Louder than Words

Chapter Four

"You know, I learned in psychology once that humans aren't built for loud noise. There's these tiny hairs in our ears, and if there's too loud of a noise, the hairs can break, and they never grow back. Which is why people can prematurely go deaf."

I watch as Rachel slowly signs her response. She's been tutoring me ruthlessly for weeks now. Luckily I'm a fast learner. That would suck. I'd rather be blind.

We're both sprawled across her bed, music blaring from Rachel's phone. Just like the rest of the house, Rachel's room looks like it would normally belong to a grandma, but the "grandma vibes" are buried under Rachel's own flair. You can barely see the flowered wallpaper past the band posters plastered across the walls. Fluffy monochrome rugs attempt to hide the pink carpet, while jet black curtains fight against the all too cheerful sunshine. Instead, Rachel relies on artificial lighting from the white Christmas lights she has zig-zagging across her bed, shelves, and walls.

"If that's the case, would you still risk playing the electric guitar? I'd hate to imagine what damage concerts can do to your ears."

Rachel doesn't hesitate. Of course it's worth it. We can't spend our whole lives being careful, because who knows how much of it is wasted effort. Shit happens. I'd rather go deaf having spent my life playing music than give up concerts. You?

I'm not as quick to answer. For me, music is the fuel that keeps me going. The thought of not being able to hear it fills me with dread. But if I spent the rest of my life carefully monitoring the volume of my music, I don't think I'd be properly enjoying it. I might be a quiet person, but sometimes I like my music loud. Like during road trips, spontaneous home alone dance parties, or simply when trying to block out unpleasant sounds via headphones. And, of course, concerts.

"I think it'd be worth it. Being deaf would really suck, but I don't have to hear to write songs."

Rachel scowls. Must be great being a songwriter. If I went deaf I'd have nothing left. My life would be meaningless.

"That's not true!"

Really? Tell me, what do I have besides music?

"You have Geoff, and I think you'd make an excellent photographer, just saying." I sweep a hand across her room and the many photographs. "I also think you should take up blogging. Think of all the followers you'd get just for being mute."

Rachel grabs a pillow and proceeds to slam it onto my face. I fight fire with fire and pummel her with the nearest pillow.

Here we are, two people in their twenties, having a pillow fight.

When Geoff opens the door, I am using a pillow as a shield as Rachel ruthlessly batters it with two throw pillows.

"Help!" I yelp.

Geoff remains where he stands. "This is not what I expected when I saw that the bedroom door is closed."

The pummeling stops so Rachel can throw a well-aimed pillow at Geoff's face.

Geoff laughs. "Sorry, sorry! Guess I interrupted something." Knowing what's coming, Geoff blocks the next pillow aimed his way. It bounces off his raised arms and lands on the ground. "Anyways, I'm up here with some good news. Dan's Pub and Chug wants us to perform tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?" I cry.

But when I look at Rachel she isn't at all alarmed about the last minute performance. Her eyes are gleaming with eagerness, her smile theatning to split her face.