Unmuted

Unmuted- Chapter 5

It is quiet-- the awkward kind of quiet. The only sound is created by our silverware clinking onto the porcelain plates. We finish cooking dinner -- well he finished cooking dinner at around eight. I was in charge of setting the table, and finished setting it at eight-fifteen. The food was on the table two minutes after, and now here, ten minutes later, I have only eaten a fork full of mashed potatoes, and a sliver of lettuce.

“You don’t like the food?” His voice drifts towards me.

I lift my eyes from my full plate of food and to his face, checking out his plate in the process. He is almost done with his meal, and I have barely started mine. I shift in my seat. I have always been a slow eater, my food super cold before I take my second bite.

“I am a slow eater,” I explain awkwardly.

He nods with a smile, “My little brother was the same way growing up. It was like, he had to observe every inch of the food before he’d eat it. It was the weirdest thing.” I stare at him blankly. “No, not that you’re weird or anything, “ He quickly interjects, realizing his words. “I was just... connecting a past experience... with,” he drifts off staring down at his plate.

“You eat so slow,” he complained.

“Well I am sorry! I was born this way!” I yell throwing a fry in his direction.

“You were born to eat slow?”

“Yes,” I laugh.

“Well, don’t you want to catch the film on time?”

“Yes.”

“Well eat faster! We’re gonna miss the showing.” Jordan reaches for the  box of genetically modified chicken nuggets, taking one and shoving it in my face. “Here.”

“You can not force me to eat.”

“I’m not--”

“Should I feed you?” He jokes.

There is a pause after he says this, mainly because I am not sure whether I heard him right, and partially because I was not sure that I heard him speak at all. “No?” I blink.

He laughs uneasily. “It was a joke,” He whispers to himself. “I’m Duncan, by the way,” he says cheerfully, trying hard to keep the conversation alive. I say his name to myself, like he had done earlier with Attilia.

He looks around the dining room awkwardly, as though he were looking for something to say. I am really the last person someone should talk to for an intriguing conversation. I lost the ability to hold a conversation so long ago. The last actual conversation I had was years ago, before I was arrested.

“Attilia, right?” He asks for confirmation of the name, I nod before placing a few pieces of corn into my mouth. “Attilia, how are you feeling?”

I swallow, before replying, thinking about how much I do not want to talk right now. My mouth is beginning to get sore from using it so much after such a long time. I even think about going back into mute, but David’s words from earlier repeat in my mind again,  “... if he kicks you out you’ll have nowhere else to go. It’s not like I can take you in or anything.”  It is true. If he did kick me out, I would have no where else to go. I have no home to go to, no other sort of refuge. I could not go to a friends house, considering I did not have any before Huxley. I definitely could not go live with David either, for, like he said... obvious reasons. So I suck up the pain from my jaw and reply.

“I am fine.”

“Do you actually talk like that?” I am shocked by his question, and going by his face he is shocked by his words as well. He covers his eyes with both his hands, they slide down his face, and he stares at me with apologetic eyes. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that outloud,” he explains.