The Sounds of Silence

A Starman story

By: Yvette Jessen

© 1998, not intended to infringe on any previously held copyrights.

The loud thundering footsteps began to resonate through the afternoon and the only place where Monique could go was to the balcony which was connected to the small, one room, high-rise apartment she lived in.  She settled there with a magazine and a cup of tea.  With the door closed, the vibrations from within the building were inaudible to her.

She glanced through the window, inside the room, and sighed when her eyes landed on the only picture, which was displayed alongside some houseplants, and other mementos.  The picture was of her cat, Sylvie, and although she had died some three years ago, Monique couldn't stand the thought of getting rid of the small kitty bed, which sat in one corner of her New Haven apartment. 

Monique was alone, and when she stepped back inside, she sat down at the small table and rested her chin on her hands.  Aside from her work, the 32-year-old woman had nothing, no family, and no friends.  Her only friend had been Sylvie, and she was gone. She had secured a job as a computer programmer at a large firm in town.  Most of the people she worked with didn't talk to her, but she could sense that they felt uncomfortable around her.  She ran her hand across her ear and felt the small device that was inside.  Even with a hearing aid, she had a difficult time distinguishing sounds, as she was almost completely deaf.

She stood up, reached over, and grabbed another magazine, which sat on the small table.  She returned to the balcony, looked out across the street, and watched as two people ran towards the gate, which would allow access to the building where she lived. 

As the sky clouded over, she realized that they must have been trying to get inside and away from the weather.  She sighed deeply as she felt raindrops fall on her. She got up, grabbed the magazine and went back inside.  She put the magazine back on the table and stretched out on the couch. 

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.  The only times she truly felt at peace with herself were those afternoons when she could connect with Sylvie in her memories. 

o O o

Paul Forrester and Scott Hayden managed to get inside the high-rise building, but they knew that George Fox wouldn't be far behind.  They took off running up the stairs and both of them could hear the sound of Fox's voice behind them.  He was ordering them to stop, but they had no intention of stopping.  If Fox wanted either of them, then he'd have to drag them kicking and screaming.

Ever since his return to Earth, Paul had to get used to living his life on the run.  His only regret was that he had to subject this kind of life to his son.  If only they could find Jenny Hayden and live as a family, but, this seemed to be another impossibility for them both right now.  George Fox knew of Paul's presence on Earth and both of them knew that the determination of the Federal Security Agency agent was unyielding.  He could tell that this was frightening for Scott, and he vowed to do whatever he could to protect his son. 

Paul's breathing was getting heavier, and although he and Scott had some experience when it came to running, he was feeling a little dizzy from the lack of food.  He knew that soon they'd have to find a safe place and get something substantial to eat. He threw open a door, and followed Scott down a corridor which had numbered doors on either side.  It reminded him of a hotel in some ways, but he knew this was hardly the time nor the place to make comparisons.  As Fox's voice got louder and clearer, he pressed his ear against each door quickly trying to detect whether or not someone was occupying the apartments.   Scott was still running ahead of him and Paul could see the fear in his son's brown eyes.

Within seconds, Paul heard his name again and looked down the hallway to see that the door, which led into the stairwell, had been opened.   "We need to find an apartment where we could lay low, Scott." Paul spoke softly to his son, desperation evident in his voice.

Scott nodded still out of breath.  He paused in front of a door and waited for his father to catch up with him.

Once Paul reached his son, he looked back down the hall, and was surprised to see Fox going in the opposite direction, his back facing the two fugitives.   Paul knew that with every second wasted, they would be captured.  Ignoring his better judgment, he placed his hand on the nearest door, the lock gave way, and he turned the knob, and opened the door.  He rushed Scott inside, and followed, quickly closing the door behind him. 

As the door closed, Fox turned around from the other end of the hallway.  As he made his way back through the corridor, he had no idea which door had slammed.  Muttering his annoyance, he walked back in the direction of the stairwell, walked down three flights of stairs.  When he reached the lobby, he rejoined his partner, Ben Wylie.  "It got away," he grumbled grabbing a Styrofoam cup of coffee and taking a long drink.

Inside the apartment, Paul stood by the door, his ear pressed against it.  From listening to the sounds out in the hallway, he could tell that from the stillness that Fox was now gone, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to venture back out into the hallway.

They entered the living room, but when he saw the back of someone's head.  He put his finger to his lips, and Scott nodded looking at the face of the woman lying on the sofa.    Her eyes were closed and a gentle smile played on her lips. 

Paul placed his hand on the woman's shoulder and her eyes slowly opened.    Upon seeing Paul standing over her, she sat up quickly, her eyes wide. 

Her mouth opened as though she wanted to scream, but no sound emerged, and she covered her eyes with her hands as she tried to block out the face of the intruder in her home.

"We mean you no harm," Paul spoke to her, but his look turned confused when there was no acknowledgment from her.  Not sure what to do, he waved to Scott, who came over.

"What's with her?"  Scott asked nervously, his voice barely above a whisper.

Paul shook his head, "I don't know."  Once again, he placed his hand on her shoulder.  When her hand finally moved away from her face, her eyes were wide, as though she was surprised, but Paul could sense that she wasn't afraid, and he withdrew his hand. 

When she eventually made eye contact with Paul, he repeated what he had said, and she nodded.

Paul and Scott stood for a few moments in silence.  When the doorbell rang, Scott's eyes widened in fear. 

When Paul turned around, he saw a brightly colored banner raise, and once the woman saw it; she stood up, brushed by him, and went to answer the door.  He watched curiously as she opened the door, accepted a package, and closed the door without uttering a sound.  Once she returned to the living room, her eyes came to rest on them. 

She indicated with her hands that the two of them should sit down.  She grabbed a pad of paper off the coffee table and reached for a pencil.  Once she had both items in her hands, she began to write.  After a second or two passed, Paul had the slip of paper in his hands.  He looked down and began to read.

"My name is Monique Thacker, I'm deaf, and so if you speak to me, make sure I can see your face."  Paul looked up at the young woman and nodded.

"We're sorry to impose on you, Monique." Paul said making sure he had made eye contact with her.  "My name is Paul Forrester and this is my son, Scott."

Monique nodded, a friendly smile on her face replacing the initial alarm.  She began to write once again and after she had finished, she handed the paper to Paul.  "How did you get into my apartment?  What do you want with me?"

"There is a man who wants to harm us, and we need to find a place to stay for a little while until he leaves."  Paul answered.  "If you want us to go, we will."

Monique shook her head.  She motioned with her hand, which indicated that she wanted them to stay.  It was rare that she had people in her home and the feeling was new and quite comforting to her.  She stood up, pointed to both of them, mimed as though she was holding a cup, and pretended to drink something.

Scott understood the silent communication, "Yes, thank you."

Monique placed her hand near her mouth and her hand came down.  She mouthed the words, and Scott nodded, he understood, she was using sign language.  Once she left the room, Scott looked at his father, "She's trying to teach me some sign language," he said proudly.

Paul arched his eyebrows, "Sign language?"

"Well, yeah, it's the language that deaf people use.  Many of them can speak, but they can't hear themselves, so they use this non-verbal language to communicate with each other.  Look, when I said, 'thank you', she did this."  Scott showed his father. "When she comes back in here, you'll see that she uses her hands a lot, like when she wondered if we wanted something to drink."

Paul nodded, "And, this a real language?"

"It's not a spoken language, but I met someone back in Seattle whose mother was deaf, and he was fluent in sign.  Most people don't know this, but people like Monique probably try to communicate with people who can hear, only trouble is, not enough people who can hear have learned sign language."  Scott explained.

"You mean; she has to always write things down for people, because they don't seem interested in learning her language?" Paul asked, confusion coloring his features.

"Well, yeah.  Like the boy at school, he tried to teach some of us some of the language, but he finally gave up when we showed little interest," Scott said, feeling a little ashamed.  "I guess I never thought I would get the chance to use it, that's why I didn't learn anything."

Paul nodded as Monique returned.  Once she sat some glasses on the table and two bottles of mineral water, she sat down and pulled a small tray of mints off the corner table.  Once her gaze met Paul's he spoke to her, "Monique, my son and I would like to learn some of your language while we're here, can you teach us a little?"

She nodded, and began to sign what Paul had said.  Finally she grabbed her pad of paper and wrote something down.  "OK," she held up the paper and smiled. 

"Cool," Scott said and when Monique looked at him, he thanked her, using the sign she had taught him. 

She nodded, and smiled. "You're welcome," she signed back to him.

o O o

After a couple of hours, Monique sighed, Paul and Scott had learned quickly, and she was pleased.  As they sat and communicated to one another, Monique finally managed to communicate to Paul in understandable sign language, "What are you wanted for?"

Paul sighed, and looked at her, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Monique."

She nodded and smiled secretly, "probably not."

Seconds passed and the doorbell rang.  Paul and Scott were caught in a moment of fear.  "Open the door, George Fox, FSA." Monique saw the flag rise, and she stood up to answer the door. 

Paul grabbed her hands, and when she faced him, he dropped his hands and began signing.  "Please don't open the door."

"What should I do, then?"  Her signs appeared to be punching towards Paul's chest and he concluded that she must have been using these motions to indicate shouting.

Paul rested his hands on her shoulders and could feel her shaking from under his hands.  She was nervous, and he could sense it, but there was something else about her that he detected, but he wasn't sure what it was exactly.

Scott looked at his father breaking into his thoughts, "What are we gonna do?"  The teenager felt trapped, and his eyes were wide with fear.

Monique stepped into her hallway, and opened a closet door. She motioned with her hand for them to enter the closet.  Once they were inside, she closed the door, and turned around.  When she saw their belongings sitting by the front door, she grabbed them, opened the closet door, and shoved them into Paul's arms. That done; she closed the closet door once again, and went to open the front door.

George Fox was still standing at her door; the anger in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by Monique.  "What took you so long to open the door?"  Fox showed her his badge.

Monique looked at him, and shrugged her shoulders.  She backed up so he could enter the apartment.  She walked quickly into the living room and grabbed the slip of paper that she had handed to Paul earlier that day.  She also grabbed the pencil and pad of paper and carried both over to George Fox, who stood in the front hallway.

He read the note and looked up at her, "Sorry," he offered, "Can you understand me if I speak slowly?"

She started writing down something after Fox had addressed her.  Finally after a few seconds, she handed a second slip of paper to him.   He looked down at it and blushed.  It said: "Don't speak slowly, speak at regular speed, I can read your lips, but I can't understand if your words are said too slowly, or too quickly."

Fox nodded, reached inside a manila folder, and pulled out two photos.  He handed them to her after she put the pad of paper and pencil down on the dresser that was next to her front door. "Have you seen these two individuals?"

She looked down at the photos of the two people she kept hidden in her closet.  She studied them intently, and finally after a couple of seconds, she handed them back to Fox, and shook her head emphatically.

"You haven't seen them?"  Fox looked at her, "A witness said they saw two people that resembled them enter this apartment earlier this afternoon.  You've had to have seen them."  He walked into the living room where the three glasses were still sitting on the table.  He pointed to the glasses and turned to face her.  "Miss Thacker, would you please explain what these three glasses are doing here if you haven't seen them?"  He went over and picked up another slip of paper, all that was written on it was 'OK'.   The agent cornered the woman, and spoke again, "I think you're lying, and I think you know where they are."

She shook her head again, grabbed the pad of paper off the dresser, and started writing again, this time she wrote as quickly as she could.  The man in her apartment frightened her and she wanted more than anything to get him out of her home. After a few minutes, she handed two slips of paper to the agent.

"My neighbor and his son are learning sign language," one of the slips began, "and they have probably gotten mistaken for the people you are looking for."   Fox switched pages, "I did see two individuals who may resemble the people you are looking for, but from my balcony, they were running towards the bus stop.  I looked up and saw them getting on a bus which headed downtown."

"Are you sure?" Fox pressed laying the two slips of paper back on the table.

Monique nodded, her eyes seeking his, waiting for him to say something else.  When he didn't, she wrote on yet another slip of paper and handed it to him. 

"Anything else?"  He read the paper, shook his head, and walked towards the door.

At the door, he looked at her dark brown eyes, "Miss Thacker, please accept my apologies, but it's very important that I catch these two people, and I ask, if you see them, could call the hotel where I'm staying?"

Monique looked at him and shook her head.  She was doubtful if the hotel was equipped with a machine like the one she had attached to her telephone.  She took his arm and led him back into the living room.  There she pointed to the machine and shook her head once again.

Fox finally nodded, he understood, the woman he was speaking to was deaf.  He apologized once again, shook her hand, and left her apartment.  She was left standing in the middle of the living room after the door slammed.  Paul and Scott emerged from the closet some seconds later.

Paul placed his hand on her shoulder and she turned around. "Thank you, Monique," he signed to her.

She nodded and handed him the pieces of paper she had given to George Fox.

Paul read them, as Scott looked over his father's shoulder to see what Monique had told Fox.  Once Scott had read the pages, he laughed out loud.

"Why did you tell him that?" Paul signed to her.

"Because you don't seem dangerous, and because you showed an interest in learning sign language.  Most people don't care to learn, and they treat me like an oddity because I'm different." Monique signed to Paul, trying to remember to make her signs slow so both father and son could understand.

Scott smiled; he somehow understood how she felt.

Paul looked over at her and smiled secretly.  There was more validity in her words than any of them realized.

She continued to sign to them, "I don't have any friends here and I'm alone most of the time.  You are the first people I have had in my home and I didn't want your visit to end with this man taking you out of here."

Paul took her hands in his, and smiled at her, "We're grateful to you.  You didn't know who we were, but you took us in and helped us."

Monique nodded, her hands still held in Paul's.  When her eyes met his, they told him her story, a woman who left her home, moved to the city, and wanted to prove to everyone that she could take care of herself.  Essentially demonstrating that there was more to her than meets the eye.

Paul nodded, releasing her hands.  There was a mutual understanding between them, and Paul knew that it was much more than his learning sign language.  He finally spoke once again, "We have to go."

"Wait a minute," Monique signed once again.  She walked out onto the balcony and saw George Fox getting on a bus.  She walked back inside her living room and signed once again to father and son, "You're safe now, the police are gone, and George Fox is on a bus heading downtown."

"How can you see this, we're up on the fourth floor?"  Scott asked remembering to use the signs that she had taught him.  His language was a little choppier than his father's, but Monique smiled, indicating that she understood him.

"My eyes are very keen," she signed to him, "just like my friend, Sylvie."  She handed Scott a framed picture of a beautiful Persian cat. 

"Scott, Monique is like Julie was, she used her other senses to compensate for the one that she had lost."  Paul explained. He looked down at the picture of Sylvie.

Monique nodded, "It was three years ago and I still haven't gotten over her death."

"I'm sorry you lost Sylvie."  Paul signed to his new friend.

She nodded.  It was time for them to go, she could see it in both their eyes  "Thank you for coming to visit me," she signed to them.  "Don't forget the signs that I showed you, there will be others you will meet who will use this language as well.  It is, after all, one of the most widely used languages in the world."

Paul nodded, "We won't forget, Monique.  Thank you so much for helping us."

Monique nodded as they walked into her front hallway and picked up their belongings.  Paul opened the door, both walked out, and he closed the door.  Monique was left standing in the living room.

I hope they will be OK, she thought to herself.  Tolerant people are few and far between here and she realized that these two people knew very well what it was like to be different.  She dug in her pocket, and pulled a small object out, it was a silver sphere very much like what Paul and Scott carried.  She smiled secretly.   Living the life of a human female was interesting, but what proved to be even more interesting was living in the silent world she chose to live in.  In her world verbal communication wasn't common, but here on Earth, it made a difference.

She returned the sphere to her pocket, and wondered if Paul had realized who she really was. 

o O o

As they left the building, Paul looked at his son, his eyes shadowed in surprise.  "Scott did you feel something different about Monique when we were at her apartment?"

"You mean that she can't hear?"  Scott asked.

Paul shook his head, "You won't believe me, but when we went into her apartment, it wasn't an accident.  I traced another sphere and it was Monique who had it.  She came here from the same place I did."

"Are you telling me that Monique is like you?"  Scott asked as they got on a bus, which would head away from the downtown region of New Haven.  "That's not possible, wouldn't she have sensed it about you?"

Paul nodded, "Yes, she would have sensed it, and she did. Didn't you find it strange that she didn't react so fearfully about us being in her home?"

"Well, yeah.  But if she's from out there too, then she's not really deaf, is she?"  Scott asked softly, taking a seat.

Paul shook his head this time. "She is deaf, in both her natural form and here on Earth."

"Is that possible?"  Scott asked.

Paul nodded, "Yes it is.  In fact, she is using this to teach people about the isolation that some may experience in being hearing impaired."

"And she taught us."  Scott said softly.

Paul nodded, "Monique has made it her mission to teach other people sign language."

"You mean, she's not here for the same reason you are?"  Scott said.

"No, I was a cartographer, I made maps of the stars, but Monique is a teacher, and she is here to teach human beings about tolerance, and about a world of silent communication."  Paul said softly.

Scott nodded and looked up when the bus stopped.  A woman and a man were getting on and sat down in two seats in front of them.  Both were carrying on a silent conversation using sign language.  Scott smiled, Monique had been right.

THE END