I miss being mute

If you don't talk you don't offend.

I miss being mute

I'd had something stuck in the back of my throat for about a year now. Not painful, but a thick felty layer of what felt like fur, slightly slick, with a layer of slime and gloss, like an old shag carpet stained by a spilled pot of tea. Sufficient to rob me of my voice, to drive me to madness, but not quite pain.

I'd seen the doctors, all of them, none of whom could find anything wrong besides a slight soreness of the throat and recommended to pick up the kind of cheap supermarket lozenges which never work. I would know, I was perpetually clustered with any number of medicines to bombard my illness, none of which had ever proven effective.

As my voice had never returned, I'd eventually found the time to learn sign language. A couple of my closest friends had stuck by me, but as is often the way, there were many more who couldn't be bothered. I didn't think that much of it.

We ventured through town one morning, past an old burger stand we used to frequent when my friend and I worked in the market together. I'd been out late one too many nights, and the once tantalizing scent of fried fatty meats, onions and saturated ketchups was enough to trigger an anti pavlovian response, a sort of retch.

We walked quickly past it. 'One burger please' I said. My friend and I were stunned. He apologized awkwardly, mumbling, but as we walked away I kept unwillingly repeating my request, increasingly louder, almost shouting. Eventually we got a burger just to keep myself quiet. The thing is? It turned out to be exactly what I'd been looking for. I never would have known.

'I'm thinking of getting a couple of new shirts' my voice said for me.

So we did. We spent a few hours, listening to my voice say what it wanted. It turned out fairly well, food, clothes, a couple of drinks. I shrugged my shoulders the whole time, and my friend was..changeable in his mood. At first he was surprised, curious, but quickly he took on a flat tired expression, as if someone had told him a bad joke.

'Ok, that'll do.' I said involuntarily.

'Huh, don't know what...oh my God! Dan, I can talk again!'

'Sure mate. Good. I f*****g learned SIGN LANGUAGE man. Is that funny?'

'What?' I was smiling, glad to speak again, but this had confused me. Dan had sounded so pissed, taken advantage of.

'Tsk..' he walked off, hands in pockets, mumbling.

I'd gotten my voice back, but by the time word had gotten around, there was nobody left to speak to. I miss being mute.

Reviews

[Vasilees Sybissyl]

Your writing is so beautiful! I kinda feel sorry for the poor soul, he lost his voice and when he got it back, he lost his friends. It's so true, people never stick around. And once again, the writing is great. Keep it up!

Love,
Vasilees.