It’s odd, because it seems so natural with him. Not at all as if he’s got anything other than music on his mind. I like that about him, because if I were pressed up against Warren like this, I’m positive his hands wouldn’t be on the guitar.
I can feel his arms moving slightly, so I know he’s playing, even though I can’t hear it. I concentrate on the vibration and focus all my attention on the movement inside my chest. When I’m able to pinpoint exactly where I feel it, I bring my hand to my chest and pat it. I can feel him nod his head, and then he continues playing.
I can still feel it in my chest, but it’s much lower this time. I move my hand down, and he nods again.
I pull away from him and turn around to face him.
“Wow.”
He lifts his shoulders and smiles shyly. It’s adorable.
Me: This is crazy. I still don’t understand how you can play an instrument like this, but I know how you feel it now.
He shrugs off my compliment, and I love how modest he is, because he clearly has more talent than anyone I’ve ever met.
“Wow,” I say again, shaking my head.
Ridge: Stop. I don’t like compliments. It’s awkward.
I set down my phone and we both move back to the laptops.
Me: Well, you shouldn’t be so impressive, then. I don’t think you realize what an incredible gift you have, Ridge. I know you say you work hard at it, but so do thousands of people who can hear, and they can’t put together songs like you can. I mean, I can maybe understand the whole guitar thing now that you’ve explained it, but what about the voices? How in the heck can you know what a voice sounds like and what key it needs to be in?
Ridge: Actually, I can’t differentiate the sounds of a voice. I’ve never felt a person sing the way I “listen” to a guitar. I can place vocals to a song and develop melodies because I’ve studied a lot of songs and have learned which keys match up to which notes, based on the written form of music. It doesn’t just come naturally. I work hard at this. I love the idea of music, and even though I can’t hear it, I’ve learned to understand and appreciate it in a different way. I’ve had to work harder at the melodies. There are times I’ll write a song, and Brennan will tell me we can’t use it because it either sounds too much like an existing song or it doesn’t actually sound good to hearing ears like I assumed it would.
He can downplay this all he wants, but I’m convinced I’m sitting next to a musical genius. I hate that he thinks his ability comes from working so hard at it. I mean, I’m sure it helps, because all talents have to be nurtured in order to excel, even for the gifted. But his talent is mind-blowing. It makes me hurt for him, knowing what he could do with his gift if he could hear.
Me: Can you hear anything? At all?
He shakes his head.
Ridge: I’ve worn hearing aids before, but they were more inconvenient than helpful. I have profound hearing loss, so they didn’t help at all when it came to hearing voices or my guitar. When I used them, I could tell there were noises, but I couldn’t decipher them. In all honesty, hearing aids were a constant reminder that I couldn’t hear. Without them, I don’t even think about it.
Me: What made you want to learn guitar, knowing you would never be able to hear it?
Ridge: Brennan. He wanted to learn when we were kids, so we learned together.
Me: The guy who used to live here? How long have you known him?
Ridge: 21 years. He’s my little brother.
Me: Is he in your band?
Ridge glances at me in confusion.
Ridge: Have I not told you about our band?
I shake my head.