Page 27 of Deafened By Silence
I recollect a series of unread emails from a couple months ago. I’d scoffed at them then, the same way I’m scoffing now.
“Nice to know you’ve been talking about me behind my back.” I roll my eyes, already retreating back into my room. Huxley takes this as an invitation to follow me inside.
“Loosen up, Clayton. You might pull something.” He drops onto Kenneth’s bed, crossing his ankles. I take my time, putting Jeremy’s guitar away, not caring for the eyes watching my every move. I close the closet on the guitar and the shoe box of memories I leave stashed there, finally turning back to face the man relaxing back on his hands.
“I’m not interested.” I declare. In fact, the last thing I want to do is sit around and talk about my feelings. I’m going to internalize them like a big boy. Moving to the door, I gesture for Huxley to get the fuck out. He glances over his shoulder at the window, weighing up his options.
“The sun’s finally out. Take a walk with me.”
Huxley doesn’t wait for a response. He stands and strolls out, stopping by the stairwell. I watch him from the doorway as he leans against the railing, props one leg up, and folds his arms patiently. He’s really not going away, is he?
I drag on a pair of worn sneakers, grab my beanie, and head out, catching up as Huxley leads the way down the staircases without saying a word. We push through the doors and step outside into a burst of sunlight.
Against my better judgement, I must admit Huxley was right. The break in the rain and dark clouds would have been a shame to miss, but I’m careful not to look like I’m enjoying myself. I tug the beanie low over my hair and squint against the glare. My hands disappear into the pockets of my gray sweatpants, the same shade as the hoodie I’m wearing, as we walk side by side toward the courtyard.
If I keep my gaze straight ahead and avoid looking too closely at him, I can almost convince myself I’m walking with Jeremy through the campus he once dreamed about. I brace for the usual twisting knot in my chest, maybe even a wave of nausea at the lie I’m living, but neither comes. Instead, there’s a numbness deep-rooted in my chest, as if I’ve come to terms with my reality. I know he’s not coming back. I know I need to start living for myself.
Huxley and I pass the stone fountain and drift by the main hall, where auditions for some end-of-semester talent show are in full swing. Judging by the voice currently massacring what sounds like an opera ballad, I make a mental note to avoid being anywhere near here that evening for the sake of my ears.
Students sprawl across the lawn, soaking up the rare sun like plants finally being given light. A fresh wave of posters featuring Rhys line the path through the open greens, each one plastered with his smug face above the black and yellow basketball jersey he doesn’t deserve to wear. Huxley lifts his head, taking in the sight and muttering under his breath about spoiled assholes. I smile on the inside, wondering if I initially misjudged the sophomore.
Veering left, heading in the opposite direction to the gymnasium, Huxley leads me around buildings I’ve not bothered to explore before. There’s another five sets of dorm halls over this end of campus, each one having a coffee house next door. Alcoves have benches hidden beneath overhanging foliage, creating small retreats away from the hustle and bustle of classes and the stress of having a roommate in your space constantly.
We walk for far longer than I originally anticipated, and I find myself content to match the slow, steady pace Huxley has set. There’s no urgency in his steps and apparently no real destination in mind, which suits me just fine. It beats laying around in bed, wasting my free periods contemplating why I care about being lonely when I actively avoid socializing at all costs. For once, I’m going to let someone else take the reins and allow my mind to switch off for a while.
At some point, we wander off campus completely, threading our way through the outskirts of the town that borders Waversea. The buildings grow taller with each block, yet the noise steadily diminishes. People here are too absorbed in their errands to notice much of anything, including each other. The shift in atmosphere offers a strange relief, as if all my usual problems have been left behind with the dorms and lecture halls, making it easier to take in a full breath for once.
As Huxley guide us down a narrow alleyway tucked behind a string of storefronts, suspicion starts to rise. There’s a Chinese restaurant on the corner, the scent of ginger, soy, and something sizzling reaching us as the kitchen prepares for the lunch crowd. My stomach cramps at the smell, sick of surviving on leftover sandwiches that Kenneth brings back from work. He always insists they were going to be thrown out and that I’m doing him a favor in eating them. I don’t thank him the way I should for his blatant lie to make me feel better.
We don’t hang around, Huxley heading straight for the rusted fire escape attached to the side of the building. He starts climbing, the groan of metal beneath his weight echoing faintly. I look back towards the street, debating what I’m doing here after all but I’ve come this far. The railing rattles as I follow.
I don’t know what I was expecting once I reached the rooftop, but it wasn’t as unremarkable as this. A flat concrete expanse dotted with feathers and bird shit, a metal vent unit, and an aging generator that hums in a constant low vibration. All around us, rooftops stretch out like the tops of neatly stacked boxes, their shapes and sizes varying in a tight, organized grid. Traffic lights blink at intersections, while the distant whir of a drill carries over if I strain to hear it. Above it all, a flawless blue sky spreads endlessly, the kind of sky that makes you think there might be something bigger out there, even if you’re not sure what it is. At moments like this, I can take a step outside myself and see how small my world really is, how temporary every problem becomes when placed against the sheer vastness of everything else.
Huxley steps up onto the short ledge that borders the roof’s edge and lowers himself to sit, legs dangling freely over the side. I join him, resting my arms on my knees while casting a glance over the drop below. The air is unnaturally still today, the kind of stillness that makes every sound more noticeable. I let it settle over me. The generator drowns out the scattered conversations down on the street, the odd coo from a pigeon and the flapping of wings slicing through the drone. I should be disgusted but weirdly, this reminds me of home. Of climbing fire escapes with a spray can in hand. For the first time in what feels like weeks, maybe months, I feel something close to peace sitting above the world rather than being a part of it.
Without speaking, Huxley nudges my arm and tips his chin further down the street below. I wait until he leans forward tofollow my line of sight. There’s a McDonald’s drive-thru across the road, and a long line of cars has backed up into the street. As they inch forward, one person in particular grabs my attention. It’s not just anyone, but Garrett, with his messy brown hair and unmistakable swagger. I squint and tilt my head.
“What the hell is he doing?” I mutter mostly to myself, but Huxley answers anyway.
“Our brother Dax is back in town for the week. He wanted some time alone with Avery, so he’s dared Garrett to get him out of the way for a while. Garrett never backs down from a dare.” Huxley lifts his brow knowingly. This just confuses me more. Not just because their set-up is strange, a group of grown-ass men who call each other brothers and share the same girlfriend, but also by the simpleness of it. Pranks, dares, it’s all pointless, yet Huxley is smiling. He looks like a man who has carved out a piece of life just for those he deems worthy. He looks like he knows the answers to all of the important questions.
Shaking myself, I return to the scene before me. At the front of the drive-thru, Garrett is wearing a cardboard car strapped around his waist by ropes hooked over his shoulders. It’s been painted and taped to resemble a racecar with apparent sponsorship, complete with a hood, side panels, and a trunk. A hell of a lot of time and effort has gone into the craft project. Tin foil rims and mirrors catch the light, while cut out windows allow him to barter with the server. Even from this distance, she appears exasperated by the animated, colorfully inked man before her.
Successfully receiving his order, Garrett lets out a whoop and starts revving his imaginary engine, zipping around the idling vehicles and screeching to a halt with his own mouth-made tire sounds. He pauses dramatically for a mother and her kid to cross at the zebra crossing before tearing off on his legs again, vanishing around the corner to a chorus of angry horns.
“What a dick,” I roll my eyes before I can catch myself. A smile tugs at the edge of Huxley’s mouth.
“That he is.” Huxley nods knowingly. “Trust me, when I heard it was just me and Garrett returning to Waversea with Avery, I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy. Life with Gare can be infuriating, definitely unpredictable, but never boring. He’s family to me.” Huxley stares off into the distance, the faint humor in his features suggesting he’s reminiscing. I leave him to it, burrowing further into my own confusion. I could never live with someone as erratic as that, never mind share a girlfriend with them. It would be like moving in with Rhys and Harper. Now that is a laughable scenario.
Huxley’s smart watch buzzes with some sort of reminder, bringing our sort reprieve to an end. His attention is back on me after he silences it and fishes out a protein bar from his pocket. “Here, eat.” He tosses it at me. I try to argue but he won’t have it, pulling out his own and taking a few lazy bites while watching the world unfold below. I sigh, and eat the damn thing anyway.
From up here, it’s like watching a chaotic performance on a stage. People crash into each other without looking up from their phones, some barreling through the crowd like they’re on a mission. A pair of women in workout gear strut by, gossiping while speed-walking in sync, and more than one guy turns to check them out as they pass. A rottweiler drags its frazzled owner down the street, straining to catch up to a chihuahua being pampered inside a designer handbag. After the longest time, Huxley finishes his snack and pushes the wrapper into his pocket.
“We’re not so different, you know,” he finally speaks. I look up to the sky, wanting to snip back with,‘there it is.’I knew there was a reason he brought me up here, and it wasn’t to watch the perplexing spectacle that is Garrett. “I’ve experienced a trauma in my past too. I might not know yours, but I see the hauntedlook in your eyes. For a time there, I stopped eating, stopped caring if I woke up the next day. I kept waiting for something or someone to pull me out of it, but it doesn’t work that way. Even if you’re surrounded by people who want to help, you have to be your own reason to keep going. You have towantto keep going. Otherwise, we might as well jump and let fate have its way with us.”
Huxley’s eyes lower to the steep drop between our feet and the sidewalk. His legs shift slightly, a ripple of tension passing through his shoulders. There’s no barrier on this ledge, no fence to stop either of us if we truly wanted to push off the edge.
Sadly, the only reason I can think of not to is the fact that my grant money will stop and my mom’s state pension won’t cover her care home costs. Other than her occasional moments of clarity, she wouldn’t even realize she’d lost both sons and could continue living blissfully unaware inside her mind.
