by Anna Martin
Although I cannot say we will change our minds, I know what it feels like to need an honest-to-God shot in life, and I think it would be appropriate to see Caleb in our clinic again to reassess his suitability for the trial. If we feel like the progress he has made so far hasn’t been enough to alter our decision, I would be happy to make a follow-up appointment with him in a year’s time.
Your offer of sponsorship is appreciated but ultimately unnecessary. If we decide to proceed, then all costs will be covered by Audible Implants Limited on the condition of his continued interaction with us so we can assess his progress. All this will, of course, be discussed at a later time should he be successful.
I have asked my secretary to contact both yourself and Mr. Stone so we can arrange a meeting. If you have any concerns, please do not hesitate to contact me at the number below. I look forward to meeting you shortly.
Kind regards,
Dr. Alan Marshall
Luc read the letter again, feeling slightly shocked. He’d written to the doctor in charge of the trials on a whim, drafting it in the back of his History notebook when he was soundly not paying attention in class. Everything he’d written was true. In the space of only a few weeks, their speech therapy lessons had made a huge difference in Caleb. He was cautious about speaking but took chances as long as Luc was right there next to him, a hand resting on his back or arm for encouragement.
This doctor, this… Alan Marshall, was everything now. However much he hated to pin all their hopes on one person, all of a sudden there was a glimmer of light on the horizon.
It didn’t feel like a hospital; it was more like a big, fancy, expensive looking office. Caleb supposed that was why he felt nervous. Hospitals, well, he could deal with them. He’d been dealing with hospitals since before he could remember. But this place… it was something else entirely.
Luc was nervous too. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, knee to knee on a deep red leather sofa in the waiting room for Dr. Marshall. Luc’s knee was bouncing, causing the frayed rip in his black jeans to jiggle. Every now and then Caleb put his hand on the knee to calm it, and Luc would obligingly stop, only to start again a few moments later.
Two glasses of water stood on the glass table in front of them. Untouched. With drops of condensation sliding down the outside, pooling underneath. There was no coaster on the table. Caleb thought about how much his dad would hate that, how he would moan about water rings on the table.
His dad wasn’t here, though. Just Luc.
Suddenly Luc looked up and over Caleb’s shoulder to where a tall, broad man with salt-and-pepper hair was smiling at them. Luc stood. Caleb followed his lead and immediately grabbed his boyfriend’s hand.
They followed the man down a corridor, away from the reception desk, turning a few corners before arriving in a nice office. It was different from the rest of the building: no glass or chrome or infinite white walls. Instead, in here the carpets were the color of fresh biscuits and the walls were a sage green. The desk was made of a dark wood, and Caleb thought it might possibly be an antique, but he didn’t know enough about these sorts of things to know for sure.
The man extended his hand for both of them to shake, then gestured to two guest chairs for them to sit.
“Thanks for coming today,” he said as they sat obediently. “I’m Dr. Marshall, but feel free to call me Alan. I run the trials here at Audible Implants Limited.”
He signed along as he spoke, his hands flying with the practiced ease of someone familiar with ASL. Caleb vaguely remembered seeing this man at his previous assessment, possibly at the beginning of the day when they were still sitting with all the other people who were there to be seen for the CI trial. He couldn’t get more from his memory than a vague recollection of a dark purple shirt.
Dr. Marshall was wearing a navy shirt today and a lighter gray suit. It was something most people wouldn’t notice or think anything of, but Caleb knew from experience that watching pale hands move against a white shirt wasn’t easy. This contrast was a deliberate choice. Caleb chalked up another notch of respect.
There was a thick file on the desk, and Dr. Marshall opened it and pulled a letter from the top. Next to him, Luc squirmed in his seat, and Caleb guessed that this was the letter Luc had sent on his behalf.
“I was just hoping to talk to you today, Caleb, to get a better idea of your situation. From what I’ve read so far, one of my colleagues assessed you previously, and it’s not to say that I don’t trust their judgment—I do—but after reading the letter from Lucien I thought it would be best to see you in person.”
“Luc,” Caleb said, using his sign for the name at the same time. “He prefers Luc to Lucien.”
“Thank you. Luc. Why don’t you tell me a little more about what the two of you have been doing together since I saw you last?”
Caleb tried not to blush. He guessed the doctor wasn’t interested in their sexual exploits.
Dr. Marshall caught his expression and elaborated. “Luc said something about speech therapy.”
“Yes,” Caleb said. “Luc….” He wanted to show how far he’d come, the progress they’d made and the words that Luc had taught him how to say. But he wasn’t confident enough yet to start stringing sentences together. They weren’t quite there yet.
“Luc teaches me words,” he signed. “He tells me when they’re wrong and what I need to do to make words right. He taught me sounds too.”
“What words have you learned?” Dr. Marshall asked.
Luc rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a badly crumpled piece of paper with a typed list on it. There were two columns.
“This is the list that he’s got really good at,” Luc said, turning the paper on the table and gesturing to the left hand column. “At the bottom are the sounds he can do. The other side is what we’re working on at the moment.”
Dr. Marshall seemed very interested in the list and looked at it for what felt like a long time. Since their chairs were tucked in fairly close to the desk, Caleb reached for Luc’s hand and squeezed it lightly. Luc squeezed back and didn’t let go.
“Tell me,” Dr. Marshall said. “What words do you find easiest to say? Or maybe I should ask, which words were easiest for you to learn how to pronounce.”
“Luc,” Caleb said immediately. “Book….”
“Words that rhyme,” he added, signing, as felt far more natural to him these days.
Dr. Marshall nodded. “That would make sense. Any others?”
Caleb went through a mental list, dutifully speaking the words aloud so Dr. Marshall could hear how good—or not—he was.
“Okay. How about the words you have most difficulty with?”
There were a few, and he didn’t like the thought of trying to do it without Luc inches away from his nose.
“Le Bautillier,” Luc said for him.
Dr. Marshall raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes. I think it’s the long vowel sounds. We worked on it for weeks and eventually just moved on to something else. Even with the hearing aids in he wasn’t able to get it, and I wanted to keep working on something positive, not just concentrate on something he wasn’t getting.”
“How interesting. Would you mind showing me how you work together?” Dr. Marshall asked. “I am very impressed, very impressed, Caleb, at the progress you’ve made so far. And I’m more than a little curious to see what has made such an amazing change.”
“Okay,” he signed.
“I’d like to do a little experiment, if you don’t mind,” Dr. Marshall said.
Caleb nodded, although dubiously.
“Have you ever practiced numbers?”
“Numbers?”
“Yes. From, say, one to ten.”
“No.”
“Okay. Let’s try that, then, using the same method you use with Luc.”
Luc fixed him with a calm, even stare. “It’s not quite as simple as that,” he said, trying to keep the attitude out of his voice.
“Hm. Can we try and recreate the situation?”
There was another couch in the corner of Dr. Marshall’s office, smaller than the one in the reception area and upholstered in dark brown leather. It looked a little worn in too, more at home.
It wasn’t as good as a bed, but it would do.
Luc stood, taking Caleb’s hand in his own again, and led him to the couch, where they dutifully took off their shoes. To his credit, Dr. Marshall remained in his seat behind the desk, doing nothing except calmly watching them.
Sitting opposite each other with their legs crossed was slightly more difficult due to the couch not being quite as wide as the bed, but they managed it. Luc considered how close he could get without freaking Caleb out, then decided fuck it and threw his legs awkwardly over Caleb’s thighs. In preparation for the meeting, Caleb had worn his hearing aids. These days he was far more likely to wear them on a day-to-day basis, although it still wasn’t his favorite thing.
“One,” Luc said.
Caleb ran his hands up and down Luc’s legs a few times, as if drying his palms or searching out comfort.
“One,” he repeated.
“Shorter,” Luc said. “Make it quick. One.”
“One.”
“Better. One.”
“One.”
“Two.”
Caleb blinked at the change. This was usually the point where he got rewarded with a kiss for getting it right or doing better or….
“Two,” Luc said again.
“Two.”
“No….” Luc started to rub his hands soothingly up and down Caleb’s forearms. It definitely helped calm him down. “Like, you,” he said emphatically, pointing his finger at Caleb’s chest.
“You.”
“Good. But with a T.” He tutted the sound. “Two.”
“Two.”
“Good! That was really good. Okay, three.”
They continued on, the routine helping as Luc guided Caleb through the words, referring to other sounds he was already comfortable with to build up each syllable. Some, like “eight,” refused to come at all, and he skipped over that one when Caleb’s confidence started to slip.
At first Caleb was aware that they were being watched, all the more so since Luc wasn’t going to kiss him after each successful attempt. But after a while he tuned Dr. Marshall out, helped by the fact that he wasn’t being distracting at all.
When he got to “ten” he was exhausted. Ten new words in the space of twenty minutes or so—his vocal chords ached and his brain too. Then Luc did lean in and kiss him, whisper soft, knowing this was more important than the doctor’s opinion. If he hadn’t figured out yet that they were lovers, the man was either blind or stupid. Or both.
Luc was smiling when they parted and swung his legs round to put his shoes back on. Then they rejoined Dr. Marshall at the desk.
“I want to make a few notes while I have them fresh in my mind. Is that okay?” he asked.
Caleb nodded.
They sat in silence while Dr. Marshall retrieved a notepad from one of his drawers and started to scrawl down—well, Caleb wasn’t exactly sure what he was writing about, but it looked fairly complex. He tried not to be impatient, knowing how important this was, knowing just how big a deal the outcome of this meeting could be. It was life changing.
He hated himself for regretting the kiss.
Out of the doctor’s sight, Caleb grasped Luc’s hand and laced their fingers together. Luc squeezed in reassurance, and Caleb squeezed back.
After a few minutes Dr. Marshall sat back in his chair and looked at them with an unreadable expression.
“We normally take ten people on a trial,” he started. “Now sometimes we can get those ten people right away and the trial starts fairly quickly. And other times it takes a while to find the people who are in the right age range, with the type of deafness that we want to work with. Even then, when we pick the people we want, we find out after they’ve had the medical exam that they’re not physically fit enough to undergo the operation or that there’s some other problem we weren’t aware of previously.”
He paused for a moment before continuing. “This time we only have nine people for the trial that will commence in a few weeks’ time. That’s not the end of the world. I’d prefer to have nine good people rather than eleven I wasn’t sure of. But it does mean that there’s a space available, if you would like to accept it.”
“Are you offering?” Caleb signed, almost not daring to ask.
“I have to clear it with my colleagues and present what I’ve found today in a convincing report,” he said with a smile. “But between the three of us, I can be extremely convincing when I need to be. This trial is in your best interests, and you have the ability and drive to take this forward and do what you need to do in order for the implant to work for you. I’ll be happy to support you in this.”
“Thank you,” Caleb said, nodding. “Thank you.”
The words were thick in his throat, his voice still not used to producing words. This was important to him, though, speaking these words aloud. His thanks were genuine, and he signed the words as he spoke them.
“It’s my pleasure,” Dr. Marshall said. “We’re planning to run the trial during summer vacation, so you have a few weeks to prepare. I’m afraid we’re going to need to run more tests to make sure there are no underlying conditions that may jeopardize the success of the trial. Are you attending college in the fall?”
“Yes,” Caleb said. “NYU.”
“Fantastic, that means we can keep a closer eye on you after September. Well, do you have any other questions for me?”
Caleb looked to Luc for confirmation, then shook his head.
“No, thank you.”
“Okay,” he said, standing. “I look forward to working with you.”
He shook hands again, first with Caleb, then Luc.
“Thanks for your time,” Luc said. “I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure,” Dr. Marshall said. “Thank you for writing to me. I’m happy to admit when we’ve made a mistake. Please keep working with him. Your methods are slightly unorthodox, but they seem to be working.”
Luc felt his face heat and nodded. He slipped his hand back into Caleb’s, unafraid now, and they left the office together.
18. Trial and Error
Preparations for their high school graduations were overshadowed by thoughts of the upcoming cochlear implant trial for both Luc and Caleb. Caleb’s nerves kicked in a few weeks before he was due to undergo the operation, which coincided with the last few days of his formal education.
In his life so far, Caleb had never been put under anesthetic, and it wasn’t something he was particularly looking forward to. Nor was the idea of having someone drill a hole in the side of his skull. In the days that led up to graduation, Caleb found himself withdrawing once again, spending more time alone in his room with Luc on the other side of the webcam.
Due to scheduling, they weren’t able to make each other’s graduation, which was annoying for Caleb, who had wanted to make the trip to New York to watch Luc walk across the stage. He had his final show to put together for his photography class and couldn’t justify taking the time to go all the way there.
The days they were forced to spend apart dragged into weeks, and Caleb felt his frustration growing, invading his life in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Now that he and Luc were having fairly regular sex, not being able to share that kind of intimacy—and relief—was harder than he thought it would be.
Running helped, especially when he had chance to get out and cover a considerable distance. But long distances meant less time spent talking to Luc, so he didn’t do it that much. Caleb was fairly sure his parents noticed the change in his behavior, and for a while he thought he was getting away with acting like a brat.
Of course, he couldn’t get away with it forever.
“Caleb,” his dad said as they were cleaning up after dinner. “Can we talk to y
ou in the family room, please?”
He nodded, already resigned to the reprimand that was surely on its way. He finished stacking their plates in the dishwasher, then set it to start before making his way through to the family room. Caleb had his own chair, one that was set at an angle so he could both watch the TV and hold a conversation with his parents. He slumped into it and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Your dad and I have been talking, and we think it would be a good idea for you to take some time for yourself,” his mom said gently. Caleb watched as his dad squeezed her knee over her blue jeans.
“I don’t understand,” he said, even though he had a fairly good idea of where this was going.
She sighed heavily. “Caleb, we think you should start seeing a regular speech therapist again before you go in for the CI operation. You’ve made amazing progress, but a professional can help you a lot more than Luc can.”
Caleb was already shaking his head. “No. No. Luc is the reason I got this far.”
“And we think a professional therapist is going to be what you need to take the next step.”
“No.”
“We think it’s important that you attribute your recovery, if you want to call it that, to your own efforts and not Luc’s. We’d also like you to go back to Dr. Zimmerman again.”
Dr. Zimmerman was the therapist he’d been seeing twice a month before he started his senior year of high school. Caleb didn’t dislike her; she just didn’t help. With anything. For a while, Caleb was convinced that his parents sent him to a therapist to make themselves feel better. If they were paying for professional help, then they were doing something, right?
“I don’t want to go back to Dr. Zimmerman. I’m fine.”
He could see the moment when she started to lose her temper.
“Luc is a wonderful man, Caleb. No one’s disputing that. But he cannot do the same job as a professional.”
“I don’t want a professional. I want to keep doing what’s already working for me.”
“This isn’t a joke, Caleb! This is your life. We want the best for you.”
