Everything I Want To Say

the day the music stopped

Carrie had a terrifying weekend.

She was a freshman in college, first time away from home for an extended period. She had been prepared for many things: fire drills, hard finals, bad food, parties with alcohol, maybe a weird kid offering her weed or something. But she had not been prepared for a bomb threat.

It was one of those things you hear about on the news or see in the movies, but you never expected it to happen on your campus.

When she got the call from the automatic school alert system, she immediately panicked. Who wouldn't? She was luckily done with classes, so she calmly went down to the dining hall with her roommate and they stocked up on food and water. When they got back to their room, they put on their favorite movies and watched movies until they fell asleep on the futon they had bought week two of the semester.

On Saturday, Carrie and her roommate Cassie did homework together, chatting gaily and listening to their favorite music to avoid talking and/or thinking about the threat.

By Sunday, nothing had happened, and Carrie wondered if her panic was over nothing. The email from the school said that the police were still investigating, but the concern was less. They still stayed in, but Cassie was no longer invested in the safety. She was itching to get out. Carrie was still hesitant because the threat was in a building close to their dorm.

On Monday, classes resumed as normal. The threat was officially over and the police chalked it up to a false alarm. A threat and nothing else. Carrie called her parents to let them know she was safe.

"Hey mom." Carrie said when her mother picked up. "Yes, yes I'm safe. Cassie's safe too. They said it was just a false alarm." She turned the corner between the dining hall and another building. She didn't know what the other building was used for. The plaque on the building said it was for education resource, but she wasn't sure what that meant. "Yes, I'm being careful. I haven't seen anything or anyone odd. It was scary, mom. I'm just glad it's over."

She spoke too soon.

Carrie had just made it past the building when it exploded behind her. It threw her forward and her phone flew out of her hand. She hit her head and blacked out.

Carrie woke up. Her head was spinning and her vision was blurry. Someone was knelt beside her in a navy blue outfit, a paramedic. Flashing red and blue lights told her the police were here. The paramedic said something her, but Carrie only heard ringing. They repeated themselves but Carrie shook her head.

"I can't hear you." She said. At least, she thought she said it. She also couldn't hear herself. The paramedic turned to another paramedic.

"Hey, Angela." A blonde paramedic came over. "I think she's gone deaf."

"We need to take her in." Angela advised. "I got it." Angela knelt next to Carrie and helped her to her feet. Carrie wobbled over to the ambulance, got draped in a shock blanket, and had a hard time keeping her eyes open. Finally, she gave up and drifted back into the blackness.

When she woke up the second time, Cassie was holding her hand and her mother was standing over her, wiping her brow. The doctor was explaining something to her dad.

"Where am I?" She asked. No sound came out of her mouth. "Mom?"

"I'm right here, dear." Her mom said anxiously, making sure her daughter could see her mouth. Carrie could actually read lips, a skill she learned out of spite when her cousins would exclude her from their fun.

"I can't hear you." Carrie said.

"You've gone deaf." Her mom was nervously, she could tell by her expression. "From the bomb blast."

"Bomb?" Carrie said, not understanding. Then the events of the day came flooding back. She started crying. It had been terrifying. And this was scaring her. Her mom instantly reached to comfort her. Cassie sat up to receive her hug.

When Carrie went back to school, she had someone to take notes for her in class. She was enrolled in a sign language class. There was a lot for her to relearn about living. Cassie was extremely supportive and Carrie even got to have a cat to help her with the PTSD. It didn't take her too long to readjust.

The hardest part was that she couldn't listen to her music anymore. The once soothing sounds of orchestral music were lost and she couldn't listen to her favorite Disney songs when she was having a bad day. When she related this to a new group of friends, the small group of deaf students, her struggle met almost unanimous agreement. There was one boy who didn't disagree, but invited them over to his house for a surprise. He was a quiet type, as quiet as a deaf person could be. Carrie went home that evening, wondering what the surprise could possibly be.

That Friday night, they all met at his house. They had dinner together, a long meal because of the constant putting forks and knives down to sign at each other. Then he invited them down to his basement. After fishing around in the dark, the lights came on, but it wasn't normal lights.

Blue, red, green, and purple neon lights illuminated the room, some stationary, some slowly moving around. Carrie gasped. These were club lights. He waved them over to the middle of the room and bounced up to a low platform. He did some things, fingers flying over a black table. Suddenly, the room was filled with a deep, booming bass that Carrie could feel.

Suddenly, she understood. He was playing music for them. He was letting them know that the music didn't have to stop. She started tearing up as she started bouncing around, dancing to the rhythm of a song she couldn't hear. She grabbed one of the other girl's hands and pulled her around, forcing her to dance like little kids. It didn't take long for everyone to join in.

That was the day the music came back.