Silent Song

by Jaci Wheeler

  It’s still a new luxury for me to be able to drive. Nothing clears my head like speed. Yet here I am lying awake, replaying the whole night in my head. I love Presley. Even though I haven’t told her yet, that doesn’t diminish the feelings I have for her. I love her more than I knew I was capable of. Yet I can’t help but still feel bad when I’m around her friends. It’s not her fault, we can’t live in a bubble no matter how much both of us would like to. She’s never tried to change me in any way, to make me “less deaf,” which a few people have, so I don’t know why my gut feels so twisted over this. I’m too much of a thinker, as my uncle likes to remind me. I’ll never get to sleep with this weighing me down.

  Barrett: Can’t sleep. Basketball?

  I send the text to several buddies, hoping at least one will respond back so I can work off this nervous energy.

  A.J.: Preston Park?

  I can always count on A.J. I shouldn’t have distanced myself from him like I have. I’ll have to make more time for him.

  Barrett: Perfect. CU 10 minutes?

  A.J.:;)

  Casen: There other ways work off restless, B. Where Presley?

  Barrett: You coming?

  Casen: You know it.

  Parker: Sneak out me, CU when can.

  I smile because Parker’s parents are super strict, but he always manages to make it, just a bit late most of the time. Two on two is perfect. Maybe all I need is a night out with the guys.

  We play ball for an hour before Parker has to leave to sneak back in. Casen grabs some Gatorades out of his car and passes them to us.

  “Where pretty girl you?”

  “Dorm her. Musical Monday.” I can’t help but chuckle at the confused looks I receive from both guys.

  “What that?”

  “Sound horrible.”

  “Pres and friends watch musical movie every Monday.”

  “Invite you not?” Casen asks, looking offended for me, even though just moments earlier the idea sounded like torture to him.

  “Invite yes. Go me. Leave me.”

  I’m hoping they will leave it at that, but Casen instantly picks up on something I’m not saying and stands up, looking mad.

  “Friends like you not?”

  “Sit down. Friends like fine. Weird, feel me…not settled. Pres, me, world different. Alone us world perfect.” I sigh and look down for a moment. Casen finally sits down and doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t do emotion well, and I don’t blame him, because either do I. A.J. just looks at me with his wise eyes that make me feel like he’s looking into my soul.

  “What?” I finally ask him.

  “P fit not your world. You fit not her world. Maybe need make world where all fit together.” Casen rolls his eyes at this and slaps us on the back.

  “Need go me. Fun change world you two.” He smiles as he gets into his car and takes off. I look over at A.J. and smile.

  “Wish easy me.”

  “Who say easy? Hard. Worth work.” He sighs and looks uneasy, so I know he wants to say more. I don’t press him, but just wait him out until he starts signing again. “Gabby, me come easy. Saw her, saw me, finish. Together since. Never hard us, always easy…maybe fight sometime yes…but easy. Understand her me. Understand me her. Live same life. Have same friends. Go same school. Think me what happen when life hard? If always easy, maybe not know what do life not easy.” I look at him and wonder for the millionth time how this guy is only in high school.

  “Gabby you perfect.”

  “Now, yes. When build life on easy when life hard maybe crumble. Don’t know me. When build life on hard, foundation strong you. Harder to build? Yes. Take longer? Yes. But last longer too.” I smile over at him and ruffle his hair.

  “Wise man you.” He rolls his eyes at me but smiles back.

  “Her try change you?” he wants to know, and I can tell something Casen said earlier hit him.

  “Never,” I say adamantly. “Accept me always. Meet me where am me. Never want me be different than am now.”

  “Nothing else matter. Build on hard.”

  “Build on hard,” I repeat, and for the first time all night, I feel my stomach uncoil.

  CHAPTER 33

  Presley

  I’m trying to get some last minute studying in before Barrett gets here when Jodi comes storming in. I’m ready to scold her for scaring the life out of me yet again when I take in her stormy countenance. This isn’t her usual hello-world entrance. It’s more like I’m-going-to-rip-someone’s-head-off entrance.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My professor kicked me out of class,” she answers as she angrily takes off her clothes, throwing them down and putting on her lounge clothes.

  “He did what? Why?”

  “You know that douche canoe in my class, Chris Walton?”

  “The sexist one?”

  “Yep, that’s him. So we got broken up into groups for this upcoming project we are working on. The goal is to take a building in Stockton that has been abandoned or otherwise falling down and to re-build and design. Well, of course I get Captain Douche Knuckle in my group, who is an absolute moron. He refused to listen to a thing I had to say. We decided on the homeless shelter on 13th and decided to give it an upgrade. He wanted a design to get as many bodies in there as possible. But I pointed out that getting more bodies wouldn’t help because that’s more cost in food, clothing, and upkeep. I suggested switching to solar, since it would cut down on month to month expenses, and then making a large garden in back so they can grow some of their own food, therefore they can do more for those they have there. Expanding only creates a bigger problem.”

  “That sounds perfectly smart to me. Great idea.”

  “Thank you. I thought so, as did the other two guys in our group…until Douche Wagon started spouting about me sitting there looking pretty and letting the big boys do the thinking. He will, and I quote, ‘let me pick the paint color.’ I couldn’t believe him. I have a higher grade in the freaking class than he does, so he has no room to tell me what to do, which is exactly what I told him.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Yeah, he took it about as well as you’d think and told me there wasn’t room in our group for a, and I quote again, ‘Bra burning bimbo lib.’”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t, and I told him as much, which is when I got kicked out.”

  “Your teacher kicked you out of class for standing up for yourself?” I ask, stunned. Although by the contrite look on Jodi’s face I can tell there must be more to it than that.

  “Um, he didn’t mind the telling off as much as he did me taking off my bra and throwing it at the douche…” I’m guessing she ran out of words to go with douche.

  “You threw your bra at him?”

  “I sure did, but it was the fact that I lit it on fire before I threw it at him that got me kicked out of class.”

  “Jodi! You didn’t!”

  “You bet your booty I did. I earned my grades fair and square, not to mention having to put up with the snide comments from all the males with small man syndrome in that class. I deserve some damn respect!”

  “And if you don’t get it, light them all on fire?” I ask, half laughing.

  “Yes! Let those fools burn! Anyway, I have an appointment with the dean before I can go back to class, but I don’t even care!” She’s all fired up now, so I don’t dare laugh, but she informs me she is hitting Target with Zeek and off she flies. As soon as the door shuts, I burst into a fit of laughter. Life is so not boring here. I wonder how I ever managed life without Jodi in it. I get about another hour of studying in before there is a knock on my door. I jump up to open the door to the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen up close.

  “Hey Handsome.” He doesn’t say anything but gathers me in his arms and backs me up against the wall, kissing me like he hasn’t seen me in a year.

  “Miss me?”

  “Always.” I back up, ushering him in s
o I can shut the door to the groans of the girls in the hall. “Show’s over, ladies,” I call out, then turn back to my guy.

  “Hungry you? Snack, soda? What want you?” I ask, since he’s looking at me in a strange manner with his head slightly tilted.

  “Why sign better you?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Yes, know you. Sign bad, okay, good, perfect. I know good teacher me, but not teach you. Who teach you?” Dang! I was hoping he wouldn’t catch on. I sigh and toss him a soda, then open one myself before I take a seat on my bed. I take a sip then set it down.

  “I ask D.H.H. teacher give lessons.”

  “Why? If you want learn, I teach you.”

  “Not want that.”

  “Why?”

  It’s really hard for me to put into words why I didn’t ask him. It’s not that I didn’t think he could teach me. It would have been easier I’m sure, but it was something I felt I had to do alone, and Janet was more than happy to help me.

  “Don’t want communication with you become work. Not your responsibility. Want you to be you without have to be teacher me. How many time someone do something only for you? Never. I want learn for me, for job, many reason…also want one person in your life do something for you.”

  He doesn’t say a word but picks up my right hand and kisses every single finger. Then he places that hand on his chest over his heart and does the same with my left hand. As usual, words aren’t needed with us. It’s weird, but I never thought words could ever be a hindrance, but with us they are. We sit there like that for a moment and then he smiles at me.

  “Your teacher good. Become skilled ASL you.” Just as I am about to say something, he sends me a devilish smirk. “But better me. Thank you not enough say to you. Next time you need something, ask me please.” Then he kisses my forehead and leans back, ending the conversation, so I decide a subject change is in order.

  “Remember tell you about paper write me for music class?” He nods and I grab my computer to show him a video. “I do paper about music group that make own music. No instruments.” I show him a picture of Pentatonix.

  “How make music no instrument?” He looks perplexed, and I realize that nobody has taken the time to fully explain music to him.

  “Hear you A C A P E L L A?” He shakes his head no. “Make sound of instruments with voice. One person make bass, drum, violin, all different. Some instrument, some voices.”

  He looks completely surprised by this and then excited.

  “Can show me?” he asks with so much hope that I would give anything to be able to beat box at the moment.

  “Wish me. Can’t, but maybe…” I turn back to my computer and pull up one of Pentatonix’ videos.

  “Okay, bad me.” He smiles like he has all the faith in the world in me. “Real bad me,” I say, just to drive the point home. I point to the screen.

  “A V I. B A S S.” I then put his right hand lightly on my throat and his left on my upper chest. I then try to match Avi’s bass sound, which I’m failing at horribly, but Barrett gets the point. He smiles, nodding at me to continue. I then point to Kevin.

  “K E V I N. Drum.” I try to do the drum, and even B can tell how horrible I am, because he laughs, but then nods to keep going. The cymbal is much easier since I can take his hand from my chest and put it in front of my mouth so he can feel the hiss of air that the cymbal sound makes.

  He looks at me in awe and moves his hands for me to continue. I look back to the screen and point to the remaining three members.

  “Voice. S C O T T,” I fingerspell, then take his hands and put them back on my throat and chest and sing a few bars, trying desperately to match pitch with Scott. This is where being able to sing while being a music major would really come in handy. I mean I can sing, Zeek makes it a much bigger deal than it is, but I’m so not theater worthy. “K I R S T I N. I point to her and then try and match her as well. Once I get to the last member, I sign, “M I T C H,” and point up and show there’s no way I’m hitting that. His eyes get big and he points to Mitch on the screen.

  “Guy sing high?”

  “Yes, voice amazing. Most amazing high voice for guy.” Then I point to Avi. “Most amazing low for guy. Group P E N T A T O N I X prove music made up many things. Don’t need instruments, music can be whatever we make.”

  “Can sing P E N T A T O N I X for me?”

  “Okay. Turn, face wall.” I turn him so that we are back to back and he can feel the vibrations go through me as I watch the screen. I have him reach around and place his hand on my throat. I sing one song, then another. We are so absorbed in the music I don’t even notice that my roommate is back until Zeek freaks me out of my musical trance.

  “Um, if you are trying to bump uglies you are doing it wrong, it’s not that literal, Princess.” I feel my face turn a hundred shades of red and I thank God Barrett is facing the wall.

  “Shut it, Zeek, I’m showing him music.” Barrett turns when he feels me speak, and he waves to my friends. I shoot them a look, reminding them to behave.

  “Hi B. Whatcha doing?” I love that Jodi talks to him like normal and not to me to interpret. I quickly sign what she says and he signs back, looking at her, knowing I will voice for him.

  “Presley teaching me music. Beautiful voice her.” I wince at his words and instantly see both of their mouths drop.

  “Presley, you lied to a deaf man?” Zeek insists and I glare at him.

  “I didn’t tell him it was beautiful, Zeek, he came up with that all on his own.”

  “What?”

  “I know you think sing me wonderful, but Zeek think voice me sound bad. When you say voice beautiful me, he think I lie to you because you deaf.” I’m so worried he’s going to take that wrong, but he throws his head back and laughs, then fist bumps Zeek.

  “Come on, go dinner us.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the room. I can hear Jodi’s laughter all the way down the hall.

  CHAPTER 34

  Barrett

  It’s about time I finally took her out for a real date. With all the family drama, personal drama, and school, we haven’t really had the chance to go out much in public. I chose a little Mexican restaurant Randy and I like to go to. As soon as we walk in and I’m scanned head to toe by the hostess, I quickly remember why it’s a bad idea. Stacy, said hostess, has had a thing for me for a few years now, not even caring that she’s much too old, not to mention desperate, for my taste.

  “Barrett!” She lights up as soon as she sees me and I can feel Presley stiffen. I bring her closer to my body, wrapping my arm fully around her back as I drop a kiss on her forehead,, hoping to give her reassurance that this blatant woman means nothing to me. My little firecracker narrows her eyes at the woman and stiffens her spine. Game on.

  Stacy comes around the counter and gives me a hug, which I don’t return. Not fazed in the least, she rubs my arm. Knowing I’m deaf, she usually keeps her assault a physical one…unfortunately. If she’s noticed the woman attached to me, or the death glare she’s receiving from said woman, she doesn’t show it.

  “Come this way, hun.” She gestures us over to our usual table, which is the best lit spot in the restaurant. I smile my thanks and pull out Presley’s chair for her. Taking my seat across from her, I start looking over the menu, even though I know it by heart. When I finally look up, I see Presley’s menu untouched. Instead she is coolly looking at me.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “P?”

  “Try understand me why you bring me place ex-girlfriend work.” It doesn’t seem like a question asked out of jealousy. She is searching my face, as if she will find some deep seated reason on why I’m trying to rub Stacy in her face or something. I sigh and put down my menu, reaching across the table to hold her hand. For me words always come second. They don’t hold as much meaning as a touch or look can. I give her a minute to study me and my expressions, and when I can tell she knows nothing happened, I go ahead and ass
ure her with the words.

  “Nothing happen. Not ex, not interested. Never was.”

  “She looked you like birthday her, cake you.” She adds a small grin and I let out the breath I was holding. I shake my head and smile.

  “Sorry. Won’t come again.”

  “Not here only, B. Everywhere go us, girls, women, old ladies…all eye you. It’s not that I’m jealous…” She trails off for a minute and takes her time to think through what she’s trying to say. It’s one of the things I appreciate most about her. She doesn’t come up with snap judgments or say things out of anger. She’s a lot like my brother in that way. “Not how look you. How look me problem.” That comment throws me for a minute and she laughs at the confusion that must be all over my expressions.

  “Girls look through me. See no challenge, no way you want me over them.” She blushes a bit but continues on. “Know you out league me. Fine me. Proud have beautiful boyfriend.” She winks and it melts me a bit. She doesn’t ever talk about me like I’m just a piece of meat. Just a hot body and a nice face. The fact that she calls me beautiful should probably bother me, seeing as I’m a guy, but I like it.

  “Hate me people disregard us. Not me…but us. This.” She holds up our hands and I bring them to my mouth and kiss every one of her knuckles.

  “Bother me not. People can ignore us fine. But won’t me. Won’t you. Important only. My friends and family, yours…if they see what important. Everything else matter not.” She smiles wide, and just like that the subject is dropped. But my guilt eats at me. This girl who is older than me by a few years is so much more innocent. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t think our age difference has been an issue. I had to grow up pretty fast for my age, but my life experience seems so much deeper than hers. I want to protect that innocence, I don’t like talking about my experience with girls, especially with someone I care about who does seem so innocent, but she needs to know where I’m coming from and what might arise because of it.

  “How many boyfriend you?”