by Olivia Janae
“But I don’t wanna!” he wailed, wrapping his arms around her knees, his head thrown back as he hiccupped morosely. With a sigh, she lifted him and kissed his temple. She hated this part, the part where her little boy crumbled at the thought of his mother leaving him for yet another evening.
“Hey, I’ll be home soon, Max. Maybe Teresa will put on Ninja Turtles.” She pointedly caught the babysitter’s eye, trying to convey that now would be a good time to put it on. Teresa smiled and nodded but stayed put; whatever message she had just received was not the one Kate was trying to get across. “Do you wanna watch Ninja Turtles? Maybe we can make pizza tomorrow like Michelangelo. What do ya think? You wanna be like Michelangelo?”
It was a fight getting the screaming child off of her neck, but finally, with a guilt-ridden kiss, a hurried “I love you,” and a nauseated stomach, Kate slipped out the door and down the hall as quickly as she could go, trying hard not to listen to his screams.
She hated this. It was her first performance, and yet all she could think about was the hurt and upset Max was feeling.
Kate entered the concert hall through the stage door, her heart beating hard in her chest despite the low-grade beta blocker she had taken; a trade secret. It almost wasn’t fair that her very first performance with the group included a solo piece. She liked the sink-or-swim attitude originally, but now she was beginning to think someone was messing with the new girl.
The gig was a small one; a fundraiser benefit for a local arts high school put on by the WCCE’s mother foundation, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t pressure.
“Heeeey!” Ash called the moment Kate came through the door.
Kate turned just in time to see Ash grab a bottle of water from the table and toss a second to her. She yelped but caught it.
“What up, homie?”
Kate laughed, amused by Ash’s cool-kid way of speaking.
“You ready, Flynn? Are ya in like Flynn?” she smirked, her hands moving back and forth as though working a DJ’s table.
Kate quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I know what that means?”
Ash paused, her eyes sparkling at their banter. “Uh, I don’t – I don’t even know. Whatever. Shut up and drink your friggin’ water.”
Kate laughed so long and hard that, though she wished she hadn’t, the her breath snagged and she gave a soft snort.
“Whoa, buddy!” Ash cried, gripping her wrist. “Did you just snort?”
Kate rolled her eyes.
“You just snorted!” Ash cried, gleeful. “That’s cute.”
“Yeah, I do my best,” she grumbled, a smile on her face.
She liked Ash. It was really nice to have a friend around, and Ash made it easy.
“Hey, friend.” From behind them a tall, scraggily bearded man walked up, clapping Ash on the shoulder.
“Hey. Kate, this is Johnny. He’s new too.”
“Right.” Kate nodded and shook his hand. “The trumpet player.” She had seen him at her first rehearsal, but they didn’t share any pieces for the fundraiser and hadn’t had a chance to properly meet.
He gave a derisive snort and shook Kate’s hand. “Actually, it’s John, but good to meet you. Welcome.”
Ash turned back to her, dismissing John in favor of Kate. “So? Ready or not?”
“Are you kidding?” Kate finally set her case down. “I was born ready.” She wasn’t sure if she was imagining the slight wobble in her voice.
If she wasn’t, then Ash was kind enough not to mention it. She just cocked one eyebrow as she studied her, and Kate had to laugh. She opened the water bottle and took a swig with a small smile of thanks.
Kate’s quintet gathered onstage far too soon. Kate had been caught by Trevor, the oboe player, having yet another conversation about how unfortunate Hilary’s accident had been. She was glad to break it off in order to go on.
Before she knew it, they were playing, the evening suddenly on fast-forward. Her first quintet played their selected pieces, then there was a duet between John and Mary, then her trio, and finally her quartet. The children from the school sat upright in the seats in front of the stage, eyes wide in wonder, while their parents lingered in their party best just behind them, enjoying the entertainment but ready to get back to their conversations and cocktails.
These shouldn’t have been nerve-wracking pieces to play; her colleagues were true professionals and the pieces were standard: Dvořák, Shostakovich, and the like. However, as Kate played, there was something distracting her, a fluttering just off to the side of the group that continuously pulled at her attention as she tried to focus. Though she was unable to look up from the sheet music, it was driving her nuts, like a moth fluttering around her face. Something stirred in the back of her mind, some memory, but she couldn’t pull that forward either, which was equally as annoying.
The quartet ended to polite applause, and the other three players cleared the stage, leaving plenty of room for Kate and the nerves she refused to acknowledge.
She was announced, and the room fell into a hush, waiting for her to move them. She swallowed thickly.
It was always this moment of every concert, the moment just before she began to play, when she wondered why the hell she had done it. Why had she gotten into this career? Was she crazy?
She took a deep breath. Her fingers didn’t shake, despite the fact that her stomach was spinning like a washer. She slowly let her bow arm slide across the strings, pulling a low, deep moan from the instrument. The first sound cooled her down to her core, and her nerves were lost, taken over by her love for the instrument and its beauty.
Typically when she played she had something to focus on: the conductor, the music in front of her, or the players around her, but she was playing this piece from memory and had nowhere to look. The fluttering on her right side started again, and before she could stop herself, her attention was pulled to it.
It finally became clear to her: she saw the wildly flying hands of that fiercely angry woman and her companion from her first rehearsal. She had forgotten about the duo, and seeing them now did nothing to calm her.
Scowling, she did her best to dismiss the commotion, but the longer the hands flew and the more her agitation rose, the less she could ignore them. They were standing against the wall on house left, only half watching Kate as they chatted away.
She had to admit, despite her building frustration, that the intense one with the shoulder-length bob, the one who had cut into the man so thoroughly, was kind of obviously beautiful. She hadn’t noticed before, but her golden-brown skin, her pointed chin, angled cheeks, and full lips were almost as distracting as the Sign Language itself. Her face, which seemed to dance between expressions as she spoke, was so animated; quite unlike the furious expressions she had seen at rehearsal.
Kate forced herself to look away, mentally mumbling about the rudeness of strangers as she saw that all eyes near the woman were turned to her, watching her hands move instead of the performance happening in front of them.
Finally, she swayed out her last note and gave a small bow of thanks to those clapping, but anger was still pulsing in her every vein. It wasn’t her best performance; she had been so distracted.
“Dude, who are those women?” Kate hissed to Ash as soon as she was offstage, but Ash, about to go on and play, just gave a shrug, tossing her phone into her bass case and walking out to the stage.
“Hey, get some bad wine with me.”
Kate jumped at Ash’s sudden appearance. The second half of the concert had been more of the same, more distraction and constant annoyance.
“You all right?”
“What? Yeah, of course. Wine, yeah, okay. Just give me a minute.”
“I’ll get us a glass,” Ash said with a nod.
Kate would do her best not to be rude, despite her annoyance, but she was going to speak to those women. After all, she knew that if she were distracting someone, then she would want to be told. Everyone needed reminders every no
w and then.
She made her way through the crowd, remembering the look the stranger had held a few days ago as she crushed the man beneath a designer pump. Perhaps she should have been intimidated, but she just wasn’t. Angry authority figures didn’t bother her as much as they probably should.
She looked back and saw Ash watching from the bar, a small scowl on her face. She smiled half-heartedly at her and turned, approaching the lady, who was staring intently at her phone screen, unaware of anything around her.
“Um, hi.”
She didn’t look up. Kate rolled her eyes. Had she really just tried to speak to a deaf person? Had she really just done something that stupid?
Softly, she touched her hand and fell under her magnified gaze. Kate blinked for a moment, slightly dizzy. She hadn’t been close to the woman before, so she hadn’t noticed the intensity of her eyes, or their shade of rich chocolate brown. They were surprisingly beautiful, despite the remote expression that radiated from them.
Kate realized she was staring and pushed on a smile. She opened her mouth, ready to speak, to explain, and then stopped, realizing she had no idea how to communicate with her.
The woman smiled with a cold professionalism that said she dealt with this every day. With two fingers, she made a circle around her mouth and stared intently at Kate’s lips as if to say she would be able to pick up on Kate’s words.
“Okay, hi,” she said, offering her hand. “Kate.”
“Vivian Kensington.”
Kate’s eyes popped wide, taken aback. She had spoken. She hadn’t expected that. Though, now that she thought about it, hadn’t she seen this lady speak to the cowering man? If she showed a sign of surprise, then she hoped she had wiped it away quickly, “So, um, I’m the new performer with the WCCE—”
She nodded, cutting Kate off. “Yes, the cellist. Welcome to the group.”
The woman’s voice was not at all what Kate had expected. She had seen deaf characters on television, but the effect was different in person. While the pitch was perfectly ordinary, if not a little deep, it was almost as if she had a bad head cold, making all of her words nasal and constricted. Each word flowed a little into the next, but otherwise she was perfectly understandable.
Kate found that… she liked it. The way that Ms. Kensington was staring at her was a little intense, summoning something up and into her belly, but she kind of liked that, too. The thought made her cheeks warm.
“Uh, yeah. So, I was just up there a minute ago and—”
“Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Flynn?”
Kate paused, her embarrassed smile turning into a frown. How was it that she already seemed annoyed with her? Wasn’t it customary to give someone time to piss you off before being rude to them? She had assumed the man from the other day had transgressed in some way, but maybe this woman was just a bitch. Kate’s surprise at her tone made her words come out a bit more bluntly than she had intended. “Uh, right. I just wanted to say that you were really freaking distracting while I was performing.”
“Excuse me?” Her voice was cold, flat, and dripping with aristocratic venom.
“Sorry. That was kind of – blunt. But look, I’m sorry for saying so,” Kate shifted her stance, her hands going to her hips, “but you were talking through the entire concert, and it was really distracting. It wasn’t just me, I noticed the other players glancing your way too, so …”
A strange look flashed across Vivian’s face, something that curdled Kate’s stomach, something like – familiarity, a type of well-known pain, before indignation rose, masking it. Vivian’s hands began to move in the alien language, but before Kate could inform her that she had no idea what the hell the moves meant, a voice from behind supplied her with the answer: “I’m deaf.”
Kate looked around to notice the other woman, the younger of the two, approaching with a drink in her hand. “Excuse me?”
“Hi.” The brunette gave her a toothy grin. “Charlie Hseih, I’m Ms. Kensington’s interpreter.”
Kate returned the friendly grin and handshake, but Vivian was having none of their pleasantries.
“Tell this—” Vivian scowled as she paused and reworded herself. “‘Tell Ms. Flynn,’” Charlie read as the graceful hands flew, “‘that I am deaf and Sign Language is my main means of communication.’ Ooooh.” Charlie blushed a little. “Um …”
“Yeah, I got the gist, Ms. Hseih,” Kate grumbled.
“Charlie.”
“Look, I understand that she’s deaf, obviously—”
Charlie opened her mouth to speak, but long fingers snapped in front of Kate’s face, drawing her eyes back to her.
“Talk to her,” Charlie explained in a sheepish tone. “Pretend I’m not here. Geez, she’s really mad. What did you say?”
Indignant, Kate barked, “I was trying to tell her that, all due respect and everything, her hands going during the concert was really distracting. All of the children were watching you, Ms. Kensington.”
“And I told you,” Charlie read, “that I am deaf and this is how I communicate! What is so hard to understand about that?”
Kate knew she was taking her words the wrong way, but the clearly hostile attitude stopped her from feeling any possible guilt. “I know that and I get that, but we’re here teaching children how to behave while in a classical setting, right? So, isn’t it rude for anyone to talk during a performance? Whether it’s with their voices or with their hands? Isn’t that just standard? Why are you looking at me like I’m crazy? I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just—”
Kate took a step back as Vivian burst into motion, her hands moving so quickly that she wasn’t sure how Charlie was able to follow it at all. It was mildly intimidating to stand so close to her as she yelled in her language, her hands flying, slapping into each other. It was like standing next to a small and very quiet explosion.
“Are we also not meant to teach these children about tolerance and acceptance of those around them? Of those who are a little bit different? I apologize,” she signed, her face and hands clearly sarcastic, “if my language was distracting to you, but just as handicapped rails are readily available on most buildings so all may enter, some allowances must be made.”
Kate blinked, shocked by the animated faces Vivian made as she spoke, by the motions and jerks, feeling a little like she was standing in front of a firing squad. She glanced covertly around and saw that, yes, people were watching in surprise. “Jesus!”
“Let us only hope,” Vivian continued, bending a little as her hands bounced sharply, “that people with attitudes such as yours do not spend too much time with these children, and therefore your archaic intolerance will not be passed on to the next generation.”
Kate froze in shock. “Whoa, wait a second, lady!” But Vivian blew by her, chestnut hair swaying as she went. “I wasn’t singling you out because you’re deaf, I was making a comment about anyone talking during a performance!” But Vivian had her back to her, and so didn’t see her words and her interpreter friend didn’t seem to hear.
Kate stared after her, infuriated that she had just been accused of ignorance. She didn’t understand what Vivian’s problem was or why she would assume that Kate was discriminating against her. She most certainly had not meant that! Why would Vivian think that?
She considered following, making sure Ms. Kensington and her interpreter knew exactly what her meaning had been, but before she could storm after them, Ash stepped in front of her, an extra glass of wine in her hand. She handed it to Kate with a flourish.
“So I see you met ‘the crocodile,’” she said, taking an impressive gulp of the wine.
“What?”
Ash jerked her head over her shoulder. “We call her the crocodile because she swallows people whole. Did my eyes deceive me or, like, were you two fighting?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know. She was speaking Sign Language through the entire performance, and it was really freaking distracting. You didn’t notice?” Ka
te took a sip of the cheap wine and grimaced at the taste.
Ash laughed, seemingly impressed. “Oh, I noticed. Yeah, totally. We’ve all noticed at one time or another, but no one has ever had the guts to say something to her. So, brava to that.” She tilted her glass and downed the rest.
“Why? Because she’s deaf? Does that mean that she gets to be as rude as she likes and it should just be ignored?” Kate knew she was huffing a little more than she should; it wasn’t professional.
From across the room, Vivian caught her eye and glared.
“Well, no …” Ash shrugged. “Maybe, I’m not sure, but it’s more that—”
Kate spun around, grabbing her arm. “Oh god, please don’t tell me that she’s someone I should know.”
“Well …” Ash clicked her tongue, clinking glasses with Kate despite the fact that her own was empty. “I’m sorry to say it, but good job, gorgeous. You haven’t even been here a week, and you’ve already pissed off the boss.”
Kate finished off the wine in one swallow and scowled at the floor. “Of course I did.”
The cheap wine didn’t help untie the knots in her stomach. Kate couldn’t relax, not when she could see Vivian speaking with parents and children across the room from her; not when guilt and maybe a little bit of fear were starting to trickle into her mind. She had wanted to go home after her first glass, but Ash had asked her to stay, insisting that she was meeting friends in a little while and wanted the company. It had been good; she had finally met the entirety of the WCCE players, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate on them.
“Hey, come here!” Ash called, over the sound of the canned classical music the gala staff were pumping into the room.
“What? Oh!” Kate threw on an automatic smile as Ash pulled their heads together for a selfie. Kate frowned and Ash laughed as Mark, the horn player, slipped in with a hopeful smile at Ash. Ash ignored him but snapped another selfie.
