She sat there, eyes closed, lost in the music, lost in the voices. The two sopranos were phenomenal and the way their voices wove the story, twining together gave her goosebumps. She might even have cried a little. She wouldn’t admit it though. She loved concerts and operas and musicals.
“So Amy? What did you think?” The slight tremor in Brian’s voice and the brightness in his eyes proved he too was moved to tears. He might not say so though.
What did she think? God there were no words; it was hard to explain. No way to voice it in the way it should be.
In truth, she loved voices. She loved how they betrayed every single feeling someone might go through. If one cared enough to listen, they could guess what was going on in someone’s mind as they spoke. She loved dissecting these emotions, loved hearing what wasn’t actually said. In a person’s voice, she could hear everything that was left unsaid, the pain, the joy, the love, the excitement, the anger. These things that most people didn’t even pick up on, she heard them loud and clear.
She stumbled, losing track of her thoughts. She’d walked straight into a woman who was waiting for the light to turn green.
“Hey, you could apologize.” Amy brought her hand to her chest. “Why don’t you apologize bitch?!”
She did… she…
“She did apologize.” Brian interrupted. He contained his anger, she could tell. Well hear. His voice was clipped, his tone cool. “She signed.”
If her face hadn’t shown it, the woman’s tone would have betrayed her shock and pity when she repeated Brian’s words. When she spoke again she might as well have spoken to a deaf person. She wasn’t deaf. She wasn’t disabled. She was mute; so what? She could still enjoy a good show. She could still live her life. And she could still love hearing other people’s voices.
In response to the Daily Post writing prompt Voice