my chair all day if I could, but I canât. My legs refuse to join the rest of me in enjoying the change. They start to tense up after a while and try to cross over to attack each other. Thereâs a cleverly placed piece of chair that sits in between them to keep them from fighting, but it isnât enough, and my thighs start to hurt as my tightened muscles battle the artificial barrier, trying to scissor over one another. Sometimes it hurts a lot.
I concentrate on my throat, trying to persuade it to make a sound. It doesnât work, but the effort makes my breathing change so a whoosh comes out of me like a balloon deflating. It shakes Alexandra out of her thoughts.
She sits down, as I had hoped she would, and looks at me for a second. I try a smile. I know that my smiles do not look exactly the same as other peopleâs. They tend to twist my face up into strange shapes. I imagine that it would confuse someone not used to me. I have had other visitors who immediately think that I am having a seizure and call for the nurse.
Alexandra is different from most visitors. Most people feel the need to fill up silence with words. I wonder, though, if the words that come out into the air get in the way of the ones inside our minds. Maybe if silence was a more comfortable place, people would be able to hear each otherâs thoughts and feelings, and everyone could communicate.
I could communicate.
Alexandra is almost as silent as I am, but it doesnât seem to be the kind of silence that would let us share our thoughts. Her silence seems solitary, a place that only has room for her.
âSo,â she says finally, as if the word means something. She holds up something that she has in her hand. I canât see it very well from the angle sheâs holding it at.
âMusic.â She shrugs her shoulders a bit, making the object jiggle so I canât see it at all. I guess itâs a CD, though. I have a player in my room that no one uses.
âBroadway.â The word sounds forced out into the air, reluctant to leave her mouth. She looks at me with the question in her eyes. I do my best to answer, and I think she understands that I am saying yes. Or maybe she doesnât understand but had already decided to play the music, anyway, and was just asking me to be polite. Either way, I love music, so it works out fine for me.
Alexandraâs eyes turn sad just before she turns away to put the CD on the player over in the corner of my room. I know lots of kinds of music, but Iâm not sure what Broadway is.
I think Iâve heard the word before, but Iâm not sure right in this moment. I hope she tells me when she finds a few more words. It doesnât seem like her favorite music, judging from her eyes, but perhaps I didnât understand. Words arenât always enough.
The music fills the room, and I wonder how long it will take for someone to come and tell her to turn it down. I love the volume up like this, filling the room from floor to ceiling with sounds that swirl around me, seeping inside of me until they fill me up from my toes to the top of my securely held head. The voices sing a story, just like the musical plays that I used to watch at school. I wonder if those were Broadway too. The last one I saw was The Wizard of Oz . It was wonderful. Maybe when Alexandra leaves, I can go back through my rainbow to watch that again.
âHey, howâs it going?â The music is so loud, I didnât even hear Patrick come in. Oh, I hope he isnât here to tell us to turn it down! I smile at him so he can see I like it. Alexandra doesnât smile. She just looks worried, as if she thinks weâre in trouble.
That would be interesting. Iâve never been in trouble before!
âNice tune. You look like youâre enjoying it, kid. Have fun.â He taps me on the nose with his finger and walks out of my view. Alexandra looks relieved heâs gone. I donât think she
I concentrate on my throat, trying to persuade it to make a sound. It doesnât work, but the effort makes my breathing change so a whoosh comes out of me like a balloon deflating. It shakes Alexandra out of her thoughts.
She sits down, as I had hoped she would, and looks at me for a second. I try a smile. I know that my smiles do not look exactly the same as other peopleâs. They tend to twist my face up into strange shapes. I imagine that it would confuse someone not used to me. I have had other visitors who immediately think that I am having a seizure and call for the nurse.
Alexandra is different from most visitors. Most people feel the need to fill up silence with words. I wonder, though, if the words that come out into the air get in the way of the ones inside our minds. Maybe if silence was a more comfortable place, people would be able to hear each otherâs thoughts and feelings, and everyone could communicate.
I could communicate.
Alexandra is almost as silent as I am, but it doesnât seem to be the kind of silence that would let us share our thoughts. Her silence seems solitary, a place that only has room for her.
âSo,â she says finally, as if the word means something. She holds up something that she has in her hand. I canât see it very well from the angle sheâs holding it at.
âMusic.â She shrugs her shoulders a bit, making the object jiggle so I canât see it at all. I guess itâs a CD, though. I have a player in my room that no one uses.
âBroadway.â The word sounds forced out into the air, reluctant to leave her mouth. She looks at me with the question in her eyes. I do my best to answer, and I think she understands that I am saying yes. Or maybe she doesnât understand but had already decided to play the music, anyway, and was just asking me to be polite. Either way, I love music, so it works out fine for me.
Alexandraâs eyes turn sad just before she turns away to put the CD on the player over in the corner of my room. I know lots of kinds of music, but Iâm not sure what Broadway is.
I think Iâve heard the word before, but Iâm not sure right in this moment. I hope she tells me when she finds a few more words. It doesnât seem like her favorite music, judging from her eyes, but perhaps I didnât understand. Words arenât always enough.
The music fills the room, and I wonder how long it will take for someone to come and tell her to turn it down. I love the volume up like this, filling the room from floor to ceiling with sounds that swirl around me, seeping inside of me until they fill me up from my toes to the top of my securely held head. The voices sing a story, just like the musical plays that I used to watch at school. I wonder if those were Broadway too. The last one I saw was The Wizard of Oz . It was wonderful. Maybe when Alexandra leaves, I can go back through my rainbow to watch that again.
âHey, howâs it going?â The music is so loud, I didnât even hear Patrick come in. Oh, I hope he isnât here to tell us to turn it down! I smile at him so he can see I like it. Alexandra doesnât smile. She just looks worried, as if she thinks weâre in trouble.
That would be interesting. Iâve never been in trouble before!
âNice tune. You look like youâre enjoying it, kid. Have fun.â He taps me on the nose with his finger and walks out of my view. Alexandra looks relieved heâs gone. I donât think she
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