AH! Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews. I am glad you're enjoying this. I'm sort of infatuated with Deaf Bella and MusicNerdWard, I hope you are too.
No beta so forgive me!
Chapter 2- The Beginning Verse…Again
"I'm sorry, but is she…"
"Yes," the small girl shouts. "Bella can't hear so I suggest you walk away now."
"Why would I do that?"
"What business do you want with her?"
"What the hell? Are you her mother?"
"I'm Alice, the best friend," the small girl says, places a hand on her waist and steps forward. Brave little creature. "I'm not her mother, but someone that has been in this position way too many times. Good looking assholes like you hit on her all the time, but once they realize she's deaf, they bounce off faster than their stupid pickup lines."
Bella rolls her eyes and grabs Alice's arm to get her attention. She signals something and Alice huffs. "Yes, I'm giving the speech. It's for your own good."
Bella turns to me again, places her closed fist over her heart and does a circular motion. "Sthorry," she says.
I smile.
"You talk?" I ask, truly intrigued.
"She's not mute, you moron," her sweet friend answers.
"Jesus, you can't possibly be any nicer," I say sarcastically.
Bella giggles.
"Do you also read lips? Oh…oh! That's why you were staring at my mouth. Hi, my naaaame is Edwaaaard," I say causing her to giggle more.
"Don't exaggerate your words, you fool. She can't read your lips if you do that and she can't read all words…not that it matters anyway. We're leaving." Alice turns and looks at Bella. "We're leaving," she repeats, hand signaling at the same time.
Bella signals back with furrowed eyebrows.
"It doesn't matter. You've already had two drinks. Charlie would kill you."
Bella just shrugs and turns towards the bar, but Alice won't give up. She takes her hand and starts pulling her towards the bar's exit.
Bella looks back and gives me a huge grin as her friend pulls her through the crowded bar. "Bye!" She shouts while throwing the peace sign at me.
A few minutes later I find myself still standing where they left me with a smile on my face.
~TL~
I get home just before midnight. I change into clean clothes and grab my journal, ready to write music. I'm determined. I'm going to write the best song ever, even if it takes me all night…or my whole life. I'm sort of buzzed so maybe that will help.
Right as I start brain storming, the goddam TV next door startles me again when my neighbor turns it on.
"Jesus!" I shout and jump into my shoes. I throw my journal on my bed and head over to stop this nonsense once and for all. This is ridiculous. I'm surprised our other neighbors have not complained. She's so inconsiderate and a very annoying individual.
I knock.
And I knock.
I'm not giving up. I know she is there.
I can hear the TV and footsteps.
I start pounding the door. "Hello? I know you're home! Please open the door or shut your damn TV off!"
Suddenly the door flies open.
There, standing in front of me wearing pajama pants and an oversized blue sweater with the words "Go Spartans" printed in yellow is Bella.
The deaf girl from the bar.
She's holding a baseball bat and a mean glare on her face until she realizes it's me. Suddenly her glare disappears and is replaced with a bright grin.
She's so cute.
She waves at me. No words or sound. Just a wave.
That's enough to make me chuckle and feel like a silly schoolboy with a crush.
"Um, I actually live next door and your TV is sorta loud," I say slowly, hoping she understands.
She scrunches up her face in confusion and doesn't move.
"Your TV," I say.
She stares at my lips for a few seconds, but she still seems confused.
"TV?" She asks.
"Yes." I made sure to nod.
She steps to the side and waves for me to come in. She points to where the machine from hell is. I find it, grab the remote and I start turning the volume down.
Holy shit, it was on max.
"You see," I say pointing at the volume bar on the screen. I cover my ears and make a pained face. "Loud. It's too loud."
Her eyes widen as the understanding kicks in and then she starts giggling. "Sthorry," she says after her giggling fit is over.
I chuckle and turn to place the remote back on the coffee table. "It's okay, I understand. My mom always loved to listen to music out loud and it drove my dad nuts," I say and turn towards her. She looks confused again.
Oh. I wasn't facing her while I was speaking. I repeat myself.
Twice.
She finally understands me and gives me a thumbs up to let me know she got it.
She shyly stands with her hands playing with the hem of her sweater and her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
I give her a smile because I don't know what else to do. Besides, she's too adorable just to ignore. I decide to initiate something and finally look around her place.
There is hardly space to walk on. The floor is covered with books and papers. There is a stack of books serving as a lamp holder and another stack is holding a plate with a piece of chocolate cake. It looks like she uses her books as furniture.
Her living room walls are covered in drawings. There are also math books at my feet.
"You like to draw and math?" I ask her.
She nods. She looks around the floor, picks up a random sketchbook from the floor and begins to write.
In concentration she bites down on her lip and squints her pretty eyes.
"Math doesn't need speaking," she wrote. "Drawing is a way of speaking. Thankfully I'm good with both or I would be shit out of luck."
I chuckle and look up at her. She gives me a shy smile and takes the sketchbook back. She scribbles quickly and hands it back over.
"Would you like something to drink? I have alcohol. But I also have water if you're into that kind of stuff. I won't judge you. I promise."
With a smile I answer her. "Beer?"
She nods and heads over to her small kitchen. While she's getting my drink, I take a closer look at her stuff.
Her TV is covered in homemade pictures and drawings. She has a photo of an older man with dark hair and dark eyes just like hers hanging from the wall. She has her arms wrapped around him and is pressing her lips on his cheek. I'm guessing it's her father.
They look happy.
She has more doodles and drawings done with blue pen taped to the wall. I don't have a chance to inspect them any further, because she comes back.
She hands me the beer and I notice she has a glass of water in hand.
"Hey, I'm judging you," I tell her.
She giggles and sits down on her raggedy brown couch. She slides books and papers off with one swoop of her arm. They fall onto the floor, but she doesn't seem to care. She pats the now empty space next to her.
I smile and take a seat.
Nervously I take a swig of my beer and wait for her to start conversation. But then I want to slap myself. I turn to face her and find her staring at me with a smirk on her face.
"Hi," I say stupidly. "I really like your stuff," I say, pointing at her walls. Somehow I feel like I'm speaking too slowly but she understands me.
She places her fingers right under her lips and then moves them away from her face. "Thank you," she says a little too loud, but I can't help but smile. I find it quite adorable that she doesn't know what volume to use.
I copy her hand signal. "So this means 'thank you'?"
She nods.
I remember the gesture she did at the bar when she apologized. "This means 'sorry'?"
She shakes her head and raises my fist to hover my heart.
"Oh, okay. How about 'you'? How do you say 'you?'"
She giggles and just points at me.
"Oh…well that's simple enough," I say into my beer. Before I can drink from it, she pulls my chin and makes me face her. We just met yet she doesn't hold when touching me. I kinda like it.
She points at her eyes and then at my mouth. She repeats the signals and makes a confused face.
"Oh! I said that it's simple…you know that the pointing at me means 'you.' Umm." I turn my whole body towards her. "Sorry," I say and signaling at the same time.
She giggles and claps.
"Goodth jab," she assures me.
"How did you learn to do that?" I ask her. "How did you learn to read lips and say words? Have you always been deaf?"
She holds her hands in front of her.
"Sorry," I say and signal. "Too much? Too fast?"
She raises her eyebrows and nods.
She pulls her doodle sketchbook and starts writing. As she does this I can't help but stare at her. Not that her messy apartment isn't something to admire, but I'd much rather stare at her pretty face.
Her face is heart shaped with a feminine jaw. There are very small and light freckles covering her cheeks and her small nose. Not too many and not too little, but just right. Her bottom lip is fuller than her top lip and her long eyelashes move perfectly each time she blinks. She isn't wearing any make-up so I know her beauty is her own.
She looks up, catching me checking her out. She blushes and starts chewing on her bottom lip again, before handing me her sketch book.
"I'm sorry. I didn't catch all your questions. It's tiresome at times to read lips for a long time. If you don't mind, could we resort to writing for the rest of the night?"
"Of course. But I blame that water. You should really slow down. Friends don't let friends drunk lip read…is that joke okay? I didn't mean to offend you…maybe I should write with a pencil…I tend to word vomit…even in writing. I should have an eraser at all times."
She giggles, hands me a pencil and playfully slaps my arm.
"You're silly. I thought the joke was funny. No need to apologize. I think your word vomit is…endearing. You see that. I thought about it before writing the middle school adjective 'cute.' Take notes, you newb."
It's my turn to laugh.
"Thanks. I'm glad I am middle school cute."
"Your name is Edward, right?"
"Yes and you're Bella."
She nods. "I'm your number one fan, Ed."
I roll my eyes. "I was terrible."
"I wouldn't have noticed. You'll do better next time."
"Why are you so sure?"
"I'm not, but you look legit up on that stage. Leather jacket and slick hair. That stubble makes you look tortured by the evils of love. Isn't that what everyone sings about? Oh, and don't forget the charming good looks. You'll make it with just looks. No need for actual talent, you stud."
I laugh.
"What did you do wrong anyway? Do you suck at singing?"
I chuckle. "I forgot the words to my songs."
"Oh, that's bad."
"Very. It's humiliating."
"Why did you forget? Did someone else write the songs?"
"No, I wrote them. I just don't like them."
"Why?"
"They aren't special. You know how every band or singer has that ONE song?"
She giggles. "Actually, I don't."
"I'm so sorry. I kind of forgot we were writing, not talking."
She giggles again. "No worries. So every musical genius has that ONE song. Go on."
"Well I don't have it. I've been writing and writing and I just can't seem to come up with that one song. I have a few decent ones, but nothing great. I just don't feel them."
"I'm going to help you write it."
I chuckle and nod. "Where do we start?"
She takes off her sweater and I curse at my eyes. They automatically go on a journey; discovering the mysteries of her porcelain skin. She's wearing a blank tank top and I can see the small freckles lightly dusted over her shoulders. My eyes then travel up her feminine neck and stop at her eyes. She's busy away, writing on her sketchbook.
She finally hands it to me and raises her eyebrow. She taps the part she has just written with her pencil to make sure I read it.
"Please check the song topics that your heart desires to sing about," it reads. "Please mark all that apply as bravery is encouraged." After that, there are multiple options with small check boxes next to each.
I laugh at her silliness, but she pushes the sketchbook further into my hands and claps. Her furrowed eyebrows and hand gestures let me know that she is serious.
I sigh and hand it back to her with my choices marked with an 'X' and my own two cents.
Love X
Lust X "I always wanna sing about that."
Mommy/Daddy issues
Money "I'm not a rapper."
Breakups
A bad girlfriend
A good girlfriend? "Why was this option written in very small text?"
Dreams X
Some deep shit nobody will understand unless under the influence of some drug X "HAHA! By far my favorite option."
I hand her my answers and she giggles, scribbles something and hands it back.
"I read about the 1960s and psychedelic music. I don't know what you hippies are into, but I'll try and help you."
I roll my eyes at her and write back.
"Do you read a lot?"
"Are the books scattered all around my pigpen not enough?"
"Smartass. I think it's cool that you're into art, reading and math."
"I can master all of those without needing to hear. Besides, I love reading. I love words. They help me picture what I obviously can't hear. Each word the author uses to describe a sound, a phrase or even the yelling with anger or the verbal declaration of love, makes it easier to imagine a world with sound. I can easily imagine a world I don't know about and it makes it easier for me to live in it. "
"That's beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as this hit song we're about to write…which by the way I will never hear. You can laugh it's a joke…anyway, let's brain storm. Lie down."
She lies down and I do the same with my legs facing the opposite direction. I place my head next to hers and scribble on the sketchbook.
"Now what?"
"Now we think."
"Maybe a beer will help me think better."
"Maybe the actual thinking will help you think."
I laugh, but she brings over several beers anyway and then returns to the same spot on the couch.
We write back and forth.
Song ideas.
Bad song ideas.
Jokes.
Okay song ideas.
More jokes about the jokes and bad songs.
She doodles.
I add to the doodles. I'm not much of an artist, but she fixes the final doodle so it's okay.
More beer.
More doodles.
Besides the cartoons, Bella really can draw.
Our fingers are filthy with lead. We leave finger prints all over the pages of the sketchbook, but Bella manages to draw eyes and arms on them to make them look like people.
She takes my last beer and downs the rest of it and bounces to her feet.
We now have six pages worth of conversation in her sketchbook and 6 empty beer bottles. She flips over to a blank page and starts writing. When she is done, she hands it back to me and heads over to the TV.
"Let's not think about it. Maybe it'll come to us that way."
I turn at the noise of the TV that is on again. It's still somehow loud and it's getting louder. Bella turns it on to some music video channel.
An obnoxious hip hop song starts booming.
"No, no!" I shout, waving at her. I walk over to her and cover my ears. "This music is awful!" I shout, then I remember I should not exaggerate my words and repeat myself in a normal tone, feeling weird because I can't hear myself talk and for a moment I imagine this is how she feels everyday of her life.
It's unfair. Before I can feel any more pity for her, I repeat myself.
"This music sucks."
She shrugs with a grin and without any care of my musical taste. She grabs my hand and places it over my chest and places her hand over her chest.
"I don't get it," I say.
She rolls her eyes and just when the vibration of the hip hop beats start roaring in my chest, Bella starts to dance.
She lets go of me, closes her eyes, keeps her hand over her chest and begins to move her head and arms like a girl from a bad rap video.
I laugh. I laugh so hard that I can feel my face heating up. I don't know if it's the booze or the fact that she's so damn cute.
Her movements don't match the beats, but she doesn't seem to care. She opens her eyes and huffs when she sees that I'm not dancing. She takes my hands and pulls me towards her. She moves my arms until I'm forced to follow her bad dance moves.
She grins when I finally give in. I give into her craziness and I don't mind one bit.
Not even a little.
I don't know how many songs pass, but I suddenly find myself lying on her couch drenched in sweat and with sore cheeks and an aching stomach from laughing so much.
She takes deep breaths to calm herself down before reaching over and grabbing her sketchbook. This time she takes a little longer with it so I study the pictures on her wall. There are more of that man with the dark hair and I spot one of Alice, her friend. She is grinning with an arm wrapped around Bella. They both look like they are in their teens. They must be friends since forever.
Bella finally hands me the sketchbook and another laugh escapes me.
She's drawn a little cartoon version of me dressed in hip hop clothes. I have a long chain around my neck and a backward cap.
"Were you inspired?" She scribbled at the bottom of the drawing.
I smile at her and answer back.
"I'm afraid not."
"I guess we'll have to keep trying."
~TL~
My head is killing me.
My back aches and my neck is worse.
I open my eyes and jump up when I find Bella standing in front of me.
"Sthorry!" She says.
I quickly forgive her though. She's freshly showered and dressed up.
"Good morning," I say. I must look like shit. The hangover is awful and I feel like death, especially when I look at her and there she is looking gorgeous. Her hair is neatly curled again, framing pretty face.
"Moooning. Sthcool…" she manages to say and points at herself. "Sthcool for…" she opens and closes her hand.
"Oh, speech school? Speech therapy?"
She nods proudly.
"That's great! Well, let me get out of your way," I say and rub my face. I grab my shoes and start heading out the door.
I stop when I feel her small hand in mine. I turn and face her, but she runs back into the living room for our sketchbook.
Ha, our sketchbook.
"Last night was fun. Thank you."
"Yeah it was. We'll be seeing each other a lot. Since we're neighbors and all. I mean you don't have to see me if you don't want. Though I would like…"
She snatches the sketchbook from my hands when I start erasing, reads and rolls her eyes.
"Quit your word vomit and I'll see you later. Have a great day."
I close my apartment door behind me, jump in the shower, drink water like there is no tomorrow and decide to nurse my hangover before I have to go to work.
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. I bring my hands up to my face and realize that they are still stained with pencil.
I laugh, even though it makes my headache worse.
Paul McCartney is staring at me from my Beatles poster on the wall.
"Hey, Paul. You wrote some of the best and silliest love songs ever! But I bet you never had as much fun as I did last night writing zero songs!" I laugh like a maniac by myself.
Yeah, nobody's ever had that much fun.
"Be jealous, Paul. Be jealous."
Let me know what ya think! Also, is it too early to give Edward and Bella nicknames? Haha
For those of you asking about Roughneck, I am currently working on that new chapter! I won't let it go.
Adios.
