When the Stars Aren't Enough

2 - Kaitlyn - Status

Ethan and I were never that close. It was him and Freya that were the close ones. Always laughing about something that I couldn't understand, because they didn't sign it. Ethan is two years older than Freya and I. He has a sandy shade of gold in his hair. Big, round eyes. And a smile that has helped him win over countless girls. He was the last one who I talked to when I became fluent in English. There was never much to talk about. And, he only became fluent in ASL when Freya and I turned 13. It's more my parents that I am close to.

My father works as a manager at a furniture selling chain. He always gets home before 8:00pm, just in time for dinner. Usually, we watch a movie together, with both audio and subtitles for Freya and I. We then go to our beds. Like any teenager, I stay up scrolling through Instagram, and Freya stays up listening to a podcast in her headphones. If I'm being too loud, as to alert our parents we are still awake, she turns the light on and off, quickly, and I know I need to quiet down.

My mother works part-time jobs. She graduated from Cambridge University with a pHD in medicine. In the morning, she rushes to the hospital, and works solely in diagnosing for half the day. She then comes home and prepares dinner, does the laundry, and cleans the house. Freya, Ethan, and I arrive home from school, and usually I'm the only one who offers to help with dinner. My mother and I chat while I make dinner, as it is hard to sign and cook. Freya and Ethan go for a run. Freya is training for a half marathon, as she runs almost 10 miles a day. She always takes Ethan with her. He is her guide, and when Freya enters, he will have to be there, running with her, to guide her through any obstacles there may be. Of course, he is also passionate about the art of running. By the time they come back, my mum and I have finished making dinner, and are out in the garden playing badminton. That's what I am training for, professional singles badminton. My mother has blue eyes, that always looks fierce and passionate - usually with competitiveness. She is fit, and on the verge of wrinkles. When we have finished playing badminton, we set the table for dinner, and wait for dad to arrive. He arrives, sets aside his briefcase, and joins us. Not much talking goes on there, as the house is divided into two languages - the visual, and the verbal. Instead we eat, all of us simultaneously scrabbling for a conversation starter in our heads. Once dinner is finished, we of course watch movies, all of us listening (or in my case, reading) intently to follow the plot. We go to bed, and wake up the next morning at exactly 6:53.

The mornings are always controlled chaos. My parents are both rushing to work, a new problem making them need to arrive early everyday. My brother, fixing Freya and I a bowl of cereal, while we both prepare our own bags, as well as Ethan's. I pack my pencil case, binders, textbooks, and gum, to keep my bag from being too heavy. Freya packs all these and a few more of what she calls essentials. Makeup, a hairbrush, and extra hair-ties to wrap around her wrist. She applies makeup, usually a liquid the colour of her skin-tone, and a pink powder, which she applies to her cheeks. I always found it unfair, my blind sister knowing how to do makeup when I can barely apply lip-gloss. She brushes her hair, picks up her walking stick, slides her glasses on and proceeds down the stairs to have breakfast. Freya never helps, so I pack Ethans' bag myself. I'm sure he never even uses his textbooks, as he is too busy being a high school jock. The only thing he finds of use is a cap with the school crest engraved in the front. I pack his school tools anyway, assured he will use it if he is called upon to present them. I go downstairs to eat breakfast, passing Ethan as he walks upstairs to change out of his pyjamas. I still finish breakfast before Freya, and I'm ready to leave, at the door, before anyone else. I wait for around 13 minutes, re-reading The Lord of The Rings , until they both appear, bags in hand, ready to go. Ethan drives us both to school, playing music loud enough that I can feel the car vibrate. This is how I "listen" to music. I can feel the rhythm coursing through the car. Ethan and Freya are just trying to provide for me, compensating for my forever loss of hearing. But everyone in the car knows that I'd much rather read my book than feel the music. Every once in a while, I see Freya making hand gestures - the kind you make when you are trying to emphasise your point in a verbal conversation. Then out peeks Freya's face, laughing, from the front seat. I only expect Ethan to be laughing too. I stomp my foot on the floor, loudly, and say "What's so funny?". Only Freya replies, sighning something that could only be funny if it is an inside joke. So I continue reading my book, my thoughts so distracting I have to read the same page more than once. The truth is, I have always been jealous of their ability to hear, their strong relationship. I have always been the third wheel in this trio. They always include me, desperate to put our disabilities aside, but there is only so much a deaf person can sign. There is only so much fun you can have with a deaf person.