Amalie

Silence

When superpowers first emerged in the world, it made headlines.

The first was about an eleven-year-old Ugandan boy who caused a sink hole to appear where he stood, swallowing up his house. A shaky video of authorities extracting him from the two square feet of dirt that hung suspended above a deep crater was played and replayed in every news media outlet. Experts debated for days over whether the scene where the remaining dirt crumbled as the boy was lifted into the air was simply a freak accident. People moved close to their screens, dissecting the low-quality video frame by frame, coming up with theories and explanations, each as wild as the next. But even as the world was still reeling from the first, a second headline came in like a storm pushing people back in their seats as they stared at a viral photo of a Japanese girl. It was taken from behind where she can be seen staring up at the frozen curling tips of a towering tsunami wave that was inches away from descending upon her – and a 20-story building full of people.

One after another the reports came, from everywhere in the world, each story as incredulous as the next. I have seen the news about it everywhere, but I never thought it could happen to me. Nor could I imagine my power to be so different. 

I had my eyes closed, fingers massaging my temples as I felt a headache coming. My mind felt numb amidst the swirling of voices surrounding me that even loud music and cheap headphones could not drown out. They said it was only proper I wore black to my mother's wake. Little did they know that if the dead could speak, my mother would scream at me to go change into something brighter because she thought I made black look depressing. So now I sat beside the ornate casket wearing clothes my mom hated wondering which of us was more unhappy about the situation.

I finally decided that it was my dear mother who now had to be quiet and lay still – two things she hated doing when she was alive - as her relatives argued about the future of the family business. Had they just been leeches to my mother's success and wealth, I would have kicked them out already. But they have been at her side when she built the business from the ground up and stayed loyal even through the worst days at her sickbed. This argument had been a recurring one and despite my mother's best efforts, she was unable to settle it before she passed. I watched as the argument escalated from a not-so-casual comment to a full-blown debate. I tried to be understanding but the longer it dragged on, the more I just wished for silence.

Then it happened somehow. I was not sure exactly when but I realized that the voices stopped. I opened my eyes, wondering to what I owed my gratitude to that made everyone shut up. But they hadn't. In fact, they had taken to their feet, heatedly arguing. Maybe these earphones I randomly picked up in the convenience store were of better quality than I thought. I pulled them out to inspect them but as soon as they popped out from my ear, I froze. I saw their mouths opening and closing, and their faces beginning to flush with anger. But it was as if they were fish underwater and I was watching from outside the fishbowl, I couldn't hear anything.

I've gone deaf. It was the most logical explanation. But even as I thought it, I knew it was wrong. I could still hear the music I had been blasting, now just a faint sound emitting from the earphones in my palms. I hit pause on my phone screen and looked around me. Other sounds became more apparent. The creaking floorboards as people paced the room. The gentle ticking of the wall clock that told me we would soon be called out to lunch. The wind chime softly singing to the breeze my aunt let in through the window because she felt the room was stifling. Somewhere in the house, my mother's favorite Carpenters song was playing. Why do birds suddenly appear... I could hear the words faintly echoing through the walls as it once used to when she was still alive.

I must have looked dazed because my aunt suddenly came to me, worry written on her face. She opened her mouth to say my name but I didn't hear it.

"What?" I asked and as if the question popped a bubble, all sound returned. The argument assaulted my ears again, making me flinch. My aunt talked to me over the noise, "Amalie, dear. Are you feeling alright?"

At her words, the argument died. They all turned to me as if they had just remembered that it was I who was recently orphaned. I could see the sympathy plain on their faces.

"Yes. I'm fine." I said. They didn't look like they believed me but I saw this as an opportunity and decided to play my part, "If it's alright, can I have a moment alone with my mother?"

My aunt looked over her shoulder and in silent assent everyone began to leave. She turns to me once more before going, "Of course, take as much time as you want. We'll be outside when you're ready."

I thanked them as they filed out the room.

Had my mother still been alive and sitting in her wheelchair, she would have looked at me meaningfully as the door closed behind them. "Finally," she would have sighed in relief, leaning back in her chair to take in the quiet as their footsteps and voices receded. The ticking of the clock, the sound of chimes and her favorite song. I look over to the casket, softly humming the tune in her place. It was in that moment that I could believe she was truly at peace.