Let The Walls Break Down

I turned the volume up higher on my beloved iPod, trying to drown out my thoughts. For six years, I’ve been trapped inside my head. I guess you could say this was my choice, since I’m a selective mute. Ever since I was ten, I just couldn’t be bothered with the human race anymore, I didn’t have it in me to try and fit into society. I knew even then that I just wasn’t meant to be popular and have friends. I quit while I was ahead, and I haven’t spoken since.

My parents thought that moving to Baltimore would change things, but I wasn’t quite sure. Why would the people here be any different from anyone else ?

A week after school ended, we began the hour journey to our new home, which is where we were headed now. As we arrived in our new neighborhood, the only noticeable difference from our previous residence was that this looked like a place where rich people would live. Other than that, it was the same old look-alike houses, the same green lawns and white picket fences. Only this time, the houses were bigger and the cars parked outside more expensive.

I carried my two boxes of belongings and guitar upstairs, surveying my new room. It was located on the second story- it was a decent sized room with medium blue walls and two windows. I could make do here.

There was nothing to do until the moving truck arrived with the furniture, so I ‘told’ my mom that I was going for a walk. By told, I mean signed to her. After the second year of me refusing to speak, we had all learned sign language and that was how we got by.

I strolled down the street a ways and turned, ending up in town. I noticed a small music shop and made that my target. I entered the store, noting the impressive amounts of records, CD’s, and instruments inside. I browsed through the CD’s, looking for one I actually didn’t own. I started looking at the guitars on the wall, and a boy about my age watched me from behind the counter. It made me kind of uncomfortable, him looking at me like that, because I couldn’t offer him any sort of greeting. Finally he stood up and walked over to me, “Hey man, can I help you with something ?” I shook my head, briefly looking him up and down. His name tag read Alex, and he had messy hazel hair and the kind of face girls fawn over. He went back to doing whatever store work he was doing, and I relaxed a little. I wandered back over to the CD’s, completely content in here. Alex appeared behind me, making me jump. He chuckled, “Sorry dude. I was just going to tell you we have one of those old school listening stations, where you can pick a CD and listen to it.” I nodded in response, wondering why I had liked the way his laugh sounded so much. He noticed the New Found Glory CD in my hand and commented “Nice choice. I love their music, have you ever listened to it before or are you trying it out ?” Shit, this was something I couldn’t nod in response to. I tried in vain to sign my response, feeling like an idiot. I probably looked like I was throwing out gang signs. I was suddenly very thankful that it was just Alex and I in the store. He looked at me confused, “You’re not deaf, are you ?” He suddenly looked a little alarmed, but I shook my head yet again. I got an idea and pulled out my phone, typing a response “I love NFG, and no I’m not deaf. I just don’t talk.” Alex read it quickly and looked up, “Really ? You’re not like, shitting me ?” Tired of shaking my head, I typed “No.” “Huh.” He said, sizing me up. “What’s your name, I haven’t seen you around before.” “Just moved here. Jack.” He stuck his hand out, “Well Jack, it’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Baltimore.”

I lost track of time as I explored the store with Alex- I was in my happy place, surrounded by music. Alex was the only person working, so we had it all to ourselves. He showed me the back room with all of the new merchandise yet to be set out, and the newest selection of guitars about to be put out. “You play ?” He asked. He had previously given me a pen and a piece of paper to communicate with. I scribbled “Yes.” And showed it to him, and he handed me a guitar. “Play me something.” I played the bridge to “Ocean Avenue” by Yellowcard, and he nodded approvingly. “You’re good, Jack. Really good.” My phone buzzing tore me away from my playing, and I opened the text from my mom. “Dinner time Jack.” Wow, was it five o’clock already ? I’d literally just spent about four hours in here, just hanging out with Alex. I informed him that I had to go, and we reluctantly said our goodbye’s.
I would definitely be coming to visit him again tomorrow.