The Sound of Noise

"Mary," I motioned slowly, "Isn't it nice to be walking around downtown?" She nodded. I wondered how she could be having such a good time doing something like this. Mary is deaf. She has been that way for 10 years. That's long enough to forget familiar sounds.

I remember how scared she looked when it happened. We were five years old and playing in the back yard. We were just playing with our Barbies under the tree. We got in a fight because I wanted the Barbie with the pink dress. It was mine and Mary didn't ask if she could play with it. I grabbed it out of her hand and the dress ripped. She stood up and said "Ohhh, you make me so mad! I hate you!" She ran down the block and I ran after her, yelling "You're so mean, Mary. Meany Mary, quite contrary!" She stopped and ran back towards me. "You called me meanie!" I stuck out my tongue. She smiled "You know that rhymes with beanie." She laughed. She thought it was so funny. I tried not to smile but I couldn't help it. Mary and I were best friends forever, even though she still should have asked if she could play with pink Barbie. We started laughing so hard we fell to the grass and started rolling down the hill. We rolled faster and faster until we got so dizzy, we had to stop. Once my head stopped spinning, I walked over to her. She was laying very still on the grass. I poked her, "Very funny". She still didn't move. I poked her harder, "Mary meanie, wears a beanie." She opened her eyes and tried to stand up when she suddenly grabbed her head and screamed. I thought it was my fault. I made her head hurt. I looked up and she was crying. I ran over to her and said "Mary, what's wrong? Mom! Mary's hurt!" Mom came running out, took one look at Mary and called an ambulance. Once we got to the hospital, Mom called Mrs. Sanders, Mary's mom. When she got to the hospital, I remember my mom saying that Mary is with the doctor right now; they think she has meningitis. I didn't know what that meant but everyone looked scared. I thought what did I do?

My friend was sick for a long time. She cried a lot, but no sound ever came out. When she left the hospital, I gave her a party with her favorite cake. Everyone from school was there but she never heard anything. Over the years, she got used to not being able to hear. We stayed friends and I learned how to talk to her with sign language; although sometimes I forgot how to make the word so she would show me.

Today, as we walked past the toy store, I stopped and pointed at the windows, alive with moving figures, getting ready for Christmas. I told her before we started walking that if she wanted a sound described to her just to point it out and I'd try to describe it. So far, she seemed content just to walkalong and enjoy the sights. Suddenly, she stopped and grabbed my arm.

"What is it, Mary? " I motioned with my hands.

She pointed towards the subway station. "Do you want to go in?" I motioned. She nodded.

Once we were under the street, we waited for the train. We pinched our noses because of the smell and looked at each other as though we were going to melt from the heat. Even though it was cold outside, the subway is always too hot. We loosened our coats a bit and waited for the train. She grabbed my arm and looked down the track. I knew she was asking me to describe the sound of the train as it came into the station. Of all the sounds to describe, why that particular sound? As the train came in, I began my description.

"The wheels sound 'smooth' before it stops. Then, as the train slows down the sound is 'sharp, 'piercing', like this." I pinched her. "That feeling you got from the pinch, that sort of sour, tickling, cold feeling up and down your spine reminds me of the squeak of the brakes. It's the 'pinching' that makes me cover my ears like this." I showed her. Right then, I knew how she felt, trapped in a muffled, closed-in, boxed up world. Dense, not a sound. A feeling of loneliness spread over me. I uncovered my ears and was quickly returned to the sound of the hustling and bustling of the subway train as it was pulling into the station "Can you hear it?" I asked her.

She shook her head, "No, not exactly." I sighed. What had I missed? Perhaps. Maybe...of course! I forgot to describe how the noises felt when the train came in, the overall feeling.

"Mary, watch me. When the train comes in, before it puts on the brake or slows down, I get a quivery feeling all over my body." I was wearing rubber-soled boots so my demonstration should work. "This is how it feels." I rubbed my foot against the platform: my foot bounced. It went up and down quickly and very roughly as my foot rubbed along the edge of the platform. I asked her to do the same, she did and smiled!

We grabbed each other's arms and walked into the train. It was crowded so we couldn't sit down. We were pushed and jolted and bounced around by the crowd. Some were looking at their phones, others had on earbuds. A child started to cry so his mother gave him a pretzel. Mary started looking scared because of all the people so I looked at her and mouthed "Mary meanie wears a beanie." She smiled and seemed to relax a bit. We made our way over to the door as our stop was next. As the train pulled into the next station, she actually covered her ears and made a face, as if the sound had gotten to her too.