Penolope

Talking to Mikko was strangly thereputic. He spoke calmly and simply, in a constant unwavering cadence. They spoke mostly about art, along with the basic small talk usually made when you meet someone for the first time. Penolope was used to being simply two eats and not a voice in conversation, but Mikko gave her endless opportunity to speak. She was wary of this at first, but when had pointed to one of the only art peices in the mansion that didn't have an aura of pretentiousness had messy brush work and lacked creativity, she let herself rant.she saw the moment her words affected Mikkos veiw of the art, and she felt something swell in her chest. The boy with impaired hearing seemed to be able to hear her better than anyone else.


The Dutch mansion was a massive sprawling building with only two floors. That meant that once they had walked every corridor on the ground floor in just over an hour, there was nowhere to go but up. They stopped at a small staircase that most likely had been built for servants, but was now used primarily by Penolope. Mikko jogged up the stairs quickly and effortlessly, almost making to the place where the staircase curved out of sight before he noticed Penolope wasn't following him and he jogged back down. She must have looked sick to her stomach, because he put a careful arm around her shoulder and guided her into a sitting position on the bottom step next to him.


" What's bothering you?"

Penolope didn't respond. She couldn't. She couldn't even lie, there was an one hundred percent chance he would see through it. She stayed silent, and tried to focus on the warmth of his arm that he had left around her. She turned her head to face the wall, her eyes tracing the floral pattern in the wallpaper. She hoped he couldn't see the tears forming in her eyes again.

" you know, I forgave my parents for giving me terrible vision and poor eyesight because they taught me I was allowed to use my eyes to cry. They taught me so many things, and the only thing they ever asked of me was that I used my ears to really listen. I listened to my parents, and my elders, my little cousins. I listened to nature and music, my own body, and rules. My parents never made my listen in a way that made me obedient, they taught me to listen in a way that made me observant." Mikko sounded choked up now. "That's why I'm hear."


Penolope felt incredulous upon hearing his last sentence.

" you can't mean you're hear to listen to Priscilla's speeches."

"No, your sister has less conviction in her tone and sparkle in her eyes delivering a speech to hundreds of people than you have talking about the weather." He lowered his head. " I'm here because my mother disappeared here not long ago."

Penolope felt all the peices come together. Inuit protesters, her mother's promising position in the upcoming election, her uncles many plans for oil rigs, the conversation on the other side of the wall. Before she could decide what to do or say, she heard footsteps coming from the left. Mikko couldn't hear them.

" you have to leave," she informed him. " I'll find a way to speak to you again soon." With that, she turned and ran up the stairs, the last thing she saw was Mikko hearing the footsteps, and his unreadable expression as he ran away.