Speechless

Hi. My name is Ryan Ross. I don’t really talk much. In fact, I don’t talk at all. Ever since I can remember, I haven’t said a word since I was around 8 years old. That’s about the time my mother left.

My life is a lonely one because of it, though. I’m not really sure why I refuse to talk; I just do. I obviously can’t have a social life because of it, so I’m stuck here inside my little bubble, speechless and lonesome.

I was sitting on the couch with my handy little laptop and participating in my online classes – yes, I take those because it’s hard to go to school when you literally don’t talk. People start to think you’re weird, crazy, etc. I couldn’t handle the social aspect of it, so I dropped out, and my father bought me a laptop for online schooling. Anyways, I was minding my own business when the most obnoxiously loud truck drove its way down my street. The motor was a monster, and the breaks were like nails on a chalkboard. I flinched when that sound reached my ear drums.

I turned my attention out the window, only to see it was a moving van. New neighbors? Hmph. I wondered what they were going to be like, then I realized I didn’t care. I don’t really care about people at all.

For some reason, my eyes stayed fixated on the new arrivals, anyways. I noticed a young guy, who seemed to be about my age, was walking out of the car parked behind the moving van. He had scruffy, dark-brown hair. His eyes were a beautiful shade of chocolate brown. The first facial feature I noticed were his lips, though. They were puffy and full, in a very sexy way. I never felt physically attracted to a guy before, but there was something odd about him. I couldn’t place my finger on it, but there was something different about him. I was intrigued and wanted to know more, but I knew I couldn’t just go up and talk to him, seen as how I refuse to speak. Maybe he would be my exception. Nah, I probably won’t ever crack.

I turned back around and continued with my daily history lesson. It had something to do with the civil war, I think. I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention. Who am I kidding? I hate history. I shut the laptop, and decided to take a gamble. I was going to greet the new neighbors. I took out a piece of paper and wrote down everything I wanted to say.

“Hi, my name is Ryan. Welcome to the neighborhood.” I grabbed my pen and notebook just in case he wasn’t too weirded out by me and actually wanted to talk. That rarely happened though.

I walked over to his new home, and I could feel the sensations of my heart beating directly against my chest. Not once have I ever felt so nervous about talking to a guy. What was with me? I wasn’t sure. I just had to meet him, though.

I finally reached his house, but he had his back to me, so I tapped him on the shoulder. He whipped around, and it seemed like I had startled him a bit too harshly. I gave him an apologetic smile and held up the paper, but when he saw I was using a paper to speak, he gave shot me a perplexed look.

“Hi there, I’m Brendon. What’s with the… er… paper?” I froze for a moment when I heard that irresistibly handsome voice, then hastily opened the notebook and scribbled down a few words that read:

I’m somewhat of a mute.

“Oh, I see.” There was an awkward silence. I was used to silence, but not the awkward type.

I wrote down some more words, hoping to not lose his attention too quickly:

You gonna go to school here?

“Yeah, uhh.. what’s the name of it? The one down by the library.” He said, looking almost embarrassed.

I scribbled down more words, and we kept up at it for at least a half hour until a woman’s voice called out for Brendon.

“Coming, mom!” he yelled back, “Hey, sorry Ryan, I gotta go. I’ll see you around, though.” He took the sheet of paper and the pen I had been using and scribbled something down on it. “Here’s my number if you ever want to text me or something.”

I took the paper and pen back, looked up at him, and flashed a wide smile at him.

“See ya around!”

He went inside his new home, and I nearly squealed with excitement, but didn’t want to give into my years of making absolutely no noise whatsoever. I couldn’t wait to see Brendon again.

I hurried home, sprinting through the front door, only to run into my father. The stench of stale alcohol filled my lungs as I knocked him to the floor.

“YOU NO GOOD SUNNOVABITCH!” He screamed. He lunged towards me, colliding his fist with my stomach. I fell to the ground, quivering in pain. He reached his hand out towards my face, slapping me with such brute force. The pain was excruciating. I cupped the side of my face in my hands, praying for him to stop, and at some rare stroke of luck, he left it at that and went into the kitchen to get more beer.

“Finish your goddamn lessons and get your ass to you room, George.” He said. How I hated that name. My first name was George, but it was also his, so I went by my middle name to escape that little evil fate the world had set upon me. I grabbed my laptop and ran upstairs with lightning speed, thankful to be getting away from the drunken beast that is my father.

Ugh, more history lessons. I opened the laptop, but found myself daydreaming about Brendon. I wanted to know more about this delectable person. He was very sweet and charming. He had this great energy about him that just lured you in like a fish on a hook. You just felt the need to be around him, like he was some sort of drug.

I whipped out my phone and texted him, probably a little too soon, but I didn’t care.

“Hey, it’s Ryan,” was all the text said.

I got an immediate reply. Even his texts were overly-enthusiastic. I lost track of time and wound up texting him until midnight. I felt a sudden burst of joy, something I hadn’t known I was capable of feeling. He seemed eager to talk to me, eager to get to know me, and eager to tell me about himself. I felt somewhat euphoric. Not once in my life had I known what it was like to have a friend, but somewhere, deep inside, I knew I’d finally get the chance to finally know the meaning of the word “friend.”