Chapter 9 - The Impossible Sound
The house in Maine was old,
filled with the scent of cedar and sea salt.
There were no elevators.
No sirens.
Just the rhythmic beating of the tide against the rocks.
Savannah and I spent the days exploring the tide pools with Leo.
We looked at starfish.
We felt the texture of dried seaweed.
Leo was changing.
He was becoming more present,
his movements more fluid.
But he still hadn't spoken.
One afternoon,
a thick fog rolled in from the sea.
We were on the beach,
Leo a few yards ahead of us,
poking at a piece of driftwood.
Suddenly,
a large wave,
unusually high,
swept up the sand.
It caught Leo’s towel rabbit,
pulling it into the cold,
grey water.
Leo froze.
He watched his friend being pulled away by the tide.
I started to run toward the water,
but Savannah caught my arm.
"Wait,"
elle whispered.
Leo’s face was twisted in grief.
His chest was heaving.
He looked at the vanishing white shape.
He looked at me.
He opened his mouth.
I expected a scream.
I expected the silent agony of the last two years.
Instead,
a sound broke through the fog.
"Da..."
It was faint.
It was shaky.
"Da...
vid."
He didn't call me 'Dad'.
He called me by my name.
The name he had heard Savannah use.
"David!"
he shouted,
pointing at the wave.
I plunged into the water,
not caring about the cold,
not caring about my clothes.
I grabbed the soaking wet towel rabbit and ran back to him.
I knelt in the sand,
shivering,
and handed him the toy.
Leo took it,
but then he did something he had never done.
He wrapped his arms around my neck.
He pressed his wet face against my cheek.
"Thank...
you,"
he whispered.
I held him so tight I thought we would both break.
The silence was over.
May you like
The wall was down.
And it hadn't cost a single cent.
