Tinnitus
That's what the doctor said...
Prompt by James (HVR): The ringing in my ears is coming from inside the house! It’s not my ears…
Great-Aunt Hattie was a hoarder.
All the aunts, uncles, and cousins had known it for years, but it was never so apparent than the week after her death. Her house was a monument to mental decline. Loose sheet music for instruments that Aunt Hattie didn’t even play wallpapered every single room. Even after retirement, she had continued to collect piano instruction books. And the records! Aunt Hattie probably had a small fortune in vinyl records.
But her pride and joy was the grand piano dominating the living room.
A wedding present from Uncle Bert’s parents, Aunt Hattie had played on that piano her entire married and widowed life. It was her one possession that she listed by name in her will. Everything else crammed into her house was left to the cousins to decide.
“Mom told me that Aunt Hattie had gone totally deaf by the time she passed,” said my sister, Sarah. I drove us through the town of Amber Castle toward our great-aunt’s house. “But she kept playing that grand piano.”
I squeezed the steering wheel, wishing Sarah hadn’t brought it up. Unlike my sister, I’d heard a rumor about how Aunt Hattie lost her hearing. Complaining of an incessant ringing, she had eventually started to claw at her ears, wiggling her arthritic fingers into those small tunnels until she ruptured her eardrums. I swallowed hard.
“Yeah,” I said, hoarse. “She wasn’t all there at the end.”
It was just tinnitus, the doctor told the family, but the story still sent shivers down my spine.
Two other cars were already parked outside the house when we arrived.
“That’s Brett and Carol,” said Sarah, the names of our cousins causing a smile to blossom. Upon seeing us, they climbed out of their cars.
“You have the key?” Brett asked me. I nodded.
A great silence hung over the exterior of the house, oppressive and heavy. Sliding the key into the lock, I let everyone in. The air reeked of dust, moldy paper, and spoiled food.
I winced. Though no one else was home, a high-pitched ringing was present, so subtle that I didn’t notice it for a moment. Rubbing the outsides of my ears, I glanced at Sarah and the cousins. They too massaged the sides of their heads, as though attempting to dislodge something from their ears.
It’s just tinnitus, I imagined the doctor telling us. But the thing was … I didn’t have tinnitus.
The eardrum part freaked me out!
That was awesome, McKenzie! 😁🖤🖤