A Word in the Breeze

Veronica (Deaf By Choice II)

Blue Villa was a rather extravagant mansion – no, it was almost a palace! There was a large garden leading up to the house, complete with white rose bushes and a fountain. The house itself was painted dark blue and grey, admittedly a dull combination, but it suited the landscape. Inside, there were rooms and rooms full of antique furniture and books... I began to envy this girl a little, to be honest.

What on earth could be lacking in her life?

There were servants throughout the house, some dusting, some rearranging books, some cooking a meal of soup and broth. They barely noticed the warm draft that swept through the rooms, which was of course, my presence.

Normally I can hear the thoughts of every person within the distance of a few yards, but emotional thoughts are much louder.

I could usually hear Veronica from a mile away.

‘Who cares about anything?’ I had heard her think last time. ‘Books and plants and food... I wish I could destroy everything. I wish I could die.’

I shivered mentally. If only I could find this person and shake her by the shoulders. What's wrong with you? How could you be so violent when you have everything anyone could ever want?

The house seemed to go on forever, and the more I roamed, the more confused I felt. There were open spaces here, and art, and luxury. No sign of gloominess or harm. Only comfort.

The befuddlement remained until I reached the last room. It was a bedroom on the upper floor, and the wall was full of family photographs.

I drew closer to the wall to see them. There was a young man and his wife smiling at me, and between them a little girl with straight black hair. She had a shy expression, but she gripped her mother's arm tightly. There was a scar over her left eyebrow.

In other photographs, the girl was growing up. Her first fracture. A family picnic... Her father holding up a trophy of some sort. Her father in a wheelchair...

The mother seemed to go missing somewhere after Veronica's age twelve. The photographs were less faded then, but the smiles were more faded.

At last, there was a picture of her father, grinning with an incomplete set of teeth. And that was it.

There were no pictures of Veronica alone.

‘Who's there?’ came a voice, a very familiar voice. I'd know that accusatory tone anywhere. Who cares about anything?

I spun around. Veronica was there, glaring at the spot where I stood, unseeing me. Her hands were held up, feeling the warmth of my presence, arms full of goosebumps.

I had to speak to her. I needed to. So I took a human form, that of a boy around her age with earphones in his pocket, and appeared in front of her. She gasped, and fell on to the bed in shock.

‘Wh–who are you?! How did you get into my house!’

‘Shh, listen, please, I'm here to help!’

She stared at me, at my tartan shirt and white trousers, at my beetles haircut.

Okay, so I'm a little old fashioned! ...But tartan is stylish!

She lowered her eyebrows. ‘What are you?’

Rude. But oddly perceptive of her. I sighed and scratched my head in defeat. ‘I'm a... genie.’

She half smiled. ‘Are you really?’

If only I wasn't, I thought, remembering the many times I'd heard her death threats and imaginations of torture. If only I could never have heard you. If only you could be happy with being a spoiled rich kid like you should be!

And somewhere inside me, the dam broke.

‘Yes! Yes I am genie, and do you know what? I am fed up with people like you!’

‘Excuse me?!’

‘I am! All you ever do is whine and stress and moan. I wish I were dead, I wish everyone was dead, ooh, how sad, I'm a princess who has everything in life but I'm so, so – SAD!’

She was speechless for a moment. Then she bit her lip and said, ‘So what do you want me to do about it?’ in a flat tone.

‘I want you to cut it out! Whatever it takes! Because I can hear you, everytime you think something like that. I have the power to listen to every wish, and to grant it, but I'm not going to hang around destroying the entire planet just to fulfill the morbid dreams of the likes of you!’

I knew my temper was going out of control, so I stormed out before I could say anything more damaging – but just as I was halfway across the room, I heard it. A sob.

I turned and put my palms to my head in frustration. No, man. Not the crying. Why did I ever bother coming to this, this attention-seeking, greedy girl?

But it was disrespectful to leave a lady in tears. So I went back to her. Silent tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she had taken in her hand the portrait of her and her parents.

I looked at the wall, and back to her. Stupid genie. Why couldn't I see she was in grief?

I sat next to her on the bed for a moment, and steadily her sobbing slowed. She wiped her eyes.

‘Okay, look,’ I said. ‘I'm sorry. I shouldn't yell at you when you probably have a good reason to be depressed, but... You don't know how much it hurts to hear someone think like that.’

She nodded slowly. ‘But you don't know how I feel. Everyday, day and night, I feel like I'm a ghost. I don't live anyways. So what's the point?’ Her eyes, when she asked me this, were full of the universe, full of doubt and anxiety. I wanted to tell her exactly what the point was, but I had no explanation good enough. What could I say?

‘Is it because you've lost your parents?’ I managed.

She nodded again.

‘Cancer and paralysis. They both died slowly.’

‘I'm sorry about that.’

She was quiet for a moment. ‘After they both left me, life feels meaningless. I dropped out of college. I stopped painting. We've always been rich, so I kind of... Let myself exist.’ She shrugged. I had the impression that even letting herself exist was a big sacrifice on her part.

I shook my head. ‘You can't live like this! Where's your passion, your drive, your dream?’

‘I have no dreams.’

I laughed. ‘Impossible! Veronica Sully, as a genie, I can tell you with authority that absolutely everyone has a dream!’

She smiled and hung up the portrait again. ‘Okay then. Help me find my dream.’

I rubbed my hands together. ‘That's more like it! Now, where to begin? Hmm...’

I walked around the room. Then something from earlier in the conversation struck me again. I spun around enthusiastically.

‘Woah! Wait a second. Correct me if I'm wrong, but... Did you just say you could paint?’