Your Voice

As I climbed into the backseat with Gemma, my stomach churned uncomfortably. I wasn't sure why, and the only thing I could come up with was because I was getting in a car with a stranger. But Gemma's brother Dylan was nice enough, and he signed, and he was ridiculously attractive. So I had no reason to be nervous or for my stomach to knot in butterflies.

I didn't think Gemma and her brother looked much alike, aside from the dark complexion. Plus their hair was the same shade of brown, and while they're eyes were also dark, Dylan's seemed a bit more on the caramel side than chocolate. Not that I stared into them or anything... Okay so yeah. I did. Dylan was gorgeous, much more so than Gemma, and that fact confused me so much I wanted to cry.

The worst thing in life is being confused, especially when it comes to sexuality.

Gemma speaks and signs rapidly, telling her brother about our day and then going into a rant about how much she hated our English Literature teacher. Which I agree to and it's unfortunate, considering that is my favorite subject. But the subject material kept me happy, despite the fact the teacher was less than pleasant. As for my other classes, they were fun, although didn't have much to do with my future career path. Photography was alright, my teacher was cool and I had a feeling I would learn a lot of new things. But Art was amazing. I had so much fun, the teacher was energetic, and all of the kids in my class were even more excited to be in there then I. It made me reconsider the career path I had; but that was dismissed quickly. I knew what my path in life would be.

Gemma nudges me in the side, causing me to come back to reality. I blink a few times and look back over at her smiling face, focusing in on her hands as she begins signing again, speaking too. I wonder how Dylan keeps up with her speech. I can barely keep up with her hands. I'm surprised she is so good with them, to be honest. Of course anyone who has been using their hands as a means of communication was good with them, but Gemma is really good. I like to think of BSL as a sort of art form, especially for hearing people who have to learn it.

Don't get me wrong. I'd give anything to be able to speak instead of relying on a different language, but I can appreciate what I have.

When Dylan pulls up to my house, he frowns deeply at the sight of my parents' cars in the driveway. I blush, because I knew they would be home, but he wouldn't understand that they don't care about me. As far as they know, I'm hardly their son and I can walk the twenty minutes easily. Which I can, it's not that big of a deal, but Dylan seems upset about it.

His eyes suddenly move to the rearview mirror, catching me staring at him. Before my cheeks catch fire I look away, embarrassed beyond belief. Why had I been staring at him? Am I stupid or what? I can only imagine the disgust running through his mind, realizing he was being stared at by a boy, a deaf nonetheless. I doubt he's even into guys; more importantly I doubt he's into guys who can't hear.

Dylan turns around in his seat and flashes his perfect teeth, signing and speaking to me, "Hopefully I'll see you again soon, Kade." He has easy lips to read, so my eyes stray to that part of his body rather than watching his hands. Which makes my cheeks flush as I quickly look to Gemma.

I give a tight smile, signing more so to the girl in the car then the attractive man, "Thanks for the lift. Bye." I wave as I get out of the car, almost missing the way Gemma waves enthusiastically to me. She gets in the front seat as I power-walk to my front door, attempting to control my wondering thoughts.
~

In my room, I read one of my favorite books on the face of the planet: Frankenstein. Sure, I know it's old and the language is a bit difficult and a lot of people probably laugh at me reading it, but I only read the five chapters in The Creature's point of view.

Why?

Because I love The Creature. He's so complicated, the most developed character in the entire book. I know Shelley wanted everyone to fall in love with Frankenstein, but my heart went to his creation time and time again. He was misunderstood and only wanted to fit into society. However because of how hideous he was and the fact he towered over everyone, society was scared of him and found they couldn't accept him. Call me sappy and say I am trying to understand my own disability and I'll tell you to shut up.

I just love the prospect. Is that too hard to understand? I'm not trying to compensate for my own exile from society. The only reason I say that is because one of my teachers at the specialist school tried to convince me that was why I enjoyed the book so much. She was a nice lady and all but it was pretty offensive the way she pointed out I had no friends and no liked me and I couldn't fit in anywhere.

I jump slightly as I see my bedroom door swing open. Luckily, I wear a t-shirt and sweat pants. I can't tell you how often my mum has barged in on me naked. There should be a better way for parents to tell you dinner is ready; granted I can't hear her yelling or knocking on the door, but we can be creative. I'm just thankful she has never walked in on me doing more intimate things.

She says dinner is ready; the only reason I know this is because I have gotten good at reading her lips. She doesn't try to make it easier on me, just mumbles it and walks back out the door, but why would I expect anything more? God forbid my own mother learn BSL so she can talk to me.

I sigh to myself, dog earing my page and moving to go downstairs. If there is one thing I hate, it's dinner with my parents. I pretty much just sit there and eat while they talk, not bothering to speak slowly so I can understand, but acting as if I am not even there. I just eat and then come back upstairs and they aren't affected by it in the least. It makes me sick.

I slip a hoodie over my head, knowing I get cold easily, and then make my way to the front of the house. I can smell dinner as soon as I step foot out of my room; it sneaks straight into my senses and makes me a bit dizzy. If I had to guess I'd say we were going to be eating some India curry, which is great. I know it'll be on the spicy side considering my dad likes that stuff, and my mum is a fan of making cuisine that isn't from her own heritage. One good thing about living here is definitely the food, I guess.

Once I sit at the table, my parents have already begun to eat and they don't take a second glance in my direction. I scoop myself some of the chicken curry and take a sip of the coke my mom sat out for me. The food is spicy, as I knew it would be, and the chicken paired with it was great. I know my mum had always wanted to be a cook, but after getting pregnant with me she had to put those dreams aside. She works at a daycare during the week now, while my dad runs his own garage. I often wonder what their life would have been like if I was never born; more so, if I never got meningitis.

I eat a small serving before deciding I'm full. I never eat a lot, unless it's chocolate I'm eating, because I am just never hungry. I know I'm as skinny as a stick and could gain a few pounds or twenty, but I just don't eat much. I get full after half a meal and I'm done; I could probably work on it. Now maybe I don't eat much curry, but like I said, if you give me a brownie or some chocolate I can eat all day.

My parents don't bat an eye as I stand, taking my plate into the kitchen. They had been talking to each other, probably about their days, and saw no need to involve me in it. I didn't want to be involved in their lives, anyway. Talk about boring.

As I put my dish in the washer, I frown. It occurs to me that Gemma's brother picked her up from school, and listed to her talk about her day, and generally acted as if he was happy to see her. She was deaf and her brother was there for her, I can only imagine how her parents act. So is it only mine that are completely assholes? Or is it normal for parents to ignore their deaf children?

I rub at my temples, upset with my train of thought. I don't need to think about it, my parents have been like this my entire life. I've seen how much parents can love their kids from the outside in, it doesn't seem fair I don't have that. Not really.

From inside the pocket of my sweat pants, my phone vibrates. I flop down on my bed, pulling the phone out and wondering who on earth would be texting me. I'm pretty sure I have four numbers, at most, in my contacts. That's what happens when you virtually have no friends.

My eyes widen at the sight of Gemma's name; I'd forgotten we exchanged phone numbers during our free period. She had called her brother and then asked if I wanted to get her number encase we wanted to hang out sometime. I can honestly say I've never hung out with people before, at least not outside of school. I'd given her my number, but assumed it would sit in her phone and never be used. Only here she was, hours after I'd last seen her, texting me.

I open it up to find Gemma sent: hey what's up? :)

Something so simple, yet it made my heart beat pick up. It's nothing, really. Teenagers text each other all the time, but this was different. It wasn't just regular teenagers, it was me and I am deaf and I have never had friends before. Yet Gemma was serious; she really did want to be friends, and communicate outside of school. She had a hot brother and he seemed to like me, too.

Suddenly I don't care that my family hates me, because I don't feel so alone anymore.