In the quiet diner, the theme song of Knight Rider erupted from the table beside her. It was the third time in the last half-hour that this sour waitress had sent a call to voicemail. “Right now,” she grunted, “I just do not have the willpower.”
It was the local public school, with nothing to do. She worked until 2:00 every Wednesday. Her child never listened, they’d just give him detention anyway. Most likely, the principal would try to lecture her with his inexperienced opinions.
Had he ever been pressed against the wall as doctors called with bad news? When they finally gave a prognosis for a child whose precociousness was overshadowed by recent outbursts? Learning your child is autistic must be maddening. Not for the disorder, as that poor child’s order in life was always in ruins, but for the lack of specificity. There’s no treatment to pursue.
And so, from the age of three, dear sweet Paul never listened. Once his feet were firmly in place, he would never give up a position. In elementary school, he had stolen a thermos from Nolan. He protested, saying it was his right, as he had a Power Rangers lunchbox and a book bag. The thermos was just out of spite. Our poor little Paul heard every argument, they even took the time to have them written. But still, Paul wouldn’t listen.
Another time in high school, his chemistry test almost blew up the class of ’08. Luckily for us, the beaker would bust, and he just had to clean up the mess. When they tried to persuade him to reread the text, what happened next had become a tradition. The world would try to tell Paul he was wrong, and of course, he never would listen.
Paul made a decision back when he was a kid; he wanted to start a band. A classic arrangement: guitarist, bassist, and radical drummer. Of course, he would be the leading man. But there was one problem, one little flaw in his plan. Even if he dreamed of being a locksmith, it’s unlikely he would ever hold a key. Day in and day out, he set about a half-hour aside to practice. In the woods behind his house, he belted out sharps. I’m sure the forest dwellers could hardly stand it.
Senior year, as we all saw more clearly the road ahead to adulthood, Paul had made very little progress. So, when school started off with the talent show, they were all surprised by a name on that list. Paul had entered into the contest intent to sing acapella.
That day in the cafeteria would stay in memory forever. Paul’s booming voice, in perfect key, made sure that even the birds were witnesses. Shocked and amazed, people rained praise. The boy who stood here had sung true and clear, the same who was non-vocal for years.
That image seemed an unlikely collision. We wonder how they could miss it; of course, his voice was magnificent. Don’t they know that Paul never listens?
-Phil C.
About the writer-
Phil Carter, from Illiois, is one of the oldest and most active member of our Facebook community. A talented writer, with a keen eye for all things artistic.
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