Page 6 of Muted

Cliff, although not pleased, grabs another chair and sits next to Chester. The two of them are side by side and their heads are much higher than mine now that I’m sunk into this monstrosity of a couch.

“So, I’m just going to get it out of the way now. You’ve explained your disabilities to me, which I don’t think will be an issue since you won’t be working with customers while the bar is open.” Chester says this nonchalantly, and I appreciate that he’s willing to work with me without making it a big deal.

Tilting the corner of my lip up, I silently thank him. My smile falls when Cliff looks at Chester. “What disability?”

“Miss Walston is non-verbal.” Clear, concise, and honestly, probably the nicest way to explain it. I appreciate him even more for his understanding.

My good feelings are interrupted when Cliff snaps, “She’s deaf?”

“Cliff,” Chester groans and looks at me with an apologetic look before explaining. “She can hear perfectly fine; she just doesn’t speak.”

“But she just said something out there,” he argues, jabbing his index finger toward the bar.

The two of them are facing each other now, Cliff’s irritation and Chester’s annoyance seeping out of them. The aggressive waves slam into me, forcing me to hunch over in an attempt to make myself smaller. Chester’s explanation is appreciated, but I’m not sure that I want this other guy to know my business.

“It’s an anxiety disorder. It doesn’t mean shecan’tspeak.”

“So, shewon’tspeak? That’s what you’re saying?” Cliff huffs out, clearly thinking I’m full of shit.

Sighing, Chester tugs on his beard. “I suppose, yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

“How are we supposed to talk to her, then?”

Chester is no longer sending me apologetic looks. Now he’s completely forgotten I’m sitting here as he glares at his… friend? I have no idea why Cliff is even in here. “Jesus, Cliff. How are you this obtuse? You’re being incredibly rude. I haven’t had any problems communicating to date.”

He’s getting more agitated, and it’s causing me to feel guilty for being the source of their argument. “But what if I have a question? Do I have to wait for her to write it out on paper? Run over to my computer after each question to check for a damn email?”

Both Chester and I are now staring at this dude, me with wide eyes and Chester with slitted ones. Cliff briefly glances over at me, brushes me off, and turns back to the owner.

“Look, I’m not saying people with disabilities shouldn’t work, but don’t you think this is going to make things harder? Besides, if you don’t have time to run the numbers, I’ll just keep doing it.”

Leaning over, I grab my cellphone out of my bag and quickly type out a message, then hand it over to Chester. He reaches out without looking at me and keeps talking. “There are a multitude of ways we can communicate. Stop being an ass, or you can leave.” Once he shuts Cliff down, he peers down at my phone to read what I’ve typed out.

‘I have no issue emailing, texting, or writing down the answers. I’ve been able to communicate for years. It won’t be an issue. I promise.’

I’m used to people being uncomfortable conversing around me, and find that they tend to speakaboutme, rather thantome. Part of me is offended. I’m not stupid and perfectly capable of deciding for myself. The other part understands that this is a ‘me’ problem. It’s not their fault my brain decided I needed debilitating anxiety which tries to control my life.

God, I’m so dramatic. Why can’t I just get a single fucking word out?

Chester nods his head once he finishes reading and then holds my phone out for Cliff to scan my message quickly. “Can I continue now?” he snaps at Cliff, who only presses his lips together and gives him a sharp nod in agreement. “Thankyou.” Turning back to face me with a forced smile, Chester hands me back my phone.

I’m unsure what he’s reading in my body language, but his face smooths out with a look of apology. “Sorry about that, Susu. We’re normally much more professional than this.” He flicks his eyes toward Cliff in warning, then continues.

I look from Chester to Cliff and then back again, hoping he’ll read the question on my face about who the hell this guy is. Thankfully, Chester realizes what I’m asking. “Sorry, this is Clifford Ford. He goes by Cliff and he’s my partner. We own Sonority together.”

A hint of disappointment trickles through me that this guy would also be my boss, but at least now I understand why he’s in here.

Apparently seeing that I understand, he asks, “So, you’re a finance graduate with a specialty in accounting, is that correct?”

I nod my head nervously and wait for his next question, chewing on my lower lip. Chester’s gaze drops to where my teeth are digging into my lip before he looks at the papers in his hand. “Good, good. Honestly, I want to sit and ask you a ton of questions, but we’ve already covered most of the entry questions I needed answered, anyway. You don’t have much experience since you recently graduated, but you’re here, and we’re desperate. Can I give you a sample month, have you balance it as a test of sorts, and then just say you’re hired?”

My grin grows as he rambles on and I’m secretly thankful I don’t have to attempt to answer a bunch of questions.

This time when I nod my head, I do it rapidly and a little over enthusiastically, then hold out my hand for the printouts he wants me to balance.

“Perfect. Would you like to sit out at the table in the bar?” he asks as he hands me a stack of papers.

I look toward the door, thinking of the bear that may still be waiting outside.Is he still out there? Will I be able to do this with his lasered gaze locked on me?If I’m working here, I’ll have to get used to him, so I decide to work out there. It’ll be uncomfortable to spread the papers out here on the couch.

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