Julkalender

So that was it.
I layed down on the bed, rubbing my head. Talking so much had given me an increadible headache. But I couldn't bring myself to stop, it was so fun. Bert layed down beside me and sighed dramatically.
"I'm so tired," he said and grunted. I laughed. Oh, I loved laughing.
"They're your friends, so it counts as your fault," I declared. He giggled.
"Suppose so," he muttered.
The day had passed beautifully, even though the band were very noisy and, active. They wanted to dance around the three, sing songs together, and dance some more. Quinn had even lifted up my mother from her chair, dancing around with her. She had laughed and been very happy, and I had felt like I was part of a real family.
I rubbed the bandage over my chest, and moaned. Bert instantly looked up.
"Does it hurt much?" he asked anxiously. I smiled.
"No, only when I touch it," I said. He nodded and bent forwards. Carefully he kissed me, over my bruised lips and even though it hurt I just had to pull him closer, kissing him back.
"This was a wonderful day," I said. He smiled and kissed my cheek.
"Yes it was," he said. "Thanks for spending it with me," he added. I looked at him and blushed. He giggled and buried his head under a pillow.
"Don't look at me, you'll make me blush too," he complained with a childish voice. I laughed and rubbed his back, moving my hands under his t-shirt, under his body and up his chest.
"Oh," he said and giggled again. I loved to hear him giggle. I pulled away the pillow and he turned around, so that I layed over him.
We kissed again, and he held his arms around me.
"Merry christmas," he whispered to me.


THE END.

“I actually don't have any friends anymore,” I admitted and sighed. We were sitting in the kitchen, thinking about who to ask to spend christmas with us. So far the invitation list was quite short.

“Okay, then just family?” he said and smiled.
“Apart from yours,” I said smiling. “Yeah, well , the band is my true family he said.

“Awww,” I said sarcastically, and we both laughed.

“Okay, mom, auntie, and Jeph, Dan and Quinn,” I said and wrote their names on the list.

“Shit,” he said. I looked up. “I haven't got ANY food at all,” he said, and laughed. I smiled.

“Okay, I'm going shopping, and you can call them and invite them, and then you can clean up a bit,” I said.

“Okay,” he said, formally and saluted me. I laughed. “Silly man,” I said, as I walked out the door, towards the shop.

 

“I'm so tired,” I said and sat down on the sofa. I had fortgotten that I wasn't really aloud to carry heavy things until I recovered, and carrying the food from the car to the apartment had been quite a challenge. Luckily Bert had helped me, and I could rest a while, because he had promised to bake. I really hoped he was better at it than me. I couldn't bake cakes, or anything sweet and christmassy. It always turned out to be a disaster.

“Are you sure you want to go home? You can stay here a while longer,” the doctor said, but I just shook my head.

“I don't want to stay here any longer.” I said firmly and smiled at Bert, who was holding me up with a smile on his face. The doctor sighed, obviously beaten and let me free.
As soon as we came in to his apartment I felt home and completely happy. We kissed a little, careful because of my bruised face, but still excited and totally in love. He carried me to the bed, and there we lay for hours, just talking, getting to know each other from the beginning. There was so much I wanted to tell him, and so much I wanted to hear.

 

“Hayley,” he asked. I opened my eyes. It was night and we had decided that we should rest, and talk more in the morning, but he still said it. I looked at him. He was staring at me, with a smile on his face, but also a bit scared.

“Yeah?” I asked. He took my hand.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asked. I laughed.

“I thought I already was,” I said. He smiled, and blushed.

“Yeah, but I thought we could make it official,” he said and moved closer. I smiled and kissed him long and passionate.

“It's official,” I said, and fell asleep in his arms.

“I heard you,” I said as soon as I regained conciousness. Bert smiled. “And I can hear you now,” he said and his voice had never been clearer. My head didn't hurt anymore. Oh, well at least not the inside. The rest of me hurt everywhere. My body, especially my broken rib and my face, that was so sore and tender, and as he bent forward to kiss my lips it hurt, but I didn't tell him. If it meant a little pain as he kissed me, I would endure it, for him.

“I was really worried,” he told me. “But your father had called your mother and she called me, and I came her,” he explained.

“Where is my mother?” I asked.

“She is sleeping,” he said and looked around. For the first time I looked around the room. It was definitely a hospital, everything was so clean and white and cold. On a chair in the corner sat my mom, with a quilt covering her body.

“And my dad?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“Oh, he's gone. He won't bother you again, because your mother called the police last night, and they have him.”

I nodded. That sounded perfect.

“I'm tired,” I said. He smiled and kissed me again.

“Then sleep,” he said giggling. “I'll be here when you wake up again.”

The next morning it came. What I had been waiting for. A message from my mother.

“I have left him now. I'm at my sisters house. Please drop by,” she said. I hurried to send back a message.

“I'll be there later today. Love you,”

I showed him the message and he smiled and whispered things in my ear that I couldn't hear, but still the tickle that his breath made against my neck felt warm and calming.

Later that day, Bert had left to meet the other guys and I felt that I had to do something. I needed to speak to my father, alone. So I took the bus, hoping Bert wouldn't come back before I did.

I rubbed my head. The pain was coming back. I didn't know if I should take that as a good or bad sign, since I had started to associate the pain with the fact that I could hear and speak again. Still the pain felt quite unnecessary since I wanted to stay focus as I talked to him.

The light were out and the house looked dark, but his car stood at the driveway, waiting for me. I opened the door and noticed that my hand was shaking. Stupid hand. I'm not afraid. Just sad, and angry and.. determined.

He was sitting on the sofa, and as I walked towards him he looked up, with tears streaming down his cheeks. I weakend inside as I saw him and bent forwards, putting my arms around him. We embraced each other, and he was sobbing hard and shaking. As the worst crying was over I sat down beside him.

“She left me,” he signed, and held up a letter from her.

“I know,” I signed. He looked up, surprised. “You know?” he asked and I nodded.

“I told her too, because...” I said but he interrupted me by holding up his hands. “YOU told her?” he asked. I nodded, and opened my mouth to explain. But he wouldn't let me. A strike across my face and I became silent. I fell to the floor, and he stood up, and pulled me up, so that he could hit me again, and again and again. My tears were mixed with my blood now, and it dropped on his face, making him look mad, the few times I saw him between the strikes. As I couldn't stand up anymore, he started kicking me instead. I screamed as I felt a rib break, and as his foot hit my head something in my head exploaded, and it was more pain everywhere.

“STOP,” I screamed and my voice echoed in the quiet house. “Please, dad. Stop,” I whispered. Then I fainted.

 

Everything after that was just blurry, and the only thing focused was the voices. I could hear them so clearly. I soon realized that I was in a hospital, and people were talking about me.
“I'm so sorry, so sorry,” I could hear my fathers voice, almost a whisper and I was surprised that I could hear him.

“YOU SHOULD BE, YOU BASTARD,” someone else screamed. Bert? I smiled somewhere in my mind and wanted to tell him that I was alright, I couldn't feel any pain.

Somewhere behind all the noises I heard another one. Someone was crying. I wondered if it was only in my head, or if it was real.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, calmer. A stranger answered.

“No, she has received analgesic. She doesn't feel anything. But I think she can hear you,” he said. I smiled somewhere. Yes, yes I can hear you.

“SHE CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING, SHE'S DEAF,” my father screamed.

“Oh, could you get him out of here,” Bert said. “I know you can hear me Hayley. The doctors are saying that your brain is responding to sounds, and the infection is completely gone. You are healthy,” he whispered somewhere near me. I smiled and actually felt the corners of my mouth move.

“She smiled,” someone said. Was it my father? I couldn't recognize him. I was beginning to fall asleep. I was getting tired, so very tired. As I fell asleep the crying stopped.

The sound had disappeared the next morning. And so had my voice. Everything was gone. We tried to make me hear things, by putting music on and turning up the volume, and he screamed in my ear and I tried to scream, but nothing happened.

“I don't understand,” I wrote on a paper.

“Me neither,” he replied.

We found comfort in each others arms, and spent the rest of the day in bed, dreaming about being able to communicate better.

 

If we cut out the bad well then we'd have nothing left

Like I cut up your mouth the night I stuffed it all in

And you lied to the angels said I stabbed you to death

If we go at the same time, they'll clean up the mess

 

I lost my head

You couldn't come

This lust to my brain

almost feels like a gun

“It's your mother,” Bert said. I looked at the phone. It was her calling.

“Does she believe you?” he asked. I shook my head.

“She said she didn't. Can you answer?” I replied nervously. My voice was still very irregular and unsharp and I hoped he could understand me. His voice still seemed very far away. I yawned and rolled over to the other side of the bed, and sat up on the edge.

It was noon and we had woken up because of my phone. He nodded and put the phone to his ears.

“Hello, this is Bert.. can...” he said but got interrupted. He listened and looked bitter and sad and worried.

“I understand,” he said. He turned the phone off and looked seriously at me.

“He has hit her again. Really bad,” he said. His eyes traced my face. I was ashamed that he could see the wound and the bruises, ashamed that my father had done it. I smiled halfhearted and stood up.

“Let's go,” I said, also with bitterness, and started putting my clothes on.

As we arrived at the house the door was unlocked and the car was gone. My mother was sitting on the sofa in the livingroom, quietly sobbing. We walked over to her and I put my arms around her.

“Hayley,” she said quiet. I nodded, but decided not to talk. I hugged her.

“Let's go to the hospital,” Bert said, and I had to try hard to hear him. My mother shook her head.

“I just need to lie down,” she said. Bert tried to argue but she wouldn't hear of it. We both looked sad at each other, but agreed to help her get to her bed so she could sleep.

“You have to leave him,” I signed to her, as Bert had left the room to make something for her to eat. She shook her head.

“I can't, it's not his fault and... I love him,” she signed. I let out a sound of frustration and took a pillow and threw it across the room. She looked surprised at me.

“You idiot,” I signed and cried. “He doesn't love you anymore and he doesn't deserve your love either. You have to leave him, because if you just let him hit you all the time he won't stop until you're dead!”

I left the room and almost ran into Bert, coming up the stairs with a plate of sandwiches and a glass of milk.
“Give it to her, then we can leave,” I whispered. It hurt to speak. He nodded and I walked down the stairs and out in the garden. Soon later he joined me and we drove back to his place.

“I'm tired,” I told him, with my sore voice. He nodded and kissed my cheek. “I'll make us tea,” he said. And I could actually hear him. It was not clearly, and as though he spoke through a thick glass wall but I could hear him. And he could hear me. It was amazing.

All day we had done exercises. Everything he could think of, that would help me speak louder. We had sung and spoken loud and low and screamed and whispered. And I had such a headache from it all, but I didn't want to stop yet. We hade done so much today.

As we had finished the tea I told him I wanted to try something else. He suggested a song, and dug out one of his older songs. I read the lyrics and smiled.
“Great, but first, sing it for me,” I said. He nodded and started sining, and even without the music it sounded great. I had learned that I loved hearing again, but that I loved his voice more than anything. I couldn't imagine living without it now.

I had sent a message to my mother, explaining what had happened but she still didn't believe me. We decided that when my voice was strong enough I would go to her and tell her that it was true. But to do that, I needed practise.

“Sing with me,” he said. I nodded.

 

From the way that you acted
to the way that I felt it
It wasn't worth my time
and now it's sad cause all I missed
wasn't that good to begin with
and now that I've started you begging
saying things that you don't mean
it isn't worth my time
a line's a dime a million times
and I'm about to see all of them

Goodbye to you, goodbye to you, you're taking up my time
Goodbye to you, goodbye to you

He held me in his arms long and I could only embrace him back. Two days had been torture without him. I had seen my dad scream as he found out the alcohol in the house was gone and he had hit my mother, before I locked her in my room. After pounding on the doors he had left, probably for the shops, to buy more. That's were I had told my mother that I had begun to hear again. She wouldn't believe me and had said that it was only my imagination. Had she really given up hope?I had only Bert now. He was the only one who believed me.

“I missed you,” I told him and kissed him. He kissed me back and carried me to the car. I giggled in his arms, and he stopped dead. What was it?

“Did you just giggle?” he asked. He put me down on the ground and I nodded. “Oh, this is great,” he said and smiled.

We decided that I would go with him to their studio, since they wanted to record a song. He said that it would be very noisy and perhaps, I could hear something.

But in the beginning I heard nothing. Just emptiness, and I felt disappointed. But I watched him, and I read his lips and I enjoyed the song since it had great lyrics. Sometimes he sang so fast that it was hard to read, but other times there were soft and slow songs that moved me and made me shiver.

 

“Do you hear anything?” he asked me, with hopeful eyes. I shook my head and he sighed.

“It will come soon, we just have to be patient,” I told him. He nodded.

“I don't care if you can hear or speak, I like you anyway,” he said. Then someone behind him caught his attention.
“Come on Bertie, we have to continue,” Quinn said, and played something on his guitar. I smiled at them. Bert took his original place behind the microphone and nodded. They all started playing, and as Bert opened his mouth to sing, I could finally hear him. I heard every word, and every sound.

 

“Cut yourself in conversation

Cut the line to make me feel alive
'Cause you know I'm not alive

 

And leave me with your complications

Take your life, you feel like taking mine

Meeting god we stand in line, not alone

 

Nowhere to go, I'm not leaving

Not going, I'm not kissing you goodbye
On my own, I'm nothing

Just bleeding, I'm not kissing you goodbye

 

Trust to take the righ to leave me

Waiting under dark clouds for the rain

Praying lightning strikes a change

As history gets lost and

As I took that final breath I felt alive

Meeting god, to stand in line, all alone

 

Nowhere to go, I'm not leaving

Not going, I'm not kissing you goodbye

On my own, I'm noting

Just bleeding, I'm not kissing you goodbye”

 

I stood up and smiled, as the song was finished.

“That was amazing,” I said. It was the first sentence I had uttered since I was fourteen and even though it hurt in my throat, it was the most amazing feeling I had ever felt.

I opened my eyes, rather painful and put my hand over my head. It hurt, and was swollen were he had hit me. I sat up and looked around. I was in my bed and in a chair beside the bad sat my mother. I smiled and stood up from the bed, careful not to disturb her. As I stood in front of the mirror I gasped. The half of my face were the bottle had hit me was red and swollen and there was a deep cut over my eye. I sighed and took out my make-up bag to try and cover the most of it.

When I was happy of the result I stood up and decided to make breakfast for me and my mom.

My father layed on the sofa sleeping heavily. There layed lots of beer bottles at his feet, and as I bent down to pick them up I noticed that one of them had bloodstains. From me. I hoped so. My mothers face had been bruised and some of the wounds seemed fresher. It hurt me too be so close to him, so I hurried back to the kitchen with the bottles.

I took out a plastic bag and threw them into it. Then I raided the kitchen for the rest of the beer, vodka and whisky. I knew were all his little hideouts were, cause I had watched him through all these years, too afraid to do anything about it. Now I emptied them all and took the full bag out in the garden. I dragged it on the ground since it was too heavy to carry and hoped the sound wouldn't wake him up. I walked over to the trash can and threw the bottles away. With a smile on my lips I took a stone and struck the plastic bag hard, and I felt the glass crush under it. I hit the bottles several times and enjoyed the smell that rose from the trash can. In all the excitement I didn't feel as I missed with the stone and my hand got pierced by a piece of glass. I noticed it as I walked back inside and cursed inside my head. I quickly put a band aid over it and started making breakfast.

 

Later that day I got a message from Bert. It was short and he said he missed me and hoped I was doing okay. He had said that he would be very busy these days with a music video they were doing, and I didn't want to worry him so I told him I was doing fine, and missed him a lot.

Then I decided that I wanted to listen to music. I put in the CD out of habit and turned the volume up high. Sometimes I felt normal and I could pretend that I heard the music. Some of the song I already knew and I could pretend I heard them, when I was only playing them over and over in my head. I sighed and turned the volume up again. Took out my papers with the things that I missed and added something.

“I miss Bert,”

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

“I'm coming home tomorrow,” he told me.

 

Cover up with make up in the mirror

Tell yourself it's never gonna happen again
You cry alone and then he swears he loves you

 

Do you feel like a man, when you push her around?
Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground?

 

I stood up. What was that? I looked at the record player. Had I heard the music?

They had sent me home with a pill and strict orders to be careful. Bert had to go away a few days, and I was alone with my parents. My mother had picked me up at the hospitals, but my father was too drunk to even care.

I spent most of the day up in my room, glad that the pain was gone because of the pills, and sad because I missed Bert. He had looked so concerned as he left me at home. He was scared too, that something would happen. I knew something would happen. I had seen my mother. She was full of bruises and her face was swollen and as soon as my father came into the room she seemed to shrink and became almost invisible. It hurt me so much.

My father didn't even look at me. I could see he was ashamed, of how weak he was.

“Please, let's leave him,” I tried to tell my mother. I could see she wanted to get away. She didn't really wanted to be so afraid all the time. But what could she do? She still believed that if she stayed with him, our family would be whole.

I sighed and tried with my father.

“You need help. You can't stay like this,” I signed. He barely looked at me. His eyes were fixed at the television. So I turned it off. “Idiot, you're hurting the woman you love. And your daughter. How can you do this?” I signed in anger.

“You're not my daughter,” he said. I had to read his lips. Did he know I could do that?

“You are a fucking freak,” he screamed and stood up. Suddenly I became scared.
“Stop drinking,” I signed and cried. He picked up a bottle, looked at it, and then struck me over the head. Everything became black.

They hurt. It was like they were going to explode. It was like in the beginning, when I had first lost my hearing and speaking. I told Bert the other morning and he thought we should go to the hospital. I didn't want at first. It was just so.. stupid and annoying. What could they possible tell me that would be bad new? More bad than being deaf and dumb? No, not likely. So I stayed at his apartment, with aspirin for the pain and secretly trying to make that sound again. But nothing happened. My throat hurt a bit. Maybe it was because I was trying to make sound when I couldn't. Or maybe something had started. That was Bert's theory. That somehow my hearing and speaking was coming back. I wanted to believe him, but all these lonely, empty years had convinced me not to believe in fairytales. I couldn't get my hopes up. It would crush me. I still believed that it was my sight's turn to go. I would become a freak for real.

A sudden attack of pain made me put my arms over my ears, and a few tears fell down my cheek. I put the quilt around me, trying to keep warm. Every time Bert was away from me, it was just so cold. Well, he was just in the kitchen, talking to someone in the phone, doing important business, but still. He was far away. I missed him. I hugged the pillow, pretending it was him. Then the pain struck again. I tried to scream, but nothing. Just tears and pain.

Somewhere between the pain and tears and taking another aspirin I must have fallen asleep. At least I woke up, feeling a lot better. Well it didn't hurt as much, but it was sore, and as I touched my ears it hurt. I didn't do that again

“...ut I'm worried..”

I sat up straight. What was that?I looked around. I could have sworn that someone was speaking. I looked around. I was alone.

“She doesn't want to go...”

There it was again. Suddenly I realized that it was Bert, talking. He was talking in his phone. And I had heard him. I started screaming. Not a sound. I hit the wall really hard several times. I could hear it. Footsteps. I could hear them too.

He ran into the room. I took the notepad and wrote it down.

“You can hear me?” he said. I nodded.

“Oh, my god,” he said and hugged me. I wanted to scream, cause it hurt as he touched my ears but I was too happy.

“That means...” he said but the pain interrupted him, since I fell down on the bed, clutching to my ears. The sound was gone. I looked at him, and he was opening his mouth but not a sound came out. Only pain. I couldn't even read his lips, cause my tears were running down my face.

I shook my head, wiping away the tears.

“We have to go to the hospital,” he said and hugged my hand. I nodded.

My ears hurt so bad. I sat down on a chair. Before me layed two aspirins. I swallowed them quickly and washed them down with water. The vibrations in the floor told me that he was coming up to me. I put on a brave face, ready to pretend that nothing hurt.

He put his arms on my shoulder and kissed my neck. I smiled and turned around, to meet his lips.

“Are we doing anything today?” I wrote on a note. He shook his head.

“I have another day off,” he told me and smiled. I giggled inboards. That meant fun.

“Do you feel like doing anything?” he asked.

“We can watch another movie,” I suggested on the paper.

 

After watching a movie we ended up in bed. Of course. She was so beautiful. I had to kiss her everywhere and I carried her from the sofa to my bed.

The lovemaking between us was so familiar now, yet still so new and adventurous. Some times I was scared that I wasn't satisfying her, since she never said anything or even moaned. She could breathe heavily, and sometimes she looked me in the eyes and smiled, and it filled me with happiness and adrenaline.

 

We were in the middle of it, and I was sweating and panting and she was breathing and dragging her nails across my back. I moaned out loud, but it didn't sound like my usual.. moanings. I closed my mouths. There was something else there too. Suddenly I heard it again. It was a sore hissing sound. It took me a while to figure out that it was coming from.. her. I stopped completely.

She shook her head, and looked at me with confusion.

“What?” I said. She sat up and stared at me. I realized the funny situation since I was still inside her, and I rolled of her, wrapping the quilt around me.
“You... sounded,” I said. She obviously didn't believe me.

“I swear, you kind of.. moaned,” I said and blushed a bit. She fetched the notebook and wrote one word. “Impossible.”

“Maybe.. but it's what I heard.”

She nodded slowly. Then wrote again.
“I've never had sex before. Maybe it did something to my throat?” she asked. I blushed again.
“Yeah, maybe. Try doing it again,” I suggested. She smiled and opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

We must have tried for at least an hour before she told me her throat was dry and she was tired. So we spent the rest of the day in bed and fell asleep in each others arms.

“Is it alright if the others come by today?” he asked, after putting his phone back into his pocket. I nodded and smiled.

“That would be great,” I wrote, on the note pad, that I always wore by me.

“We actually have another concert tonight, and you can wait backstage if you want. Otherwise you could just stay right here.. and wait?”

He looked so unsure, that I just had to close my arms around him and kiss him.
“So you want to come?” he asked. I nodded.

 

“Well, you've met Jeph and Quinn,” he said and pointed at them. I nodded and shook their hands.

“And this is Dan, our drummer,” he said next. I shook Dans hand and smiled at him.

“How are you feeling?” Dan asked. I smiled and gave him the thumbs up. “Oh, yeah sorry,” he said and blushed. “I forgot,” he admitted. I smiled and waved my hand, to say that it was alright.

“Are you ready to go?” Bert asked and handed me my jacket. I nodded and put it on. It was going to be an interesting, yet silent day.

 

The pain, that had haunted me for the last days had spread from my head to my ears. I put my hands over them and rubbed them. I was sitting backstage waiting for them to finish signing autographs. I tried to ignore the pain, but it was so annoying. I drank from a bottle of champagne that someone had left for the band. Bert had said that I should enjoy myself. What could it be that hurt this much? Was it getting worse? Spreading again. The doctor had said that it could happen. But what more could this sickness take from me? My sight? Was I going blind? Or would it just kill me?

He opened the door and smiled as he saw me. I decided that I wasn't going to let him know. I didn't want him to worry. If I lost my sight we could deal with it then. He hugged me and kissed me. “I missed you,” he told me. I kissed him again.

 

“Where are you?”

“I won't tell you, mom, so you can come and get me home. I will come home in a couple of days. Promise.”

I sent the message with a heavy heart. I didn't want to leave her alone, but I couldn't return home just yet. I put the phone away and stood up. He came out of the bathroom with a towel tied around his lower body and wet hair. I smiled and kissed him. I flinched. His hair was wet. I wiped my face dramatically and he laughed. I slipped under his arms and into the bathroom getting another towel. As I returned he looked at me with a frown.

I smiled and wrapped the towel around his head. He laughed again and looked at me uncertain. I gave him thumbs up.
“How manly,” he said, after looking in the mirror. I laughed at him. “I'm just gonna change,” he said and turned around.
I picked up a pen from a table and wrote on my hand. I sneaked up behind him and hugged him from behind while I showed him the text.

“You don't need clothes,”

And a smiley.

I could hear him giggle, and he turned around. I put my hands on his hips and pulled the towel away. He smiled big and lifted me up. He carried me to the bed and put me down.

“But you still have clothes,” he said and looked sad. I smiled and pulled off my t-shirt, as he opened up my pants.

I kissed him again, and let him touch me, and kiss me.

We didn't need words.

 

I opened the door, and hoped that they were gone. They should be, since the door was locked. Luckily I hadn't forgotten my key. I ran upstairs and into my room. There I opened the closet and threw out some clothes on my bed. Then I opened my bag and put the clothes in there. After some panic-packing I ran downstairs again. Wrote a note to my parents, telling mom not to worry and dad not to drink. Then I locked the door and put the house behind me. At least for some days.

He was waiting by the car, and hugged me tight. He kissed my forehead.

“You want to get some coffe?” he asked. I nodded.

This was my first vacation from my family ever and it felt really good to start it off with a caramel machiatto at starbucks.

I woke up and panicked. I wasn't in my usual bed. I was lying under a warm quilt. I reached out my hand and felt... something warm. A body. I sat up and tried to scream. Then I looked around. Slowly I remembered how I'd gotten there. I lifted the quilt and looked at him. He was lying on his back with his face against me, and his hair layed over his face in curls. I smiled a bit. Last night was returning to me, and I blushed a bit. That was the first time since... ever that I had slept with anyone. I really liked it. I bent forwards and kissed his cheeks. I kissed him again. He started opening his eyes and ours met in a perfect moment.

“God morning,” he said and I could barely read it with the hair in his face. I smiled at him and curled down close to him under the quilt. He put his arms around me and kissed me again.

“I want to tell you,” I wrote on the note. He read it and smiled. He gave me a cup of coffe and sat down on a chair next to me.

“Good,” he said.

And I wrote it all down. Everything I had felt the last days, and everything I feared of and I told him about the pain and frustration of watching my mother.

Tears fell down from my face and onto the paper. He handed me a handkerchief.

“You can stay here, a couple of days,” he told me. I smiled gratefully. It was what I needed.

“Thank you,”

He answered me with a kiss.

I stood in front of the house. It was a huge apartmenbuilding, taller than most buildings I've ever seen.

I checked the adress again. Yeah, it was the right one. I pressed on the doorbell. This was kind of tricky. Because I couldn't hear when they answered. But he had written in a text that I should buzz and then wait for him and he would open. So I waited, but not for long. Soon he opened the door and greeted me with a hug that felt heavenly. He smelled wonderful and I took a deep breath, to inhale his smell.

He took my hand and led me into the building, up the stairs and into an apartment. He called something into the apartment, that I couldn't read since he was standing next to me, and not in front of. Soon two other guys turned up in front of us. They reached out their hands and said Hello.

“I'm Quinn, and this is Jeph,” one of them said. I recognized them from the stage, and also google. They were the other bandmembers.

They staid for a while and talked with me and I had to use simple sign language to talk back. It felt quite normal and I immediately liked them. Soon they told us that they had to go. Important stuff to work on, but I guessed that they didn't want to impose. Bert rolled his eyes as they said something behind my back. I looked questioning at him. He shook his haid and took my hand again.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. I nodded. I wasn't really, but I think that in that moment, as our hands touched, I would have nodded at anything, just to make him more happy. He smiled big and led me into the kitchen. There he made a couple of sandwiches and hot chocolate. As we sat down at the table he gave me something. A notepad. He smiled smug.

“This time I was prepared,” he said, smiling childishly. I picked up the pen and wrote something on the empty paper.

“Thank you,”

He smiled.

“How are all your five dogs doing?” he asked next.

“Oh, they weren't mine. I work at a dog day care center.”

He laughed.

“What a relief. I thought you were some kind of crazy dog person,” he said laughing. I laughed with him.

“And you still wanted to get to know me? That must mean you are crazy,” I wrote. He laughed and tried to look hurt, but didn't succeed.

“Someone like you, could be with anybody,” I wrote sadly. He looked at the words, then at me.

“I could. I could have anyone,” he agreed. I smiled sarcasticly. “But it's not a matter of who I could be with, but who I want to be with, and I'm here, aren't I?”

I smiled. Yes, he was here. I bent forwards across the table. He got the hint and bent forwards also. Our lips met quick before I sat straight again. We both blushed and sat there, both surrounded by my horrible silence.

“We can watch a movie,” I suggested on the paper. He looked confused. “Do you really want to do that? If you can't hear, I mean?”

I smiled.

“If it's subtitled, then I kan watch it.” I wrote.

“Great, let's do that,” he said and led me into the livingroom. There stood a guitar leaned against the wall and the floor was full of papers. There were notes and words written on them.

“Escuse the mess,” he said apologetic. I smiled and waved my hand. “That's okay,”

We sat down on the sofa, and I leaned on his shoulder. Carefully he took my hand, and twisted our fingers together. I could hear my heartbeat echoing in my entire body. The movie started and it seemed normal at the beginning.

I wasn't focused at the movie in the beginning. I was more thinking about the pressure of his hand against mine.

A couple of times I looked at him, and he smiled at me, and it felt as though my heart beat ten times faster. I smiled back. I suddenly realized that I hadn't paid much attention to the movie so I focused on the screen.

“Please, don't...” the subtitled read. I wondered why the girl said that. One second later a man appeared on the screen, angry. He walked towards the woman and hit her over the face. I sat up immediately, starring at the screen. He kept hitting her and she screamed and cried. I quickly closed my eyes, but tears were already streaming down my face.

He held his arms around me for a long time, before I dared to look up. I met his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked worried. I nodded and tried to smile, but couldn't

I looked at the screen. It as black now.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked. I nodded first, but then shook my head. He handed me a pen and paper.

“I can't tell you.” I wrote. He looked a bit hurt. “Yet,” I added. He nodded.

“When you want to tell me, I will be ready,” he said and hugged me again. As our faces came close I leaned in and kissed him again. A bit surprised he kissed me back.

The next day I decided to talk to my mother. It was time to leave him now. My father wouldn't stop until we showed him that we didn't want to take it anymore. At least I wouldn't.

I found her in the living room, in front of the television. She had pulled a blanket around her and held a cup of tea between her hands.

I sat down in front of her.

“Please, mom,” I started with. She looked at me and smiled.

“I sent grandma a text this morning. She says it's okay that we move in with her until..” I continued but she stopped me.

“No,” she signed and shook her head. “I don't need help from her, there is nothing wrong with this family, we don't need...”

I walked away. Couldn't bare another word from her. She knew that there was a big problem in this family and it wouldn't go away if she kept ignoring it.

I sat down in front of the computer in my room with the intention of writing a poem or something. I opened a new dokument.

I barely had time to write 'don't do this mom,' before a beep interupted me. I had a new email. Convinced it was only commersial, but as I saw that it was from him I smiled and opened it quickly.

I read his email with a huge smile on my face, and quickly wrote a reply. I wanted to tell him about how I really felt, because finally I had met someone that treated me like a normal person. And it felt as though I could trust him, but I guess I didn't have the guts to tell him. So I told him everything was alright with me, and I missed him too and of course I wanted to meet him the next day.

“... Lots of love, Hayley,” I finished with and sent it. Afterwards I went down into the kitchen. Mom had made supper, and my father sat there eating. He smiled at me, halfhearted but I didn't return it. I sat down and started eating without paying attention to my parents. I finished quickly and walked upstairs again. I looked at my email and jumped a bit as he had replied.

There was an adress and time

“Meet me there tomorrow,” he had written.

Oh, great. A chance to escape this prison. And more importantly, meet a normal person.

“It's a date,” I answered and rejoiced. I hadn't been able to say or write something like that for way too long. 

I was... nervous. Yeah, that was the word. I had hardly eaten at breakfeast, or lunch. My mother was crying again. It was painful to watch. My father was still in bed as I left the house. I had brought a pen and paper, so I could explain. I arrived early, so I started writing. It would be best to just give it to him as soon as we met before I started.. liking him even more. So he could just go away and forget about me.

 

I arrived five minutes late and hoped she wouldn't hate me for it. I saw her sitting on a bench with her head between her knees. I smiled and walked towards her.

“Hayley,” I called. She didn't respond. I called again, a little louder, but still no response. I walked to her and tapped her back. She jumped up and looked at me, scared.

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I.. called at you but you didn't react so... oh, well. Hi,” I said and sat down beside her.

Now I noticed that she held something in her hand. A folded paper.

“What's that?” I asked. She blushed and gave it to me, before putting her head back between her knees.

A bit confused I unfolded the paper and started reading.

 

Hello. You must think I am an idiot, but I have something to explain, that.. requires pen and paper. You must have noticed that I haven't said much, and that's not because I'm shy. I'm.. deaf and dumb. I can't speak and I can't hear.

I understand what you say because I can read lips, and I thought that your song the other day was beautiful even though I couldn't hear it. Now I'll just sit her with my eyes closed and you can disappear if you want. I won't blame you if you go. People don't want to be friends with freaks.

Bye

 

I folded the paper together again and put it in my pocket.

“You're really deaf?” I said to her. No reply. She just sat there hiding her head between her legs. I moved closer. Was she really waiting for me to go? Why would I go? I reached out my arms and put them around her, slowly embracing her.

She looked up and seemed quite confused.

I blushed and let her go, sitting down beside her.

“You can read my lips?” I asked. She nodded. I smiled.

“Good,” I said.

She pulled out another piece of paper and wrote something on it.

“Why are you still here?” she had written.

I looked at the words, then at her.

“I'm not gonna go just because of this. It's not your fault, is it?”

“People find it hard to be friends with me. They all disappear,”

“I guess I'm not people,” I answered.

 

And so it continued. The whole afternoon we sat there, communicating with a piece of paper. I was still waiting for him to vanish, but he stayed. Together we could laugh. Well he laughed, and I smiled.

As the sun went away and darkness closed in on us we realized that we had to say goodbye.

“I want to meet you again,” he said to me. We stood at the busstop, waiting for my bus. His was going the other way.

“Me too,” I told him by pointing at myself, and then showing two fingers.

“You too,” he confirmed and smiled.

I took another piece of paper and wrote down my email adress. Gave it to him.

“Thanks,” he said.

As the bus came he looked sad, and I didn't really feel like going onboard. I waved at him, and he waved back.

 

“Where were you?” she asked as soon as I stepped throw the door. I signed “nowhere” and continued into the kitchen. I made a sandwich and went upstairs.

“I was worried,” she signed, at me, before I closed the door in her face. I lay down on my bed smiling from ear to ear.

I woke up with a feeling that everything was going to become a lot worse. I couldn't hear anything, but I felt all the bad vibes in the house trickling it's way under the doors. I sat up and brushed the fatigue out of my eyes. I had..absotlutely nothing planned for today. That meant I had to stay at home all day. Sigh.

After getting dressed I went downstairs to make breakfeast. My father was there, and surprised me, as he had set the table, and made bacon and eggs. I looked puzzled at him and sat down.

“Is mom home?” I asked. He nodded.

“I picked her up this morning,” he signed. “She's sleeping.”

I nodded and sat down on a chair. Tasted his eggs.

“I''ve been thinking,” he signed, and I focused on him.

“You are right,” he said. I rolled my eyes. Took him long enough. “And.. I've decided to stop drinking,”

I stared. Was he serious?

“You deserve a.. sober father.” he continued. I nodded. But that did'nt meant I was gonna get one.

“I'll wake mom,” I signed and stood up. “Don't use that much salt next time,” I signed and left the room.

 

I poked at her. She turned in her sleep and looked at me. Her face was... crushed. The nose was huge and red and swollen. But at least it was straight now. I bent forwards and kissed her forehead. “Food,” I signed. She nodded and I helped her sit up and get dressed.

“He is a changed man,” she signed and smiled at me. I smiled back but didn't mean it.

If it made her happy believing that, then fine, but I couldn't do it.

Breakfeast was horrible. The eggs were salt, and coffe was to strong and the tension between my parents was torture. He couldn't even look at her, and he dried his tears over and over again. She was smiling and talking and signing as if nothing was wrong.

“We'll have ot buy a tree soon,” she said to my father. I shrugged. Christmas. I didn't want to think about that. The last four christmases he had been drunk and mean and she had been sitting in a corner crying.

Sometimes I didn't think that this monster he had become, was only becouse of my disease. It was if it had always been inside him, waiting to explode. My disease had only been the trigger.

I told my mother that once. That was the first time she had been angry at me since I got sick. But I still believed it. And that monster wasn't about to disappear that easily.

 

I sat with the number in my hand. Of course I couldn't call him. But I could text him, couldn't I?

Before I could change my mind I wrote to him.

“Hey, It's Hayley. The freak with the dogs!”

I put the phone away and took a sip of tea. Would he answer quick? Oh, he was probably busy, or maybe he didn't want to talk to me. He must have realized what a freak I am and... the phone interrupted my thoughts. I picked it up. It was him. Him, I didn't even know his name.

“Hello, it's so nice to hear from you! What's up?”

I looked up at my mother. She was lying in the sofa, sleeping.

“I'm a bit bored, what are you doing?” I wrote back. As I waited for his reply I picked up the piece of paper with his number on and looked at it. It was the first time ever that someone had given me their number. It felt odd, and yet.. normal. It was such a normal thing, that happened to normal people. I turned the paper around and noticed that he had written it on.. the backside of a ticket. It looked like a concert ticket.
“The Used ” I read from it.

I sat down in front of the computer and turned it on. I had never heard about this band before. Well.. I wasn't that into music nowadays. I could only 'listen' to the music I had already heard, in my head over and over again, and that was mostly Marilyn Manson.

I opened google and wrote in 'The Used'.

Before I could look at the picture the phone vibrated again.

“I'm waiting for a journalist to come and torture me with questions,” he wrote. I didn't have time to wonder why he was being interviewed before my eyes fell on the computer screen. Pictures.. of him, everywhere. With blond hair, short hair, tattoos, on stage all sweaty and... and pictures of him. He's famous.

 

“Oh, of course, because you're famous,” I wrote to him a bit later. “I didn't know, but then I googled,”

It didn't take him long to answer.

“Yeah, I guess I'm famous. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, I was just a bit surprised.” I wrote honestly.

“Have you listened to our music? I don't want to brag but it's very good,” he wrote and made me laugh. A quiet laugh.

“No.. I don't listen to a lot of music these days, “ I wrote and felt like crying.

“That's gotta suck,”

“It does. So what kind of music do you do?”

“You know what. Why don't you listen to it, and then tomorrow you can tell me what you think,”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, I want to see you again.” He wrote. I blushed. “We can meet at the park again. Tomorrow afternoon?”

I smiled and wanted to write 'Yes,' but stopped myself. He would only be disappointed. And then he would leave me.

I put down the phone without answering. My mother had left the sofa. I folded the blanket she had been covered in and put it back. Then I walked into the kitchen.

My father was sitting there with an empty look, staring at the newspaper and my mother was behind him preparing supper. As I sat down my father met my eyes and tried to smile. I looked away.

After a while he stood up and opened the refrigerator. He took out a beer can and opened it. My mother frooze and faced him.

“Please,” she said. “Please don't”

He put the can to his mouth and drank.

Furiously I walked back into the living room and picked up the phone. I couldn't stay like this anymore.

“Two o' clock, I'll be there,” I wrote.