A Day In The Life Of Siloh MacTavish

Reads: 312  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Exactly what the title says, what else?

Silence was something I had gotten quite used to. Ever since my mother’s stove exploded with me standing a bit too close, I hadn’t heard much. If somebody lets out a blood curdling shriek, it’ll sound like a faint whisper being carried on the wind, but otherwise, nothing. It’s totally ok with me, if not a bit annoying. But nevertheless, I’m living with it, with help from people. Like my girlfriend, Lucy (also deaf) and godsends like Jesse and weirdos like Kirby.

It’s crazy, but it’s the best life I could ask for.

Here is a typical day:


So, every morning, I get woken up by Jesse at 6:30. Apart from Lucy and our translators, he’s pretty much the only one on campus who knows sign language. He’s a bit of a know it all, but otherwise, he’s pretty cool. He woke me up by tickling my feet and I instinctively kicked out. My eyes shot open as I felt it connect with something.

A bleary image of Jesse was rubbing his small, pointy nose and giving me a death glare. I was so glad looks couldn’t kill. “Good morning sunshine,” he signed. He looked like he didn’t mean a word. His sharp, silver eyes were narrowed and his usually immaculately tidy blond curls were all over the place, as usual in the mornings. His unusually girly features looked strangely out of place when he has stubble on his face, but it was usually temporary. I don’t know when or how he does but as soon as he disappeared from my sight and returned, they’d be combed back and tamed. I don’t know how, but it’s one of life’s great mysteries. “Sorry,” I signed to him. “Are you alright?”

He shook his head, but signed, “I’m fine. How was your date with Lucy last night?”

“Well, I’m here in my own dorm, so how do you think?” I asked sarcastically as I got dressed. My date with Lucy had gone well, actually, spectacularly so, but I didn’t want to ruin the relaxing night for Lucy by sleeping with her. Jesse slumped in the lone chair at the small table by the fridge. “It was probably better than mine,” he signed miserably.

“What happened?” I asked. “Who’d you go out with?” I grabbed a bowl of cereal and brought my computer chair over to the table to sit opposite Jesse. He hadn’t asked anyone out since trying to propose to Jodie, his girlfriend of three years or something crazy like that. Yeah, she cheated on him and Jesse went AWOL for a while. But he’s back and now apparently asking girls out.

“I decided to ask out Jane, you know, from the play?”

I wacked him over the head. I saw his mouth move, probably to let out a yelp of pain, but I didn’t hear it. “What was that for?” he asked, looking particularly angry.

“Number one rule of the world: don’t date anyone you work with!” I told him.

He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I took her on a date and we started talking about the play and lesbians and we ended up arguing and she walked out and left me to foot the bill.”

“Sounds fascinating,” I told him. The only thing I don’t like about sign language that sarcasm doesn’t translate well. He rinsed a spoon in the sink and we shared a bowl of cereal. Without my permission, but, you know, the guy’s my human alarm clock, gotta pay him somehow.


After we had breakfast, Jesse and I went down to the soccer pitch. I’m a keeper, Jesse’s a striker. He’s actually really good, but he wants to be a politician so he barely ever plays. I’m thinking of playing for England but who’d want a deaf goalie? I’m desperately learning to read lips but when I talk, I talk slightly too loud, according to Jesse. I reckon if I just learnt to speak properly again, I could fake my way through trials and they’d never know. I was on my toes as Jesse danced on the ball as he ran down the pitch. He whacked the ball and I dived onto it, stopping it just before it went over the line. I looked up to see Jesse signing, “Fuck you!” but he was smiling. I wanted to sign back, but my gloves were kind of preventing it. I tried calling out, “You can’t get shit past me!” I never felt confident when I spoke, but it helped when Jesse actually turned around and gave me a shocked look. “Loud and clear!” he signed happily. I beamed and Jesse began running down the pitch again. Must get the ball, must get the ball, must get the ball… Jesse had an expression of pure concentration on his face as he whacked the ball in my general direction. It slipped just past my fingers and hit the back of the net. I kicked the post in frustration as Jesse ran over. “Sorry,” he told me. “Lecture time.” He started grabbing his book bag and jogged over to the main building. I was going to ask if he had any shampoo for my shower, but he’d already taken off. 


After my shower, I was getting dressed in the men’s locker rooms with earphones in. Of course, the cord led to nothing, but it stopped people from attempting to speak to me and thinking I was rude for ignoring them. I picked up my bag and began walking through the change room and I was slightly startled when somebody from behind pulled out my earphone. A short woman with curly brown hair looked up at me with a furious expression. Her shell pink lips started moving a mile a minute and I signed, “Stop! Stop! Stop! I’m deaf!” She seemed to realise the truth and I think she said, slower, “Are you dead?”

“No,” I said, signing at the same time, “but I am deaf.”

She grabbed a notepad out her bag and quickly scrawled on it, “Have you seen Jesse Barton?”

I scribbled right back, “At a lecture. Why?”

“I need to tk talk to him. My name’s Jane. If you see him, can you tell him I was wrong and I’m sorry? And can you give him something for me?” I nodded. The girl gave me a hug and a kiss and grinned as she ran off. Ok.


I met up with my interpreter, Bradley, as we headed to my psychology lecture. I didn’t really like Bradley, but the poor guy didn’t have a choice. He was a former thug and he was serving community service for smashing a peeler’s car. He has a deaf brother and my last interpreter quit, so I was stuck with Brad. He was actually pretty good but a bit fast and rushed. Not to mention he looked extraordinarily out of place amongst the smart casual of the Oxford students. He always wore his street clothes and they looked pretty cool, but he was out of place. People always stared.

Today, Professor Riley was talking about the complexity of the human identity, how people construct identities for themselves and about how sometimes completely abandoning them after traumatic events or to be forced to change them and go into witness protection and be forced to abandon themselves in the process. It got me thinking, I had to almost do that when I went deaf. It happened when I was thirteen, the time most boys think they’ve got it all sorted. My mother was cooking on the stove and she blew out the light. Forgetful old her. She forgot to turn it off. I was sitting at the table opposite and she lit a cigarette. Yup. Ka-boom. My mother tearfully apologised afterwards, but I never heard it, of course. It took me a while to master signs, and even longer to recover my sarcastic sense of humour, but I never forgave my mother when she didn’t give up smoking. She smoked herself to death, actually. She was so young, 54, when she died of lung cancer. Brad nudged me. “Paying attention?” he asked. I focused on what he was saying and tried to forget about Mum.


So, after being dumped by Brad, I slouched my way to the library, almost feeling the weight of Professor Riley’s 1,500 word essay (What is Identity?) dragging me down. Whenever I thought about the accident, it always made me shitty. Jesse appeared out of nowhere by my side. Of course, his hair was combed back and he had found somewhere to get changed out of his soccer gear. How did he do that? “How’s life?” he asked.

“How do you always do that? Manage to make someone’s day seem dismal just by acting happy?” I asked, hanging my head.

“What’s up with you?” he asked, a look of concern beginning to spread over his handsome face. Stupid Jesse! He was actually kind of attractive. For a guy, I mean. It could be because he looks a bit like a girl. That kind of gave me an idea.

“Nothing. Oh, hey stop,” I told him.

He paused. “What?”

I gave him a kiss on his shocked lips and a hug. “From Jane. She also said she’s sorry and that she was wrong.” I let go of him and smirked as I saw the look of shock on his face. I felt myself blush a little, but eh, I always do that. “When did you see Jane?” he asked, still looking terrified.

I shrugged. How do people always think I know the exact time when I do shit? “After I got out of the showers. Crazy bitch scared the shit out of me. Keep her on a leash, alright?”

“I gotta go,” he told me. He clapped my shoulder before he ran off. That guy never told you anything you didn’t need to know. It could be pretty infuriating. I continued on my way to the library.

Of course, I found Lucy in her usual spot on the windowsill, staring out onto the ground below, with a book in her hand. She was of African descent, her curly black hair framing her light brown face, her bright red lips turned into a wistful smile. She was gorgeous, and she was mine. She was wearing her favourite white polka dot dress and black cardigan. She must have seen me out of the corner of her eye or something. She turned to me and smiled. I ran over to the windowsill and embraced her. I sat beside her on the ground, and she told me, “I saw you with Jesse down there, want to explain that?”

I laughed as I explained about this morning and passing on Jane’s kiss to Jesse. “But I swear to God, I didn’t enjoy either of them,” I assured her.

She was in hysterics, almost as much as when Jesse told us he’d be playing Frank-N-Furter in the school musical. “I’m sorry,” she told me, laughing herself stupid. “It’s just really weird.”

“He’ll be kissing a dude on stage in the next few weeks,” I reminded her as she lay her head on my shoulder. Lucy smiled before saying, “Oh, wait, there’s something I gotta show you.” she leaned over and rummaged in her bag. She opened up her laptop and while she waited for it to boot up she explained, “Joanne-,” (that’s her best friend who works with the multimedia department) “and the other people in Multimedia are going to make a DVD of the show and Joanne’s been collecting behind the scenes footage and she got them practicing Jesse’s scene. We were talking this morning and she thought she was-” I stopped paying attention and looked at the computer screen. She opened up a file and I laughed as I saw Jesse wearing heels, otherwise, he was wearing his normal casual clothes. They were just milling about, chatting, then Jesse launched into his song, and started dancing around in his heels when he fell over and landed face first on the ground. I laughed as I saw people rushing around to help. I looked over to see Lucy was laughing too. “And he’s the one who said that the others were bad!” I told her. She put her laptop away again and I asked, “Are you actually going to see the show?”

Lucy nodded. “Of course. How else will you take me?”

I was confused. “I’m taking you?”

“Yes. You’re going to see it to cheer on Jesse and you get ask me to accompany you,” she explained, an evil grin forming on her face.

“But there’s nothing in it for us. It’s a musical. We can’t hear music,” I reminded her, stating the obvious. I’d seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show when I was eleven and I loved it, but I hadn’t heard or it or seen it for years.

“True, but we have to cheer on Jesse. He’s voluntarily helped you for the last two years without payment of any kind-,”

“That’s not true,” I told her, leaping to my defence, “he gets my loving and caring companionship.”

“You know what I mean, Siloh,” she told without humour. “So help you, Keller, we are so going to the musical, got it?” I nodded. Her expression softened. “Good.” The only bad thing about having Lucy, or any girlfriend for that matter, is that I needed my hands to talk. I really just wanted to take her hand and stare into her eyes and say, “I love you.” For now, though, I just took her hand and let my eyes do the talking. Hopefully, they got the message across. Lucy blushed deeply, but I got the same look back. This is the life, I thought as our lips met.


Lucy left for her lecture super early, like she always did. She was an expert lip reader, but she had to get the best seat in the house so she could get a clear view. Always. I’m pretty sure even at our wedding she’ll arrive two hours early and wait until I got there, rather than the other way around. Hmm? Our wedding, you ask? Well, no, we’re not engaged but it doesn’t mean I’m not considering it. After Jesse’s attempt to get engaged fell flat, I’m actually too terrified to ask. I’ll have to eventually; I can’t live without Lucy, but what if she said no? At the moment, the thought was annoying me and playing on my mind when I was trying to get started on my essay. I barely had a sentence down when somebody plopped down next to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up to see the pale pain in the arse that was Kirby. He was Jesse’s roommate and I made the huge mistake of putting the idea into Jesse’s head that he might’ve been an alright kind of guy. Huge, huge mistake. Now he was bugging me, but, you know, you can’t exactly choose who hangs out with you. “Hi,” he said. Or he could’ve said high. I don’t know. A big part of lip reading is context.

“Hi,” I replied.

“Look at this,” he said, pushing me a piece of paper. It was titled Rocky Horror Show, Indeed. “What’s this?” I asked.

“That is my skating review of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Jesse will flick,” he grinned.

Like I said, a very bad idea.

“But the play hasn’t even had an opening night yet!” I said angrily.

He gave me a calm down gesture and said, “Calm your farm, no need to shout. It’s only a rough draft. You see, it’s theatre and I’m more than likely I’m probably going to ate it so I figured rather than wait tick I actually see it, I’ll write the review in advance! Genius, no?”

I gave him a death glare. “No, not genius, ever heard the saying, don’t judge a book by it’s cover?”

“I have,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “but a reviewer is meant to give his personal opinion on something and I’m the reviewer and that’s my personal opinion.”

“Yeah, but what about Jesse? What’s he done to you?” I asked.

Kirby was really starting to look alarmed. “Dude, keep your voice down, this is a library!”

“I’m sorry,” I said in a voice that I hoped showed I most definitely was not, “but I can’t hear, remember?”

He rolled his eyes. “Right. My heart aches for you,” he said sarcastically. “Look, Jesse can’t keep his nose out of my business so I’m going to meddle with his and see how he likes it. Besides, I hate theatre. Everybody knows that, I’m just going to have some fun tearing down the people who make me mad.”

I picked up my books in disgust. “Mark my words, fag, if you post that review I’ll tattoo it to your forehead,” I said menacingly.

“Is that a threat?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely.” I stormed out with a smirk. Unfortunately, my perfect walkout was interrupted by the security alarm, as I forgot to check out my books. Red faced, I hurriedly got my books scanned by a bored looking librarian before rushing out.


I was reading my book while sitting by the fountain when Jesse sat down next to me. He didn’t say anything, he just sat there, looking smug. I looked up at him and he just grinned at me goofily, waiting for me to ask him something. “What are you smiling about?” I asked, reluctantly taking the bait. Jesse signed, “Jane and I have made up.”

I rolled my eyes at the implication. “Give it time. It’ll never work out.”

“Judging by what just happened, it will,” he told me, leaning back and falling straight into the fountain. I laughed as he sat back up and had a lily pad resting on his now damp head. He clenched his teeth and stamped off. Jesse could be so blond at times. He was one of the smartest people I’d ever met, and yet, he could sometimes be the dumbest too.

Economics, the only class we had shared, proved that selling things and economy were not his thing. He was very good at convincing people to buy things, and to trust him, but he wasn’t good with numbers. He had been passing by occasionally flirting with our old teacher but unfortunately due to complaints from certain others who didn’t find it fair that flirting got you ahead, she was replaced by Mr Dancer. A stern old bloke with a toothbrush moustache and white hair, he acted as if someone forgot to remove the fork from his arse. I actually liked him. He was short, sharp and to the point. Nothing better. My whole family are like that. We’re not the kissy huggy types. That’s for people like Jesse. Clearly, neither were Kirby’s family. It showed. I watched as I saw Kirby’s little brother, Stephen, walked across the lawn, looking around everywhere as if he was lost. He didn’t live here, did he? I thought only Kirby lived in Holywell Manor. They actually didn’t look alike at all. Kirby had a mop of wild black curls and light brown eyes that glinted gold when he was very rarely happy and was shorter than average, but he definitely worked out. Jesse joked that the part of his brain not filled with stories was filled with muscle. Stephen was more lean, and tall with creamy white skin and light brown hair, styled in rockabilly fashion. Must’ve had a slutty mother, I chuckled to myself. But alas, jokes aside, I continued to try and get stuck into my work, until the rain forced me into the dining hall, where it was time for lunch.


I never understood how those cooks in the dining hall ever managed to get jobs as cooks. I mean, I’d cook myself, but you won’t catch me near a stove. I just won’t go near one. But still, their food is shit. Pure shit. I met Lucy in there and she was going on and on about her Philosophy lecture and how it had been so inspiring. I just stared at her and watched her talk. She was so beautiful. The way she talked, the way she smiled at the funny parts of her day.  How on earth did I wind up with her? One second I accidentally tripped her over, the next I had her number. It was strange. I mean, it’s not like I’m attractive or anything, just your garden variety tall person, but she really seemed-

“OW!” I accidentally cried out as a pea hit my eye. Lucy was giving me a playful glare.

“Did you hear a thing I said?” she asked. We both laughed at the joke.

“I’m sorry,” I apologised. “I was just so distracted by how beautiful you are.”

She rolled her big brown eyes. She hated the way I was so sentimental, but I think deep down she loved it. We ate the rest of our lunch just flirting with our eyes. She sort of looked like she wanted to tell me something at one point, but she didn’t, so I must’ve been wrong. Just one of her special smiles convinced me, “That’s it. I never want to be with another girl again.”

I was going to marry this girl.


While mulling over my decision in the common room, I played chess with Jesse, who had decided to skip his politics lecture. He called in sick and was kicking my arse in chess.

“How in the name of God do you manage to be so damn good at everything?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not good at everything, I’m brilliant at everything,” he told me before casually taking my last pawn. “Bastard!” I said.

Jesse threw it up and twirled it in the air before catching it with the opposite hand.

I grumbled before signing, “I think I might ask Lucy to marry me.”

His eyebrows shot up and his mouth formed a perfect o. “What?” he asked.

“I might ask Lucy to marry me,” I repeated.

Jesse’s shocked expression turned into a big smile. “Congratulations,” he signed. “When do you plan on asking?”

I shrugged. “Sometime soon. I can see it now, I’ll propose, she’ll say yes, we’ll get married-,”

“Well,” said Jesse, slightly losing his grin, “that what usually happens.”

I sighed and moved my bishop. “Don’t worry, Jesse, unlike you, I wasn’t determined to stay a virgin before marriage. You’re in check, by the way,” I informed him.

“Yes, well,” he signed before smoothly taking out my bishop and saving his king, “that went out the window fast, didn’t it?”

I was confused. “What do you mean?”

Jesse waved it off. “Doesn’t matter. Say, you got a ring yet?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

“No! I just decided today!” I told him.

“Sorry,” he said, “just curious.”

From the corner of my eye, I thought saw Kirby poke his head in and call out to Jesse, but just before I got mad again, I looked over and did a double take. It looked like Kirby, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Instead, he had bits of white and grey in his black curls and lines in his face. Once the guy disappeared, I asked Jesse, “Who was that?”

“Oh, that’s Mr Anderson. He’s the drama department head and the director of the play. Why?”

I was still staring at the empty doorframe. “He looks exactly like Kirby,” I noted in awe. How had Jesse not seen that? The resemblance was nuts! “Now that you mention it,” he signed, “they do kinda look the same.”

“Kind of?” I asked. I flicked over my king and chased after Mr Anderson.


Now, I usually don’t go poking around other’s business, I keep to myself, but with an idea forming, and the small possibility it could work, I was driven to succeed. I took a while but I managed to catch up with Mr Anderson. “Mr Anderson!” I called out. He turned around and said, “Hello, do I throw you?”

“Uh, no,” I said. “I’m a friend of Jesse Barton’s, weird question, I know, but do you have a son?”

He looked rather confused but answered anyway. “Yeah, two boys and two girls, why did you want to know?”

I decided to take the leap. “Is Kirby one of them?” I was surprised when Mr Anderson gave a dark chuckle. “Yes, but he’d never admit it.”

“Why not?” I asked.

Mr Anderson looked suspicious. “Why do you want to know?”

I told him about Kirby’s review of the play and how it would kill Jesse. Then of course, I had to tell him about Jesse’s crap year. “But you can’t tell him I told you any of that,” I warned him. “No, no, no, I get it,” he said. “Listen, Kirby, or whatever he’s calling himself now, he doesn’t listen to me. I can’t do anything. Tell Toronto, that’s his real name you know, to grow up and stop being an ass, ok?”

I nodded. “Thank you, Mr Anderson.” I ran straight back to the common room and laughed at the sheer genius of my plan.


Later that afternoon, after getting the kinks worked out of my plan, I knocked on the door of Kirby and Jesse’s dorm. No response. I just kept knocking and knocking until finally, Kirby/Toronto opened up with a pissed off expression. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Are you busy?”

He jerked his head in the general direction behind him. I looked over his shoulder to see some guy tapping his foot impatiently. “This is something you’ll want to hear, Toronto.”

Kirby instantly looked panicked. He shut the door on the guy and stepped out to join me. “How did you find out about that?” he demanded.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said flatly. “What does matter, Toronto Anderson is that I know your dirty little secret. Your dads are Broadway legends.” Kirby dropped his head in shame. “Yeah, I did my research,” I taunted. “Kurt and Blaine Anderson. Your parents. Theatre legends. You hate theatre. Like the psychologist I am, I decided to connect the dots. You aren’t mad at Jesse; you hate your dads. Don’t want to be in their shadow?” I asked.

Kirby perked up. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I reject stereotypes. My parents are the pure embodiment of certain stereotypes and that’s what I’m rejecting, not their reputations, I don’t care about them. Oh, and this is about Jesse because, like you, he seems to enjoy poking about in my business.”

We glared at each other for a second before I said, “Retract the review or I’ll tell everyone who you really are.”

Kirby sighed. “Alright, but just don’t tell anyone about Toronto.” I nodded and trudged away back to the common room.


On my laptop, the title What is Identity?  stood at the top of the page with that annoying cursor flashing afterwards as if it wanted something. What is identity?

Identity is a front we construct for society in the hope they will accept us?

Identity is who we are, and personality is a front we put up so that no-one can see our true identity for fear that they may discover who we truly are?

I DON’T KNOW!!! I decided to stop backtracking, and tried for real.

Identity: The fact of being who or what a person or thing is. There’s your bloody essay. That’s the dictionary definition of the word. Identity is not to be confused with personality, which is character. Of course, people may construct different identities for themselves if they do not like who they are, including a complete switch in personality. For instance, Subject A is not-

Oh fuck this, I thought, shutting my laptop and rubbing my eyes. This is stupid. I slid the laptop and my books under the couch and curled up, just wanting sleep and inspiration to come all at once.


For the second time that day, I was shaken awake again. I was greeted by the unnervingly large, silver eyes of Jesse Barton. They made me jump back in fright. As he laughed, they turned into half crescent moons. Hard not to notice. “Sorry,” he signed. “Lucy’s gone out looking for you. She thought you were mad at her, something about peas?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, she flicked one at me at lunch, I wasn’t paying attention. What’s the time?”

Jesse looked down at his phone. “About seven o’clock.”

“Great,” I told him, picking up my laptop and grabbing his wrist, “we’re going shopping.”

“Ring shopping?” he asked, lighting up. I had to read his lips, ‘cause I had his hand and nodded.


When Jesse was about to propose to his girlfriend, he discovered she had cheated on him. Kirby and I watched as he, the eternally happy Jesse Barton, broke down in tears and curled up on the floor, pleading for us to kill him and to let him die. That image was burned on my brain, and it resurfaced as we drove to the very same jewellery shop that Jesse had sped to so excitedly almost seven months ago. “Jess?” I asked. “What if she says no?”

Jesse had to turn his head to face me so I could see. “Then, you consider your options,” he said, quickly turning his head back. “Did you do that?” I asked.

He sort of half-smiled. “No. I overreacted. I shed have just taken it in my stride and forgiven her.” I was going to ask if he was still in love with Jodie, but we don’t mention the J-word around Jesse. Not unless we wanted him to transcend into a bitchy and hissy mood.

 Jesse parked the car on the footpath, much to the disgruntlement of a number of pedestrians and dragged me into the shop. The walls were lined with wooden panels and red velvet, showcasing all the glittering jewellery they had to offer. There were a number of others there, including at least one other stressed out guy peering at the rings. The guy behind the counter instantly recognised Jesse. “Ah, my good chap! Haven’t seen you in a while! How’d it go?” he asked.

“She cheated on me,” he said with a smile on his face, causing the jeweller’s own to fall.

“Ah,” he said. “Sorry to hear.”

Jesse waved it off. “It’s fine. I’m here for my friend, Siloh. He wants to get engaged,” he said, with added signing for my benefit. Jesse seems to forget half the time that I can read lips and am not stupid. I gazed at the rings. They were all so shiny and sparkled under the little spotlights, like the sun reflecting on the sea. I remembered that Lucy’s favourite colour was red, the same colour as her lips and her heels. I looked for a ring with a red rock in it. There were lots of them, but none of them seemed right for Lucy. Finally, one caught my attention. A simple, gold band with an oval ruby with pearls around the edges. “That one,” I said to Jesse, pointing to it. That was it. That was the ring.

“You sure?” signed Jesse. “It costs a fair bit.”

“How much?”


I found myself not caring. “That’s the one. I’ll take it,” I said.


Back on campus, I was pacing around the corridor outside Lucy and Joanne’s room, wondering when I should knock. The ring box in my pocket felt like a hot lump of coal, constantly reminding me that it was there. I was about to knock when Joanne, Lucy’s roommate, opened the door and gave me a passing smile as I went in, hoping to surprise her. It worked, she gave a little shout when I went in and shut the door. She wrapped her long arms around my neck and said, “You scared me for a second there.”

“Sorry,” I said, kissing her keenly, hoping to make up for it.

“You’re in a good mood,” she giggled. There was a momentary silence before I tried to say, “I’ve got something to ask you,” but Lucy was talking at the same time.

“You go first,” I said, letting go of her and sitting on her bed. She slowly walked over to join me. Lucy sat down and bit her lip. “Remember when I told you Jo was worried she was pregnant?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Lucy smiled a little and shook her head. “Well, she was terrified and asked me to take it with her,” she said.

“I think I know where this is going…” I said, a smile curling up on my lips and tears of joy pricked the corners of my eyes. She’s pregnant, my brain was saying. “And it turns out that I’m pregnant,” she said, before bursting into nervous giggles. I instantly saw my whole future with Lucy and our child. It was gleaming and perfect. “That’s brilliant,” I said, and kissed her again. We broke apart and she asked, “So what was your news?” She smiled in the most beautiful way possible. “Oh, nothing,” I said sarcastically, slipping off the bed and casually pulling the box out of my pocket and opening it, making Lucy cover her mouth in surprise. She said something, but I didn’t see her whole mouth. “Pardon?” I signed out of instinct.

“I said, ‘Wow.’” She was laughing.

“So,” I smiled. “Now that we’re well on the way to starting our own family,” I laughed, “will you marry me?” She nodded and threw herself at me.



I was chilling in the common room reading Mein Kampf, when I saw a flashing light under the couch. Curious, I leapt from my chair and peeked underneath the couch to find a laptop with “Siloh’s laptop” engraved in swirly, Victorian style script on the top. There was also a psychology book. I opened up Siloh MacTavish’s laptop and laugh as I skimmed over his half-arsed excuse of an essay. Consider this your wedding present, I wrote at the top. As I tapped at the keys, I wondered why I was doing it. You’re probably wondering, too. Well, to be honest, it was kind of out of respect for his dirty tactics. Piece of advice, always do a background check on people. Everyone has a secret they don’t want you to know about. Look around this common room, for instance. Over there in the corner is Joanne Phelps, just staring out the window innocently. Just last month, she and I went out, got pissed and slept together. Yeah. Me. She reckoned she could “save” me from my homosexuality by giving me her virginity. Totally worked. NOT. I felt it, sure, did it feel nice? A little, but I didn’t like it, if you know what I mean. If everyone knew she was a giant homophobe, not many people would still like her. Then look over at Sylvia Severino. Lovely girl, but she has been in and out of rehab for being addicted to drugs since she was thirteen. And what about that charming, attractive young man known as Jesse Barton? Nobody knows that he’s fathered a daughter with his sister, or that he’s bi-curious. He told me so. Well, I read his diary. Come on, I was interested in what he was writing about me! And what kind of twenty-two year old man writes a diary, anyway?  As for me, ha, and as for me, I’m Toronto Klaine Anderson. What’s worse than having two theatre queens as your fathers?  I tapped away at the keys and felt a teensy bit better for being so hostile towards him earlier. Plus, Dad said if I don’t, he’ll go around boasting about his lovely son, Toronto.


Every morning at six, my human alarm clock never fails to wake me, even if I am sleeping naked in my girlfriend’s room. Lucy wasn’t impressed. She pulled the covers over her chest leaving me completely exposed. “Do you mind?” I signed, after grabbing a pillow.

“Not at all,” said, Jesse, still in his pyjamas, “but it’s bright new day!” He quickly turned to look at Lucy who was signing insults at Jesse like there was no tomorrow. He rolled his eyes at her and dragged me back to my own dorm, the pillow just barely keeping me modest. So, the new day started with me being dragged down the dorm hallway in the nude. Just another ordinary day beginning, folks!

Submitted: August 14, 2011

© Copyright 2021 Boron Von Twiddle. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Facebook Comments

More Other Short Stories