crossed | Source: Pexels

School speeches were the worst part of my entire school life, where girls like Karen would start laughing behind their hands and end up hanging from their chairs, tears streaming down their faces.

I would escape to the library and spend every free moment there, just to escape the taunts.

Teenagers taking a selfie | Source: Pexels

I remember the one incident where I was clutching my books tightly to my chest, trying to make myself smaller, trying to blend in with the gray of the lockers while Karen navigated the sea of students, in her impossibly high heels.

I could feel Karen’s gaze like a spotlight, distinguishing me from the crowd.

A row of gray lockers | Source: Pexels

“There’s Lisp-Lily, guys!” Karen’s voice echoed, drawing a circle of laughter around me.

“Give us a smile and a speech, Lily,” he said. “Show us that stellar stutter,” she taunted, stretching out her words with malicious exaggeration.

A girl sitting in a chair | Source: Pexels

I remember wanting to cry myself to sleep that night. I sat in the kitchen with my brother Alex and told him all about the events of the day and how Karen had lost control.

“You should give it back to her, Lily,” my brother said, scooping me ice cream into a bowl.

Two bowls of ice cream | Source: Pexels

“If I could, I would,” I said. “But the moment I open my mouth, you know what happens.”

My brother went on a tangent about how I should never let anyone make me feel less than myself.

“You have to stand up for yourself,” he said.

A smiling young man | Source: Pexels

And I did it. My way.

At school, I rarely looked for my teachers during lunch breaks or outside of work hours if we had to give a speech.

And then, I went to a speech therapist to help me improve my lisp and stuttering. I was going to put an end to the constant harassment.

A teenager sitting in a classroom | Source: Pexels

Inside the quiet, sunlit room of the speech therapy center, I sat across from Mrs. Thompson, her speech therapist. The room was a welcoming space filled with calming blues and greens, designed to make patients feel comfortable.

“Lily, today we are going to start some new exercises that are specifically designed to help you with your lisp and stuttering,” Mrs. Thompson began, her voice calm and reassuring.

A person writing notes during a therapy session | Source: Pexels

“We will focus on techniques that improve your speech fluency and will also work to develop your confidence in speaking situations.”

I nodded, my hands moving nervously in my lap. The taunts from Karen and the others often echoed in my mind, but each session seemed like a step toward regaining my voice.

A person’s hands in his lap | Source: Pexels

And the best part was that Alex was always waiting for me outside, ready to take me out for ice cream, pizza, or whatever I wanted.

After leaving school, I entered the culinary industry; I knew it would be the best place for me because I discovered that cooking was my passion and although I had solved my speech problems, it was a place where I didn’t need to talk.

A woman tasting a frying pan | Source: Pexels

Now, seeing Karen at my restaurant was disconcerting. I clutched my apron nervously.

I didn’t always work in the restaurant, but when we were short staffed, I was always happy to step in.

She was laughing, her head thrown back with a carefree abandon that made my heart clench. But when I approached to take her order, her laughter stopped abruptly and her eyes widened in recognition.

A person tying his apron | Source: Pexels

“Can I take your order?” I asked, my voice not betraying the nervousness fluttering in my stomach.

“Lily? Wow!” Karen exclaimed, arms in the air. “You work here?”

His voice twisted with disdain as he spoke, as if he had just stepped on something unpleasant.

“Obviously, yes,” I managed to reply, holding my notebook a little tighter, my knuckles turning white.

A woman sitting at a table | Source: Pexels

“Oh, boy, after all these years,” Karen said, looking at the man she was with. “And imagine, I still can’t understand a word you’re saying. Get me your manager, Lily. “I would like to order my food from someone who can explain to me what the dishes are.”

She dismissed me with a quick wave of her hand, her words and actions hurting me deeply.

But the years had tempered my spirit, not weakened it. In a way, I had been waiting for this moment since my high school graduation.

A person moving his hand | Source: Pexels

In one smooth, practiced motion, I spun into a balletic pirouette, a move I had mastered in the many dance classes that had rebuilt the confidence Karen once shattered.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “How can I help you?” I faced her again, my stance firm, my smile unwavering.

“Do you really think this is funny?” she asked, her voice high-pitched and her eyes narrowing in annoyance as she took a sip from the glass of water on the table.

A woman with ballet shoes | Source: Pexels

“Not really,” I said. “But I own this place. And if it’s not up to your standards, I’ll be happy to walk you outside.”

“You? Do you own this place? she exclaimed before laughing. Her laughter was incredulous, it echoed off the walls and filled the space with her contempt.

But tonight fate was on my side.

My brother, who often helped me run the place, was making his rounds in a suit.

A man wearing a suit | Source: Pexels

“What is happening?” she asked, looking from Karen to me.

“Does this woman really own this restaurant?” Karen asked.

Alex chuckled.

“Yes, it does,” he said. “But she liked to serve guests and sometimes run the kitchen as well.”

A smiling man | Source: Pexels

Alex’s voice was cold and calm, his eyes fixed on Karen with a look that mirrored my own disappointment. He may not have known her personally, but he did know what she was like.

Karen’s face lost color, her mask of confidence crumbling as reality set in.

My brother called another waiter and ordered a complimentary glass of whiskey for Karen’s date, a spectator of this unfolding drama, who continued to shift uncomfortably. Her gaze kept moving between the three of us.

A glass of whiskey | Source: Pexels

“But you used to stutter and the lisp you had was something else,” Karen said, her words broken, her attempt to cling to the past making her seem small and petty.

“Yes, and after years of therapy and hard work, I not only overcame those challenges, but I also built a successful business.”

Karen, now completely deflated, couldn’t look me in the eye. Her date drank her whiskey when she arrived and he held her phone, even though she wasn’t using it.

A man drinking whiskey | Source: Pexels

“Can I take your order?” I asked again.

Karen shook her head. And then she rose from her chair, ready to escort her own shame to the door.

A woman leaving | Source: Pexels

Later that night, as I sat on my bed, looking through old photos in my phone gallery, I realized that I had finally healed the teenager in me. The teenager who needed to be reminded that she could fight and find success and joy on her own.

It had taken about 20 years, but I finally felt free. I finally felt like I had unleashed all the trauma of high school.