Page 18 of Deafened By Silence
Another flicker of movement flashes behind me, this one no different to the countless of others trying to ask if they can take a seat around my table. I point blank ignore them all, muttering to myself, ‘God, I love being deaf.’ Except this jostle nudges my seat and causes me to jerk forward over my laptop. Huffing, I pause my music and spin around to look one way, then the other, but everyone nearby seems just as disinterested in me as I am in them.
Slowly returning to sit forwards, I tuck my chair in further, my stomach practically pushed up against the desk, and roll out my neck. On the second roll, my gaze hitches on a steaming paper cup beside my textbook, white with a lilypad logo. Thick black marker has been scrawled across the side with a name that reads more like a social media handle. Beanie26.
Despite my reservations, I lift the drink and inhale the rich scent of roasted coffee. It smells like heaven to a girl whose assignment deadline is closing in as fast as the walls around her. The cup is warm in my hand, batting away the oppressive beat of rain hammering against the skylight. For one simple moment, I just sit and inhale deeply. Not that I’m going to drink it. Accepting a drink from a stranger would be pure insanity, no matter how much my throat tightens with the promise of just one small sip. On the table, my phone vibrates with a notification from the school app and I lunge for the distraction.
Beanie26: I didn’t know how you take your coffee, but seems like you could use one.
A shudder trickles down my spine. I stare at the message, then cast another searching glance at the tables around me, slower this time. It takes me all of three seconds to find him. Endless pools of black onyx arrest me from across the open space, Clayton’s expression open and cautious. He seems panicked, as if he might have overstepped. In one hand is his phone and in the other, a matching coffee cup. After a beat of staring, he ducks his head, his blonde hair poking out from beneath a gray beanie hat.
Beanie26: It’s not poisoned, I assure you.
I swallow, grappling with what to do, with how to respond. The smart thing to do would be the focus on the assignment I came here to finish. To avoid all distractions, yet here one is, steaming in my hand. It’s as if Clayton knew I was drowning in pressure and caffeine withdrawals and emotional repression. So I stop kidding myself, lift the cup to my lips and let the sweet caffeinated nectar of a caramel latte soothe my throat. Severalheads turn my way, alerting me to the fact that I was moaning, but damn I needed that.
Readmylips44: It’s perfect, thank you.
Not expecting a further reply, I push my phone aside and lift the book on molecular diagnostics I should be reading. My eyes are starting to burn as the words on the page jumble, my face growing itchy the way it does when I’m over-exhausted.
No amount of revision could have prepared me for the speed at which these classes race by, and I’m starting to question why I thought I would be able to do this. Becoming a clinical scientist is the dream. I want to be on the forefront of the modern technology which is constantly changing and improving lives thought to be ruined. But if I don’t graduate, all I’ve done is killed my self-esteem and wasted all of my parent’s inheritance. No pressure, Harper.
I sip the latte, hanging onto it like a lifeline while my mind starts to shut down. Doubt creeps in, forcing me to reread the same sentence over and over in the hopes that it will eventually stick. My phone vibrates again, jolting back to the present.
Beanie26: I find it difficult to open up in person, but I wanted to apologize for what happened in the woods.
Blinking rapidly, I run through the events of that night, wondering why Clayton is apologizing for me being chased by a vicious hog and assaulted by someone with small dick syndrome. Then I remember the kiss, or rather the way I threw myself at him and my lips didn’t even make contact. My cheeks burn at the memory.
Readmylips44: Let’s just forget about that whole night, deal?
Beanie26: Deal.
Across the tables, Clayton lifts his coffee cup in surrender and I do the same. A small smile plays about my lips for my next sip, more than just the coffee blossoming with warmth in my belly. This is good. An ally, someone I can have secret little messages with when my coursework is sending me suicidal. And not to mention, keeping Clayton on side is a good idea for whenever Rhys’ next volatile mood swing occurs. I’m adjusting to this small weight being lifted from my shoulders when Clayton messages again.
Beanie26: So is this shithole everything you hoped for or have you realized this is where dreams come to die yet?
Readmylips44: Hah, don’t even ask. Maybe they should get you to write the brochure, you could have saved me a journey.
I stifle a small laugh, but across the way, Clayton is as hard faced as ever. He’s leaning on his hand, flicking through a textbook without taking any of it in. There’s no sign of mirth, no hint if he intended to be serious or jokey. I watch him openly now, wondering just what it would take to crack Clayton wide open. He can pretend to be indifferent, he can trick people into thinking he has no depth, but I see what others don’t. There’s a world of trust issues and pain hidden within Clayton’s mind. There’s a reason he has an impenetrable outer shell, never letting anyone in until he’s sure if they are worth his time.
Beanie26: So what is it that’s dragging you down?
He messages after catching me watching him intently. I don’t pretend to have been doing otherwise, leaning back in my chair.
Readmylips44: Peterson’s assignment due tomorrow. Even if I typed all night, there’s no way I’m getting it finished in time. I might as well give up at this point.
Beanie26: Oh yeah, that was a rough one.
I manage to withhold rolling my eyes at the insinuation that Clayton has already done his assignment. I’ve barely managed through a third of it, and I’m certain most of that is pointless repetitive waffle.
Beanie26: I know a guy that sells essays if you need a pass this time. He has them all saved on his computer from previous years. I can get you one printed off by morning.
Sells essays? The casual way he’s worded it doesn’t make it sound so bad, like it’s just a shortcut on a map that everyone’s secretly following. But I’ve always been one to call something as I see it. It’s cheating. Am I at such a low already? Then again, I’m exhausted, drowning and dangerously close to giving up. If I keep slipping, I’ll never catch up. Like Clayton said, I just need a passthis timeand then I’ll be able to catch up. It’ll be a one off.
Readmylips44: Ummm, okay. Just this once. As soon as I’m on track, I’ll be fine.
Beanie26: I don’t doubt it. You’ll be outshining all the rest of us in no time.
A small involuntary noise escapes me, which I hide behind downing the rest of my coffee and packing up. I’m careful not to look up, hiding the flush of my cheeks behind the curtain of my wavy hair. Don’t overreact, he was just being friendly.
Shouldering my backpack, I scan at the bookshelves bordering the circular seating area. Now that I don’t have to stay up all night failing at an assignment anymore, perhaps I could allow myself a respite. A chance to reset back to the girl I was back in Aunt Marg’s attic. Casting a glance at Clayton, he gives a small two finger salute as I pass, ending our interaction until next time.
