Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 111775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Was that the case with Maggie?
I hated to think it because her smile seemed different that first day. She wasn’t checking me out. It was a kind smile, one free of anything other than simple pleasantry between two strangers.
Her dark red hair had been plastered to her forehead, and my gaze had drifted to her chest as she’d unzipped the top half of her coat and tried to dry out the T-shirt she had on underneath. As she fiddled with the neckline, I’d caught a glimpse of her bra, and a bolt of arousal had shot through me. But it wasn’t merely that glimpse that snagged me. There was something about her. Something unique.
She was pretty, yes, but that wasn’t what held me so captivated. It was the layers of emotion in her eyes. I’d never seen eyes like hers. They held multitudes.
I saw her most days after that, and the more I saw her, the more invested I became. She was an unusual person, moving through the world like she was invisible, but she was far from invisible to me.
I reached my childhood home, where I still lived with my dad, and slotted my key in the door. It was a quiet life with just the two of us. On Sundays, my brother, Ross, his family, my cousin, Rhys, and my best friend, Nigel, came over for dinner. Dad cooked a roast each week for all of us. It was something Mam used to do when she was alive, and Dad refused to break the tradition. I was glad for it because my family were the only people I was comfortable enough being myself around. They all knew sign language, so I could communicate freely. I didn’t need to explain myself or wait for people to understand that yes, I could hear perfectly fine, but no, I couldn’t speak.
No, I wasn’t just pretending.
You’d be surprised the amount of people who thought it was some kind of trick I was playing on the world. Some clever way of getting attention.
The simple truth was that when I was six years old, I had a tumour on my vocal cords that had to be removed. There were complications during surgery that resulted in permanent damage.
Ever since then, I’ve been quiet in a world full of sound.
It’s not the most debilitating thing to have to deal with, but it does make life difficult in various ways. For instance, I rarely eat out alone. It’s too awkward trying to communicate with servers to tell them what I want to order. Also, telephone calls are out; though, luckily, these days most people prefer texts. Still, I hate that when we need a plumber or an electrician, I have to rely on my dad to call them.
I’ve also never really socialized in the usual ways, like going out to pubs and clubs. I tried for a little while when I was in my early twenties, but I always felt so peripheral, like I was standing on the outside looking in. A little bit invisible, and I soon gave up.
Perhaps that was why I was so drawn to Maggie. We were two people the world rarely looked at, and we moved through it like ghosts. Sometimes, it amazed me how no one else noticed her as I did. There was this beautiful, unassuming, intriguing woman, and I was the only one who could really see her.
Thinking of her brought back the uncomfortable feeling in my chest. I’ve wanted to know her for so long, and our first interaction certainly could’ve gone better.
I remembered her face the other day as we waited for the bus. She’d clearly been crying, and I wanted to know so badly who’d upset her. I wanted to fix whatever was wrong. But I had no way to ask, and even if I could’ve spoken to her, it wasn’t like she’d tell a virtual stranger about her problems.
Our eight-year-old black retriever, Daniel, was sitting on the stairs and gave a bark when I stepped into the house. I smiled at my dog, his tongue lolling as he dove forward and insisted on licking my face while I gave him ear scratches.
“Shay, is that you?” Dad called from the living room where I could hear the evening news playing. Daniel hurried in to Dad while I took off my coat and boots, then walked into the room and signed at him, Hi, Dad.
“Good day at work?”
It was fine.
He nodded at me, then glanced out the window. “Miserable weather out there. I suppose it’ll only get worse as we head into winter. There’s some chicken and spuds in the oven if you’re hungry.”
Again, I nodded and went into the kitchen to eat, starving after my long shift at the hotel. I set the plate down on the table, then heard the familiar clip of Daniel’s paws as he came and sat down dutifully on the floor beside me, staring up with pleading brown eyes.