The Sound of Annie’s Silence

You Do

The Sound of Annie’s Silence

Phyllis Fair Cowell

When I answered the ad, I had no idea what I was getting into. It sounded simple enough.

Wanted: Someone to stay with my daughter Mon. – Fri. afternoons 3:30 – 5:30. High school student preferred. $25 / wk.

I called the number listed with the ad. The next day I met Mrs. Walters and her daughter, Annie.

Meeting with Annie was a shock. Mrs. Walters led me to a girl sitting in the living room. I stood there, staring.

The girl I was supposed to watch was no child at all. Annie was my age!

“Hello,” I finally muttered.

“Annie doesn’t talk,” Mrs. Walters said.

I realized that Annie was staring, too, but not at me. I wasn’t sure if she was really looking at anything. I couldn’t even tell if she knew I was there.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

Mrs. Walters tried to explain, but the long words were lost on me. I did understand that Annie went to a special school. In a few months, she would go live there. Until then, Mrs. Walters needed help with Annie.

“Someone has to watch Annie until I get home from work,” she explained. “She likes being around people her own age. So I thought a student would be good for the job. Are you still interested?”

I thought for a second. Annie didn’t seem to do much of anything. Watching her would be easier than babysitting.

“Sure,” I said.

Mrs. Walters described the job. I would pick up the house keys at a neighbor’s house. Annie’s school bus would bring her home by 3:45. All I had to do was watch Annie until Mrs. Walters got home. If I had any problems, I could call on the neighbor for help.

I couldn’t believe it. I could study or watch TV – and get paid for it. The job would be a breeze.

That’s what I thought then.

That was before I heard the sound of Annie’s silence.

I can’t say just what it was like. At first I thought she was watching me. That was silly. Annie stared, but I never knew what she saw with those eyes. It made it hard to ignore her.

I began doing things for her. I put her chair next to a window so she could stare at different things. I turned on the TV for her. Mostly, though, I tried not to think about her.

Annie had her good days and her bad days. On good days, she just sat. On bad days, she rocked back and forth. The chair legs would slam on the floor. Annie’s head would bang on the wall behind her.

On one of Annie’s bad days, I started talking to her. “Come on, Annie!” I said crossly, “Cut it out!”

I slammed my history book shut, but Annie kept rocking. I moved her away from the wall so she wouldn’t hurt her head.

The rocking stopped. Now there was her silence again – and her staring. That was almost worse than the rocking and the banging. Suddenly, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.

Then I realized I couldn’t just leave Annie there. But I had to get away from the walls that echoed her silence.

I shoved Annie’s arms into her coat, and I pulled her outside with me. As soon as Mrs. Walters got home, I decided, I would quit this crazy job.

Crazy was the word for it. Here I was, trying to get away from Annie. But instead, I was walking with her, and I was even holding her hand. I had to. If I didn’t, she would just stand there.

Crazier than that, I was still talking to her. “It’s much better out here, isn’t it?” I asked. Even though I knew she couldn’t answer, I went on. “There’s a lot more to see here than indoors. That’s the new playground over there. And over there is the corner where I catch my bus home.”

We got back to the house late. Mrs. Walters was already home. I wanted to tell her I was quitting, but she started talking first.

“It was so nice of you to take Annie for a walk,” she said. “You don’t have to do that, you know. You’re so good with her. I appreciate that.”

She kept saying things that made it hard to quit right then. I decided to quit the next day.

The next day came and went, and I said nothing about quitting. The whole week went by without my bringing it up.

Almost every day, I took Annie for a walk. If the weather was bad, I sat and looked out the window with her. All the time, I kept talking to her. It made the silence easier to bear.

I pointed out cars and people and buses. I talked about trees, birds, and even umbrellas. Every day I thought about quitting, but I did nothing about it.

My last day of work finally arrived. Annie would begin living at her school from now on. I could tell Mrs. Walters was sad that Annie was moving away, but she tried not to show it.

“Annie’s school runs a day camp during the summer,” she told me. “They hire teenagers to help out. I’ve told them about you, and I’m sure you could get a job there.”

Oh, no, I thought. I don’t want to work with a lot of Annies.

Out loud I said, “Thank you, Mrs. Walters, but I already have a summer job.” That was a lie.

When I left the house, I felt relieved. But I didn’t feel as happy as I thought I would. When I missed my bus, I didn’t care, I just felt numb.

I stood at the bus stop, wondering why I felt so bad. I had said good-bye to Annie quickly and without emotion. Then I had left as fast as I could.

Now I tried to look for something to cheer me up. I noticed the kids in the playground across the street. They all seemed happy – except for one girl. She was older than the others, and she stood outside the playground.

When I looked at her closely, I could see it was Annie. As I ran toward her, I wondered how she had gotten outside. She had never wandered away before. Maybe she felt my good-bye wasn’t enough.

I threw my arms around her and gave her a hug. Then I took her hand, and we headed back to the house.

I began to feel happier. I knew what I would be doing this summer. My job with Annie hadn’t been so bad, once I started treating her like the human being she was.