Sweet Sound of Silence

by Melanie Dawn

  Ryder’s tapping fingers stilled. His posture stiffened.

  My head tilted, and I felt myself leaning toward him. Is that it?

  Dr. Atkins continued to pace quietly throughout the room for a few more seconds, watching her students process her words, allowing the meaning behind them to sink in.

  Ryder shifted his gaze, staring down at the floor. Several locks of hair fell forward, hiding his face. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a thick swallow as he rubbed the back of his neck.

  I don’t know why I didn’t stop myself from reaching out to him. Maybe because when I saw another person in pain, I felt the innate need to console him. Maybe because it happened faster than the time I had to change my mind. I found myself extending my arm and covering his hand with my own in an attempt to comfort him. My palm gently brushed against his skin, assuring him, as my fingers lightly skimmed across his knuckles. Ryder didn’t jerk his hand away immediately. Instead, he glared at my hand with an unreadable expression.

  I stared at him, watching his chest steadily rise and fall. His eyes flicked to mine, pulling me in with his haunting gaze. The warmth of his skin tingled up my arm—a feeling I most certainly didn’t expect. His magnetic stare held me captive a moment longer, as I allowed the sensation to wash over me. Just then, a flash of guilt zapped through me and I ripped my hand away. I quickly made myself busy, packing my things into my backpack and trying to ignore the prickle of goose bumps on my skin. Shit, shit, shit! Idiot! I reprimanded myself.

  Dr. Atkins stood at the front of the room. “Thank you all for participating,” she announced. “I hope this has been a valuable lesson for all of you future therapists. Class dismissed.”

  Ryder blew past Dr. Atkins, ripping the tape off his lips and flicking it into the trashcan on his way out the door. I stared after him as he stormed out the door and left the room without another glance. Well, that was awkward.

  Dr. Atkins flashed a knowing grin in my direction. I wanted to scream, ‘No, Dr. Atkins, I’m not like the other girls! He’s not my conquest. I don’t have any bets going with my friends.’

  Dr. Atkins seemed to read me like a book, and for a moment, she understood me. Nodding as I walked by her, she whispered, “Maybe you’ll be the right partner for him.”

  I didn’t think so—not at all—but I smiled anyway. “We’ll see,” I sighed then quickly headed out the door for my next class.

  The entire time my Anthropology professor droned on, I thought back to those piercing eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him to make him choose silence. How long would he stay that way? Would he ever recover? But despite my questions, one thing was for sure. If I knew what was good for me, I wouldn’t get too close to Ryder Hawkley to find out. And I would definitely keep my hands off of him.

  I’D BEGUN TO adjust to life on campus, finally settling into my new bed and my hectic schedule. I kept myself busy with classes and homework, but I also wanted to continue giving back to the community, just like I’d done in high school. As part of my service requirement in the Beta Club my senior year, I had volunteered at a local nursing home back home. I’d grown quite attached to the elderly, reading to them and playing bingo with them. Many of them had become like grandparents to me. I’d looked forward to visiting them once a week back then. Now that I was at college, I had begun to miss it and decided to begin volunteering again.

  Glenbrook Nursing Facility gladly accepted my offer, so I’d scheduled a few hours every week to volunteer. I’d grown fond of my little bingo group in a short amount of time, especially little old Fred. Bless his heart, he was the biggest flirt. He always kept such a big smile on his face. I looked forward to seeing that smile two days a week.

  I was pushing the bingo cart toward the gathering room, when I spied someone familiar in a patient’s room. Ryder Hawkley sat by Gloria’s bedside, holding her hand. She was quietly resting, her eyes closed. Ryder leaned against her bed, watching her sleep.

  Gloria and I had spent several hours together, talking about her life. I remembered the story of how her husband got into banking shortly after their son was born. They’d moved to Charlotte, where she stayed at home in a small apartment in the suburbs, raising her son, while her husband worked in the new high rise bank in the city. Eventually, he’d quit his job at the bank and started his own investment banking firm. Then, I remembered the first night I’d seen Ryder. Brynlee had talked about his family’s fortune, Hawkley Investments. Seeing Ryder sitting next to her, it suddenly dawned on me. Gloria must be Ryder’s grandmother.

  Keeping his eyes trained on her, he watched her chest slowly rise and fall. He clasped her hand against the stark, white blanket draped over her frail body. His body seemed relaxed sitting by her side. A glimmer of a smile was evident on his lips. It was the first time I’d seen something besides anger expressed on his face.

  Before Ryder had a chance to notice me, I quickly wheeled the cart past the door and down the hall toward the meeting room, where feisty bingo players waited expectantly.

  I’D BEEN SITTING by her bed for nearly half an hour, watching her sleep. She seemed to sleep more and more these days.

  “Ryder, baby,” she’d rasped when I’d reached her bed that day, “I’m so glad you came. I’ve missed you.” She stretched her arm out from under the blanket, reaching for my hand. I took it, noticing how puny it felt in my massive palm. “You’re the only one in my family who comes to see me these days. I so look forward to your visit.”

  My blood boiled. My father had practically taken over my grandfather’s fortune and run. When Nona G. had become more of a burden and less of a help, he’d just shipped her off to a nursing home to die. He hadn’t even made time to visit his own mother? I clenched my teeth, trying to assuage the pounding in my ears.

  Nona G. motioned toward the chair by her bed. “Sit, sit…”

  I sat, leaning toward her. I stared at her, trying to memorize every line in her face, every sparkle in her eyes.

  Her expression was grave. “Baby, it won’t be long now. You know that, right?”

  I couldn’t bear the thought.

  “Your grandfather comes to me in my dreams. He tells me he’s waiting for me.”

  Stop. I don’t want to hear it.

  “I just want you to know how much I love you. How proud I am of you… how proud your grandfather was of you.” My eyes stung as Nona G. softly squeezed my hand, giving me a knowing look. “We all fight demons, Ryder.”

  She stared at me with sunken eyes, her bony cheeks quivering with emotion. “All of us. Every day. Some fight bigger demons than others, but life is too short to let your demons win.” She looked earnestly at me, heaving a staggering breath.

  I wanted to respond, but even if I’d been able to, I’m not sure I could have found the right words, so instead we sat quietly for several minutes.

  “I’m tired now,” she announced, yawning.

  I gently patted her arm, letting her know that it was okay to rest. She smiled and closed her eyes, drifting quickly to sleep. I stayed there for a while longer, watching her. I’m not sure how long I’d sat there when I saw a flash of color blow past Nona G.’s door. Several minutes later, I’d heard the familiar call of, “G, 46,” echoing down the hall.

  WHEN I WASN’T in class, volunteering, or hanging out with Gia and Brynlee, I spent the rest of my time studying. Sometimes, I’d find a quiet corner on campus to park myself for a while.

  I’d been sitting in the student union most of the afternoon, going over my notes for an upcoming test when I got a text from Gia.

  Meet us at The Varsity Theater in thirty.

  I glanced at the clock. It was already six-thirty. Somehow time had slipped away from me. Gia had talked about going to see the new 007 movie that had premiered a couple of nights ago. The Varsity was the closest movie theater to campus. I had enough time to walk there if I packed my stuff up now. So, I shoved my iPad and my textbook into my backpack and headed for the door.

  A bri
sk walk across campus gave me enough time to call Ian.

  “Hey babe,” he said as he answered the phone.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Not much. Just working on a song. Chris has been busting my balls about it. Saying he can’t hear the emotion or some shit.”

  “Well, he usually knows what he’s talking about,” I insisted.

  “I know. That’s why I’m busting my ass to get it right. So, what are you up to?” I could hear him strumming his guitar in the background.

  “Just headed to the theater to see the newest Bond movie.”

  “Oh really? I heard it was the best so far,” he informed me as he played a chord.

  “We’ll see. I’m meeting Gia there in just a few minutes. I just wanted to call you and tell you I miss you.”

  Another riff played in my ear as he appeased me, “I miss you too, babe. I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Weekend before Fall Break, right?” I asked, hopeful.

  “Yep.” He seemed a little distracted.

  “Great. I can’t wait!” I hoped he’d return my enthusiasm.

  Instead, his response was flat. “Me neither.”

  My shoulders sagged at his reply. He sounded preoccupied. “Well, I’ll let you go,” I told him.

  “Okay, babe. Love you,” he said, cutting our conversation short.

  “Love you, too.” I ended the call with a sigh. This long distance thing really sucked.

  I was sliding the phone back into my pocket when I saw Gia standing near the Varsity with Brynlee, Lance, and Dane. Great. I’d be a fifth wheel on their double date.

  “Hey girl!” Brynlee called in the distance.

  I threw my hand up to wave.

  “You ready for the movie?” Gia asked as I approached.

  I nodded. “Yeah, thanks for the text.”

  We bought our tickets, popcorn, and drinks and made our way into the theater. Filing into the aisle, I got stuck sitting beside Dane, who already had his arm firmly wrapped around Gia. It was uncomfortable, at best. If I’d known how out of place I’d feel I would have reconsidered even going.

  Brynlee leaned over Lance’s lap, whispering loudly, “Hey Alexis, is that your boyfriend?” She emphasized the word, teasing me.

  Ian couldn’t have made it to the theater in the short amount of time since I’d talked to him. Could he? Unless he’d been sneaky and had actually driven down to surprise me. Maybe he’d been sitting somewhere on campus when I’d spoken to him earlier. A moment of hope flitted through my mind as I glanced down the aisles looking for his familiar Minnesota Twins baseball cap. But it wasn’t there. Only a single dark figure with dark brown hair sat a few rows up from us. I’d recognize that mop anywhere. Ryder.

  “Hush,” I whispered harshly, flinging myself back against my chair, slightly disappointed that Ian, in fact, wasn’t there. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my Psych 10 partner.”

  “Psych 10 partner?” Lance teased. “He needs someone to pick his brain. Dude’s straight-up weird.”

  I shook my head. “He’s not weird,” I insisted, keeping my voice low. “I mean, not really. He’s just… misunderstood.”

  Gia shot up, leaning forward in her seat to see me. “Look at you. Defending him. What’s that about?”

  “It’s nothing.” I glanced down at the tortured soul in front of us. “Honestly.” But it was something. I watched him, all alone, eating his popcorn and waiting for the movie to start. My heart twinged at the idea of his solitude. His loneliness.

  I sat there, absent-mindedly shoving popcorn into my mouth, unable to focus on the previews. All I could think about was how alienated he must feel in his world of isolation. When suddenly, my feet willed themselves to move and I found myself shuffling down the aisle, slipping into his row, and finding a seat next to him. I heard a gasp from Gia when she realized what I was doing, but I ignored her. No one should have to feel so alone.

  An initial look of shock and disgust crossed Ryder’s face as he glanced toward me the moment I plopped down in the seat next to him. He cut his icy stare at me like daggers through glass. Once he registered that I was the brazen one to sidle up next to him in the dark theater, his expression softened. Without another glance, he turned his attention back toward the screen and dug his hand into his bucket of popcorn. He didn’t bother to acknowledge me again, but I could almost feel his body settle back into the seat beside me. I, too, felt myself relaxing.

  When the credits rolled, my friends gathered their stuff and made their way up the aisle toward the exit. Ryder didn’t budge. I was reluctant to leave him sitting there.

  Gia called from the doorway. “You coming?”

  Ryder threw me a sidelong glance, leaning an elbow on the arm rest between us. I looked up at him, trying to read his expression. I couldn’t tell if he was happy or irritated that I was still beside him.

  “Thanks for not giving me the boot,” I chuckled. “I just felt like a fifth wheel back there, and when I saw you sitting here, I…” my voice trailed. I didn’t know how to finish my sentence. “Anyway, thanks.”

  I grabbed my empty cup and stood up. “Coming!” I called to Gia.

  “It’s about time,” she grumbled as we stepped out of the theater. “What do you have going on with that freak anyway?”

  “Gia,” I reprimanded her, “he’s not a freak. Okay? He’s just awkward. Give the poor guy a break.”

  “Geez,” she groaned, rolling her eyes, “I’m just sayin’… he gives me the heebie jeebies.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t think he’s all that bad, really.”

  Gia stared at me like I had two heads. “Not that bad? I mean, come on, the guy doesn’t speak. At all. Ever. As if that’s not weird enough.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe we should just try to get to know him. That’s all.”

  Her eyebrows knitted. Finally giving in, she sighed, “Maybe.”

  I’VE NEVER LEFT the theater during the credits. I’ve always stayed until the final credit rolled. The way I saw it, a lot of hard work went into creating the film so I’ve always felt like walking out before the credits ended was disrespectful to all of the people it took to make it.

  So I sat there, long after Alexis left, watching the credits scroll by. My thoughts teetered somewhere between elation and shame as I tried to stifle the feeling welling up in my chest. The moment her elbow had brushed mine, it had sent a lightning bolt zinging through my catatonic heart. I could still feel the tingle of her touch radiating through my arm.

  Willing the ache of desire to disappear, I brought back Chloe’s beautiful face to the forefront of my mind. I remembered the way she smiled at me that morning nearly two years ago. “Play wif me, Wyduh,” she’d begged. I could recall the angelic sound of her voice as easily as if she were sitting right there beside of me. Just then, another sweet voice pierced my memory, “when I saw you sitting here all alone, I…”

  I, what? I wondered what she was thinking and why she didn’t finish her sentence. But beyond all of that, I couldn’t get her intriguing eyes and that perfect smile out of my head.

  Slumping in my seat, I tried to focus on the last names on the screen.

  Chloe shouldn’t have to share the thoughts in my head. My memory of her should always remain first and foremost. Fighting the anxiety that had formed in my chest, I gathered my stuff and got the hell out of there.

  When I got back to my dorm room, I collapsed onto my bed. I grabbed the nearly empty bottle of pills off my nightstand. Tossing a few of them to the back of my throat and taking a big gulp of water from the cup I’d left sitting there that morning, I swallowed back the closest form of relief from the anxiety I’d ever get. Lying face up on the bed, I counted the dimples in the ceiling as I waited for the pills to take effect.

  One thousand two hundred and eighty-three…

  WITH CLASSES GETTING into full swing, I’d finally fallen into a routine I could live with. My semiweekly therapy sessions with Leslie
continued, with zero progress. Two days had passed since my last appointment with her. I’d run out of sleeping pills two days prior to that and had been struggling with torturous insomnia, so I’d been feeling especially irritable.

  The last thing I needed was today’s Psych 10 lesson. When I saw the subject on the syllabus, I’d almost decided to ditch. I’m not that kind of student though. I never had been. So, I put one foot in front of the other on my way to class, trying earnestly to get excited about the class. Yay. Expressive Arts. It’ll be awesome. Despite my efforts, my internal thoughts bubbled with sarcasm. While I loved art, and painted regularly, I had no desire to share my work with others anymore.

  Dr. Atkins wanted to let us explore the concept of Expressive Arts therapy in class. She told us to break off with our partner and face our desks toward each other. She walked around the room, passing out small five by seven canvases, several paintbrushes, and egg cartons supplied with several different colored paints.

  Once the class was settled with their supplies, Dr. Atkins put on some soothing, melodic music. To some it could be described as relaxing. To me, depressing. “Close your eyes,” she instructed. “What do you see? How do you feel? I want you to use your brush and your colors to describe your thoughts. Paint your feelings. And when you’re done, you can discuss and analyze.”

  I opened my eyes. Alexis stared at me across the desks. I caught her gaze, wondering which color she’d choose first. Dr. Atkins interjected, “Don’t look at your partner. Just concentrate on your own thoughts, your own feelings. Pay attention to what your body and mind are telling you and paint it.”

  Tearing my gaze away from Alexis, I lifted a paintbrush and dipped it into the black paint. Black—the color of my withering, lifeless heart. I glided the brush across the canvas with hard, rough strokes. I covered every single speck of that white canvas with dark, ugly blackness.