Chapter 2 - You cannot put a price on self-confidence.

Jonothann learns that Trevor is mute, that maybe, just maybe, the two seemingly polar-opposite boys have quite a bit more in common than they think they do.

Some Things Words Can't Say - Chapter 2 ~ You cannot put a price on self-confidence.

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"Mute? As in... can't talk?"
"Mhm." The older woman replied. "My son hasn't been able to talk since the day he was born."
"Poor kid..." My voice trailed off, and my gaze fell back to the boy. His head had turned sideways, and a quiet sigh of discontent forced itself out of his mouth. "...well, now I understand why he didn't say anything on the bus."

She nodded and turned around, beginning to walk down the wide hallway to the kitchen. "You said you slept on the bus for a long time, hm? I bet you skipped dinner, you must be hungry." She called back. 
"It's okay, I had lunch, I'll live until tomorrow. I don't want to be any more of a bother."
"It's no trouble at all. Please, let me get you something to eat."

As apprehensive as I was to be taking advantage of their sudden hospitality when I was the cause of such inconvenience in the first place, I wasn't about to argue with this woman. I got the feeling that she was looking for any excuse to stop discussing her son; at least, infront of him. She lead me into the kitchen and started exploring the depths of her refrigerator and her pantry while occasionally voicing sighs of disappointment.

"I'm sorry, it doesn't look l've got much in the way of instant food besides canned chicken noodle soup."
"That's just fine, ma'am. Perfect for a rainy evening, like this."

She smiled, an reached up to pull the can down from the cabinet. "Please, call me Samantha. I feel like an old woman whenever someone calls me "ma'am"."

I gave it everything I had to hold back a smirk. She turned her attention back to her cabinets and pulled out a can-opener, slowly working it around the edges of the can.

"Well, thanks again, Samantha. You guys really saved my a*s tonight."
"Oh, it was no trouble at all." She paused, slowly peeling the lid off of the can and sticking it in the microwave. She looked around a few times, as if looking to make sure no-one was listening, before continuing her thought in a more hushed tone. "Honestly, this is the first time since Middle School that my little boy has brought someone back to the house. I'm just thrilled to see him acknowledge another person besides me."

She pushed a button on the microwave, setting my dinner to cook for a minute, and slowly walked over to the table. She sat down on the opposite end from me, but it was small enough of a table that I could just how tired she was. Today had not been an easy day for her.

"Yeah, I imagine that with your son's... condition, he probably didn't had a lot of friends growing up."
She sighed again, the number of sighs in this house now starting to exceed the amount of wrinkles on her forehead. "Your assumption would be correct, unfortunately. Even for an introvert, my boy is a loner. He hardly ever had any friends growing up, and those he did, he didn't keep for long."
"Being completely unable to talk... I can't imagine that would translate well for his social life."
"Not at all. Despite my best efforts, and those of a few valiant teachers, my poor Trevor would get belittled almost on a daily basis. Hardly a day ever passed that he didn't slam the door when he got home and traipse his tired soul upstairs without even giving me a "Hello"."
"But why would people tease him for being mute?"
"Who knows? Children, teenagers, even adults will sometimes shame or belittle people different from themselves, no matter how harmless they might be."
"Well, I can't imagine having to grow up without a voice, but I do know what it's like to grow up without a lot of friends."
"Maybe you and my son are kindred spirits, in a way."
"Maybe. To be honest, I wouldn't mind getting to know him a little better."
"Sometimes, I think the same thing." The woman smiled, and chuckled at the painful remark in spite of herself. "Oh, my apologies, I've left your soup in the microwave for a good five minutes now. It's probably cold by now... shall I heat it back up?"
"No thank you, that'll be just fine."

I got up and walked over to the microwave, pulling my soup out, as the woman handed me a small spoon.

"I know this probably sounds... really odd, but, would it be okay if I went to go talk to your son for a little? He seems troubled about something. I know it's not my place to, but I figure it's the least I can do to try and help him through something, considering how hospitable you guys have been for me already. I mean, taking a complete stranger into your ho-"
The woman put her pointer finger straight upwards across my lips, and shushed me. Much like her son had done to me, prior. "It's okay. My son should be up in his room. The door's probably unlocked, just knock and wait about three seconds before entering."
"Thank you."

She nodded, and I started walking my way up the stairs. It surprised me. The entire time I was talking with her, I was listening. Not my usual brand of nodding-while-occasionally-going-"Mhm" pretending to listen, I actually listened intently on what she had to say. I was practically leaning on the edge of my seat the entire conversation. I had discussed stories with other people much more upsetting and depressing than a mute boy with no friends, but for some reason, none of them ever effected me nearly this much. Maybe because I'd actually got to know a little about him first-hand. Whatever the reason, I just had to let him know that he had a friend in me - even if he didn't consider me one.

Ergo Samantha's advice, I knocked on the door, waited three seconds before slowly turning the knob, and slowly pushed the door open. He was lying on his bed, the back of his head nested comfortably against his pillow, his legs arched infront of him, supporting the notepad he had relaxed against his thighs. For a second, he ignored my presence, probably assuming that it was just his mother coming in to check up on him. But after a moment, he apparently noticed otherwise, because he looked up to me surprisedly.

"Hey, Trevor. Just wanted to ask how you were doing."

Unsurprisingly, he said nothing. his face now took on an apathetic frown, as he dropped his gaze back down towards his notebook.

"Your mother didn't send me or anything, I promise. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked pretty flustered about something."

At the mention of his mother, he picked up his head for just a second, before dropping it back down to his notebook again. I sighed, and walked over to his bed, sitting perched then on the opposite end of it. It wasn't very big, as he wasn't a very big person whatsoever, but it looked like something he had been using since his early-teens. Then again, he looked like he had barely grown since his early-teens. I looked to his fingers, tracing words and shapes along the paper infront of him, and got my own little idea. I reached into my pocket, seizing an extra form I had taken from work to write notes on. I pulled it out, and held it infront of him.

"Well, you may not be able to talk, but I know you can write."

He stared at me, almost indignantly, before grabbing the paper from my hand and writing on it. I leaned towards him, and peeked onto the paper to see what he had written. His handwriting wasn't very good, but I could more than make out what the message said.

"Why do you care?"

"I could ask you the same question." I retorted. "You didn't know anything about me besides my name and my job, but you still willingly took me into your house, so I wouldn't have to sit out in the rain all night. I know barely more about you than you do about me, yet you took a complete stranger into your home. Compared to that, is it really so difficult to believe that I'm concerned for you?"

I hoped that I hadn't sounded harsh or brash, because his apathetic frown slightly turned significantly more depressed, and the last thing I wanted to do was make anything worse.

"Y'know what, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to barge in and try and invade your life and all that. I think I'll just leave you alone no-"

As I was turning around to get up, I felt a hand swiftly grab the cuff of my sleeve, and I nearly fell back onto the bed as he held me firmly in place. His pale, white cheeks were now radiating a soft, but vibrant scarlet. His eyes still wore that sad, empty look I'd almost been getting used to by this point. He was looking away from me, as if this brief physical contact with another human being was more than he could handle. I had no idea whether to take advantage of finally reaching through to him or to shut up so I wouldn't make him even more uncomfortable. I leaned back a little, holding his hand in mind for just a moment, before he drew it back to him and started writing on the piece of paper again. He ended up keeping it to himself for a minute, as if he was hesitating to show me, before finally turning it around.

"The reason I took the bus so far away today is because I was heading to a job interview, but the man I was supposed to meet with never came."

Poor kid.

Having to spend six whole hours on a bus, just to get brushed off so easily. Spending the three hours just to get there desperately pleading with his future self to not screw up, and the next three hours wondering why they didn't even give him a chance. On top of that, he didn't even seem to be remotely comfortable on the bus, even when he did have a seat. Probably because there were so many people on it.

The more and more I learned about this kid, I started to get the impression that his life was just one continuous disappointment after another. How could someone a good four or five years younger than me have gone through so much more than I would probably ever undergo in my entire life?

I mean, look at me. I'm only a few years older than him, and I've got my own apartment, I've got a secure job, I've got a way to provide for myself, and here he is. Still living with his mother. Of course he wouldn't want to acknowledge me.

Of course he wouldn't want to have to feel compared to someone else.

"Hey," I said, a tender smile falling across my mouth. "I know we just met and all, and I know that I couldn't even begin to imagine what hardships you've had to suffer in your life, at the cost of something that isn't even your fault. I know that I'm nothing compared to you... but I still think we have a little more in common than you think. I just hope that you know you can come to me with anything. Really."

His mouth slightly fell, cutely. His blush didn't let up whatsoever, but he was actually able to look me in the eyes for a moment. He dropped his head back down to the paper once more, and wrote:

"Nothing compared to me?"

"Mhm. Think about it. I don't think I would have been able to survive growing up without a voice. Without a way to properly convey my thoughts and emotions. Without a way to be who I am. You found a way to be your own person without needing a voice. You don't think that's at least a little amazing?"

He stared intently at the bedsheets underneath us. The look on his face made me think that this was the first time anyone had ever made him feel this way. Seeing that look on his face made something deep within me want to tell him them again, and again, as long as it took for him to wholeheartedly believe them. But I wouldn't have that kind of luxury tonight, as he fell asleep very soon after that. I slowly made my way back downstairs, and back into the kitchen, where Samantha was sweeping the kitchen floor. I'd ask what she was doing sweeping the floor at 10:10 in the evening, but then I realized that she was still housing a complete stranger, so I decided to not bring it up.

"I'm sorry," She said, almost preemptively. "That's just how he is with everyone. He really doesn't open up to people very well."
"Actually" I smiled, eagerly. "He opened up a lot when I talked to him."
"He... did?" Her eyes widened. Her head fell, as a massive smile crept its way onto her face, before looking back up to me, graciously. "I have no idea how you did it, but thank you. Deep down, that boy is a real sweetheart, but even I have a lot of trouble getting through to him. He normally doesn't let his guard down for anyone, much less someone he just met."
"It was actually pretty easy," I said, encouragingly. "All I did was tell him how amazing he is."
"Oh..." Her voice trailed off, confusedly. "But I've been telling him all his life how amazing he is."
I shrugged. "Maybe he just needed to hear it from someone he didn't feel was obligated to say it."

Samantha was beaming. It probably was a huge relief to her to know that her boy was still human, and could still let people in. She thanked me again, and told me that if I ever needed somewhere to go, I'd always be welcome here. She then slowly made her way up the stairs to her room, and I retired onto the center couch in the middle of the living room, finally allowing sleep to put an end to this day. I fully expecting that tomorrow, we would part ways, and I most likely wouldn't see Trevor or Samantha again.

Destiny - the fickle mistress she is - wasn't about to let that happen.