Tainted: Listening to the Silence

THREE

Copyright Credits:

Chuck Taylor All Stars. Copyright 1920. Converse, Inc.

Oliver

I thought that being adopted would be the solution to all my problems. It’s stupid, I know. But truly I thought that I’d be adopted and then suddenly all would be okay. But things weren’t going according to plan. For starters, living with the Andels was a little hard. I’d lived in the city all my life and now I was moving away from it, into the suburbs. Everything was new there, I didn’t know anything around here. There was literally nothing familiar. I should’ve thought things through before I accepted. I didn’t know I’d have to move so far away from everything I ever knew. Logically I knew the distance wasn’t that much. As I watched things go by me through the car’s windows it seemed like a million miles.

I felt like I was leaving my parents behind as I watched everything I knew getting farther and farther away. In the time it took to get there I convinced myself that I’d betrayed my parents. When we got to the house, something seemed to snap inside me. Slowly but surely Vivaldi’s winter began to play in the background. I saw the quiet street where I’d live, the lovely two-story house I’d call a home. All I could think was this is not my house, my parents aren’t here, I betrayed them. The song kept gaining strength, volume, as they showed me the whole house. As soon as I could I went to what would be my room and locked myself in.

They had taken my piano first, putting it in my room before they took me home with them. I spent the next two days locked in my room playing every song I had written before my parents death. I forced myself to remember everything. It was torture but I thought I deserved it. How could I accept someone else apart from them? They were my parents, the only ones. No one else could take their place. No one else should. And still here I was, letting this couple take their place. And I was happy about it too. I felt so lonely, for so many years. I wanted company, I wanted love. Tears started to run down my cheeks, and I hugged myself. This was all a mess. I couldn’t think things clearly.

“Ollie?” Mrs. Andel asked tentatively after knocking on my door.

Her voice startled me and I was able to calm down a bit. I pondered opening the door for her. Then I remembered that I’d unlocked it a while ago. Now, what I wondered was whether I wanted her to see me like this. I didn’t want to. I felt I should get through this alone. But I also didn’t want that. I wanted someone to hug me, to tell me things would be okay. I wanted comfort. This was so confusing.

“Ollie? I’m coming in.” Mrs. Andel said, coming into my room.

I turned to look at her and she seemed tired, older than she really was. She looked like she hadn’t been able to sleep lately. She must’ve been worried about me. They must think it’s their fault or something. I felt horrible inside and I just couldn’t look at her face anymore.

“It’s ok Ollie. We know it’s got nothing to do with us,” Mrs. Andel said, sitting in the bed next to me and putting her hand on my leg.

I turned to look at her again. Really this woman and her mind reading abilities continued to amaze me. How could she know what I had been thinking? How could she always know what I wanted to say? Mrs. Andel laughed and smiled warmly at me.

“Don’t look so surprised. It’s just that your silence speaks louder than any voice I’ve ever heard. It’s not hard to hear you Ollie.”

Hear me? What was she talking about? I wasn’t talking, how could she say she could hear me? Mrs. Andel chuckled and smiled at me.

“You may not understand it right now Ollie, but Jerry and I, we know how to listen to the silence.”

Yeah, right. She’s crazy. End of it. I was adopted by a pair of crazy people.

“You’ll get it someday, don’t worry. Now why don’t you tell me what has you tied in knots? We knew the move would be hard for you, but not this much. Could it be about your parents?”

I turned to look somewhere else when she mentioned them. This was so complicated. I loved my parents more than anything in the world, and I really liked the Andels too. But I felt like a traitor.

“So it is about them. I think I get it now. Tell me something Ollie. Are you going to forget your parents?”

I turned to look abruptly at her, my eyes wide. What was she asking? Of course I wasn’t going to forget them!

“Relax. Just answer the question, ok?”

I shook my head quickly.

“No matter how much time goes by, no matter where you go, or who you’re with, right?”

I nodded, slowly understanding where she was going with what she was asking.

“You see. No matter where you go, your parents will always be up there watching you, and you’ll always remember them. That’s the wonderful thing about the brain Ollie, we’re able to carry our memories with us. Nothing is ever tied to one single place. Just because you leave the city, just because you have new parents, it doesn’t mean you love your parents any less, and it doesn’t mean they love you any less either Ollie.”

And I knew she was right, it just seemed so hard. The thought that I was betraying them remained.

“Ollie, honey, do you think your parents want you to live in that orphanage all your life? Don’t you think they’d want you to be loved, to be cared for? I think they would, they would be happy to see you be happy.”

I thought about it. Mrs. Andel was right, I didn’t think they would want me to feel this lonely forever. The last years had been some of the worse of my life. I’d only known the Andels for a short time, but I already liked them so much. They made me feel safe and warm.

I took a breath and calmed down a bit. All the changes were coming so fast, too fast to deal with them. Not on my own. But that’s just the thing. I didn’t have to deal with everything on my own anymore, I had a mom and dad again. And that was alright.

“Well, food will be waiting for you in the dining room when you decide to come down.” Mrs. Andel, I mean… mom… told me before getting up and leaving my room. My room. Mom. Dad. My house. This was home. I sat up on the bed and looked at all the bags and boxes scattered about. I should start making this my room.

When the next knock came on my door, it was Mr. Andel -I mean, dad- who poked his head around my door. He looked a little taken aback. I guess he wasn’t expecting me to be organizing everything I owned. Then he smiled warmly at me.

“Do you need help?”

I smiled back at him and nodded. I should let him be my dad. Let him help and comfort me. Just like I should let Mrs. Andel be my mom. I should let this be my house, my home. I didn’t want to push them away any longer. For the rest of the week before I started school I did just that. I finished making my room mine and got familiar with the house. I added my own little touches to make it feel like home. I tried to become closer to my new mom and dad. Get to know them. But I guess that particular area would develop with time. Then came school. That’s what really told me just how different this place was from the city. First day of school was ridiculous.

Mrs. Andel drove me to school and just like any parent, walked me to the office. It was something new for me. I knew my parents had walked me to school when I’d first enrolled but I’d been so small I couldn’t remember. It felt nice, walking into a strange place with the comfort and protection of Mrs… mom, next to me. They gave me my new schedule and the receptionist paid no further attention to me. She grilled… mom… about the adoption and the move and me. This surprised me. How did they know already? What gave her the right to ask about something that was none of her damn business? Mom… laughed a little nervously. She glanced at me from time to time. I understood she was telling me to hide my emotions a little better. My frown and growing anger were obvious, but I couldn’t help it. Who gave this woman the right to make my mother and me uncomfortable? Right then the bell that signaled the start of class rang. My mom happily sent me off to class and wished me luck. When I got to class, things became worse.

“Well class, we’ve got a new student today, his name is Oliver Andel. So Oliver, tell us a bit about you.”

This made me self-conscious and I frowned at the floor. I didn’t plan on saying anything. They wouldn’t care either way, nobody ever listened to me. They couldn’t force me. I shook my head firmly.

“Is it true you come from the city?” someone asked.

I nodded slowly. That I could answer. I didn’t know how they knew. I hadn’t talked to anyone and neither had the Andels. My response just released chaos in the room.

“What happened to your parents?”

“I heard his parents abandoned him because they didn’t want him anymore.”

“Are you stupid? They died in a car accident, right Oliver?”

“I heard he’s a prodigy.”

“Yeah! He has played with orchestras and everything. He should join our band!”

“But I heard he doesn’t play anymore. He injured himself or something.”

“Just like his new father. Do you think he knows what really happened? Maybe he could tell us.”

I felt my anger growing with every stupid question they asked. This was none of their f*****g business! I fixed my eyes on the floor again.

“Enough!” The teacher finally yelled, silencing the classroom. “Oliver just take your seat.”

I looked up and stared at him for a little while. That’s it? Just send me to my seat? He wasn’t going to do anything else? Scold the classroom or something?

“Well? What are you waiting for?” The teacher asked, looking at me with an annoyed look.

No, he wasn’t going to do anything. I sighed and went to my seat. The class started and the teacher continued talking about a play they were reading. It sounded interesting enough, maybe I’d read it. I started to take notes. I had to admit the book was sounding more and more interesting. Then a guy came into the classroom and everyone tensed. I looked around. The other students were barely breathing, watching zarefully. Why was the atmosphere suddenly so thick with tension?

“You’re late again, Salvador?” The teacher asked, sounding really mad.

Well, that’s kind of obvious, don’t you think? If he was on time he wouldn’t be standing there. Regardless the kid didn’t say anything, he just rolled his eyes and stood there looking at the teacher. The teacher told him to go to his seat and really sounded pissed this time. The guy rolled his eyes again and made his way to the only desk left, right beside me. The guy looked at me as if noticing me for the first time. He looked at me as he made his way to the desk. At some point his eyes became unfocused. I could tell he wasn’t looking at me anymore. Then he smiled at whatever he’d been thinking. I know it’s stupid but that’s when I noticed he had snake bites. He sat beside me and remained lost in his mind, not really listening to what the teacher was saying.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He had not only his lip pierced but he had tunnels too. He wore what my mind called a rocker jacket. It was jean, not leather, but it had studs, holes, and was frayed in places. His shirt was red, an angry red. His jeans were black, ripped, frayed, and skin tight. He wore a pair of Chuck Taylor All Stars, which were dirty and frayed. This guy was definitely punk. Taking the piercings and everything else out of the picture, he looked normal enough. His hair was dark brown and straight. His skin was beautiful, both in tone and apparent texture. He was really tall and a little on the skinny side, but he didn’t look like a beanpole.

Suddenly the bell rang and the kid got up and grabbed his bag. He hadn’t even taken a notebook out. That’s when he noticed me looking at him and arched an eyebrow. I was so embarrassed. I was sure he was going to make a comment about me looking at him or about how rude it was. Instead he looked at me for a while and then took out a notepad and wrote, “Like what you see?”

Inside I felt like I could die of shame and of anger all at once. I just looked at him, face expressionless, not really believing what he’d said. How cocky could you get? Like what you see? What was there to like?! Did he think just because he was hot, that everyone was just going to fall all over his feet? I kind of wanted to flip him off but I just brushed right past him. Ugh. This town and I just didn’t click together. I didn’t know if I could deal with the nosy people and the cocky assholes. I thought about my parents, both the current and the past ones and calmed down. The next class was a repetition of the first one. The introductions, the ridiculous asking, the stupid spineless teacher that didn’t protect me. The whole thing, over and over again. By the last class I just wanted to get the hell away.

“Hey! Oliver! Is it true your dad killed his parents?” Someone from behind me asked in a whisper.

I gritted my teeth and ignored him. Don’t answer. They’re idiots. Just like the idiots that bullied you. I fixed my eyes on my desk, studiously ignoring everthing.

That’s when I heard the teacher clear his throat loudly and I knew I was in trouble.

“Could you answer the question?”

Question? What question? I blinked feeling lost and getting nervous. The whole classroom had gone quiet paying attention. The teacher didn’t look happy at all. Everyone had tensed up in expectation. Now I knew how that guy from the first class felt. I would’ve asked but the amount of attention I was receiving made my throat close up. Ugh. I didn’t really want to cause any trouble on my first day of school. I shook my head, not knowing what else to do.

“You don’t want to answer the question?” The teacher looked taken aback and angry all at the same time. The situation was getting out of hand.

I shook my head again, trying to convey confusion and innocence. I wasn’t being rebellious, I just didn’t know what the question was. And I couldn’t ask, not with everyone looking at me like that. Vivaldi’s winter began to play softly in the background. I knew I was panicking. Everyone quietly was laughing at me. The teacher asked, angrily to answer the question and I could only shake my head. The teacher held the bridge of his nose for a few seconds, taking deep breathes. Then he walked back to the blackboard. After that, class just resumed and everything went on without event. I wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. At the end of the class I approached the teacher to apologize and explain. He glared at me and handed me a single piece of paper. I frowned in confusion and read it. A detention slip! The bastard had given me a detention slip! I grew angry and indignant. How dare he! I hadn’t done anything wrong! I looked up at him and showed him the paper.

“Yes. Detention starts right after class. You need to go to the music classroom on the second floor. Next time when a teacher asks you a question, you answer, understood?” The teacher said, obviously trying to instill fear in me.

I looked at him for a few seconds. This was really because I didn’t answer verbally?

“Understood?” The teacher asked through gritted teeth, patience running out.

I set my jaw and squared him with my most unwavering glare. You’re not going to bully me into talking to you, asshole. I didn’t even dignify his demand with and a nod or shake of head. I just turned, leaving the classroom with my head held high. I couldn’t say I loved teachers, but I hadn’t actively hated them before. This school was rotten to the marrow. I followed his directions and found what I supposed was the music classroom. There was only a teacher there and she looked kind of grumpy. I handed her the piece of paper, she looked at it, signed it and handed it back. She told me to deliver the slip to the principal’s office tomorrow. Then she told me to go sit in one of the desks. So I did. A few minutes went by and nothing really happened. I was just sitting there, the teacher looking at me. Alright so what did detention consist of exactly in this school? I normally had to investigate and write an essay on some boring topic which would be handed in at the end of the allotted time.

Suddenly she got up and went out of the room. I took a deep breath to soothe my heart. She’d probably be back soon with books or something. I should look around and explore as much as I could before she came back. It was just a normal classroom with some instruments here and there… and a piano. That one caught my attention. I was so tense right now, so angry, so pissed off. I wanted to kill some of that anger with the piano but I was kind of scared. I looked between the door and the piano for a few seconds. I didn’t want to get into even more trouble, but pianos were irresistible for me. Finally, I found my courage and went to sit on the piano bench. I pressed a single key, listening to see if it was tuned.

Oh. That small little sound was almost like heaven. I got my hands on the keys. I hesitated for a second. Then I just started playing whatever came to my mind. Oh God. That felt so much better. I smiled remembering how my parents used to laugh at me when I played the piano. They said that I looked like Christmas had arrived early when I played the piano. They said I enjoyed them as much as a normal kid would enjoy chocolate. Then I remembered where I was. The moving. The town. The horrible day at school. In the city people weren’t like this. There was a certain anonymity there, like you were lost in the masses. But I’m not in the city anymore. Suddenly to my mind came the Moonlight Sonata. The melody changed fluidly. Music, pain, sadness, anger, frustration, everything flowed through my body. The outlets for all those emotions were my fingers. They seemed to move on the keyboard all on their own.

The first movement was coming to an end but I decided to change the melody. I just kept on playing. The melody changed again. The new melody was pure feeling. The piano was just expressing with music all I had been feeling these past few days. It was telling a story. My memories of the city. This new town. My new parents. My new school. The accident. My parents. My old house. Vivaldi’s winter. The song started to play through my head for the second time that day. The volume grew fast. Tried as I may my concentration was broken. Again, everything sounded like chaos, horrible, jarring, cacophonous. I finally couldn’t listen anymore and just stopped playing all together letting out a loud scream of frustration and sadness. When was this going to end? When was I going to be able to let go and move on? When was I going to be able to compose?

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and I felt like my heart would jump out of my chest. I turned around abruptly, thinking it was the teacher. But no, instead it was the guy from before. When he saw the scared look on my face, he raised his hands in the air telling me he meant no harm. I calmed a little and just sat there looking at him. What was he doing here? The guy then, slowly as if any sudden movements might startle me, retrieved a piece of paper from his pocket. He offered it to me and I grabbed it. It was a detention slip like mine. This one was for Salvador Dower who disrespected a teacher. So, this disrespecting issue with teachers was common.

I read his name again. Salvador Dower. Salvador. What a peculiar name. Were his parents Spanish or Latin maybe? I retrieved my own detention slip and handed it to him. He read it and raised his brow at something. What? What was he thinking? Oh. My last name. Andel. He’d probably heard the rumors too. We exchanged detention slips again. I waited for the stupid questions to start but he never said anything. Finally, he retrieved the notepad from before and opened it in the same page. “Like what you see?”

Cocky asshole. I should’ve expected that. I turned back to the piano completely ignoring him. I took few breaths. Focus. I tried a few keys before I started playing again. The music flowed out of my body through my fingers, taking my emotions with it. I wasn’t trying to come up with a song, I just wanted to play. I had no stave paper with me. I should bring some tomorrow. Would I play this piano tomorrow again? Maybe I could come to the music classroom during recess. But would that be alright? What if I became stuck again? It was one thing to yell and be angry in private. This was school, anyone could come in. They’d think me a freak. Maybe I was. Suddenly I hit a wrong key. It felt like sandpaper rubbing against my skin. Irritating to the point of physical harm.

I tried reassembling the whole chord, changing the note that sounded off. It sounded even worse. I tried that little piece again and again trying different combinations. Nothing seemed to work out. Why? Why did this always happen to me? Why did things always go wrong? Finally, I got frustrated and just pressed all the keys at once several times. Stupid f*****g little piece of… paper? A ball of paper landed in the keys right in front of me. I turned to glare at Salvador and he just looked pointedly at what he’d thrown. I turned back to the ball of paper. I guessed he wanted me to open it, so I did. “Try eff-sharp.” Eff-sharp? Which of them? There were five eff-sharps in this goddamned thing! And who asked you for your opinion either way? Like he so much more about music than me or something.

I thought about ignoring this commanding piece of paper. Instead, I took a little breath and thought about the segment I was stuck at. Eff-sharp. It could work if I changed the chord completely. I would also need to restructure a few other things. The melody started playing in my mind, my fingers moved of their accord. My mental music and the piano were in perfect synch. When I got to the problematic part, my fingers imitated what was on my mind perfectly. The changes were flawless. No falter or weird pause. My mind continued telling me what to play and my fingers imitated without further mistakes. I could feel the song drawing perfectly to an end just like it should and happiness began to make my heart beat. I could do it. I could finish a song. Right then the bell rang, marking the end of detention. Everything was lost again. Just like that. Poof.

No, no, no, I thought urgently. How did the chords go? What did it sound like? Something like… I tried it again. But that didn’t work. Maybe it was like this. Or like that. I tried again and again. Why was something that came naturally to me before so hard now? Why couldn’t I compose? When was this curse going to end? When would I stop losing melodies? When would I stop losing the things that were important to me? Like my parents. Suddenly I started to hear Vivaldi’s winter again. It was useless. I yelled again. In the silence that followed I could hear my harsh breathing. When was this going to end? When would this eternal winter finish?

Suddenly I heard something. I can’t really tell you what I heard because it didn’t sound like anything I’d ever heard before. I can just tell you that I heard something. I turned around on instinct. Salvador was still sitting in the same desk. I had forgotten he was here. My cheeks begun to heat with shame. Why was he still here? Was he listening to me play? Nobody would want to hear you play. Not you make such a mess out of it always. He’s probably thinking you’re crazy. Tomorrow’s rumors would claim you were a freak. That you were clinically insane.

Embarrassment filled every cell of my body. And then, I was angry. Angry at him for staring at me like I was an interesting show on the TV. Angry at myself for letting my walls down in a place like this, around a person like this. I glared at him and got up abruptly. I grabbed my bag and left the room. I would never play in that room again. I couldn’t do these things in public. I didn’t want people judging me. In my room there was nobody to criticize me. The thought made me pause. My room. Soon I’d be thinking of it as my house. My home. The Andels would be my family. My parents. Mom. Dad. I smiled ruefully. Maybe when the eternal winter in my heart finally became spring.