Deafening (short story)

*italics* indicates Signing…. It is another language, but is difficult be replicated in typeface..

........Regular italics are inner thoughts.

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Jeremy was new. He had been teaching for about two decades in his last district, but after the accident, he desperately needed to get away from the pity and the despair. He wanted to get away from the sorrowful eyes of his colleagues, family, friends, and neighbors. He convinced himself that driving an extra hour to and from his house was worth the six to eight hours of pretending he was ok. If he liked the school, he thought about moving all together, but he didn’t want to worry everyone who was already overly worried, which was precisely the reason for this new start.

          Twenty minutes into the first mandatory meeting of the prepweek, before the school year began for 3000 angsty teenagers, Jeremy’s attention wandered up and down the aisles of bleachers, opposite of him. His eyes followed other’s to the stage, where a rather plump tart of a man slumped over the podium, giving a speech he’s given too many times before. There was a much younger person standing next to him, who practically shoved him out of the way, the moment their name was mentioned. They contrasted with the man previous, as their speech began. Jeremy had seen people like this before; teachers who had “just graduated” basically tattooed on their forehead. He never knew whether or not he should warn them of what teaching in this country actually meant, but figured they’d learn sooner or later.

They started going on about the future of tomorrow and the hope of a better future. He had thought maybe this person was either nervous or didn’t know the first thing to say in front of a group full tenured, Level 2 Teachers of a public school. He was new, too, but not naïve-new. Again, his eyes began to wander the crowd opposite him, as the speaker rambled on. The coachers (or the coaches who were also teachers) were all gathered near the bottom bleacher, yammering and sneering towards the young person brightly speaking on stage. They seemed like an eager group, if the shaved-head-purple-haired person said one thing they didn’t agree with; none of their knees worked well anymore, since they were all on the bottom bleacher, he chuckled to himself. Jeremy assumed they were like all other potato-shaped coachers he had ever met, and thus posed no serious threat. Jeremy felt their arthritis pain, but climbing stairs was a cinch compared to facing Death again. Pain made him feel alive.

The top seat of the bleachers yielded a better people-watching vantage point; Jeremy got to surveil this new community; a whole group of people who didn’t know him or his tragic background story. He also presumed his need for the back seat of anywhere was a leftover phobia from being bullied in his own school years, even though it had been a few decades removed.

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*Is here good?* asked Heather. *It’ll do,* replied Janice, as they scurried into the high school gym, sheepishly taking their seats on the furthest-populated bottom row. She had been reprimanded before about tardiness and she wasn’t starting off her second year any different. Heather and her had been friends since sixth grade in the county over. They had gone to the same university and became more like sisters than what their own old high school had pushed around the rumor mill.

Heather was gay, and Janice was the first person she had come out to. Naturally, their junior high school’s gossip circulated, everyone assumed she was gay for Janice. There was a lot of rocky feelings with Heather’s family, as they took the gossip as fact, even though she had denied it. Janice’s family took Heather in without hesitation. She was already apart of their lives because of their daughter’s friendship, but it was also the right thing to do; a sixteen year old shouldn’t be out on their own, no matter if it’s a bumbling city or a quiet suburb.

Janice was told at a young age that there will be different kinds of people in her life, some nicer than others. She was told that people were fearful of the unknown, and most will soften after being properly introduced. Navigating school, however, in the hopes of making long lasting friendships, proved difficult; as most of her fellow cohorts just alienated her instead of attempting to befriend and understand how she has survived thus far. Parents always hope, but the child must wade the tides of societal pressures and expectations on their own, every day. From her many years of public education, she had learned that different walks of life, indeed, exist everywhere; it’s important to meet them with acceptance first, and then change demeanor based on their behaviors. Most times, people don’t grow out of high school mentality. Most stay the same throughout the rest of their lives.

She knew that she would have students who differed from her, and the point of teaching was to spread knowledge and make sure today’s youth was informed enough of the past, to better their future. Or was that the dream of all new teachers?

Heather had graduated before Janice, even though they had similar scores. She always took a little bit longer than Heather to complete her work. Every semester, she had taken half the classes her best friend had signed up for because she wanted to give extra attention to all the course work, and not be overwhelmed. She knew her friend was taking other courses and it would be an unfair assumption for her to always help. Heather had been at this new school for four years, establishing a healthy, professional setting. It was a perfect situation because Janice didn’t have to worry about vetting friends.

The new school counselor had taken over the podium at this point, and as the captions scrolled at the bottom of the big megatron screen that usually displayed basketball scores during games, the words where she could keep up with a drab man speaking the exact same speech from the year prior, were going too fast and not keeping pace with the new speaker; a pretty peppy person with a super cool hairdo, and a speech that needed revisions. She had thought back to her first year here, herself. Was she that peppy back then?

Across the court, her eyes wandered the opposite bleachers, up to the top seat. There, an older gentleman was Signing. It was much easier than following the captions, because the Signs matched the words as they were spoken. He caught her eyes and abruptly stopped. Janice looked at him, puzzled. She met his eyes again, and gestured a plea for him to continue.

Jeremy didn’t realize he was Signing the speech until he caught the eyes of a woman who had just scurried in with Heather, the woman who had hired him. He stopped as if he was caught picking flowers in a Botanical Garden. She gestured for him to continue and so he did. It had been almost ten months since his son’s accident. He began to weep, tears running down his dry face, into his salt and pepper beard. It was a relief someone was finding him useful again, instead of sad or weird.

He was sure she was wondering why he was crying, Signs began pouring out of his soul, and he Signed his story to her. Her face contorted but then softened. He apologized mid-explanation but she signed back *that’s ok, please continue. The information on stage is nothing new.* She continued signing, *thank you for telling me about your son. I am so sorry for your loss. You sign beautifully; was he deaf, too? I've been asking the administration for more interpretation accommodations. Are you a new teacher or will you be a student interpreter?*

He paused his hands. He had never been so straight forward with a stranger, to just be accepted without any hesitation, or pity. He continued signing his plight and his story to her.

Heather took notice and followed along, surprised that the new hire said nothing about being able to Sign. Janice taught her sign language back when they first met and they'd have secret signs during classes and at concerts they'd attend. It was nice to see another human use Sign as a communication device to her friend.

Jeremy had tried dating when his son was alive, but no one could keep up with him, let alone deal with his mood swings or even bother to learn Sign properly, and consistently. No one ever stuck around long enough to help him understand the world of women. He would’ve been going into his second year of college, studying engineering. He had had his own friends and developed a small community.

...

Jeremy had always wished he had met Janice sooner, that his son had gotten to meet her. However, without his passing, he would never have had the reason to start over at another district for his career. And thus, would never have met his beautiful life partner, Janice. They were married by the end of his first year there. 

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            However tragic our lives may be at times, the story unfolds onto tear-soaked pages, where seeds of love can grow and flourish. Grief is a very powerful force, but it is also the proof that love had been plentiful. Without love, one would never grow. One would never be able to connect with another, telling stories of your loved one, the ups and downs; the good times and the bad. The point to life is to positively connect with another, however the wind changes or the water flows, or the passion burns. Life is about growing through love, either through the abundance or the absence.