An unusual silence

Oh throat gods, not that, not laryngitis. What have I done to deserve this? How on earth will I make it through my day without any voice? I can only wonder just how many people will be affected by my silent expressions.

Let me think now, there must be some kind of old Greek elixir that will restore my cords to their whiney splendor. What would the old Greek women in my family do? Ah yes I remember, the old family remedy. First I need the ingredients. One large blue jar of Vicks Vapor Rub, old oversized flannel shirt (must be blue for emotional comfort), a jar of garlic pills and several handfuls of assorted vitamins. It seems to be missing something. Oh I hope that this doesn’t have to be applied in the presence of an old Greek woman dressed in black or something. Okay on with the Vicks and off into my day.

“Mom you look awful?” The teens are onto me. I must not let them know that I am weakened. I know, I’ll just nod.

“So mom, what’s new?” The younger one suspects, I just know it. Okay so here goes. I open my mouth and to her delight nothing more than a scratch tone comes out.

She is now running off to inform her brother, who returns showing his concern. “Mom I hear you have no voice, got any money?”

How is it that kid always knows when I am about to have a real estate closing? Much to his dismay I can still grunt out, no.

Even though my day is full I think I can get away with out speaking to my first appointment with a bank appraiser, but I’m not too certain about the afternoon’s closing. Okay here goes. I swallow the mixture of vitamins and apply the Vicks. I forgot how nasty that stuff was. Speak, I say to my self, just speak. The elixir isn’t working. What did I forget? Maybe it must be applied in front of an old Greek woman dressed in black or something. I just don’t have time today to track down an old Greek family member. I only have about 30 minutes to get to an appointment with an appraiser. I guess that I must look on the bright side. I suppose that it’s sort of a sexy voice in a raspy sort of way.

“Tell us that you aren’t going out in public like that are you mom? I mean that mix of Vicks and your perfume on your jacket is downright scary?”

Why is it that the teens never loose their voices? I can only shake my head and manage to let them know that I will try really hard not to speak to anyone that they might know. Of course, my oldest child is most concerned.

“You know mom, since I was so scared by that Vicks thing, well maybe, got any money to ease the fear?”

This is going to be a long day. I think that I must go to a more traditional form of medication. I grab my trusty bottle of Dayquil and a case of bottled water, and head off into the world.

No time to measure it out, now I am running late. Lucky for me it fits in my coffee cup holder. A quick swig and I’m in Bethel. Who makes this stuff? I really hope there is no alcohol in it. I can imagine getting pulled over under the influence of Dayquil. Oh wonderful, those Vicks people make it. It’s no wonder I can feel it all the way to my stomach. “Whoa, that’s nasty!” Maybe I should have taken the extra time to find the old Greek.

The appraiser is looking at me a little bit funny. I have to wonder why? Maybe there is orange stuff on my lips or something. I glance into the car mirror. No I’m okay, he just must not want to catch laryngitis. He does his thing and I head off to my closing. A quick call into the office to let them know that I am on the way. I manage to get a few raspy words out. Funny, no one there seems to be upset that I can’t speak. In fact could that possibly be applause in the background? No, must be my imagination. Another swig of Dayquil and I’m off to Newburgh.

I can’t talk on my cell phone so maybe I should listen to the radio. Oh yes, the oldies station. There isn’t anyone listening. I could test the voice out and see if I could make it as a raspy singer. If I tap on the steering wheel then other people driving past me will know that I am singing and not a nut that is talking to herself on the way to Newburgh. Okay toss the head a little, squeak out some notes, not bad. There, I see the exit. The concert is over.

I hurry into the bank attorney’s office for the closing. I wave a cheery hello and take my seat. I don’t think any of them suspect yet. If I get lucky then all I have to do is get up and make a copy of a driver’s license or something. My job has been completed at this point, so I don’t really need to speak. This closing should be quick and no one will be the wiser. “So, Diane we hear you can’t speak. We really feel awful about that.”

Isn’t it wonderful how news travels so fast, even all the way out here to Newburgh. Isn’t that nice, they are all so concerned.

“So, we were wondering? Well, is there a person responsible for your loss of voice? There could possibly be a citation in it for whoever it might be. Maybe we could name a holiday after him or possibly give him the key to the city.”

Okay, now that’s cute. Who ever said lawyers have no sense of humor is wrong. These guys are very funny. I’m sure that they really do wish I could speak. I know this the same way that I’m sure my number one teen doesn’t really just want the cash.