Alexia Kemerling

On surviving an AudioMetric Booth when you’re a claustrophobic nine-year-old

I am nine and missing the Cinco de mayo party, again. I am nine and the oversized headphones keep sliding down my head, curling my ears like conch shells. Can you hear this? A voice crackles through the red and blue ear muffs. I nod. I am missing fried ice cream to sit alone in a metal box where the air is pressurized or otherwise oxidized, devised for me to breathe slow beneath the surface. Breathe slow the smell of hand sanitizer. Breathe slow and imagine the box is a submarine sinking through the yellow-tiled floor of the audiologist office. Begin descent into dark ocean depths. Raise your right hand every time you hear the beep. The hairs in my cochlea itch in silence that grows heavier with each passing second. I count coral colonies and undulating sea snails and spiky Christmas tree worms. Sub-audible sounds travel slow in my submarine. When the ringing reaches me I raise my right hand. Gentle jellyfish and cautious crustaceans. The whir and unwhir of noisemaking machines outside my submarine. The cacophonous chorus broadcast into my headphones. Can you hear this? I can and I can also feel the temperature rising, oxygen thinning. I think I’ve heard enough. I whisper a prayer or a plea. Amorphous algae and canopy of kelp: Allow me to disappear in your dense growth.
There, where no one will ask how well I listen.

[Author Description: Head and shoulders photograph of a white woman with shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair. She is smiling slightly, and has light brown glasses and a gold nose ring. She is wearing a gray shirt, blue sweater, and necklace with an amber stone.]

Alexia Kemerling

Alexia Kemerling is a writer, runner, and activist from the heart of Ohio. She enjoys drinking coffee and talking about accessibility. She wears hearing aids in both ears and claims to be good at lip reading, but it’s mostly just guesswork. Her writing has appeared in and is forthcoming to Mud Season Review, TIMBER Journal, and Bridge.