《Monstrous Apartments: short stories》A Silent Question - Banshee

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Communication had never been an issue between us.

This had been true throughout our time together, even though we worked opposite schedules. The feint scent of sandalwood, drifting in the breeze, let me know she was home, and, importantly, alone. Sandalwood, she told me once, was designed specifically to relax.

It wasn’t working. My gut continuing to churn with anxiety as I debated on if disturbing her was the best thing to do. With the open door, and no note posted up, it should be fine? My knocking came in an erratic beat before I stepped back to wait for a response.

Black painted nails waved me in, even as she gestured for me to wait. Her pale hands flipped a page, and I watched as her eyes widened at whatever scandalous action occurred.

With the cover bearing two swarthy shirtless lizard men in suits, I knew I could guess the scene. I took a seat at the dining table and tried to figure out how best to phrase my question. Blunt seemed best, and she would appreciate me getting to the point.

She flipped through another two pages before I watched her writhe in laughter. With a shake of her head, she dropped it to the floor and grinned at me. As I stared into her pale blue eyes, I asked my question. One on my mind since the cute barista had smiled at me after scribbling notes with her coworker.

“You know sign language, right?”

Sienna looked at me with her eyebrow raised. Her purple-painted lips quirked upwards, and she pushed a strand of hair out of her face; to more easily shoot a look, asking if I was an idiot. I felt like one. I knew the answer by now.

Still, I pressed ahead.

“I know we don’t hang out much. What with the different schedules and all. But I was wondering if. Well. If you’d teach me,” I raised my hands and waved them in front of me. “Not everything, of course. Enough to say hello or ask her name, or something?”

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She sat up straight and toyed with the upside-down cross that hung around her neck. I hoped she didn’t take my stuttering as desperation. It wasn’t, not really. I could learn other ways. Should I have asked the barista girl? What if she said no?

Probably better that I didn’t.

A ball of paper hit me in the forehead, breaking my train of thought.

She grinned like a loon and nodded emphatically. I picked up the ball before reading the flying message.

I can help. Wait here.

“Thank you.”

Her momentary retreat to her room ended with a small thud, and when she returned, she clutched a large folder. Instead of the couch, she took the seat opposite me, smiled, and pushed a crumpled note towards me.

I figured you’d ask eventually, so I made flashcards. What’s her name?

“Why do you think I’m doing this for a girl?” I tried not to fidget as she smirked at me while writing another note.

Because I’ve been to the coffee shop too, dumbass.

My cheeks heated. She’d got me. “I don’t know her name yet. She didn’t have a name tag when I arrived this morning.”

More smiles. I don’t think I’d ever seen her grin as much as she had tonight. It was a little unnerving.

Maion. I met her during one of my nightly walks. She’s cute.

I did my best to commit the name to memory, though it wasn’t hard. Maion was unusual, but I liked the sound of it. The tidbit about my roommate could be helpful, a possible in?

“Huh, that’s cool. What’s she like?”

Introverted, but not to an extreme. Not into my scene, unfortunately.

“Good to hear. Though speaking off nightly walks, you never said where you go?” I raised an eyebrow as she looks down at the floor.

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For a moment, I worried she would leave, but she only shrugged.

Nothing interesting. Help the elderly, and the sick.

The mental image of her in full goth make up pushing a wheelchair almost made me laugh. I didn’t, however, I still needed the help. She smiled again, and I had the impression she guessed what I’d been thinking.

Shall we start?

“Oh right, yes, please,” I gestured to the flash cards. “Where do we begin, Teach?”

She smiled and clapped her hands together. Thus, our lesson began.

We started with a simple sign, and one I hoped to see Maion use: yes. A clenched fist held upright, and then flicked down at the wrist. As we worked through more, mostly the basics, I asked her questions.

Simple yes or no, to more easily see the motions in practice. Once she realized what I was doing, she joined in and made me answer in kind.

Did she enjoy living here? Yes.

Have I ever been in a car accident? No.

Did she have siblings? No.

She looked sad when she signed that last one, and so I steered the conversation to safer waters. Which, for me, meant questions about food.

“Did you want to share a pizza?”

That got a yes, alongside a few signs I didn’t recognize. I got the gist, though, especially when I checked the clock. Nine P.M. I blinked. When did it get so late?

Even as I grabbed my phone to bring up our options, we didn’t stop the game.

Large? Yes.

Pepperoni? Yes.

Share? No.

She stuck out her tongue. I grinned. I felt the same.

Once we ordered the Pizzas, we practiced a few others. Hello, goodbye, roommate. The three she insisted I learned when I went for coffee tomorrow. We watched TV while we ate, and I wondered if I had ever spent this much time with her before today. I resolved to make sure the trend continued. Whatever Maions’ response to me was.

This was fun.

Communication had never been an issue between us. Now it never would be.

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