Silent Song

by Jaci Wheeler

  “Let me go, B.”

  “No, I’m going with him. I need to be with him, Randy. He will need me,” I scream out.

  “I know, B. They’re going to have questions and they need someone who can answer them.” He means they need someone who can hear and he says this looking pained, knowing the blow he just dealt me. But he’s right. In this moment, I can’t be what my brother needs. I can’t hear. I can’t be his voice because that’s his job. He’s always been my voice and now I am failing him when he needs me the most. I nod and step back so Randy can jump in the ambulance. I stand there staring long after it’s left the field. I feel numb and useless and it’s actually frozen me to the spot.

  I feel someone tugging my arm but I don’t bother to look. Then he snaps in my face and I see it’s Brian pulling me. He doesn’t sign, but he points to himself and his mom, who is standing nearby, then at her car. They are going to give me a ride to the hospital, I assume. For once I don’t want to drive, so I nod and follow. I don’t even remember getting in the car, but Brian takes out his phone and then passes it to me.

  Is there someone I can call to interpret for you?

  I hadn’t even thought of that. The hospital has interpreters on staff or would call an agency, but those things take time, and I can’t risk it. I take his phone and type back.

  Can you call interpreter explain? See he can meet us hospital?

  I take my phone out of my pocket and bring up Jermain’s number and hand the phone to Brian. He talks to him very quickly, looks over at me, and says something else. It’s dark in the car. I hate the dark. He hands my phone back, then types on his again, handing it back over.

  Jermain is on his way. He said not to sign any papers until he gets there.

  I read and re-read his text over and over again. Sign anything? What would I need to sign that Jermain would need to explain? My stomach drops even further than I thought possible and I feel the tears spill over, so I nod once and turn to look out the window.

  CHAPTER 12

  Barrett

  Luckily Jermain lives closer to the hospital than the school, so he was already there waiting for me. Brian and his mom took a seat in the waiting room while Jermain pulls me aside.

  “Do you know how Codi?” I’m frantic.

  “Talk nurse who say uncle come talk soon.”

  “Codi awake? Hurt bad?”

  “Don’t know. Sorry me.”

  “Not fault you. Thank you coming here. Know not job right now—” He puts his hand up, stopping me from continuing.

  “Here for you. School, meeting, friend. Whatever need you. More than interpreter me. Friend.”

  I give him a hug and will my tears not to come. The double doors open and my uncle comes out looking pale and about ten years older than when he went in. He nods us over, and when we join him, I can tell he has been crying and I instantly want to puke. I’m too emotional to try and lip read or talk, so I ask Jermain to voice for me.

  “What happened? Is Codi all right?”

  “I will bring you back to see him, but before I do there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Jermain is busy interpreting what Randy is voicing while we follow him over to a small alcove.

  “Codi has a severe concussion from the blow. I told the doctor about how he was hurt at practice and then again with the helmet. They ran a CT scan and found that he has bleeding on his brain. Do you understand what that means, Barrett?” He waits while Jermain finishes interpreting and I feel cold sweat break out all over my body.

  “Yes, understand.” I whisper out. Then I turn to Jermain to voice for me.

  “What now? Will he be okay?” Jermain voices but never once takes his eyes off of me.

  My uncle sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He is looking everywhere but at me, which gives me my answer. I grab him by the shoulders and make him look at my face. I then look at Jermain and sign, “Voice again.”

  “What now? Will he be okay?” Jermain voices for the second time. Tears start pouring out of my uncle’s eyes, but he raises his head and looks directly at me. All I want to do is punch him. Anything to take that look off of his face. That’s the same look he had when he told me my mom was dying. I refuse to see that look again, not now, so I turn my back on him and face Jermain. My uncle must be talking again because Jermain’s hands lift and he switches to interpreter mode.

  “The thing is, Barrett, they have to stop the hemorrhage to his brain, but with the swelling, it’s very risky. But if they don’t do the surgery, he will die. If they do it, they might not be able to stop the bleeding, depending on how bad it has hemorrhaged.” Jermain pauses and his eyes go large. I whip around to look at my uncle.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” I choke out.

  “I can’t get ahold of your father. I had the neighbor go over and she can’t wake him.” I think back to what my brother had said earlier that night. Was that just a few hours ago? Why does it seem like a lifetime? My father had drank himself into a stupor. My uncle looks deeply pained and I don’t even need to look at Jermain’s hands when he signs. “In emergency when parents can’t be reached, next of kin who is of age decides.”

  I’m furious. If anything happens to my brother because he had to wait, I’m going to kill him.

  “No!” I yell out and several heads turn. I don’t even care.

  “I’m sorry, B. I’m so sorry, but they need an answer, because waiting can make things worse. The doctor said the surgery was his only chance.”

  “But you said it could kill him,” Jermain voices, and I feel myself slowly die on the inside.

  “It can. But if you don’t do it, he will die eventually.”

  “We try?”

  “We try.” I finally bring myself to look over at my uncle and he nods once.

  “It’s his only chance. No matter what happens after you sign those papers, know that it’s his only chance, son.”

  There’s been many times when I’ve cursed my deafness. Usually it’s because of something I can’t do. But today, for the first time in my life, it’s because of something I can. Being deaf has its advantages, and one of them is picking up on micro cues. I don’t even know I’m doing it anymore, but I can tell pretty much anything about someone’s mood or confidence in one look. All it takes is one glance to assess a situation.

  All it took was one glance for my world to come crashing down around my feet. I have stared at the same double doors for the last seven hours. That’s how long it took for the surgeon to come walking out. I could see the small beads of sweat that lined his forehead and upper lip. They are trained to school their features, but as soon as the door opened, I slammed my fist against the wall as hard as I could. I beat the wall over and over again, picturing number 43’s face. I refuse to sit here in one piece while my little brother bled out on a table. Because that’s exactly what happened. I know before the man even has a chance to open his mouth. I hit the wall over and over again with both fists now. I welcome the pain. I concentrate on the crunch of the bones. It’s the blood on the wall that finally brings reality crashing back down on me.

  I look around the security guard, and Jermain, and over the two orderlies who come to help restrain me. I look right at my uncle as tears flow freely down his face and the look of utter uselessness that I see reflected back at me. I watch the doctor’s lips as he tells my uncle that they did everything they could, but they just couldn’t stop the bleeding. Five seconds and a plastic strap is all it took to rob me of everything.

  CHAPTER 13

  Presley

  I absolutely love my fieldwork. It’s time consuming and hard, so most people dread it, but it’s been so reaffirming for me. Every time I start to question my decision to give up everything and move here, or wonder if I made the right decision, all it takes is an hour with these little guys to remind me that this is where I’m supposed to be. Music is healing and it touches more souls than just mine. I look over at little Noah, who is slowly rocking back and forth with
his eyes closed, head thrown back in pure bliss. He taps each finger to his thumb three times as he rocks, exuding his excitement.

  Noah is a new addition to this school. He had been in three different programs before he came here and nothing helped. He has intellectual delays as well as being bipolar and hard of hearing. He was premature and a drug baby, and his grandmother has raised him his whole life. At five-years-old, this poor little guy has so much stacked against him. When I arrived today, he was in the middle of an episode. He had three aides and the teacher all trying to calm him down. Because he is non-verbal, he can’t speak and has a very hard time communicating what he wants. When they can’t figure it out, he becomes aggressive. He was in the middle of throwing a chair across the room when I stepped in. I almost walked right back out to call my boss, but I decide it is too risky to wait, so I put my big girl panties on and jumped right in.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Fiore! Would it be all right if the aides take the rest of the class on a recess break so we can get Noah calmed down a bit without anyone getting hurt?” I phrase it as a question, but my tone of voice and look on my face is nothing but a polite command. Luckily, the teacher smiles and sighs in relief as she sends the other students off with the aides. Reducing the noise and amount of people already helps some, but he is still throwing things and screaming. The teacher goes to stop him and I put up a finger. I quickly take out my bag of tricks and find my rain stick and quickly walk over to Noah. I stand behind him, making sure to stay out of hitting range. I don’t say anything to him, I just slowly turn over the rain stick behind his head. He has a book in his hand ready to chuck when he freezes for a moment, head turning slightly toward the noise.

  I take three steps backwards, and once again turn the stick over. He puts the book down and starts to turn. I repeat, this time walking slowly toward the classroom’s cool down area. Mats and pillows line the space and it’s right next to an outlet, making it a perfect therapy spot. I grab a maraca and tambourine out of my bag. I add the maraca to the rain stick and slowly sit down on the mat. Noah instantly walks over to the mats and reaches out for the instruments. He still looked agitated. He chews the sleeve of his left arm as he reaches with his right.

  “Good morning, Noah, it’s nice to see you today. I have a very cool tambourine here that I think you’d love to play with but I need you to take your arm down because it takes two hands.” I lightly place my hand on his arm, moving it from his mouth. He takes a swing at me with his right, but I’m able to duck it in time. Before he can try to hit me again, I place the tambourine in his left.

  “You feel like hitting today, huh? Sometimes I do, too. The best thing about this instrument is when you hit it, a beautiful sound comes out. Let’s try, okay? Hold it with this hand and hit with your other.” Noah starts banging the tambourine and I place my hand on top of his to show him how to do it in a lighter motion. He starts to copy and I add the maraca.

  “There, look at that, Noah…you are making music.”

  I hold up the maraca for the teacher, who joins us on the mat with a look of thanks clear on her overworked face. I can’t imagine how taxing her job must be. I’m only with these kids an hour twice a week and it’s exhausting. As the teacher played the maraca with him, I continued with the rain stick while I fished my CD out of my bag. Popping it into the player, I choose a soothing song that we can play along to. The three of us play for ten minutes straight until the rest of the kids come back to class.

  Once the rest of the class joined us, I gave each of the kids their own instrument. Noah laid his down, all played out, and I expect him to act up again, but he doesn’t. He remains sitting, just listening to the music as he rocks gently back and forth.

  I step back from the group to grab my binder to fill out my data sheet.

  “Are you sure you’re only an intern?” Mrs. Fiore whispers, coming up from behind. I chuckle and nod.

  “Yep, and I’m fresh at that. This is all a whole new world to me.”

  “I’d never have guessed, Presley. You’re such a natural at this, you’re going to go very far in this field.” I beam at her praise. I feel like a neglected sunflower reaching for the warmth of her compliments.

  “I’ve always found music to be the balm for my soul. I figure if it can heal me, why not others? When I found out that music therapy was an actual thing, I wanted to weep with joy. It can heal even the most wounded…I deeply believe it.”

  “It shows. If anyone had told me that Noah could be calmed so easily, I would never have believed it. He is such a sweet, sensitive boy, but he has so much stacked against him. I wish it was easier for him. Having a tool at his fingertips where he can learn to self-soothe is such a blessing.”

  “Well, that’s the goal. Let me finish up this data and then I’ll start my one-on-one sessions. Now I can mark Noah off as done for the day.” I smile and go to work with my next student.

  As I climb into my car, I pull my phone from my purse and my heart stops. I have fifteen missed calls and five text messages, all from Jodi. Luckily, the last message calms me before I think the worst.

  Jodi: I just realized I probably freaked you out seeing all my calls. It’s not an emergency but something has happened, so call when you can.

  Jodi: I Just remembered you are interning today and that’s why you haven’t called me. Sorry. Ignore the frantic calls.

  Jodi: Where are you? I know you don’t have class today! CALL ME NOW!

  Jodi: Pick up your phone!

  Jodi: We need to talk.

  I don’t waste time listening to her voicemails, I just dial her and she answers after one ring.

  “Presley!”

  “Good Lord, what’s wrong? Are you okay? I’m seriously freaking out here, Jodi.”

  “I’m sorry, girl, I’m fine, I promise, but I talked to my mom today, who gave me some really bad news. I can’t believe I’m just now hearing about this, but Barrett’s little brother Codi died two weeks ago.”

  “What!” I am so shocked I drop my phone down the seat.

  “Crap! Hold on, Jodi, I dropped you…one second.” I reach down and try to grab ahold of the phone. After coming up with nothing but a few straw wrappers, a handful of old Cheetos, and a hair tie, I finally get a good grip on it I haul it back up and see it’s connected still.

  “Sorry. Are you serious, Jo? I can’t get over that we just saw him. What happened?”

  “A horrible accident, apparently. He forgot his chin strap to his helmet and there was an illegal hit or something, and knocked off his helmet. Barrett saw the whole thing, Pres.” I don’t know either guy very well, but I feel sick hearing this.

  “Poor Barrett. How is he?”

  “Brian said it’s really bad. He’s not taking it well either since Codi was his best friend, but Barret won’t even see him. Apparently, that’s not all. Barrett was so upset that he punched the walls and broke his right hand and three fingers on his left.” I gasp at the news and instantly the tears start to fall.

  “Oh my God, Jodi, that means he can’t sign.”

  “Or drive,” Jodi adds.

  “He must feel completely trapped and helpless.”

  “Brian doesn’t know where he lives since Codi never let him go there. I think he was ashamed of it, so he can’t check on him, but he’s stopped by his uncle’s shop a few times and Randy said he isn’t doing well. Anyway, I thought you might want to know.”

  “Yeah, I’m so glad you told me. You didn’t happen to get the address to his uncle’s shop, did you?”

  “I thought you might want it, so yeah, I did. I’ll text it to you. Let me know if I can do anything. Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No, I don’t think he’s going to even want to see me right now. I mean, I’m practically a stranger, but I can’t not go.”

  “I know, girl. No worries, I was actually thinking of going home myself tonight to check on my brother, so I’ll ride over with you if you don’t mind dropping me off.” This sparks an idea. />
  “Actually, that’d be great. If we stopped at the store and picked up a few things, do you think your mom would let me use her kitchen?”

  “Of course she would. Swing by and get me. I’m ready whenever.”

  The worst feeling in the world to me is feeling helpless. Maybe it’s because I come from a family of surgeons…it’s just what we do…we fix people. Give us a problem and we fix it. Death is one of those things for which there is no fix. There’s no right or wrong emotion or formula to follow. But being who I am I have to do something, so I make a lasagna, chicken and dumpling soup, and a batch of brownies. Jodi laughed at me but it didn’t stop her from pitching in. Now that I’m standing at the garage with an armload of food, I feel ridiculous. I decide to put the food back in my car until after I talk to Randy. I take a deep breath and open the door to the front office.

  There’s a guy in his twenties at the counter on the phone, and he smiles and puts up a finger, mouthing one second. I smile back, but feel like I want to throw up a bit. I don’t even know these guys…what on earth am I doing here? Like bringing them carbs is going to change things? I’ve about talked myself right out the door when the guy hangs up and looks up at me.

  “Sorry about that. Can I help you?”

  “Oh, no problem. Um, is Randy here by chance?” He chuckles a bit and takes a long look at me.

  “By chance he is,” he says, obviously mocking me, but it’s in good humor. He picks the phone back up and pushes a button.

  “Hey Randy, there’s someone out front for you. Will do.”

  “He said he will be out in a bit. You’re welcome to take a seat. There’s coffee over there in the corner, help yourself.”

  “Okay, thanks so much.” I hurry to a chair and sit down. The guy has what looks like a parts magazine in front of him and he’s writing up some kind of order. I look around and I’m pretty impressed by the place. It’s a smaller shop, but very well taken care of. You can tell it’s a labor of love. Since there’s nothing else to do I take a good look at the guy. I’d place him in his early twenties, maybe twenty-two or so. He has one sleeve of tattoos going down his left arm. His hair is long and blond and pulled back in a ponytail. He glances up and sees me looking at him, so he tosses me a wink, which of course causes me to turn ten shades of red. Naturally, Randy chooses this moment to come out. The shock at seeing me is all over his face.