Eddie's Hearing Aids

You leave the office with the after-work glow that always accompanies the end of the work day. There’s something of the magic of childhood in that feeling. That barely perceptible feeling of freedom and possibility. That’s what the sensation is, the feeling that anything is possible. It has vague echoes of believing in Santa, or the Easter Bunny. But it’s only a miniscule fraction of those old feelings of magic and infinite possibility. You ache with nostalgia as you reminisce about the charm of that time in your life all the way to the train station. You await the train on the platform barely aware of your surroundings. When the train clatters into the station with a whine of brakes you’re torn from your reverie. You’re elbowed, nudged and you’re pretty sure you’re sniffed as you step onto the crowded train car. The after-work glow dissipates with the fart of an anonymous fellow passenger.

When the train reaches your station, you can already feel the mundanity of the first part of your commute being wiped away from your memory. The neural pathways that were formed in the last twenty minutes are so lacking in stimulation that your brain shuts them down, leaving them to decay like roads going to towns that were never built. You approach the bus stop anticipating that the second leg of your commute will be as wildly unremarkable as the first, when you notice the music.

The steady thump, thump of bass from a hip-hop song serenades you as you traverse along the side walk. As you get closer you can make out the lyrics to the song being played. The rapper is providing a graphic description of a man’s member and her feelings on the subject aren’t subtle. When you discern the music’s source you fail terribly at stifling a laugh. The blaring song is being played through speakers mounted upon the most magnificent scooter that you’ve ever seen. It’s a deep maroon color with gold trim. It’s clearly custom detailed and well maintained. The elderly man sitting astride the chariot is parked just outside of the medical clinic that’s within sneezing distance of your bus stop. The old guy tilts his head to the side and mumbles something to himself, then he looks up at you.

“Hello.” He offers, with a large and genial smile.

The teeth in that smile are either dentures or have been immaculately maintained for many decades. He has a short fuzzy bit of stark white stubble that, combined with his pink pallor, gives you the impression of a peach with a handsome face carved into it. His silver hair is well coiffed with a stylish swoop that’s somewhere between a comb-over and a pompadour. It looks as though it would be right at home sitting atop the head of a downtown hipster. He has a seasoned handsomeness that makes you certain that he’ll smell of a particularly manly cologne should you get close enough to catch his aroma. His silver swish of hair sways fetchingly in the gentle late spring breeze as he bobs his head in time to the thumping music.

     “Hi.” you reply with a nod. You’re curious about this man, but not quite sure if you’re curious enough to have a conversation with a stranger. It’s obvious that he would be up for a chat, though, so you test the waters a bit by adding “How’s it going?”

He responds with a little dance, his fists coming up to his chest and wiggling, not quite in time with the music. You laugh and decide that you’re up for a bit of a chat after all. One way or another, this guy seems like he’s going to be interesting. You were wrong about the smell as well, instead of cologne you get a faint whiff of patchouli.

“Name’s Eddy.” He says.

You give your name and there’s an awkward moment when you think that this is the moment when you should shake his hand, but he’s just come out of the clinic. Clinics, you’re distinctly aware, are where sick people go. You can’t come up with a satisfying hand shake alternative, though, so you just say the first thing that comes to your head.

“That’s a nice set up you’ve got there.” You manage, gesturing at his speaker.

“Oh thanks!” he says drawing out the “Oh” to highlight his enthusiasm. He lifts his phone and waves it at you.

“Spotify! I can’t listen to music with headphones, it bugs my hearing aids. I hope it doesn’t bother anyone. I like coming out here to listen to my music. It keeps the hearing aids quiet when they’re whining.” He says with a look of annoyance.

You nod in vague understanding as he goes on.

“I used to come out here to smoke instead of to listen to music, but that’s what got me coming here in the first place. So, I quit.” He says this in a matter of fact tone, tipping his head conspiratorially towards the clinic. He looks like a bartender taking a bribe from a cop to point out the booth where a mafia kingpin sits, all blue nerves and rodent fear. You make some sounds of consolation and sympathy.

“You’re looking as healthy as an ox.” You tell him. It’s not a lie and it revives his smile.

     “But I still feel better out here than in there, so I use the music as an excuse to get out. If I stay in, I always end up looking around the waiting room trying to figure out what horrible maladies brought people in. I can’t help but think about what diseases might be floating around in there. Yeah, Doc, I seem to have a nagging case of dripping fever, or maybe whooping diarrhea.” He scrunches up his face in mock mimicry of this hypothetical plague patient. Apparently having whooping diarrhea makes your nose scrunch up and your chin jut out. You laugh and abashedly admit that you do the same. He offers up a laugh of his own and you’re immediately glad that you decided to chat with him. His laugh is high, easy and infectious.

     “That’s not the only reason that I come out here. I really do like the music, too. Black people have always made the best music, I’ve thought so since the 60s.” You wince in anticipation of the conversation taking a racist or insensitive turn as you’ve found that it sometimes can with people of his generation. You’re relieved when it doesn’t and you gradually relax as he goes on.

     “White people have always stolen black people’s music way on back to Elvis and probably before. I should know, I was there.” He chuckles again, then he pauses suddenly and looks behind you.

     “Oh, eh. Watch out there.” He gestures for you to come away from the clinic door that you hadn’t noticed you were standing in front of. A full second later it swings open and a teenager with a leg in a cast comes bursting out, careening along with reckless abandon on one leg and a pair of crutches. He appears to not even notice your presence as he goes swinging off into the parking lot with awkward leaping lurches. Eddie swivels his scooter to watch him go, cursing the boy under his breath. You realize that the kid would have blasted into you if you had been standing in front of the door that old Eddie here just pulled you away from. You glance back at the opaque glass door as it closes and wonder how he knew the kid was coming. You certainly can’t see into the clinic and can’t imagine how he could have.

     “Well that must be why they had me talk to you.” Ed mumbles, half to himself.

     “What’s that?” You ask, leaning in.

     “My hearing aids.” He says, tapping a finger to the flesh coloured devices that wrap themselves around the back of his ears. “They told me to talk to you.”

     “Did they?”

     “They did, and I know it sounds crazy. They tell me things about what’s going to happen.”

“Do they?” You ask, aware that you sound like a pre-school teacher repeating yourself to a child. You’re unable to stop yourself though and you feel like an ass.

     “Yup. The way I figure it I’ve either got a pair of hearing aids that can tell the future, or I’ve lost my marbles. Either way, the aids are always right.”

“Always? Like can they tell you what the winning lottery numbers are going to be?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. Believe me, I’ve tried. I don’t know how many times I’ve been to the casino begging for them to make me a millionaire like a lunatic. Eventually all the casinos around banned me. Can’t say I blame them. It’s for the best really because all the hearing aids wanted to talk about is which of the waitresses is going to be nice and what items in the buffet to avoid.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” You tell him.

“You’re telling me. But still, it’s nice. They’re useful. They tell me which will be the best route to take me to get where I want to go the fastest. They tell me which movies I’ll like and which I won’t like.”

“Sounds like Google.”

“Well, maybe.” He says with a shrug. “But mostly, the hearing aids tell me about people. Who needs help, or who will help me, who’s nice and who’s a jerk and they’re always, always right.” He says, clapping his hands together with a flourish to emphasize just how very right his hearing aids always are.

“And what did they have to say about me then?” You ask, leaning to one side to get a better view of the magical hearing aids. They look unremarkable to you, but your experience with enchanted electronics is admittedly fairly limited.

“They just said that I should say hello to you. I have to admit I didn’t really want to, to begin with. You looked like you didn’t really want to talk to anyone when I first saw you. But the hearing aids told me to just say it, just say hello. I reminded myself that they’re always right and I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t.” He replied with a chuckle.

“Well I’m glad you did.” You offer.

“Me too. I’ve enjoyed our conversation and it’s made the time pass pretty quickly.”   He cocks his head to the side as he did when you first saw him. After a breath or two he snaps his finger and points to the door. It immediately opens and the clinic’s receptionist pokes her head out. You’re left a little startled. She regards you with a smile then turns to Eddie.

     “It’s your turn Mr. Fosse.” She says to him with a smile as well. You’re pretty sure the smile that Eddie gets is much more genuine than the one that she gave you. The receptionist vanishes back into the clinic as though she weren’t just summoned by a magical pair of hearing aids.

     “Alakazam.” Eddie says, waggling his fingers about. “Could you get the door for me?” You hold the door ajar as he aims his scooter towards the entrance and fires into the doorway.

“Oh! I nearly forgot” he exclaims, hitting the brakes and lurching forward as he comes to a sudden halt. The tires of his scooter graze the toes of your shoes. He rummages through his fanny pack and produces a bag of peanuts.

“Here.”

“Oh, no thanks. I don’t really like peanuts.”

“No, no, no. Apparently they’re not for you. The hearing aids said that I should give them to you, though, so you’d better take ‘em.”

Another patient approaches from within the clinic, looking to leave. She politely waits for you and Eddie to clear the way, but her expression tells you that her politeness has a rapidly approaching expiry date so you graciously accept the thin plastic bag of peanuts and say good bye to your new friend. He rolls into the clinic with an upraised palm as farewell, never looking back.

You hear your bus roll up to your stop as it brakes with a squeal and an impatient sounding sigh. You trot off to it wearing a broad smile. You’re aboard and chuffed to find an open seat. As the bus pulls away you look back at the clinic that holds Eddie. You hope desperately that he'll be okay, despite whatever smoking has done to him. When the bus stops in front of the park a couple of blocks from home you’re still thinking about Eddie and his hearing aids. As you step off and the bus leaves you in a cloud of exhaust, you decide to take a walk through the eternally empty park - The one that you’ve ignored for the last six years. It’s much larger than you expect and the trail that runs through it eventually meets up with a friendly little creek. Robust evergreens rise up above on either side and cast tilting shadows upon the path before you.

Amongst the branches overhead you catch a flash of movement. A streak of white flashes from one tree to the next and whirls in a spiral down the trunk not six feet away from you. It’s a squirrel. A shockingly white squirrel. It freezes in its tracks when it sees you. It stares as its ears flick and its nose twitches. Without a thought your hand goes into your pocket and closes around Eddie’s Ziploc bag of peanuts. A warmth that begins within the depth of your brain melts throughout you. You take a peanut out of the bag and hold it at arms length towards the squirrel. It cocks its head with curiosity. You hunker down, squatting to . . . What, get down to its level? Appear less threatening? You really don’t know, but it feels right.

The squirrel skitters to the ground and takes a couple of hesitant steps towards you. There is a long thrilling moment when it stops a few inches from your perfectly still hand and looks at you with its pink-rimmed eyes. You suppose it’s considering whether or not you’re going to kill and eat it, should it come any closer. Finally, the creature’s stomach overcomes instinct. It slowly and deliberately places one paw onto the tip of your finger. It’s like a tiny baby’s hand with claws. Neck outstretched, the albino squirrel takes the peanut with its rodent buck teeth and it darts away a few feet. It stops to eat the peanut, first working away at the shell then pulling out the paper wrapped treat within. The process is repeated with the second half of the peanut, then the squirrel is still once more. From a safe distance it’s more comfortable as it regards you. You gaze back at the stark white squirrel in kind and the moment is filled with the most brilliant magic.