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I stroke her soft, silky hair out of her face. "Hello, Little Beauty."
"Hello, Big Grumpy," she tells me with her sweet lilting voice, cheeks blushing a lovely dusky hue.
Her voice sounds so different in pitch. It's almost like actual music to me, so little like any other person's voice that I've ever heard in my life. So unique. There is a resonance-like quality to it. My guess is that's because she cannot really calibrate it based on any auditory feedback, and she doesn't hear it coming from the throat and from the larynx, like someone that can hear would. She also has explained to me that she cannot gauge the sound of her own voice beyond the vibrations that she can perceive in her nasal cavities and in her pharynx.
It makes her shy to use it in public because she sometimes has a monotone intonation that makes her mispronounce some words or makes it difficult for her to regulate the lowest pitches appropriately, and she thinks her voice sounds weird and strident because of it, which is nonsense.
I haven’t completely figured out how she got it in her stubborn little head that her voice is ugly, but Jared cleared some of that up for me: bullies seem to be the main cause of her thinking.
He told me she has been mocked about her voice in the past —which I can't even think about without wanting to murder someone– so that's where her low self-esteem, her timidity, and her reluctance about using it in front of people who aren’t family comes from.
Me? I fucking love her voice. And I love that she feels safe enough to let me hear it. Jared told me I'm the only person outside of family that has heard her speaking-voice since her early teens, so I treasure every little syllable that comes from her lips when we are alone because I know what an effort it is for her and how much she's got to trust me to let me hear it, which in and of itself means the fucking world to me.
But I never push her about it, especially when we’re in public, since it makes her uncomfortable, even though I know everything she's been told about this it's utter BS and that her voice is lovely and sounds like a fucking symphony to me, and I've told her as much. And it's not like I'm saying it because I'm lovestruck or something. I have absolute pitch, so I know what the fuck I'm talking about here, and I hope I can make her come around to my way of thinking little by little.
I'm going to try and see if I can coax her out of her shell a bit, maybe see if in time she's going to be willing to use her voice in front of Sly and Rick since they are practically brothers to me and they already see her as a little sister of sorts.
Mia squeezes one of my biceps to get my attention, and I look down at her.
"Don't you want me to get in?" she sim-coms.
Shit, she gets me so distracted sometimes that I didn't even realize we were still standing in the doorway.
I laugh, nodding, and kiss the top of her head as I pull her behind me into the condo, her hand firmly held in one of mine.
She tugs on my fingers and makes me stop walking as she catches up to me and moves to my side.'Carson, what is this place? You need this much space for a music studio?'
I grin down at her, bringing her fingers to my lips for a kiss, then I start to ASL and talk at the same time, glossing over the most difficult signs I have yet to learn by using fingerspelling.
"Well, actually… babe… this isn't simply going to be my studio…"
She points to the million-and-one cardboard boxes scattered around, frowning. "Moving boxes?"
I nod.
Mia takes a longer look around, and then she starts to jump up and down, soundlessly clapping and doing a little happy dance that makes me chuckle —girls will be girls, I guess.
"You are moving here? In D.C.? In this apartment?" she asks, hands flying all over the place as she signs excitedly, her voice soft and hopeful.
"Yes, I am. Are you happy, baby?"
To answer my question, she launches herself at me, squealing. I catch her and swing her around, making her laugh.
I kiss her softly, first her lips, then her nose. She giggles.
“And there's more, Mia… you are moving here with me."
She gives me another one of those heart-stopping, cock-standing grins of hers –with dimple and all– that make me lose my fucking mind. Then she laughs.
‘Aren't you supposed to ask me something like that rather than telling me it's happening, you caveman?'she signs.
I shake my head. "Absolutely not! Whatever gave you that idea, baby? Nowadays, it's not conventional to ask a woman to move in with you. That would be the old-fashioned way of going about it. The modern way of doing things is that you just tell her that shit is happening, and she loves it. It's a widely accepted behavior…"
She snorts, then giggles and starts to sign.'Yeah, sure. Widely accepted, my ass…'
As soon as I'm done reading her lips, I reach under the little frilly powder pink dress she's wearing, and pinch said delicious, bountiful ass, making her jump a little.
"I'm telling you, it is… I mean, look how pleased you're looking right now. Aren't you happy?"
