Between the Barn and the Stage

33

When we got to his house, it was as if nothing happened. He began to write songs again, though. A lot of them. I went around picking up balled paper as if I were a puppy. He also began to teach me a little bit. Just the basic high school education. He said if he ever has to give up singing he'd be a teacher. I was a form of home-schooled, I guess. Mr. and Mrs. Will welcomed me--never even mentioned adopting or stuff like that--and I lived there.

And after a month, it kind of felt like my home, too. I still kept in touch with my friends via Chatham's phone. Went to Gwen's funeral. But it really seemed that only Kieran remained the same. Everyone else who I knew before...everything...just acts like I'm super sensitive and stuff like that.

And maybe I am.

Now I was working with Chatham on a duet, between math and science. He was very strict about my schedule. He kind of reminds me of a kind of like my health teacher, nagging me to do this and that and to get to class on time and blah blah blah.

Yeah, spending almost every waking minute with Chatham gets really annoying.

"So, uh, before we get to science, um...I was wondering if..."

I crossed my arms, waiting for Chatham to finish speaking.

"I mean, you don't have to, but they guys really would like it--I really would like it--if you...um, if--"

"Just frickin say it, man."

"Do you want to join the band? I know I've asked before, but that was before you came to all of our practices and helped with just about every song I've written."

I blinked. "Uh, what? Why?"

"You sound good--better than me, actually--and the Christmas Day parade is coming up and you being there with the guys and I would be cool. And you could start making your own money."

"I...okay, I guess."

"Really?"

"Yeah, if you're okay with having a deaf singer released to the public."

"You've already been released to the public. 'Mysterious woman going to all of Chatham Will's practices: who is this young lady?' they just don't know you can sing and that you're deaf."

I rolled my eyes, and he brought out some paper. Science time, yay.

"Okay, so we started off yesterday at--" he began talking, but my eyes zoomed in on the date on the paper. November the thirtieth, yesterday.

December first, today. My fricking birthday and I forgot.

Chatham waved a hand in front of my face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes..."

"What is so scary about this paper?"

"Oh, nothing...nothing at all..."

"You keep saying all of this so ominously. I feel like I'm missing something right now."

"You are..."

He hit his head on the desk, and I offered some Korean encouragement. He has actually picked up on Korean since I came, and he probably only understood three words. Talking like this reminded me of my job before I had to quit. A deaf waitress is pretty useless.

I had to listen--or watch, actually--to what Chatham was saying, otherwise he'd know I wasn't paying attention if my eyes strayed to the window. Which they did. A lot.