Silent Fights with No Reasonz Ep. 1

Carol-Anne fought for years trying to maintain a normal life, but knew, nothing about her life was normal. Growing up in this neighborhood, poor and black, was seen as a crutch to the outside world.  Color and poverty were looked upon as a mistake. Added to the misfortune of these ailments, her deafness only heightened the insensitivity of the neighborhood kids and the community at large.  Carol-Anne dreamed of days with “greener pastures” and acceptance.  Unfortunately, she could never see herself clearly within those dreams.

Always, she could see the lily-white faces that were able to escape the hardships of her poverty-stricken pain. She often wondered if she would ever be able to live a life that would surpass her deepest ambition: the simplicity of being able to hear the beauty of the world around her.  Surrounded with such perverse negative thoughts and attitudes, she wondered if she would regret her passion and desire for wanting to hear; that dream could not filter out the sounds of the world's cruelties.

Fourteen-year-old Carol-Anne grew up constantly feeling poorer than almost everyone else. The struggle to fit in, the daily thoughts of, "Am I good enough?" The constant rigor of taking care of her three younger siblings were enough to drive her to the edge of insanity.  Most of her days were spent bearing the responsibilities of an adult.  Being the eldest in the house now meant she had to check her emotions and feelings at the door.  Although, other times, she almost relished the idea of being an "adult", as crazy as that sounded. 

Her life shifted from being a child to being a responsible caretaker, without her permission. Getting up at 5 o'clock every morning during the school week took its toll on her. She fought through her own tiredness to care for her siblings.  Ironing, cooking, and cleaning were just some of the chores she inherited. Her biggest challenge and the most important hurdle that had to be overcome, was teaching her siblings how to sign.  Communication was a commodity. To have the ability to share her thoughts, dreams, ambitions, and ideas could never be expressed when divulging them to her three, five, and seven-year-old siblings. They seemed to lose all meaning and passion. In many ways, Carol-Anne felt her life was doomed.

A menacing knock on the door of apartment 3-Cgave way to the murmur of a baby-like voice, that churned from inside the apartment, “Who is it?” There hadn’t been a knock like that on their door in a long time. Again, the loud and forceful sound demanded immediate attention.  Jonas, the five-year-old, ran into the kitchen to alert his eldest sister of the thumping.  

A meek voice winced from afar, “Hold on, just a minute!” 

The knock didn’t wait. The bold sound hammered even louder.                                             

This time a voice behind it rallied. 

“Hey Carol-Anne let me in.  Let me in now!”

“Come on, C-Anne!  It’s me, your brother, Noah!”

 Carol-Anne had been in the kitchen cleaning up from their meal.  Always cautious, her thinking was, “I may not have enough time to clean up and run if needed!” She must make absolutely sure she had everything in order, neat and tidy, just in case.  

As she approached the door, Carol-Anne felt the vibrations of the knocking and her muffled tone requested, “Can you move back so I can see your face?”  

Carol-Anne signed to her younger siblings to go into the other room.  She trusted absolutely no one when it came to her siblings and their safety.  She was not in the business of preparing for a fight, with social workers and the Courts, to fend off foster care placement, for her sister and brothers.  Every move Carol-Anne made, had to be strategic.  This was something she signed to her younger siblings all the time.

The voice and hammering exploded through the metal apartment door again. 

Noah stepped back, signing from the hallway outside the minuscule peephole in the door.  

“Hellooo, Carol-Anne Marie.  It’s your brother!  Open up chicken-head!  Come on! Stop playing!”

Seeing this, Carol-Anne’s face lit up with joy.  She unlatched the slide lock as well as the chained lock, twisted the doorknob, and flung open the door with anew-found urgency.  

“My brother! Our brother has come home to rescue us!”

Wanted by the law for several years, Noah found himself running cautiously toward home every chance he had.  Every pit-stop that was available, Noah thought through his movements as if playing chess. He had to; his hide was on the line. He risked everything he had back in 2014.  This was his fresh start, or so he thought.  Running was not a part of the plan, but as the old adage goes, plans change.  What gave Noah solace was Kim. Yeah, he thought. Kim kept him still, emotionally and physically, but she wasn't enough to convert his greedy thoughts and tendencies. Kim used to say all the time that his thinking was backwards.  Noah paused his thoughts, started breathing heavily, and nearly changed direction away from his goal:  his siblings.  

“I have to shake myself of these thoughts,” he whispered to himself.  

“I can never go back there, especially looking like this."  

Leaving a lifetime of experience behind could make a man change, or so he thought.

Nope, not Noah Reasonz! He was not that guy, Not THAT guy at all!

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