"Sorry, I must be overhearing someone else's conversation." I don't really believe that, but it's the best explanation.
"Oh, ha! Remember when we used to people watch, and would read their lips and make up our own dialogue?"
"Yes! I'm sure most of our conversations were way more interesting than theirs actually were."
"Oh, fer sure. I wish we'd thought of putting it on YouTube like those other guys did. We'd be rolling in literally dozens of dollars, possibly hundreds." We share a laugh, ignoring the fact that those guys are probably way rich by now.
"You wanna ask for the check? I gotta run."
Okay...we're not even halfway through our meal. I look up, but Kate is still enjoying her lunch. I look around again, but this time I'm sure that no one is close enough to us for me to have heard anyone that clearly except for her. And now that I think about it, it doesn't quite sound like her.
"Yeah, I need to get back to the office, too. John gets his panties in a twist if I'm a few minutes late." I'm staring right at Kate now, but her lips aren't moving. So who am I hearing?
I look over her shoulder, and sure enough, a couple a few tables over are asking for the check. That can't possibly be...
"Hey, Izzy...you ok?" Kate startles me, so loud.
"Sorry, zoned out for a sec." Even my own voice sounds louder in my head.
"It's ok, cutie. We all go a little mad sometimes." She smiles, but I don't. Her words pound in my head. "Hey, you sure you're alright?" Her words are followed by a high-pitched tone, like a long answering machine beep in my head.
"Um, I dunno, starting to get a headache, I think." I realize I'm practically whispering.
The tone in my ear is deafening, but I can't locate it. It's as though it's coming from inside my head. "Sweetie, you don't look so good." I look up at Kate as the tone subsides, and she looks worried.
"No, I'm okay." Mostly a lie, but at least the tone is gone. "That was weird, like a quick jab of pain, but it's gone now."
She asks if this has happened before. I don't think so. I don't recall it, at least. I promise to go to a doctor, but I probably won't unless it happens again. Because I hate going to doctors.
We finish our lunch, and as we do, I pick up several other unfamiliar voices. Each time, I look around to make sure they're not in my head, and locate each conversation. Some are from all the way on the other side of the dining area. It's as though everyone is screaming.
Usually, Kate and I chat for an hour or longer after eating, but I look at my notebook and make an excuse to leave. I pay the check, and assure her I'm fine, just running later than I thought. Then I hear this:
"Nice, 20 percent. Usually spics don't tip that well."
My head whips around, and it's our waiter, over by the computer register. He did not just say that...did he? It was as though he was muttering, and he's pretty far away, but I heard him loud and clear.
Kate spots me staring daggers into this jerk. "What's up? Are you waiting for change?"
"Uh...no, I just thought...never mind. It was really great to see you." I give her a hug.
"Yes! Don't be such a stranger, amiga." As we let go of our embrace, she holds my shoulders in each of her hands. "I miss you. Let's not wait so long next time, k?"
I smile and nod. "And more than just lunch. I'll carve out a whole afternoon, at least."
"Holding you to that!"
I miss her company too. She's always been a good friend, even as we've drifted a bit. I guess that's how life goes; people come and go, some quickly, others more slowly. Our goal is to catch the ones we like and keep them close. Note to self: keep Kate close.
As I walk across the park alone, I'm no longer distracted by my company. It's then that I realize the sound of my shoes. They're the same, but...louder.
"No, Mom...of course I'm at work. What do you think, I'd just blow it off?" I whip my head to the side. It's like she's right beside me, but the girl I see talking on her cell phone is a few hundred feet away, sitting on a park bench. Clearly, she's blowing off work and flat out lying to her mother. These are my peers.
"Yes, sweetheart, very pretty flowers. What color is that?" I have to look around quite a bit, but now I see her, a mother walking along with her young daughter.
"Red!!!" the girl shouts. Even though she's nowhere near me, her exclamation and giggles ring in my head like a siren. Instinctively, I cup my ears to drown her out.
"Look at this one. What a weirdo." I swivel my head around again, but no one within earshot. Then I spot him, a man sitting on the grass about a block away, looking right at me, a girl sitting beside him, just now noticing me staring back. They both look away, seemingly spooked by the eye contact.
How can I be hearing all these people? I can't be, right? It's all in my head. Great, so now there's more than one person in there. No, I'm definitely hearing different voices, and spotting where they're coming from. Not only that, I'm hearing more of the ambient noise, more in my face. Birds seemingly flying around my head, rustling leaves whipping around me like a tornado, a gentle breeze invading my ears like a gale force wind.
Leaving the park, I'm hit with a whole flood of new sounds mixing with the others. Not unfamiliar, but more immersive than ever before. I stop in my tracks, and someone behind me almost bumps into me. "Idiot," I hear her mumble, long after she's passed me by. There's a constant drone of cars passing by on the street, footsteps that all sound like tap shoes dancing on my brain, several conversations, some on phones, so I only hear half of them. I hate that.
It's hard to focus on any one sound, or ignore any of them, so I make a break for my car. The beep that accompanies unlocking it rings in my ears, and the slamming door is like a book being dropped on my skull. Still, I'm completely unprepared for the engine starting. I claw at my hair, briefly convinced that the engine is grinding my brain cells into mush.
I sit there and try to collect myself, but there's too much noise, too much! I throw open my glove box, desperately searching for ear plugs, but nothing. Sometimes I have them handy for when I go to concerts, but just my luck, I'm all out. I try to relax, breathe, but the rumbling of the engine keeps me on edge, overwhelmed. Even the closed windows don't keep out much of the noise from outside.
This feeling is unbearable. It's like all the vibrating air in the world is bearing down upon me, engulfing me! I panic, shut the car off, open the door, and immediately regret it. The waves are growing louder, more jumbled. I slam it shut, and the pain in my head is crushing. Ay, stupid move, Izzy! I grab at my ears. They're bleeding now. They can't take this punishment. What am I gonna do?
The last thing I remember is hearing the faint sound of a fire engine, as though the truck was driving along the synapses between neurons in my brain. Between the siren and my screaming, my body gives way, and I pass out.
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When I come to, I'm unsure how much time has passed. It's dark, so it must have been a few hours. What finally wakes me is the banging on my car window. I suppose it could just be a tap, but it's almost loud enough to make me pass out a second time.
"Everything alright, ma'am?" His voice is muffled since the window's rolled up, but I can hear the officer as clear as can be. I roll down the window and try to convince the both of us that I'm fine. "Well, looks like you've been bleeding a bit from your ear. Might be best to get you checked out, and I'd rather you didn't do any driving just now."
His kind words only make my head pound more, so I quickly nod and step out of the car. Strange, I had no problems with balance this morning, but now I'm feeling pretty dizzy. I grab hold of him to steady myself.
"Ma'am, have you been drinking this evening?" Not quite accusatory, but I'm more concerned about my ability to stay upright and get him to stop talking. His voice is gentle but booming at the same time. I need to figure out how to stop this, or I'll be a spinning blob until whatever this is stops.
"No, officer. But...please, help...my apartment." I point in the general direction o
f my building, in case my whispering doesn't get the message across.
He holds me steady while he closes the car door--ouch!, and helps me engage the lock--BEEPBEEP!!! I let out a painful yelp. "You sure you don't want me to call an ambulance?" I shake my head and walk as fast as my wobbly legs will take me, my escort propping me up as best he can.
Staying quiet myself has kept him from saying too much, thank god. It's bad enough that it sounds like I'm in Times Square at New Year's again, even though there are only about ten people in sight. He helps me into my building, then my apartment, each closing door a jab into my skull.
I whisper my thanks. He asks a final time if he can call anyone for me. I assure him all I need is some aspirin and some sleep. He reminds me to call 911 if I need to and makes his exit. I immediately find my stash of earplugs, then remember the dried blood in my ears, and some that dripped down my neck.
In the bathroom, I grab a washcloth and turn on the faucet. The trickle sounds like a waterfall that I'm standing directly below, so I quickly wet the cloth and turn it off. As I wipe down my face and neck, I think about why my ears have suddenly become so sensitive. I hope that some pills and sleep will help, but if not, I'll have to make an appointment with my doctor in the morning.
Shit! I'll need to call the observatory and tell them I can't make it in. I hope they can find someone to cover for me. I'd hate for tonight's viewings and tour to be cancelled.
The phone call is excruciating. Sean's tinny voice coming through my cell phone sounds more like it's through a bullhorn. He’s upset because of the short notice, but he hears the tremble in my voice, that I'm not feigning. "Rest up. I hope you feel better soon." Me too.
I hang up, get undressed, and hop into bed. I just want this day to be over.
"Do you think she knows?" I bolt upright. Who the hell is in my apartment?
"I dunno. She's kinda clueless sometimes." Now my heart's pounding along with my head, and I can hear it louder than ever before.
"Yeah, she's not the brightest bulb in the box." Who is this? Are they talking about me? I slink out of bed, throw on my gown, and creep outside my bedroom. Now I wish I'd listened to my papa and gotten a gun once I started living alone.
"I mean, if she hasn't figured out that he's stealing from her by now, that's on her." Who's stealing what from me? I peek into the living room, but no one's there.
"I told her she has blinders on when it comes to him. He ain't no good for her." Not coming from the kitchen, either. Are they huddled in my bathroom?
"Everyone sees it but her. She don't wanna hear it." No, of course they're not. If they were hiding, they wouldn't be talking at full volume.
"She'll learn eventually. Hope she's not broke and homeless by then." Definitely not talking about me. There hasn't been a man in my life since Manny. He's long gone, and never took a dime from me. He was a vain, arrogant pendejo, but he wasn't a thief.
By chance, my eyes catch something moving in my peripheral vision. I look out the kitchen window, and there they are, a couple, my neighbors Billy and Jenn, talking in their kitchen across the courtyard from mine. Their lips match the words I'm hearing. Both of our windows are closed. Great, so even with earplugs, even in my own home, I can't escape the chatter. At least it's not hammering in my head.
I try to sleep, but as people come home from work, I hear everything in my apartment building. Billy and Jenn are deciding where to go for dinner. She wants Thai, he's more in the mood for Mexican. Laura and Dina are watching the news, in awe that anyone could possibly vote for any Republicans in this election. Sam, Diane, and their kids are playing a board game while dinner's in the crock pot. Little Rebecca's losing and trying to cheat, but Carla won't let her, so they argue. It's loud enough to cause me discomfort even with the earplugs in, but thankfully, Sam puts a quick but gentle end to it.
Unable to filter it all out like so much background noise, I spend the entire evening sitting still and dreary on my couch, forced to listen to the private lives of the neighbors I only ever politely say hello to. They mostly seemed like nice enough people, but boy, don't we all take off our masks at home. Tonight, I'm hearing the truth for the first time. Most of it isn't as shiny happy as it seems. Billy and Jenn are downright mean, throwing shade at seemingly everyone they know. Laura and Dina talk nicely enough about their friends, but have quite the choice words for people who don't agree with them on any number of topics. Sam and Diane drop their happy charade now that kids have gone to sleep. They're both exhausted and have little patience for each others' problems. It makes me sad that they can't lean on each other, like good parents should.
Eventually, everyone goes to sleep, and for a moment, I suspect it's just me, on my couch, finally alone. I dare to remove my earplugs, and immediately regret it. A wave of animal sounds floods over me. All the mice, rats, crickets, cats, dogs, raccoons, skunks, and all of their steps, rustling, and calls penetrate every bone in my body. If I weren't already sitting on my couch, I would fall over.
I jam the plugs back in my ears and wait for the dizziness to subside. Looks like I'm gonna hafta buy a ton more earplugs tomorrow.
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Present Day
It's been about a year since this curse has infected us, robbed us of our life. It seems like yesterday that we crashed our car on the way up the mountain to work. It seems like yesterday that we lost our license after the third crash. It seems like yesterday that Sean had to let us go. Without a way to get to the telescopes, how could he possibly keep us employed?
We've tried everything, right? We run through the list for the thousandth time. Earplugs, noise canceling headphones, doctors who tried a few treatments for hyperacusis, but stopped helping when we described the extent of what we could hear. They didn't want to believe how severe it is. No one does. They said things like "no known cases" or "sound doesn't travel that way." What do they know?
One of them suggested a shrink after he noticed the healing wounds from when we tried stabbing ourselves in our ears. We disingenuously promised we would call the person whose card he gave us. We even contemplated pouring acid into our ear canal, deciding we preferred deafness to this, only to have the ear gods deliver Dr. Gibson to us. I don’t know how she found me, but I’m glad she did.
Dr. Gibson has been great to talk to these past nine months or so, knowing to speak extremely softly, introducing me to some meditation techniques, then trying some therapies the medical doctors also suggested, but never implemented once they thought I was a nutso. She also warned me that every time my ears bleed from loud noises, my eardrum might be ruptured, and if this happened enough times, I might have permanent hearing loss. When I suggested that might be a blessing, she had me start wearing a device that produces a barely audible "pink noise," she calls it. It doesn't solve things, but it helps way more than the earplugs ever did.
I still can't function in any sense of the word "normal" in society, though. All she's done is help me not go completely bonkers. She helped me find affordable soundproofing material, and we covered my bedroom with it. At first, I likened it to a cocoon, but Dr. Gibson likes to call it my "Fortress of Solitude" for some reason. It doesn't completely absorb all sounds, but it minimizes them to bearable levels, usually whispers. That's when something really freaky happens. My ears become even more sensitive, and I can hear my own heartbeat, thumping in my chest, like a bass drum. The headaches aren't fun, let me tell ya. Still, it's better than feeling like everyone in San Jose is screaming at me. I'm saving up enough to be able to eventually cover my entire apartment with the stuff. The kitchen and bathroom are next.
And there's the catch. Hard to save up when you have no steady work. For a few months after losing my job, I dipped into savings, borrowed from friends and family. But I couldn't keep either up, so I shamefully applied for unemployment. It didn't cover all the bills, but I always managed to scrape together some extra cash doing odd jobs online. It's fun, but once my unemployment runs out, which is soon, it won
't be nearly enough. I've started considering less respectable work that I've heard is fairly lucrative. I'm still trying to figure out if I'd be more ashamed to do webcam work from my room, or have to move back in with my parents in Laredo. I'll have to decide soon.
I put on the pink noise device and psych myself up to leave my Fortress of Solitude to go to the bathroom, then get a late dinner. I have to limit my trips, so I try to kill two or more birds with one stone while I'm out in the real world. I'll pee first, then head down to the corner sushi place for a rainbow roll and vegetable tempura.
I take a deep breath and open my bedroom door. I immediately feel like I've been kicked in the gut, and I'm still alone in my apartment. Laughter from the bar down the street, like an entire frat house is sitting on my couch. Someone singing, badly, I might add, at the karaoke bar next to it. All the chatter of my neighbors, their kids, their dogs, their televisions. It's too much, TOO MUCH!!! I turn around to retreat into my room, but I think better of it. I really have to pee.
The orchestra in my head doesn't subside. My eyes tear up while I'm in the bathroom. Not now, Izzy. Don't lose it. You'll ruin your mascara, and all the people at the sushi counter will see. They'll point and whisper, not realizing that I can hear every word of their mockery, concern, bemusement.
I don't flush, because I save that painful earful for when I absolutely must. I wash my hands with my usual trickle of water, which still sounds like Niagara Falls. I check my ears in the mirror. No blood so far, at least not any visible outside the area of the pink noise buds.
I hurry down the stairs, careful to be as light on my feet as possible. Even though I've got sneakers on, between my steps and the wood creaking, I long for the pounding of my heartbeat. Every step closer to the street warns me of the flood of vibrations I'm about to expose myself to. But it has to be done. A girl's gotta eat.
I open the front door to my building and step out into the street. "Hey Bob!" I stumble to my knees immediately. Stop screaming! Two friends greet each other. "How have things been?" "Not bad, you? " Focus, Izzy! Not on the small talk. Get up, march down to the corner, get some food, turn back. I try to meditate as I pick up the pace, but the cars flying by and the sheer number of people around are drowning me. Get out of my head!
The Ripper of Blossom Valley Page 19