Silent Night

Chapter 1-2

Lucas

You can’t miss something you’ve never had, but I admit that, during Christmas time, I’d like to hear at least some sounds. Not all of them, of course, but a few.

From what I see, some sounds put a smile on people’s faces, and I think it would be worth knowing what they are. Other sounds cause grimaces: some of them come from the cars, I assume, ‘cause I’ve seen people flinch while crossing the street with their hands full of packages. And then there are sounds like the one coming from the bell of that Santa Claus who passes in front of me every now and then.

I have no idea what a sound is like, because I’ve never heard anything in my entire life, but I can feel vibrations, especially the ones coming from the subway, or from car engines.

I am a silent witness watching a silent life passing by.

I am deaf and mute, and when I try to speak, what comes out must sound weird, because more than once I caught a glimpse of embarrassment in people’s eyes. So, I stopped speaking.

I know sign language and I read lips, so I understand enough. And if I must make myself understood, I always find a way.

I’m an orphan. I arrived here in New York with my friend Pierre, who had big plans. It’s a pity those projects ended up in smoke, literally, as he began to sell drugs. And because he consumed more than he sold, his suppliers were angry with him. When he asked me to have s*x with one of them who thought I was cute so he could repay a portion of his debt, I decided it was time to leave. Immediately. Even though up until then Pierre was the one who fed me and provided a roof over my head. It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to end up that way.

I ran away in the middle of the night. Too bad I didn’t have a place to stay. I went as far as I could and arrived in this part of town a few days ago. I’m looking for a job, even a miserable one, but people don’t want to risk hiring a deaf guy. They say it’s a matter of security, but I don’t think you need to have a superfine hearing to do dishes.

I won’t stop trying, but in the meantime I have to find a way to make some money, otherwise I’ll always sleep outdoors and the weather is very cold now. I’ve found a sheltered spot in one of the alleys nearby and have spent three nights there. Luckily I have my books with me. Only a few, because I couldn’t take them all with me, but at least they keep me company. Perhaps that’s why I chose to beg outside a children’s bookstore.

Books have always had the power to create sounds in my head, sounds I’ve never heard in real life. Reading, for me, is like paying a visit to the normal world, rather than to a fantastic one.

I’m curled up in a corner and usually don’t raise my head when someone drops some coins on the cardboard in front of me. I feel ashamed to show my face. I feel ashamed to be in this situation.

Only when I notice a flash of red near me do I decide to peek out from under the edge of the hood to see what it is.

I lift my face and stare at a pair of dark eyes. They study me with a strange expression, surrounded by a fake beard and white wig. It’s Santa Claus with his bell. His eyes look young, but I have no idea what he wants. His beard is moving, so I assume he is talking to me, but I can’t hear him, obviously. I blink and look at the cardboard. There is more money. Maybe it was him. I nod to thank him and then go back to hide myself from the real, silent world, finding shelter in the one inside my head, which is alive with the words of the book I’m reading.

* * * *

Pete

Holy s**t, he’s gorgeous!

Okay, I must admit I wasn’t expecting that as I dropped my dime. I’ve never seen his face and I didn’t expect it to be…like this. When he looked up, I was speechless for a moment and, considering my ability to talk at inappropriate moments, it is a sign. A sign of what, I don’t know, but certainly a sign nonetheless. The color of his eyes is…amber. I’ve never seen that shade. A hazel so clear they look like small jars of honey. His skin is pale, except the tip of his nose, which is as red as mine, and his mouth is small, full, and pink. I must have a strange expression on my face because he looks almost intrigued but says nothing.

“It’s really cold tonight! Aren’t you freezing here? Come on, take the money and go grab something hot. It’s freaking cold!”

Those gems of honey look at me as if they don’t understand. I’m about to ask him if he doesn’t speak English, or if he is deaf, or if he’s so stoned he thinks I’m really Santa Claus, when I see him nod and go back to reading his book.

That’s it. A nod.

He probably has a few screws loose.

Or he’s on drugs. But no, he doesn’t look like a junkie.

“As you wish. I was just trying to be nice. Sometimes I try so hard for nothing, huh.”

No reaction. He is already back to reading his book and completely ignores me. Well, f**k it! I won’t give him another dime.