Silent Song

by Jaci Wheeler

  “I mean, next to flying, I don’t know if there is. Nothing beats the adrenaline you get from going that fast, it’s such a rush, you know. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions. There’s a bit of fear and danger there which triggers the excitement. There’s also a certain amount of control you have that can be a pretty awesome power trip. Why do you ask?”

  “You heard about Barrett, right?”

  “I did, that’s so tragic. Codi was good people and will be greatly missed as support in the racing circuit. I take it Barrett still can’t drive, huh?”

  “No, and I think it’s killing him. He’s like a caged animal and I really wish there’s something I could do for him.”

  “Well, he’s welcome to come down anytime, we all miss him. I’m sure he could ride with my boyfriend, I’d even take him for a spin if he lets me drive his car,” she adds with a grin.

  “Thanks, girl, I’ll let him know. Well, I’m off to be studious, have fun.”

  I make it halfway to the library when something Dee says hits me. “A roller coaster of emotions.” The phrase goes around and around in my head until I stop dead in my tracks.

  “That’s it!”

  I change courses and instead of going into the library I head to my car. I text Barrett on my way.

  Presley: Hey what are you up to tonight?

  Barrett: Taking up oxygen. U?

  Presley: I have a paper to write and a party just took over my room. Do you have any oxygen to spare? I could use a quiet place.

  Barrett: My place is always quiet…well for me anyway ;)

  Presley: Haha. Very funny smart ass

  Barrett: Better than dumbass ;)

  Presley: Can I come over or not?

  Barrett: I guess…especially if you bring tacos.

  It’s strange how fast Barrett and I have become comfortable with each other. We really haven’t known each other long, but I guess tragedy has a tendency to bring people closer together. I wonder what his uncle thinks of me coming in and out of his house at all hours of the day. He’s never said anything to me, and I imagine Barrett would bring it up if it was an issue. Sure, he’s eighteen, but he’s still in high school…well, sort of, anyway. Maybe once he’s back to school Randy will care more.

  Since it’s a decent hour and I see Randy’s truck in the driveway, I go ahead and ring the doorbell.

  “Hey, hey, pretty lady.”

  “Hi Randy. I hope it’s okay that I came by.”

  “Of course, it is. B said you needed a quiet place to study.”

  “I do, but I also had another reason, and I wanted to run it by you first before bringing it up to Barrett.”

  “Of course. Why don’t we have a seat out here for a minute.” He leads me over to the porch chairs on the side of the house and we sit down.

  “So, I had an idea, and it might be dumb, but I know Barrett is having a hard time not being able to drive. I thought maybe going on roller coasters might be a way to get the speed and adrenaline rush that he would get while driving. Obviously, it’s different, but what do you think? Stupid?”

  “Wow, not stupid at all. I actually wish I would have thought of that sooner. I think that is a great idea.”

  “Yeah? Well then, that leads me to asking what his school schedule is like. I know he’s doing it from home for another few weeks, but I wasn’t sure what time and days his tutor comes. Would it be okay if we go tomorrow? It’s one of my few off days.”

  “His tutor isn’t scheduled for tomorrow, so you should be fine, but a bit of advice?”

  “Please.”

  “Don’t tell him what you’re doing. Barrett is too cynical for his own good. I wouldn’t tell him where you were going until you get there.”

  “Are you sure? That could be risky.”

  “Positive. Barrett won’t give it a chance if he knows but I think he’ll love it. He’s also too polite to complain once you get there, trust me on this.”

  “Okay then, I will.”

  Randy pulls out his wallet and tries to hand me some cash, which I quickly push away.

  “Oh, no way, Randy. I appreciate it, but I’ve got it.”

  “You are a college student, Presley. Let an old man take care of this for you. I appreciate you getting him out. I’ve been so slammed at work I haven’t been spending as much time with him as I should. Take it, please.”

  “I might be a college student, but trust me when I say I’m fine. I don’t like talking about money, but I have two trust funds, and money isn’t an issue, but I appreciate the gesture.”

  Randy whistles. “Two trust funds, huh? Okay, money bags.” He sends me a wink, showing me he’s only teasing. Money can be an issue for people one way or the other, so it’s a topic I try to stay clear of. It matters to two types of people. The ones where money is never an issue, yet still it’s how they judge your worth. And then the other type that looks down on you because you have it and they don’t. I’ve been around enough of both types that I never talk about it if I don’t have to. I’d be stupid to hate the fact that I’ve come from money, because it has saved me on more than one occasion. But I also love the feeling of accomplishment that I get from making my own.

  “Well, kiddo, we better get inside. I’m sure B is anxiously awaiting your arrival.” I chuckle at that and follow him inside.

  “Whatsup?” B signs one handed, using his finger splints.

  “Not bad. Sign more you.”

  “Meh, I’m getting more used to.” He holds up his hands and motions to the cast and splints.

  “Okay. I promised tacos.” He looks down at the bag in my hand and smiles widely. I’ve gotten so used to seeing his face so hardened and robbed of all joy that whenever he smiles I’m instantly flustered at how good looking he is. Of course, he picks up on this and sends me a wink.

  “Don’t see tacos. See groceries.”

  “Not tacos yet, will be when done cooking them.”

  “You do realize that we live in Stockton, right? There is a different taco truck on every corner it seems,” Randy jumps in.

  “Excuse me? Want me eat something from truck? Not happening.” At Randy’s look of bewilderment, Barrett laughs and points to me.

  “Germaphobe.”

  “What? I don’t think anyone with a healthy appreciation for their digestive tract would eat something out of the back of a truck, thank you.”

  “You’re acting like it’s some shady dude cooking in the back of his pickup…which, by the way, I have done, and it’s still delicious,” Randy adds, nudging Barrett. “We haven’t died yet.”

  “That is not the point, gentlemen. Now get out of the kitchen and let the master work.”

  Both men grin but do exactly as I ask. I look over my shoulder as they leave, just in time to catch Randy sign “F I E S T Y. I like her.”

  I smile at that and jump right into chopping. There something about cooking that settles me. Being around Barrett is anything but settling. We don’t have a romantic relationship exactly, but I wouldn’t call it strictly friendship either. It’s exciting and maddeningly frustrating all at the same time, yet if I could change it, I don’t think I would. Maybe it’s because he is everything my parents hate, but something about him draws me in. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to his pain. As horrible as it sounds his brokenness calls to me. It’s not that I want to fix him, I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it just means so much more when I can bring him even a little bit of happiness.

  CHAPTER 20

  Barrett

  I sit back and watch her flit about the kitchen. That’s really the only way to describe her. Everything she does she seems to do without care. A dash of this, jumping over to cut that. Then dancing over to the fridge for a splash of something. It’s mesmerizing. I should probably offer to help, but then I couldn’t sit back and study her, so selfishly I stay put. Randy pretends to go to his chair in the living room and watch TV, but I can tell he isn’t watching anything but me as I watch her. The man seriously needs t
o get a love life.

  The first bite is an explosion of flavor and spices. I’d never admit it, but her cooking for me is the most intimate personal thing anyone has ever done for me. The girls I’ve been with for sure don’t cook, and would never think to make a meal for me. Dress up…or down for me, yes. But cook? Never. That’s the thing about Presley, I don’t think there is a fake bone in her body. She isn’t trying to butter me up to get something, I think she genuinely cares about me and is trying to help any way she can. And I hate it. I don’t want her to care for me. I for sure don’t want to care for her. Everyone I care about seems to be doomed. Randy would say that’s just my Eeyore attitude, but if I’m Eeyore, that fool is Tigger all the freaking way.

  Presley nudges my arm and I look over.

  “Tomorrow day off me.”

  “Okay,” I add lamely. What is she wanting me to do, ask her out? Not going to happen. She looks over at Randy, almost looking nervous, and he smiles and nods once. My ‘something shady is happening’ buzzer instantly goes off, but I wait and see where she is going with this.

  “Think me maybe want out house you. Want go drive me?”

  “You want take me on drive?” I question suspiciously. She still looks nervous, which doesn’t make sense unless maybe she thinks I’m going to reject her, which I’m moments away from doing until Randy jumps in to add his two cents as usual.

  “Let’s cut to the chase, kid. You’ve been moping around here ever since our conversation the other day, and you need to get out. I think a long drive would do you some good. Plus, the company could be worse,” the old cat adds, sending a wink at Presley, which earns him a scowl from me. I don’t like him bringing up our talk, especially in mixed company, so I say nothing and take another bite of my taco. Damn, this girl really can cook.

  “So you just want to take a drive?”

  “Never mind. Stupid idea.” She gets up, taking our plates, and heads straight to the kitchen. It’s my uncle’s turn to scowl at me, which I guess I’ve earned.

  “What wrong you?” he signs angrily at me.

  “What?”

  “Stop attitude. P nice and you A S S.” I’m not sure if it’s him angry signing ass or the fact that he’s right, but I smile. “P trying,” he adds when I don’t respond. I look over to make sure she can’t see us. Her back is to us while she’s washing dishes, which sends guilt shooting straight to my stomach. He’s right, what is wrong with me? Sure, I’ve pretty much hit bottom, but that doesn’t give me a pass to treat people badly. This girl has done nothing but help me since I’ve met her, and now she’s here serving me and cleaning my dishes while I give her attitude.

  Barrett: Not good for her. She need know this. Better now than later. I send the text to him. He pulls out his phone to read it. He sends a quick look in her direction, but when he sees she’s singing to herself as she washes the pans, he quickly sends one back. I say quickly because it takes me forever to text right now, but really, he is almost as slow as I am.

  Randy: You don’t know what is good for her because you don’t know her yet. Maybe take that chip off your shoulder and let her in long enough to know. You could use a friend right now, B. Let her be that for you…

  Randy: And maybe you could be one back for her. You aren’t the only one with problems, you know. Maybe find out what hers are. Friendship only works when it goes both ways, and right now it seems to me like she’s doing the lion’s share.

  This pisses me off and I fire back as fast as my splinted fingers will let me.

  Barrett: I never asked for her friendship.

  Randy: Yet you got it anyway.

  With that last parting jab, he stands up and walks into the kitchen. He says something to Presley I can’t catch, but earns him a huge smile that hits me right in the gut. Then he leans down, kissing the top of her head, and goes straight to his room without sparing me a glance. I’ll never know what he said to her because she dries her hands off and grabs her bag, sparing a quick glance my way, and she’s out the front door. What the? Seriously? I drop my head to the table, wondering just what I’m supposed to do now. I know I won’t sleep tonight. I was hoping she’d stay over again. I only seem to sleep well with her here. Then it hits me. Randy was right. God, I hate when he’s right. She’s been there for me more than she should, and because I’m a thoughtless jerk, I’ve let her. But what have I ever done for her?

  I head straight to my room and slam the door. I hate all these feelings and I especially hate not being able to drive. Speed has always been the only thing that has allowed me to free my inner demons, of which I have plenty. When I’m behind the wheel of a car and feel the powerful vibrations, nothing else matters. Not my crappy home life, nor my lack of hearing, nothing. Ever since I got into it with Randy, I can’t stop thinking about his words. Am I like my father? Am I going to end up like him, a selfish bitter, hateful man? As much as I don’t want to admit it even to myself, I’m walking down that path of self-destruction. I refuse to follow in his wake.

  I’ve always replaced fear with anger. It’s easier to be angry than afraid. Anger you can control, and it seems like there is less weakness in anger. But fear consumes you, it takes over and cripples. I’ve been made to feel crippled my whole life, and I refuse to be powerless, so I’ve let the anger fester and take over my life. If my father has taught me anything, it’s that anger only makes you a sad, lonely, and bitter old man. I don’t want to become a shadow of my old self. I can’t help but think for maybe the millionth time since Codi was taken from me that God took the wrong brother. He had so much to offer to the world, and I never had anything but him. Molding him, caring for him, helping make sure he achieves it all, that was my part. Now that he’s gone, what do I have to offer the world?

  I let my mind wander over to Presley. I’ve never met such a kind and giving person in my life. I think back to the last conversation with my brother and can’t help but smile. Now I know why he liked her so much, because if there was another person out there that matched her goodness, it was Codi. Maybe this is God’s way of giving me a little bit of my brother back. If I were to be truly honest with myself, which, let’s face it, I hate to do, I think the reason why I don’t want to let her in is because I’m afraid of what will happen when it doesn’t work out. We have too much stacked against us for it to work, and if I’m barely a shell of a man now, what happens when she walks away and I’m nothing?

  I’m still in high school, and even though she’s only two years older, that can be an issue. Especially with her being in college. I mean what college girl wants to admit to having a boyfriend still in high school? And there’s that unspoken elephant that always seems to be in the room. I can’t hear. I’ve had so many girls tell me they don’t care, that my deafness doesn’t matter. But it matters. I’m proud to be a deaf man. I don’t see it as a disability, I see it as my community. I have so many deaf friends who have become family, and this is my culture, it’s who I am. So when hearing girls tell me it doesn’t matter to them, it cuts me. Being deaf matters, I matter.

  Can a hearing girl get that? Granted, Presley is unlike any hearing girl I’ve ever met. She’s never asked me why I lost my hearing or any offensive personal questions that hearing people feel is their right to know. I wouldn’t go up and ask a redhead why they have unusual colored hair. Red-haired people only make up two percent of the population. Deaf people make up ten percent, which is much higher. Yet people find it fascinating and they think it’s perfectly acceptable to ask why we are deaf? What happened, as if it’s some gruesome detailed story that is their right to know. We are made that way, just like anyone else. Whether it be from birth or later on from sickness, why is it anyone’s right to know? Yet it never fails, someone always wants to know, and it always makes me feel like a lesser person. Is it unfair of me to put that on Presley? Maybe. Am I judging her for being hearing like people do me for being deaf? Absolutely. And therein lies the problem. She will never truly understand me like a deaf girl would.


  CHAPTER 21

  Presley

  “Lord, what time is it? You are still working on that paper?” Jodi yawns through her question as I smile and toss a bag at her. She gasps when she sees it’s her favorite bagel, and then when I nod to the cup of coffee on her dresser, she launches herself at me.

  “Geez, must you hug me every time I bring you food?”

  “Food no, but coffee…yes. Coffee is what sustains me, and I always hug the coffee giver. Thank you, my bestest friend of all of the friends.”

  “No wonder you are so popular at Starbucks,” I joke. She opens the lid and peers down at the contents suspiciously.

  “Yes, Jodi, there’s only one cream and one sugar. Even though it makes zero sense to me, why even bother if it’s just one?”

  “Because one does make a difference, Miss Presley. I don’t care what you say. I can always tell when you taint the perfection by adding two.” The funny thing is she can always tell. “So back to my previous question, before you so graciously bestowed my breakfast upon me, are you still doing that paper? I thought you worked on it all night.” I look down and she catches it.

  “Well…”

  “You mean you didn’t go to the library last night? Spill it, girl.”

  “Not exactly. I was on my way over there, but then I decided to go to Barrett’s to work, although things got a little weird, so I left and came back here, went to bed, and then got up early to finish it.

  “Weird how?”

  “I don’t know. He’s just hurting, you know? And I’m not sure how to make it better.” She doesn’t say anything for a moment but I can tell she wants to. “Go ahead and say it.”

  “Why is it your job to make it better? Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s very nice of you to care so much, and I know you guys had some weird instant connection or whatever, but I want to make sure it’s going both ways, Pres. You are one of my best friends and I adore you, but you’ve been doing a lot for this kid, and so far it doesn’t seem like he’s giving you much back. You are young and beautiful and amazingly smart and talented…I just want you to know you’re worth it, is all.” She has a point…a pretty big one, actually.