Page 43 of Quiet Beautiful Things

Jesus, Blake, what are you, a horny adolescent on his first date? Man the fuck up and quit acting like a lovesick puppy.

I reach into the far corners of my mind for something I can talk about that will make her less appealing.

It’s hard. Really really hard. Luckily, I end up not having to think of anything as she sends another text.

Ellie: Maisy and I are more alike than you know. We’ve both been hurt in some way by a parent. While I’ve never known the neglect she had to endure, I was abandoned by my biological father.

I sit back and urge her to continue.

Ellie: I mean, it turned out to be a good thing because he hit my mom. She ran away when she found out she was pregnant with me. That’s when she met my dad—the man who adopted me. He was her doctor. After I was born, my mom and biological father had a run-in where he found out about me. It’s not that I wanted him to be my dad or anything, but I know in the back of my mind I may never truly understand how someone could reject a child for not being perfect.

“He didn’t want you because you’re deaf?”

She nods.

“He’s a stupid fucker.”

She narrows her eyes at me and signs, “Say again.”

I fingerspell, “Stupid fucker.”

She shows me how to sign it.

The waitress comes to clear our plates and offer dessert. Ellie signs, “It’s late. We should go,” so I ask for the check instead.

Someone’s phone rings in the booth behind me, their ringtone a popular tune that reminds me of our car ride to the winery.

Me: Can you tell me about the music in the car? Did you think Maisy would be able to hear it? Because I was told it was unlikely she could hear much of anything.

Ellie: No, I didn’t think she could hear it. But she could feel it.

“Like the vibrations?”

Ellie: It’s more than just that. Different frequencies and vibrations are felt through the cavities in the body. Tactile vibrations are especially felt through the soles of the feet and the palms of the hands. Music doesn’t just land in your auditory canal, it flows through your body. It can affect your mood, even your heartbeat depending on the rhythm, harmony, and tempo of the music.

She snickers then bites her lip as she sends another text.

Ellie: I’m sorry. I fear I may have created a monster. She may want to listen to music all the time now. Your poor neighbors.

“Poor neighbors?” I scoff with an amused snort. “What about poorme?”

Ellie: I’ll buy you some earplugs. Try to be accommodating. Just as music can be inspirational for hearing people, it can have the same effect on the deaf. Don’t be surprised if you end up buying an expensive sound system that Maisy can sit on and ‘listen’ to.

“You feel it through the soles of your feet, huh?”

She nods.

“So then, maybe we could go dancing sometime?”

She shrugs, “Maybe.”

Disappointment courses through me at the non-committal response.

Ellie looks down at her phone, brows furrowed.

I tap her foot with mine and when she looks up, I ask, ‘What?”

Ellie: For the past week, I’ve gotten a call from the same unknown number.

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