I’m glad you are okay. We were worried about you, but how wonderful of you to save Veyda.
I furrow my brow and glance up at her, I mouth her name to Tanya and she smiles before mouthing her response back to me.
She’s a regular.
Of course, she is. I nod once and feel my expression fall. Tanya seems to notice and pats me on the shoulder before she walks away and leaves me to my steaming black coffee and muffin. I pick at the crumb top with quick fingers and sip on my drink.
Sometime after coffee number two, and when I am knee deep in Brave New World, someone sits down across from me at my booth. I glance upwards expecting to see Tanya passing a few minutes of time on her break, but instead, I’m met with those honey eyes and red lips. Veyda. Somehow her name fits her. Rigid and silent, yet somehow regal.
I close my book and lay it on the table.
You found me then, Veyda.
She smiles and raises her hands.
You’re easy to spot, even when you think you are hiding.
I mull over her words and she notices the shift in my demeanor.
Relax. Tanya told me you were over here. It’s nice to officially meet you, Harrison. Since we didn’t exchange introductions in the hospital, maybe now would be the right time to.
For a moment, I wish I could hear, and that’s a desire that doesn’t fall upon me too often. I imagine her speaking my name in a soft, velvety voice and I swear I can feel goosebumps form on my skin. I shrug off the feeling and move my hands.
It’s nice to officially meet you, Veyda.
She shakes her head.
Liar. You wish I would go away.
Maybe yes, maybe no.
Well, then you shouldn’t have saved me.
I cross my arms and lean against the back of the booth. She keeps her eyes on me, and I notice the intensity burning inside them. Maybe all of us who lack the ability to hear are proud owners of that intensity. Sight, the thing I value most in this world anymore, is all I have, and maybe I’m not the only one who feels that way.
I lean forward and move my fingers rapidly.
I should have been more clear in the hospital, and I apologize for how I acted. I am not ungrateful for saving you, Veyda. I’m glad you lived.
She keeps her eyes on me as she speaks to me in the only language we know.
But you’re ungrateful to be alive?
It’s complicated.
She smiles slightly before starting in again.
I’ve always found the complicated parts of life to be my favorite. If everything was easy, then I think I’d be bored most of the time.
You have no idea what level of complicated I’m referring to.
Well, you can tell me if you’d like.
No.
Why? She frowns and I hate that I notice the way her freckles are splattered across her cheeks and her lips pout when she isn’t smiling. I shake my head quickly.
I don’t even know you.
Well, I don’t know you either yet that didn’t stop you from jumping in front of a car to save my life.
I see her point but I don’t want her to know that.
Can we just talk about something else?
Well, we can but I’m just going to go back to this conversation when we finish our next one.
Curiosity killed the cat. I smirk.
True, but I’m sure if I was in danger of dying again, you’d find another way to save me. So, I’ll take my chances on curiosity.
You don’t know when to stop, do you?
I can go at this all day.
My lips twitch and I crack my knuckles.
I don’t feel like giving you a rundown of my state of mind right now.
Maybe later you’ll change your mind. I can’t help it that I’m slightly intrigued by a man who was so eager to save my life, but doesn’t seem to value or want to live his own.
I lean against the booth and notice an older woman smiling at us from her table. She’s probably finding our outing to be something magical, something she will go home and tell her family about. “I saw two young people signing to each other today in town, and it was just the most amazing thing to witness. How wonderful that they can still hold conversations, such deep and meaningful conversations with each other!” If only she knew what we were really saying to each other, and that this conversation was anything but special.
I roll my eyes at my silent judgement and Veyda must notice the shift in my demeanor because she sits up a little straighter and adjusts her bracelet before starting in on me again.
What’s wrong? You seem like you don’t want to be here.
There’s no fooling you, is there?
She shrugs her shoulders on a smile, and I wring my hands before answering.
I don’t like people.
You don’t like people or you don’t like people staring at you when you’re trying to have a conversation?
Both.
She smiles and shakes her head before adjusting herself in her seat. She looks serious now, important even. She leans forward over the table and moves her hands slowly, softly even.
In all seriousness, if you want me to go, just tell me to. I can leave you alone, but all I’m trying to do is thank you properly for giving me the gift of life. I’ve got a lot of living left to do, it’d be a real shame if I had died that night.
I stare at her and blink a few times, only to notice the woman across from us is joined by another, who also finds our little silent conversation to be much more interesting than anything they could have to talk about. As much as I find her pressing urgency to know about my ungrateful taste for life annoying, it’s the first time in a long time that I’ve felt somewhat normal. Two people communicating over coffee is something that doesn’t happen in my world. I push the hope building in my chest to the side and try to look unimpressed.
Can we just go somewhere else?
Veyda nods and rises slowly, and I stare at her for a moment before I mimic her actions and do the same. She’s animated and excited about the littlest of things, like pushing her hair behind her ear or glancing at her watch before waving goodbye to Tanya. For someone who can’t hear or speak, she’s awfully loud.
And then I notice my reflection in the window. I’m still too pale for an early spring breeze, and I look like I haven’t been properly groomed in weeks. My hair is pushed to the side, for the first time in my life I have a slight beard, and I’m wearing a sweatshirt and worn jeans. If Veyda is loud and confident, I am her opposite. I follow her out of the coffee shop and keep my eyes fixated on her. She’s so eager to taste life, and all I want to do is remember what coffee tasted like. I scowl to myself and bathe in envy of everyone around me, including the silent woman who doesn’t seem to be bothered by an absence of sound. I grind my teeth together and step into the warm air.
Outside on the street she smiles and inhales deeply, arms outstretched, she looks like someone who has just felt the sun for the very first time.
Don’t you just love the smell of spring? Her fingers dance in between words quickly. She picks at a cherry blossom tree and smiles wider, if that is all possible. I feel my jaw twitch and I shake my head no, before walking around her in the direction of the park. All of this suddenly seems like a mistake. In the coffee shop I was secluded in my corner, but out here, out in the world, it’s harder to hide what I am, what keeps me from ever going outside. She’ll notice because that’s what people like her do, they notice everything and pocket their thoughts for later.
She catches up to me in seconds and I notice her hands move eagerly.
No? What do you mean, no? How can you not love the smells of spring?
We turn into the small park, enclosed with a wrought iron fence and a row of trees that have not all traded their branches for leaves yet. I find a bench near the fence, sit down and rub my leg. It’s killing me but I don’t want her to know that. Veyda looks at me oddly, but doesn’t sit down next to me. She seems completely content to be standing in th
e middle of the park, shifting her weight between her feet and basking in the sunshine. Her eyes don’t leave mine though, and they’re full of questions.
What? I finally ask her.
Why are you so full of hate, Harrison?
I feel my eyes begin to roll and I rest my leg on the bench. She watches me with a fierce gaze that screams, “you should still be resting.”
I’m not full of hate. I lie. I just can’t smell anything.
Her eyebrows furrow again, something I’ve noticed a few times now, and the look of concern that spreads wildly over her face is still somewhat soft.
You can’t smell?
Nope. And for the record, I can’t taste either. Eventually, I won’t be able to see either. And the doctors tell me I’ll lose the ability to feel as well.
Veyda begins pushing her shoe into the dirt slowly and turning it from side to side, a nervous tick that half the population succumbs to without ever noticing it. She walks to the side of the bench and sits in the grass while keeping her eyes on the horizon, or the fountain in the center of the park. Anywhere but on me. Her hands still move though.
Is this something that progressively has gotten worse?
She turns to me after she asks the question, knowing that she won’t see my response if she doesn’t.
Yes. I lost hearing first. Everything else came later.
Were there any warning signs?
No. One day I just woke up and everything was quiet.
She looks toward the fountain again and inhales deeply. I imagine she is still high on the scent of lilies and exhaust from the nearby cars. She waits for a moment before starting in again.
Is it a disease?
I nod to keep the conversation minimal. I’ve never had a stranger ask me so many questions before, and I’ve never answered them all so willingly. I like to think that I prefer my silence to the roar of a loud room filled with middle-aged hipsters boasting on their accomplishments. The majority of the conversations I have are with my mother or a doctor, or all alone in my mind. I’m not used to cluttering up my days, with the sound of silent conversations.
Can they treat it? What’s it called?
A name too long for me to even try to spell it, and no they can’t. They just tell me I should be grateful for the senses I still have. I smirk and shake my head.
Veyda perks up at my last sentence and picks at a blade of grass before choosing her words.
So, you are ungrateful to be alive.
I don’t respond to her, and instead run a hand through my hair and notice how greasy it feels. I frown and look down at my leg, wishing I had brought some pain medication with me. She notices my concern, and, why wouldn’t she? In a matter of hours this woman already knows more about me than some of my family members, and in my honest opinion, we’re still strangers. She stands up quickly and moves her fingers in a rapid pace.
I think you need to rest. It looks like you’re in pain, and I’m no doctor but I assume you were told to take it easy for a while, and walking through the park is anything but taking it easy. Let’s get you back to your house. Where do you live?
On Westfield Street, the condos near the lake.
She smiles at me and shows her perfect teeth. That’s a lovely area with a beautiful view.
I wince as I stand and begin responding to her. That’s the point. I want to see as much of the world while I still can.
There are no more thoughts that take the form of sign language from Veyda, at least until she hails a taxi cab and asks me for the address of my condo. She writes down something quick on a piece of paper and hands it to the driver, he smiles at her kindly, not an ounce of pity on his face, and I don’t argue with her urgency to get me home. Although my condo is just a few blocks away, I am certain I couldn’t make it there if I wanted to.
We say nothing else to each other until she has successfully helped me into the elevator of my complex and rode with me the sixteen floors up until we reach my condo. The doors open to my foyer and I punch in a code that grants me access to my condo. The door opens and I turn to face Veyda.
You didn’t have to come this far, but thank you.
I feel myself stumble as I attempt to walk into my home. She notices, smiles, and grips my arm.
I just want to make sure you’re okay before I leave. Can I get you something? Water, pain medication?
I want to tell her no, and that I’m fine, but my hesitation is enough of a response for her to walk past me and step into my condo on her own. She holds the door open for me as I limp my way inside. Once I’m inside my kitchen I go to the fridge and open the doors. She meets me there and shakes her head.
Please, go sit down, I’ll bring you water and your medicine.
I nod and point to the island. Just two of those pills and a glass of water will be all I need. The glasses are in the cupboard next to the sink.
She smiles and I make my way to the couch and fall upon it quickly. My leg is throbbing and my entire body feels like a sack of potatoes that have been ransacked and shipped all over the continental United States. I close my eyes and grind my teeth so hard I swear they’ll shatter. When I open my eyes, she is looking down at me, her eyes wide and her body rigid. She hands me the pills and the water.
You’ll probably fall asleep from the medication, but is there anything else I can get you before I go?
I shake my head and swallow the pills. She stands there for a moment and waits for me to say something, but I’m not sure how to end our conversation with anything other than a thank you. So, that’s what I give her, and she smiles softly and waves before she disappears from my sight.
Whether it’s the exhaustion from so much movement in a short amount of time or the medication coursing through me, I find sleep quickly. My mind drifts in and out of consciousness as I think about the last two weeks of my life. Death still seems like a better option, but something about the way Veyda danced down the sidewalk today, sticks with me until sleep claims me.
***
I don’t see or hear from Veyda for several days. I’m pretty sure I hallucinated the whole thing and that it was a side effect from too much pain medication. We never exchanged phone numbers, not that I’d ever think to. Text messaging and emails are the only way I can really correspond with someone on a phone, and a cell phone isn’t really the first thing a deaf person thinks about. But nevertheless, I have no way to get in touch with her, unless I see her out somewhere again.
My leg is finally feeling a little better, and I was scolded by the doctor for trying to do too much too soon, and that bedrest means bedrest. I promised him I would pay more attention to his rules, and as much as I hated to admit it, the taking it easy did seem to help with the healing. My mother stood by me with a nervous look on her face when the doctor asked me if I needed more pain medication and I told him yes. He didn’t seem to think anything of it, but my mother’s face led me to think she assumed I was addicted to them already. There was a fresh line of worry creasing into her forehead, and I definitely noticed.
The truth is, I lost the whole bottle of my pills and there were a few nights when I could have used one or two. It must have happened sometime during the night after Veyda left, because I woke up to a half-eaten plate of food and an empty can of soda. I had no recollection of eating or being in the kitchen at all, but my medicine was gone, and I assumed I had tossed it in the trash during my sandwich making festivities. Although I probably could have made it on ibuprofen, I didn’t want to be somewhere and be in pain again, like the park, and not have relief.
My mother takes me to lunch where I pick around the edges of a chicken salad sandwich, and she scolds me with her eyes for not eating more. I tell her it’d be different if I could taste, and she finishes her soup with more dignity than I would have, and takes me home.
I decide to skim through The Hobbit in the afternoon, and once I’m settled on the couch and engulfed enough into the story, the light on the wall of my living room flashes three times, s
ignaling a visitor. I assume it’s my mother again, but there’s a jolt of hope that bursts inside of me that makes me feel nervous. For a moment, I hope to find Veyda on the other side of the door, and that concerns me. I like my silence and I like my space. Visitors don’t interest me and the buzz of company usually keeps me away from crowds, but for some reason, I can handle seeing her. Maybe because she’s the first person I’ve ever gotten to have a conversation with, without the need of a translator.
When I open the door I’m almost struck with shock, because she is standing there, smiling at me excitedly, like she is happy to see me. I don’t smile, or maybe I do, it’s hard for me to tell because I can’t remember the last time I did smile. I take note of the way something blooms in my chest though. I’d like to call it happiness, but it dissipates as I walk behind her into the kitchen.
Just checking in to make sure you’re still alive.
If I could laugh, I probably would. I feel my lips quiver and my cheeks burn.
I am.
Good. She digs in her purse and pulls out an orange prescription bottle full of pills and sets it on the counter. I’ve had these since last time, I thought maybe I should give them back to you.
Happy feeling gone. I take a step toward the bottle and examine it. They’re my pain pills from when she was last here. My hands shake a little as I reach for them and I notice anger pooling in my stomach.
Why did you have these?
Her smile fades when she concentrates on my face. The intensity is back, I can feel it. Her hands move slower than I have seen them move, she’s filled with a sense of caution.
Because I was worried you’d decide to try and kill yourself again.
And there it is, my plan to die is now known by more than just myself, and I’m the one to blame. Veyda is smart, smarter than a lot of people I meet, and it probably has something to do with the fact that she can’t hear. People like us rely on sight, touch, even taste to experience the things that we can’t hear. Well, people like her at least, with sight being the most important. For me, I try to see everything, because I know it’ll all be gone soon.
Beast: An Anthology Page 27
