Maybe Someday(19)



play a guitar if he can’t hear, but again, I don’t

want to be one of “those people.” My third re-

sponse is to automatically say no, because

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agreeing to give someone lyrics is a lot of pres-

sure. Pressure I don’t really want right now, since

my life has pretty much taken a nosedive today.

I shake my head. “No. I don’t think I want to

do that.”

Ridge: We would pay you.

That gets my attention. I suddenly feel an op-

tion three making its way into the picture.

Me: What kind of pay are we talking

about? I still think you’re insane for want-

ing me to help you write lyrics, but you

may have caught me at a very desperate

and destitute moment, being as though

I’m homeless and could use some extra

money.

Ridge: Why do you keep referring to your-

self as homeless? Do you not have a place

to stay?

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Me: Well, I could stay with my parents,

but that would mean I’d have to transfer

schools my senior year, and it would put

me about two semesters behind. I could

also stay with my roommate, but I don’t

know how much I’d like to hear her

screwing my boyfriend of two years at

night while I try to sleep.

Ridge: You’re a smartass.

Me: Yeah, I guess I’ve got that going for

me.

Ridge: You can stay here. We’re kind of in

search of a fourth roommate. If it means

you’ll help us with the songs, you can stay

for free until you get back on your feet.

I read the text twice, slowly. I shake my head.

Ridge: Just until you can get your own

place.

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Me: No. I don’t even know you. Besides,

your Hooters girlfriend already hates me.

Ridge laughs at that comment.

Ridge: Bridgette is not my girlfriend. And

she’s hardly ever here, so you don’t have

to worry about her.

Me: This is too weird.

Ridge: What other option do you have? I

saw you didn’t even have cab fare earlier.

You’re pretty much at my mercy.

Me: I have cab fare. I left my purse in my

apartment, and I didn’t want to go back

up to get it, so I didn’t have a way to pay

the driver.

Ridge frowns when he reads my text.

Ridge: I’ll go with you to get it if you need

it.

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I look up at him. “Are you sure?” I ask.

He smiles and walks toward the front door, so

I follow him.

Ridge

It’s still raining out, and I know she just put on

dry clothes after her shower, so once we reach

the bottom of the stairwell, I pull my phone out

and text her.

Me: Wait here so you don’t get wet again.

I’ll go get it myself.

She reads the text and shakes her head, then

looks back up at me. “No. I’m going with you.”

I can’t help but appreciate the fact that she

doesn’t respond to my being deaf the way I ex-

pect her to. Most people become uneasy once

they aren’t sure how to communicate with me.

The majority of them raise their voices and talk

slowly, sort of like Bridgette. I guess they think

being louder will somehow miraculously make

me hear again. However, it does nothing but

force me to contain my laughter while they talk

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to me as if I’m an idiot. Granted, I know people

don’t do it to be disrespectful. It’s just simple ig-

norance, and that’s fine. I’m so used to it I don’t

even notice anymore.

However, I did notice Sydney’s reaction . . .

because there really wasn’t one. As soon as she

found out, she just propped herself up on the

counter and continued talking to me, even though

she moved from speaking to texting. And it helps

that she’s a fast texter.

We run across the courtyard until we reach the

base of the stairs that lead up to her apartment. I

begin walking up and notice that she’s frozen at

the bottom of the stairs. The look in her eyes is

nervous, and I instantly feel bad for not realizing

how hard this must be for her. I know she’s prob-

ably hurting a lot more than she’s letting on.

Learning that your best friend and your boyfriend

have betrayed you has to be difficult, and it

hasn’t even been a day since she found out. I

walk back down the stairs and grab her hand,

then smile at her reassuringly. I tug on her hand;

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she takes a deep breath and walks with me up the

stairs. She taps me on the shoulder before we

reach her door, and I turn around.

“Can I wait here?” she says. “I don’t want to

see them.”

I nod, relieved that her lips are easy to read.

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