Silence Speaks Louder

A hand fell softly on Emilee's shoulder, and she turned to the left reflexively in time to see her mother's lips move.

"Honey, I forgot to grab the things for our salad tonight. Do you think you could run back to the produce section for me and grab a head of lettuce and three tomatoes?"

Emilee nodded and placed her water bottle in the basket of the shopping cart, then turned slowly on her heel and headed in the opposite direction down the aisle.

The grocery store was busy, as was to be expected. The holiday season was creeping closer and closer every week, and the arrival of snow had seemed to inspire a flurry of holiday-related activites. Apparently, grocery shopping was one of them. Emilee rather liked the smooth rolling feeling that vibrated through the black-and-white checkered linoleum as carts rushed by, footsteps thudding after. Little children were especially fascinating to watch as they tagged along with their mothers, stretching their fingers out for objects on shelves that they could not reach.

She shivered a little, even through her thick winter coat, as she entered the refrigerated produce department. There were slightly less people here; probably, Emilee surmised, because of the temperature difference. She approached the display where lettuce heads were stacked neatly on top of one another, picked one up, and dropped it in a plastic bag.

Now, for the tomatoes. Emilee glanced over the pile of lettuce to see the display just beyond it. On it was a basket filled with tomatoes; she selected a few of the biggest ones and added them to the bag.

As Emilee walked back to her mother, she counted the aisles she passed. Aisle nine, canned fruits and bottled juice. Aisle eight, baking supplies and container of spices. Aisle seven, candy and boxes of cookies. Aisle six, breakfast cereal and her boss. Aisle five-- wait--

Her boss?

Emilee backtracked. She leaned half of her body into the aisle and, sure enough, there was Denise, her cart paused just next to Emilee's mother's. They were talking and nodding as another shopper wove her way around them. Emilee retreated back behind the shadow box that was filled with loaves of bread, and let just her eyes poke out. One of the advantages of being deaf--you didn't have to be within listening distance to overhear a conversation.

"Oh, of course," Denise was saying, rubbing her hands together to keep them warm. Mrs. Taylor gesticulated to the woman, though Emilee couldn't see what she was saying because her mother's back was to her.

"Absolutely," agreed Denise, but to what, Emilee wasn't sure. "This weekend, then? My husband and kids would be more than happy to."

Emilee's curiosity got the best of her and she came fully into the aisle. Denise looked up and Emilee's mother followed suit to see what the woman in front of her was looking at.

"Hi, Denise," she said brightly, as if she hadn't been spying on the women. She set the vegetables in the cart gingerly, so as not to break the tomatoes.

The phone in Denise's left hand suddenly lit up just as she opened her mouth to reply. She glanced at the screen and then looked at the Taylors apologetically.

"I'm sorry, it's my son, I have to take this." She flipped it open. "Hello?...No, no. I didn't say you could--Joseph, Joesph. Listen to me. Do not put the plastic in the dishwasher, it will melt." She paused, exchanging an amused glance with Emilee's mother. "Yes. Thank you. I'll be home in a little while, keep your brothers out of trouble. Ah, actually, I take that back. Make sure your brothers keep you out of trouble." She chuckled. "Alright. Love you."

Denise dropped the phone into her purse.

"Well, something tells me that things at home are simply going downhill because I'm not there." She smiled. "With a family full of boys, they always need one of us to keep 'em intact. So, then, I'll see you Sunday?" Mrs. Taylor nodded. "Perfect. I'll talk to you soon--and Emilee, sweetheart, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon at work." And with that, she smiled and maneuvered her cart around them and down the aisle, patting Emilee's arm as she walked by.

"What just happened?" Emilee asked her mother as they continued past the shelves and out of the cereal aisle.

"She invited us over for dinner on Sunday after church."

"Oh." Nothing too universe-altering.

[&silence]

Geology. Could there have been a more boring elective? If only Emilee hasn't scheduled a doctor's appointment during the time she was supposed to arrange her schedule for the current semester. Since she missed the scheduling, she ended up in one of two classes with empty seats left; it was either geology or woodshop, and to Emilee, geology was the lesser of two evils.

Now that she had been in the class for a while, she realized she had initially been wrong. Emilee would have given anything to be in the shop classroom, using intimidatingly sharp tools to make useless knicknacks. But it was too late--and for the time being, she would have to settle with being in geology.

Ms. Heigel clicked the button on her remote to change the slides she was going over.

"Now, the dinosaurs didn't become extinct because the meteors crushed them--" Laughter bubbled from the class as a slide of a ridiculously fake-looking dinosaur appeared on the screen, a meteor drawn in the background "--but they did suffer from the destruction of vegetation and the drastic climate changes that were brought about..."

Emilee tuned the teacher out--or in her case, she looked away from Ms. Heigel's lips and back down at the notebook on her desk. She dragged the eraser of her pencil across the scribbles on the back cover and sighed.

She found herself wondering about That Kid Nick, the Rock Star (as he had come to be unofficically known in Emilee's mind). He hadn't been in class today--or the day before, for that matter. Emilee had become rather accustomed to sitting in front of the curly-haired boy who was the flame for the moths that were teenage girls. It was part of the routine, and when he wasn't present, everything seemed off.

The truth was, it bothered her that he wasn't here. And it took a lot out of her to admit it.

[&silence]

They stood on Denise's doorstep, shivering; puffs of white vapor came from their mouths with every breath. Emilee rang the doorbell at the suggestion of her mother. She felt multiple sets of footsteps thud on the other side; just moments later, the door opened and she could see two male faces.

"Joe, seriously? Give it back!" said the shorter person; his head was a mess of curls, and Emilee immediately figured that this would be one of Denise's sons.

"Heck no," said the taller, younger-looking one. His hair was longer and straight, but he shared similiar features with the other boy, suggesting that they were brothers. He crammed an expensive-looking cell phone into his front pocket while blocking the other boy's hand from reaching it. They both looked rather familiar, but Emilee couldn't place their faces.

"Hi, are you Mrs. Taylor?" he asked, looking at Emilee's mother. He was suddenly much more formal and composed; the new attitude didn't seem to fit him as well as the michievous one did.

Mrs. Taylor nodded. Something changed in the teen's face, a look of recognition. His eyes lit up.

"So then you must be Emilee? I'm Joe." He extended his arm and shook hands with both of them.

"And I'm--" the other boy reached over and snatched the phone out of his brother's pocket while he was distracted--"Kevin." They shook hands with him as well. "Come in, it's freezing out there."

Emilee and her mother followed the boys into the entryway. The house was beautifully but simply decorated, giving a sense of comfort. Shades of white and tan dominated most of the color scheme, with a touch of warm brown here and there. The boys led them through a hallway and into an immaculately clean kitchen.

Denise smiled when they entered and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. A man leaned against the counter near her, his arms folded across his chest.

"Hi! Right on time. I hope you two came hungry." The Taylors affirmed this. "Wonderful. These two troublemakers are my oldest sons--"

"We already introduced ourselves, Mom," said one, wrinkling his nose. The action strongly reminded Emilee of Frankie.

"Okay, then," said Denise, sounding amused. "And this is my husband Paul." The man by the counter adjusted his glasses and spoke a quiet greeting, shaking their hands. "You already know Franklin--"

"--It's Frankie!--" came a voice from the room to the right.

"Frankie," Denise repeated, slight irritation coloring her voice. It seemed hard for her to get a word in edgewise in her house. "He's in the living room watching TV. You'll have to excuse the fact that there's one of us missing... my son Nicholas hasn't been feeling too well lately, so he's asleep. He stayed home instead of going to church today." Denise pursed her lips disapprovingly. "He's been having a bit of trouble adjusting to school, I think."

"Understandable," said Mrs. Taylor. "We'll meet him some other time." Denise nodded.

Emilee stood quiet in thought; the name her boss had spoken seemed familiar, but like the faces of the boys she had just met, she couldn't place it. Denise turned to her.

"Emilee, why don't you go with the boys in the living room? Get to know them a little bit."

"Yeah, we don't bite," she saw one say--was it Kevin, or Joe?--as he snatched a carrot stick off of the counter where his mother was chopping vegetables and crunched down on it. He kissed Denise on the cheek and she gently slapped his wrist for stealing food. "Come on." The boy motioned for her to follow as he headed into the next room.

"Hi Emilee!" Frankie waved boisterously at her from his spot on the couch. Emilee noticed that, this time, he had waited until she was looking at him to speak. Quick learner. She waved back.

"So you go to Wyckoff High, right?" asked the other older boy--she was sure it was Joe, he was the one with the straighter hair. "I haven't seen you around, but I'm a senior, so go figure. Our brother Nick goes there too. D'you know him?"

"No," said Emilee. There was that name again.

"Well. You ever need anything, come and ask me. I'll hook you up."

"Joe, you don't know anything about that school," Kevin said distractedly; he was absorbed in the television program Frankie was watching. "You've been there for, like, four weeks."

"I do, too," answered Joe indignantly. "I do, too," he repeated, this time towards Emilee. "The offer stands for as long as you can remember it." He winked. "So do you have any hobbies? Sports, music, black belt in martial arts, the works?"

"I play the violin," Emilee said shyly. Joe nodded, looking impressed.

"That's a hard one to learn. Kev and I play the guitar, and I also know how to play the tambourine."

"Okay, first of all, I play the guitar better," said Kevin, tearing his eyes from the TV screen to face their guest. "Second, playing tambourine isn't even a skill, Joe. A monkey could do that just as well."

"Not true! You know that's not true. I have to keep the beat and ev--"

But Joe never finished his sentence. The three boys all inclined their heads in the direction of the kitchen at the same time; Emilee assumed that someone had called to them.

"C'mon," said Kevin. "It's time for dinner."

Emilee and the brothers entered the kitchen, where her mother and their parents were already seated at the table. She let the boys take their seats first, so she wouldn't steal someone's regular spot. She ended up between Mrs. Taylor and Kevin.

"Let us pray," said Denise's husband. The occupants of the table bowed their heads.

"Lord, we thank You for this day and for our family. This day has been blessed with Your grace, as each and every day has been. Lord thank You for bringing us friends with which to share this meal. We pray that we will continue to help serve and honor You in every way possible, for You are good and deserving of praise. In Your precious name we pray, amen."

There was a mumured chorus of "Amen"'s around the table, and then a flurry of activity involving utensils and food. When everyone had finally been served, Paul addressed Emilee.

"So, how do you like working at the Center?"

Emilee swallowed before answering.

"I like it a lot," she said. It wasn't untruthful--she did like it, but working at the Center for Hearing and Speech wasn't her passion the way it was his wife's. "The children are all really sweet and eager to learn. Some are really smart." A quick vision of Ayla, the little blonde girl with an accelerated reading level, flashed across her mind. She smiled.

"It's true," said Denise, looking towards her kids. "All of them love Emilee, she's great with them. It's like, since she herself is deaf, they are able to relate to her at a level that I was simply unable to reach." She turned her eyes back to Emilee. "She's really doing a lot to help them."

"Wait, wait, hold up," Joe said, doing a double-take. His fork hovered in the air, loaded with potatoes. "You're deaf?"

Emilee nodded. The boy looked around the table incredulously, then back at her.

"Are you sure?" he asked. There was laughter from all the diners.

"Joseph," Denise admonished. "That's rude."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, directing the apology at both his mother and Emilee. "But, it's like, there's no way! If Mom hadn't told me, I seriously would've never known."

"Well, Emilee's a pretty special case," said Denise, smiling at the girl affectionately. "She can read lips with an impressive amount of attention and skill... she's practically the same as every one of us here."

Emilee shrugged, embarrassed.

She hated it when the spotlight was on her. There was something so unsettling and uncomfortable about the idea that the people surrounding you were all thinking about something you had done. Emilee would have rather they changed the subject--she wasn't any different than the rest of them, and certainly undeserving of special attention.

They had just started dinner and already she needed an escape. but what? The bathroom would do. Emilee decided to sign the request to Denise; it was probably rude, but she felt that asking aloud was only only going to add to her embarrassment.

Could I please be excused to go to the restroom? Denise looked a little perplexed as to why she hadn't just spoken the words, but she signed back all the same.

Of course. The one downstairs is being remodeled, so go up the stairs and down the hall. It's the second door on the left.

Emilee nodded, placed her napkin on her plate, and pushed her chair away from the table as discreetly as possible. Joe was still staring at her, flabbergasted. She was overly aware of more than one pair of eyes on her as she exited the dining room and stepped lightly up the stairs in the next room.