Silent Song

by Jaci Wheeler

  “Thank you for inviting me into your home, flying me out here, and sharing your daughter with us. I know I’m not who you picture for Presley. I’m poor, white—

  “I won’t say that. Not you. Never,” she stops voicing to sign. Fiercely loyal as always, but I nod and sign back.

  “Must, please, P.”

  She closes her eyes for a moment, and I can see how hard it is for her to voice what I am asking. I watch as her lips move and her mouth quivers, but she does as I ask.

  “I’m poor, white, trailer trash without a mother and nothing but a drunk for a father. You are right to think bad of me. That’s where it ends. You are very wrong about everything else. Best thing to ever happen to Presley is moving to Stockton. She’s found something she loves, and that brings everyone around her joy.” She bows her head and takes a moment. Then when she starts up again, she looks directly into my eyes, letting the tears fall down her cheek, showing me how much my words touch her. Even if her parents don’t hear them, it is worth it because she does. “She touches everyone she meets, gives a voice to those without one. You should be extremely proud of her and her accomplishments.” I pause for a minute while she swallows and breathes deep, so she can keep her tears at bay. Having to say such things about herself must be incredibly hard.

  “I know you heal people for your job. All of you, and that you wanted that for Presley. But what you missed is that she does. You heal bodies, but Presley heals souls. There’s an autistic boy who had never spoken in his life. He is eight years old, and after a few months working with Presley, he is now singing. A boy they said would never utter one word, sings. She changed his life and his family. Children who never thought they’d ever experience music have been opened up to a new world, kids who only hear silence have found sound. Your daughter does that every day and never gets thanked or acknowledged by those she needs most.” I look around and see that everyone is looking at Presley except her father, who is looking directly at me. His face is blank and unreadable.

  “She learned a new language for a guy she hardly knew so I wouldn’t feel so alone. She took my pain upon herself. That is the woman I know. Not the one you speak of. She is the only one I need to know, so I am done. Thank you for this amazing meal, but I think we are better off eating with the rest of the help. Merry Christmas.” As soon as I finish, Randy joins me standing, as if it was choreographed. We both place our napkins on the table, grab our plates, and walk into the kitchen. Pres doesn’t spare her family a single glance as she follows.

  “So sorry,” she signs, but I grab her hands.

  “No. Nothing sorry you. Nothing.” I then turn toward Marcela. “Food wonderful, thank you.” Leaning down, I give her a small kiss on her cheek, because if anyone is responsible for Presley, it is this woman. I grab Pres’s hand and nod at Randy, who is already heading toward the door. It’s a good thing her brother let us borrow a car.

  CHAPTER 31

  Presley

  As soon as we return to my brother’s, I call for an Uber to come get us and take us to the airport. I know Robert would be fine with us staying here for the rest of the holiday, but when it boils down to it, he didn’t stick up for me, and that hurts. Even if he doesn’t feel the same as our parents, he should have had my back like I would have had his. Even if he hates confrontation, it isn’t enough.

  We ride silently to the airport and I pay an exorbitant fee to take an earlier flight on Christmas, but I don’t even care. I just want to be as far away as possible. Randy offered to put us up in a hotel, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Part of me took a sick satisfaction in using my trust fund for this. After this trip, however, I refuse to touch it again. The one from my gran will be there if I absolutely need it, and that’s more than enough.

  Once we board, I snuggle into Barrett and try to sleep. One of my favorite things about him is how well he reads me. He can tell I can’t process this right now and doesn’t push me. He absorbs my pain with his silence and I shut down until I can process everything at a later time. I’m proud of how we handled everything, and even though it was a bit of a disaster, I don’t regret going. I feel closer to Barrett than I did before, and at least now he knows where I came from.

  Once we land, Randy offers for me to come back to his house for the break since everyone I know is home, but I just really don’t feel like being around anyone for a while, so I ask him to take me back to the dorms. Barrett tries to argue, but I tell him I really just want my bed tonight and I’ll text him in the morning. I didn’t know I was going to end up sleeping the day away, and by the time I wake up, it’s afternoon and I have several messages from him waiting for me. I take my phone off silent and read the ones I missed.

  Barrett: Good morning, beautiful.

  Barrett: U okay?

  Barrett: Officially worried. Text me Plz.

  Barrett: Pres plz text me. At your dorm.

  I read the last again and feel horrible that I’ve worried him. I don’t even bother changing my P.J.s as I run out of my room and outside, where I find B pacing in front of my building. As soon as he sees me, he takes me into his arms. He then pushes back and looks me over.

  “Wrong what?”

  “Nothing wrong. Sorry me. Sleep long time. Wake up now.” He frowns at that and looks at me thoughtfully for a while, then brushes my bed head out of my face and sadly smiles down on me.

  “Want me go, rest more you?”

  “No. Stay please.” He kisses my forehead and follows me into my room. It’s like a ghost town around here, and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a bit creepy alone. He follows me into my room and slowly looks around, and then smiles at the bipolarness that is our room with all of Jodi’s color, drawings, and craziness hanging from the ceiling to my very tame, pretty bare side.

  “Wow.”

  “Yep, only word describe room.” I smile and think about how much I miss Jodi.

  “Come, want hold you.” I can’t exactly say no to that, so I let him pull me to my bed and he just holds me. We don’t need sound, words, or conversation at all. It’s such a refreshing change. As much as I love my roommate, I feel like our relationship is surrounded by talking, joking, signing, movie watching…I don’t think we’ve ever just sat in silence and absorbed each other’s presence.

  B is sitting up, resting his back on my wall, and I’m lying in between his legs with my head on his chest. He brings his arms around me and I think he’s going to hug me, but he starts signing instead.

  “What one thing love, not music.” I think about this for a moment, but I have to turn so he can see my reply. He turns me back and points to the mirror on the wall. Oh duh, that makes it convenient, I guess.

  “Fruit snacks.”

  “Really?” He looks surprised. I know it’s not a super deep and thoughtful answer, but it’s the truth.

  “Yes. Not allowed eat at home. Tried first time work. J A D E N give finish. Best food E V E R.” He chuckles and I can feel it vibrate all the way up my back. “I go Costco buy huge box eat all 2 days.” He laughs again and it brings me warmth.

  “One thing love you, not cars.” Even though he isn’t moving much, I can feel him stiffen behind me. It’s like his body turned to stone.

  “Football,” is all he signs, yet I know exactly that he means watching Codi play football. He surprises me when he starts signing again. “Dad love 49ers, watch all time. Only time let us watch TV with him. Codi start play, hope Dad come watch.”

  “Didn’t?”

  “Never.” This is going south quick, and usually I run from hard, awkward conversations, but for some reason I seem to savor them with Barrett. It doesn’t seem weird to discuss uncomfortable or hurtful topics with him. It seems to only connect us more, makes me feel closer to him, so I don’t change the subject like I usually would.

  “One thing you hate?” he asks, and I have to think about this one longer. I could say lima beans, because really, doesn’t everyone hate those? But I don’t, he just opened up to me, so I thin
k about it for a minute.

  “E X P E C T A T I O N S.” He waits for me to explain. “Feel never live up. My parents, mine, professors, teachers…never ends.” He just rubs my back for a moment, giving me validation and not trying to talk me out of how I’m feeling. A lot of times I’ll tell someone I’m afraid I’m not good enough, or can’t do something, and the instant reaction is to say, “no, of course you are.” Or “don’t be silly…” But then it doesn’t make me feel like I’ve been heard. Barrett is really good about that. “One thing hate you?” He doesn’t even think about it.

  “Letter S.” I’m shocked by his answer and I turn to face him so he can see my confusion, which makes him chuckle again.

  “Why S?”

  “S worst letter ABC’s,” he responds, like this should make total sense. Obviously it doesn’t, so I extend my hand, showing I need further explanation.

  “Can’t S me.” Oh, why didn’t I think of that? Now that I think back to when he would voice for me, there were a few letters I could tell he struggled with. S was one of them.

  “Most time people understand me can, but use S words…huge mess.”

  “Why voice not you?”

  “One reason yes. Hands broken me, can’t sign me, had use voice sometimes. Last doctor appointment my interp leave. Walk out me, forget make new appointment. Go back me, no interpreter. Phone dead.” I give him an understanding squeeze to his knee, because I know how hard that must have been for him to feel so worried that he couldn’t communicate, all his usual means were gone. “Tell lady need appointment.” He turns his body, showing me he is now the woman talking. “Okay, sir, when does Doctor want see you?” He shifts back, indicating he once again is talking. “Tuesday,” he voices, and I immediately can tell where the problem lies. Without the s it sounds very much like he is saying today. “Girl give me weird look and frowns. But Doctor just see you today.” He sighs and shifts again. “No, not today, tue-day.” It really does sound like he is saying today, but just spaced out like it is two words and not one when he is saying Tuesday.

  “Anyway, on and on until almost tears me. Frustrated, mad her.”

  “How did you figure it out?”

  “She gave me a calendar and I point on desk calendar. Girl say, ooooh Tuesday, why didn’t you just say that?” He throws his hands up in the air with such dramatics that I can’t help but laugh. He gives me a mock stink eye and then signs again. “S stupid letter. TH can go hell too.” And I can’t stop the giggles.

  He grabs my hand, kisses it, looks down, and frowns.

  “Have…take color off?” It takes me a minute to figure out what that means, and then it hits me.

  “Nail polish R E M O V E R?”

  “Yes, have you?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Get please.”

  I give him a look like he’s being weird, but I go to my closet and get out my container of nail stuff and hand it to him. He just pulls me back down on the bed and silently takes off the nude polish. He then surprises me even more when he takes out the hot pink polish and starts to paint my nails. He takes forever and makes several mistakes, but he goes around my nails after with the remover, leaving me with a brand-new manicure. He looks down, smiles, and kisses my palm.

  “Better.”

  “Not like N U D E?

  “Color fine. Not like what color mean.”

  “What?” The look on my face must be pure confusion with a bit of you’re-freaking-nuts thrown in, because he laughs and kisses my forehead.

  “Can tell me what mood you always. How? Nail color.”

  I give him my no-freaking-way look, and he smiles, holding up one hand. He then rummages through my container and comes out with my four most used polishes, holding up the black first.

  “When feel R E B E L L I O U S you. F E I S T Y. A R T I S T I C. Always wear black. Only last few days, take off.” I think back to the last time I wore black and it was when Jodi and I painted the campus rocks with “Death to leaf blowers…beware.” And I smile and gesture to continue. He pulls out the red polish now, and holds it up, smiling.

  “Red for when feel C O N F I D E N T or when need to fake it.” I’m about to argue, but he puts his hand up to stop me. “Wear it intern days, watch me race first time, when have school project.” Well, that stops what I was going to say because he’s absolutely right. He holds up the nude and frowns.

  “When want feel respectable, polished, if sad. Think N U D E your C O U N T R Y C L U B color.” My frown matches his. He’s right. It’s the color I wore to see my parents, the one I wear for interviews or church. I’ve honestly never thought about it before. I always just like to change my polish often and for occasions, but he is freaking right on about all of them. He holds up the one he just used and smiles.

  “Pink. Favorite me. Wear pink when happy you. Listen music, paint pink. Go theatre, go out me.” He adds a proud grin and I laugh.

  “Can’t believe you watch color nails me.”

  “Easy. See detail me. Watch hands all time. You change color so much make easy figure out.”

  I learn over and kiss him softly.

  “Thank you care enough notice.”

  “Always. P? No more nude.”

  “No more nude,” I repeat.

  CHAPTER 32

  Barrett

  Joy. I can’t remember the last time I felt true joy. I’m either feeling like everything is right with the world or extreme guilt lately. No in between. I’m happy for the obvious reasons. Presley brings out something in me I never knew I had. I knew I was responsible and hardworking, but there’s where I thought my good traits stopped. Pres has shown me that I have so much more to me. Passion, love, humor, and a vulnerability I never knew I possessed. I also now have two working hands, which means I’m signing to capacity and taking my car out again. Work at the shop is also in full gear, which gives me my sense of purpose back.

  But in the quiet of the evening, it hits me that I shouldn’t be this happy. That I should be mourning the loss of my brother, even my father because it was my old life. I shouldn’t find joy in this new life because my family isn’t in it. I never have these thoughts on good nights, only the bad ones when I feel isolated and alone, then they come creeping back to taunt me. Like tonight.

  When Pres and I are together it’s magic. Nothing can break the connection we have. But as soon as you add others into the equation, it always seems to blow up, with one of us feeling like the outsider. She’s hung out with my friends and I a few times, but she always gets the smile and nod going on, which I know full well means she’s totally lost and miserable, then she gets all quiet and contemplative on the way home. Tonight, we decided it was my turn to hang out with her and her friends, since I’ve never really done it before.

  Being Monday, it is of course Musical Monday in her dorm room, and so I promised I’d come by after work. Tonight’s feature was My Fair Lady, which I know she picked because it’s one I actually know, which was very sweet. I get there and it’s pretty much in full swing. She kissed me and introduced me to everyone, but it was so dark in the room that I couldn’t see what anyone was saying, so she turned the overhead light on, earning glares and moans from the other musical goers. Then she grabbed the remote and put on the captions for me, which was also very thoughtful, but earned her a few more dirty looks, and even worse, snide remarks.

  “I can’t concentrate with the words running on the screen, it’s very distracting, Pres,” one of her besties who I’ve heard a lot about but never met named Zeek, informed her.

  “You’ll get used to it.” Pres wasn’t going to be swayed.

  “Can’t we just turn it up really loud?”

  “He’s deaf, Zeek, not hard of hearing. Don’t be a jerk,” her roommate pipes up, giving me a dazzling smile, like this isn’t super awkward. I have a feeling this girl thrives in awkward situations.

  “Sorry.” He shrugged, not looking the least bit sorry.

  “I can’t take the lights and th
e words, Pres, you’ve got to pick one, baby girl.”

  The guy I could handle, even his comments don’t bother me because I’ve heard worse, but I can tell it’s making Presley very uncomfortable to interpret it, like she’s hurting my feelings. I get it, deaf man in hearing group, things aren’t really going to work out perfect. I’m used to it. I placed my hand on her arm and smiled.

  “Relax, P, I’m fine.” I took the remote and turned off the captions. This seemed to calm him down. P is trying to sign everything that happens, but then someone says something, and someone else puts in their two cents, and I can tell it’s overwhelming her to try and keep up. “Forgot me test tomorrow. Go home study me. Sorry.” I try to look convincing, but I know she sees right through me.

  “Sorry, B. Stupid idea me. Think not.” We were starting to get stares, so I took her hand and pulled her out into the hallway.

  “Stop worry you. Fine me. Happen all time. Feel same you hang out my friends.” She didn’t argue because she knew I was right. I know she hates it, but I do too…that’s just how the world works. Not everyone is as understanding about special needs. Unless they’ve been around it, they don’t know what to do. Awareness is a huge topic with A.J. He’s going to go on to do great things for the deaf community.

  “Go with you me.”

  “No,” I say, placing my hand on her face and smiling into her eyes to soften my answer.

  “No test you. Lie.”

  “Right you. Lie me. Want alone me. Drive. Clear head.” I see the guilt in her eyes and I never want her to worry about me. That’s part of the annoyance. I don’t want her to see me as anything other than her boyfriend. She shouldn’t have to worry about me or babysit me in crowds. I gave her a quick kiss then waited until she went back in her room. I must have driven for hours.