Give Me Ears To...Ch. 1

Give Me Ears To Hear You With
Chapter 1: Shae's Story

I like to think that I had a nice childhood. At the very least I grew up in a nice, rich neighborhood, as my mother likes to remind me. She says how I should be proud that we have a big house and don't live in the slums. Proud that I'm not on the street. I'm happy for her that she likes our lifestyle, but when I was little none of that mattered to me. Back then, life was like never-ending summer. Even in the snowy days. I remember lounging in the yard, lying on my belly in the grass and watching the bugs creep through the leaves.

You know, from down close it feels like a completely different world. It's like a miniature city, full of life. I'd catch ladybugs and send them back to their children, reminding them that their house was on fire, and bagworms were a treat in the summer. I'd catch them up in a wooden bugbox and watch as they grew up into dull gray and brown moths. Not pretty butterflies, but the whole transformation was a beautiful thing to me. On the hot, dog days of summer I'd put on my swimsuit and wrap myself in a towel and walk to the public pool and pay 50 cents to get in and swim with people I didn't know, but whom instantly became my friends.

We'd dive for pennies and play Marco Polo, until one of our mothers came calling. At night I'd run about in the front lawn and play tag with the neighbors, and catch fireflies until my mother called me in, clucking at how dirty I'd gotten since morning, and sending me off to my bath. Afterwards my father would come into my bedroom and tuck me in with his big strong hands. He'd read me a story or two.. or three if I could convince him, with his deep voice cracking as he made it go high in imitation of the characters he read about. I'd always giggle madly until he'd finish, and then he'd brush my hair back and smooth the covers, kissing my forehead and telling me to sleep tight. No, I didn't feel lucky that I had a big nice house, or that I was rich. I felt lucky because I was loved.

The first real time that I remember anything being different was after I turned 5. That year was when the accident happened. I don't remember much, the doctor's say I probably won't ever have those memories back.. and I'm glad. My father says that the neighboring boy had invited me down to the creek to play. That was the day that the city was using dynamite to clear some limestone from the creek so they could lay concrete and put a bridge over it. I guess I got to close.

Everyone says I'm fortunate that I have no visible scars.. some days I wish I did. Instead, the deafening blast took my hearing. I have been deaf ever since. Now, I know what you're going to say. I should be happy that I have a great life and a wonderful family, and I am. But I can say that ever since the accident, my mother has been getting further and further from me. There were times that she and I were close.. we had fun when I was little. But after the blast.. She grew distant.

I guess I'm being cryptic. It hasn't gotten to an unbearable point in the last 13 years, although since the start of my senior year in high school she has been a bit worse than usual. First, let me explain my mother. She has always been a very self absorbed woman. She comes from money and has never done without. You could also says she's the sort who knows she's beautiful and talented, and easily looks down on those beneath her. She likes nothing more than to take my older sister, Corinne, out to the best mall and go power-shopping all day in matching Chanel business suits. They come back from their outings, giggling about how many store clerks asked if they were sisters. You see.. she isn't a bad mother, she just doesn't always have the time, or the presence of mind, to be the best mother.

My father, on the other hand, is wonderful. I get my poetic side from him. He loves to come dancing into the room and make up silly yarns about him being the elder king protecting his auburn haired, green eyed princess from any handsome prince that may come near. He wasn't born into money, like my mother, but worked hard at both wooing her, and making his recording business. He has always been my knight in shining armor, a wonder and a blessing. I love him dearly.

I suppose I should stop describing my family and get on to the heart of my story, all that sentimental jazz that eats at the marrow of your heart, or something like that... Well, I'll get started now, and pray that I don't bore you with silly pratter.

(Stay Tuned for Chapter 2... Shae's Story, Continuedd)