Muted

Chapter 19

A few weeks went by in my life, and I was setting up the thanks giving table at my grandmothers house. We're a small family, so I didn't have to do so much.

It's just me, my mom, Aunt Lu, grandma Rosanne, grandpa Richard, and of course my dads parents grandma Edith and grandpa Lionel. They were still considered family to us, and plus my dad was and only child so they celebrate the holidays with us.

All of my grandparents–plus my mom–said their prayers. Aunt Lu and I didn't join simply because Aunt Lu and I are atheists.

Aunt Lu was a vegetarian, so she pretty much ate around anything that had meat on it, whereas everyone else enjoyed the thanksgiving turkey. They all had grownup discussion around the table and kept talking about the football game that was about to be on any minute.

My mom in I never really got into football because my mom was always too busy with work and I just had a hard time understanding it. I waited until we were done with dinner and the football game to excuse myself all the way to Rebel's house. It was tradition at this point for me to spend some of the holiday with him.

Upon my arrival, Rebel immediately brought me into the living room to join in on his and Sam's game of Uno. Sam kicked our butts at the game, which was honestly no surprise.

The more and more I hung out here, the more and more irritated I became. I was never irritated being at their house, it was just that Aiden and Dillon were such close friends once again that he'd be coming over soon. I was doing anything in my willpower to be out of their house before Dillon could get there.

Aiden was sure to let me know when he was close by. They all knew very well that I wanted nothing to do with him, I didn't say why, just that I changed my mind about him.

At one point I genuinely was hoping for his friendship, the next I wanted him, and now I just couldn't stomach him. I could care less about his ocean blue eyes, his soft baby pink lips and his really dark hair. See I'm doing splendid without him and totally haven't been thinking about him at all.

Once five o'clock rolled around, I was notified that I could leave now. I've never been more eager to leave the Anderson's house in my entire life. It was like an absolute breath of fresh air. I was quick to walk towards the general direction of my house, but lost sight of direction because my stupid brain distracted me. Just my luck!

I stopped for a moment and looked around to analyze where I could possibly be then saw the Carter's graveyard.

Ironically enough, there's two graveyards and funeral parlors owned by people with the last name Carter. No relation, and Ines Carter does exist. She's just not Dillon's sister. In fact she's the owner of the graveyard my father resides in and she's eighty seven years old. I got to meet her once within the last few weeks. She's a sweet lady. And just like me, she's deaf!

I made my way into the graveyard finding my fathers grave with ease. I'm assuming my heart really wanted to be here if it's where my feet decided to drag me while I was lost in thought.

I sat down in front of my fathers tombstone, saying my hello's. I didn't want to be here long, so I just had small talk with Dad before getting up to kiss his tombstone and leaving.

I didn't want to admit it, but for the first time in a long time, my heart really ached to see his face. Usually talking to him through the rock that lay above his grave was enough, but lately I really wanted to talk to him.

I wanted to talk to him more than anything because I was scared to let my mom know that Dillon and I were no longer friends. I could tell she really liked him and I didn't want to ruin that. I'm pretty sure having his company was the equivalent to what it would have been like to have a son. Or... at least a child that could hear you and respond immediately.

I usually never felt shame in the fact that I couldn't hear, nor the fact that I didn't have the knowledge I could to speak, but I was craving having it in my life. I was sick of people picking on me and not being able to defend myself, I was sick of speaking with my hands, and I was sick of people not knowing what I was saying to them. Most importantly, I was sick of being me if it meant I was teased for being different.

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