Chapter 1 ceo1

Irene

8

The cabinet door creaked open, I reached for a bowl before closing it with a click. I broke the two eggs on the surface of the counter. Crack. Crack. I whisked the eggs, a rhythmic clink of the fork as it hit the glass bowl filled the kitchen.

The tea kettle whistled. The eggs mixture sizzled in the pan, followed by salt and pepper.

I leaned on the counter looking through the window, the autumn wind blew outside with whooshing sounds.

Or at least that was what it would have sounded like to anyone else. Not me.

I was deaf.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my teenage little brother sneaking in through the front door. I sighed and turned my head fully towards him. He froze. Sometimes I wondered if he thought I was blind, too.

2

He looked at me with a sheepish expression. Blue eyes that looked nothing like my dark brown ones were hazy and red.

Not again. I gestured for him to sit at the table while I flipped the omlet, before taking the marker and small board, my way of communication with him for five years now. I wrote with furious strokes of the pen. 1

'We already talked about this! At least hold back when it's a school night, you have the weekend to party all you want'

His eyes squinted as he tried to read the words. He rolled his eyes.

"Sis, you worry too much. I'm a sophomore, I can afford to have a little fun every once in a while", he said. Well, that's what I thought he said. I was very confident in my lip reading skills, though.

I just shook my head while transferring the eggs to a plate. I put some burned toast, just as he liked it, on the side with a glass of orange juice.

"Thanks", he said taking a bite of his food.

'Are you skipping again?' I asked using my trusted board. He nodded focusing on his food. He avoided my gaze until the very last bite. After gulping down the juice in one go, he scrambled to his feet.

5

"Thanks for the food", he said, then walked inside his bedroom, closing the door behind him. I looked around our shabby two bedroom apartment. Four pale walls where I had lived for three years with my brother. Lately, it was almost always deserted. I only came here to sleep after a long day of joggling two jobs, and my brother never seemed to be here except to eat or whenever his 'friends' were too busy for him.

Looking outside the window to the morning sky, I prayed that this was only a phase, that he would soon get his head on straight. Everything I was doing, was for him. I wanted him to have a future brighter than mine. I had been saving so he could go to college and make something out of himself. But these days, I was realizing that those were only my dreams for him, I wondered if he even shared my hopes.

I picked up a dry toast and my bag then headed out. It was still early, but I had to catch an early ride on the bus to get there in time. The place I had been assigned to for around a year now was on the other side of the city, where expensive suits were a familiar sight on the streets and sky scrapers teased the sky. A far cry from the sketchy alleys and the neglected streets of my neighbourhood.

I made sure I had the small notebook and the pen within reach when I took my usual seat in the bus. I never really needed them, though. That was one of the good things about big cities, everyone kept to themselves, small talks about inconsequential things like the weather were inexistent. That worked well for me since, for obvious reasons, I could not really make small 'talks'.

STORY CONTINUES BELOW

Technically, I could. But since it had been years since I had last used my voice, I was no longer confident in talking. Memories of the last time I did flashed in my mind. I shook my head and focused on the passing scenery. Buildings, cars, busy people from the earliest hours of dawn.

The scenery slowly morphed from cheap to expensive. Worn out shirts and scruffy shoes turned into crisp tailored suits and well polished footwear as we approached my workplace. The company that the cleaning company I worked for was subcontracted for two years.

It was the headquarters of one of the biggest conglomerates in the world. The impressive thirty eight floor building and its lavish interior spoke volumes about the size of the business.

I walked out of the bus, keeping my eyes wide open while I crossed the road. My sight was the only sense that I relied on in my everyday life. To help compensate for my lack of hearing, I had to be present at all times. I couldn't afford to lose focus at any moment, especially outside. It could seem like a simple thing, but it was actually very challenging. Even a second's daydream could cost me.

I knew first hand how severe the consequences were, I still had a scar from it. It happened in my old town. I had been waiting for the light to switch so I could cross the street. My mind was so preoccupied with some worldly matter that I didn't even noticed the light had already turned green and a bicycle was crossing the street heading straight for me. He was moving too fast. He might have ringed his bell but I obviously couldn't hear it. The next thing I knew I was lying on my side, my palm got caught in a sharp edge of a cobble stone. It had cut so deep into my skin that I had gotten four stitches.

4

So with an alert mind, I rang my card in the access control system. Since it was still early, no one was around, except the security. A friendly middle aged man that was always on duty this time of the day. He waved at me with a kind wrinkled smile as I passed through, I returned his greeting.

I didn't know if he knew about my deafness. It was surprising but very few people knew, even from the cleaning crew that I worked with. That was one of the reasons it was easier for me to get this job and actually keep it for this long, besides the fact that I had no degree, cleaning usually did not require communication on an advanced level. You just had to do your work, and 'stay out of everyone's way', as my immediate boss had kindly put it when I was assigned here.

"Good morning, Irene!"

Mrs. Doolittle greeted with a wide smile. I waved as I headed for my locker. This place was so big that the cleaning staff had their own 'wing', a very large locker room where we kept our stuff, next to a storage room that had all our cleaning supplies.

A hand tapped me on the shoulder, I turned towards Mrs. Doolittle. Her blue eyes held a wisdom she had aquiered in her fifty six years of life. She smiled at me as I read her pink lips say.

"If Jane gives you any trouble, you just tell me. I'll be sure to have a word with her".

I chuckled silently and shook my head, mouthing a 'thank you' since she didn't understand sign language.

5

"You're too kind", she said waving a finger at me, "you should be more rough if you want to survive in this world".

I whipped up my small notebook and wrote on it, 'I'm sure she won't do anything, but I'll be sure to tell you otherwise'.

She laughed, I thought, before nodding approvingly and going back to her locker as I got to changing to my work uniform.

A dull blue short sleeve top paired with pants in the same color. It made my five feet two pale-skinned self even more plain than usual. I wrapped my raven black hair in a ponytail out of my face, tucked my means of communication in my pocket then joined Mrs. Doolittle who was exiting the changing room to the supplies'.