‘Flockaveli’ for the Deaf

The car careened around the corners. It was one of those little German sports cars. One of those numbers with numbers in the title of the vehicle. The stereo system, compliments of the finest audio engineering blasted trap music. Waka Flocka Flame’s Flockaveli poured through the speakers. The bass boomed.

“Simon, retract top. Increase volume,” the ebony thing riding shotgun in the gunmetal coupe commanded. She fixed her hair in the mirror as the music blasted and the wind fell. It was magic.

The driver signaled with his right hand.

“Yes, we’ve got time, baby,” Kalecia Hemmer replied.

The engine revved like a hungry beast ready to attack its prey. The bass continued to drive Geddy Covington. Sure, he had lost his hearing in a wreck a few years back. That obviously didn’t stop him. The bones that had been crushed and led to auditory loss only emboldened him to drive faster, smarter.

He knew Kelecia for twelve years. She was a radiant bow of hope stretching to his soul. His brown skin was just a few shades lighter than hers. As the chariot of fire continued its course through the night, the vibrations of the trap music stimulated his brain and he could feel what was like a tingling on the top of his head. The rush of the engine and Kalecia’s face painted a cinematic portrait of beauty in motion.

They reached their destination. The gala ball at the Mercier Hotel in Wilmington, Delaware greeted them warmly.

Kalecia interpreted all of Covington’s gestures. Each sign produced a crispness and precision that allowed her to speak quickly.

“Absolutely, Mr. Mayor. I’m proud to continue to race with the ability for signals and my limited hearing to assist me,” Kalecia said from Covington’s signage. The couple turned around and away from the mayor and his wife. Covington smiled.

“That guy’s a jagoff,” he signed.

Kalecia giggled. She brought a hand to her mouth. She took hold of Covington’s hand and led him to the bar. She knew what he wanted: a single of gin and orange bitters. For the lady, red wine. Covington stood out in his forest green tuxedo and Kalecia looked regal in a canary yellow gown. They both were sculptures who had broken free from their frozen poses.

Covington was the guest of honor and had prepared a speech. After he delivered it, he returned to his car with his comely date. There seemed to be electricity that revived once the two of them got together again in the car when the evening ended.

“That was beautiful,” Kalecia observed.

He took his hands off of the steering wheel and signed an ironic applause.

“I mean it!” she giggled and shoved him slightly.

The bass returned. It was like a soothing, thumping, empowering sensation that Covington enjoyed. They found his apartment and went up the elevator.

They disrobed. “That was bullshit,” Covington signed with his hands.

“You were a gem up there. It was that lady who kept messing up your words. If we had had a proper announcer, we wouldn’t have had….”

Covington interrupted her. “Forget it,” he signed.

She sighed. Then she signed. “I’m going to always be there for every moment. You don’t have to worry about a damn thing around me. I’m going to elevate the both of us. We’re an acrobatic act, high on the trapeze.”

“Okay.”

She felt a stiletto drive into her mind, icy and sharp.

“I mean it. I’m not going to drag you around like some invalid. You’re highly capable. You’ve got the power to fend for yourself. I’m just here for the ride.”

Covington rested his head on the palm of his hand. His waves swirled around his head in tight lines that would’ve made any other woman besides Kalecia seasick. Not her. No.

“You know, I’m rather sure of myself. But when that steering wheel cracked my head, I knew I had been shaken. Not in faith. I’ve never believed in God or society. I just know by way of reason,” he signed.

“If you want to be the top racer again you can. Because of your lack of faith and full confidence in yourself, you ought to be able to lift yourself to heights that you didn’t even expect were possible.”

“I know,” he signed and pulled the three thousand thread count bed sheets over her head.

The next day was the race. Covington came in first at First State Track in Dover, Delaware. Another woman translated Covington’s words for the news cameras.

“I have one thing to say,” Gladys Lakes interpreted for him.

“I love you, Kalecia,” he said with a kiss. After he had gotten cleaned off and changed, he met Kalecia at the entrance.

“I love you, too,” she signed.

“Don’t get all mushy. I said it in front of the whole world once. You don’t have to say it. You show it.”

“I know,” she signed.