Live Out Loud

by Marie Meyer

  Trisha and I have been in school together for several years. She’s always helpful and a great pharmacist. She keeps me on my toes.

  “I overheard what happened. For what it’s worth, I messed up last week. We all make mistakes, Harper. Don’t beat yourself up.” She gives me a halfhearted smile, squeezes my shoulder, and turns to leave.

  I appreciate Trisha’s comforting words, but they don’t help. I’ve worked too hard to let a misinterpretation derail my whole future.

  Glancing at my watch, I flop back into the chair and swivel around to check my email. Sure enough, I have responses from the two techs. And my lipreading was accurate on the Bexworth round.

  I put the finishing touch on Xavier’s drug chart and sign off, ready to put this day behind me. And cry myself to sleep.

  Shrugging my jacket on and fishing the keys out of my purse, I wave goodbye to Trisha and head down the hall, a terrible clawing in my chest. The second the hospital doors open to the outside, I can’t hold the tears in anymore. I choke down sobs and let them stream down my cheeks.

  Throughout my undergrad, and the last three years of grad school, I have never felt this awful. I’m just glad my mistake was caught before any serious damage was done. I don’t even want to think about what could have happened had Mr. Ellis not went over my prescription orders.

  Climbing behind the wheel of my VW Bug, I push the engine start button and rest my head on the steering wheel, letting the enormity of what I did drown me. I’ve always said that I can do anything a hearing person can do (and I can) but today proved just how hard my chosen profession really is for a deaf person. I have to up my game. Enlist Chloe’s help; make her say drug names over and over again, until I can lipread their subtle nuances without making mistakes.

  See, I already have a plan. Today will be a small blip against the backdrop of my long, illustrious career.

  Looking up, I swipe the tears off my cheeks, check my mirrors, and put the car in drive. All I want to do is go home, slip into some comfy clothes, snuggle with my dog, and hide under the covers.

  *

  Thor: You okay, Red? Thought I’d hear from you when you got off.

  Me: Bad day. Sorry.

  The second I lay my phone down on the bed, it flashes. Want to talk about it?

  Me: No.

  I slide my phone under my pillow and pat the mattress, calling Bobby closer. Such a good dog, he curls up right next to my face, leaving a sloppy, wet lick right on the tip of my nose. I rub his ears and let my eyes fall shut. If I close out the world, I won’t have to relive my screwup.

  I concentrate on the rise and fall of Bobby’s little body, hoping the soothing rhythm will lull me into a deep sleep and erase this god-awful day.

  Counting Bobby’s breaths, I get to eighty and still can’t get the image of Mr. Ellis standing over me, delivering my failure on a silver platter. The outside world is effing noisy.

  Ninety…

  Triple-check your work, Harper.

  One hundred…

  There’s no room for error, Harper.

  One hundred twenty-two…

  You’re a terrible pharmacist, Harper.

  One hundred fifty-five…

  You’ll never make it in the hearing world, Harper.

  Two hun—

  Bright light burns my closed eyes and then it’s gone. When the light flashes a second time, I jump out of bed, startled. Bobby’s on his feet, looking just as confused. My door signaler glares again.

  Shit. Who’s here?

  Wiping the drool from the corner of my mouth and patting my curls down, I yank open the door. Thor has a ginormous bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in his hands.

  Without so much as a hello, I grab his arm and pull him into my bedroom. I need those peanut butter cups, stat!

  Grabbing the bag from his hand, I rip it open, and dig inside. Thor taps my shoulder, handing me his phone. That bad, huh?

  I nod, and hand his phone back as I fall onto the bed. I make quick work of the chocolate’s wrapper and pop the mini piece of heaven in my mouth. Bobby completely snubs Thor and goes straight to sniffing the bag of candy likes it’s cocaine—to him, it might as well be.

  I push him back and shake my head. No chocolate for dogs, little man.

  Thor lies down next to me and grabs a peanut butter cup from the bag. Unwrapping it, he takes a bite, nibbling the chocolate off, until it’s a naked peanut butter cup. I roll my head to the right and stare at him. I’ve never seen anyone eat a Reese’s like that. “That was weird.”

  He shrugs and bites into another, doing the same thing. “Makes it last longer. And you get to savor both parts. You should try it.” He hands me a third chocolate.

  Together, we peel the foil off, then the brown paper. Thor sets the candy against his front teeth and bites gently, pulling the chocolate shell off the peanut butter. I copy his actions, careful to only sink my teeth into the chocolate.

  I make it all the way around the circle, ready to pull the top off. In the time that it has taken me to get this far, Thor’s working on his fifth or sixth.

  Screw it. I pop the semi-naked peanut butter cup in my mouth and grab another, feeling better already.

  A mountain of gold foil and brown paper lies between us. Thor types something on his phone and passes it to me. Are you chatty when you’re chocolate drunk?

  I glare at him, but can’t hide the smile on my lips. Maybe.

  Thor: Good. What happened today?

  He doesn’t mince words. Right to the point. I take the phone from his hands. I really messed up today. Lipreading error. Prescribed the wrong meds for an infant.

  Thor: I’m sorry, Red. Is the baby okay?

  Me: Yeah. Pharm manager caught the mistake before anything was administered. I feel wretched though.

  Thor: Glad everyone’s all right. Don’t beat yourself up. I fuck up a hundred times a day. You’re only human.

  Turning onto his side, he scoots closer to me, and drapes his arm around my stomach. His chocolaty breath is warm against my cheek when he puts a kiss there.

  I roll to my side, too, our faces centimeters apart. “Thank you for knowing I needed you here, even when I didn’t say so.”

  “I hear you, babe.” Pressing in, Thor’s lips close around mine. This kiss is soft…quiet, meant to heal the soul, not set it on fire. Even when he kisses me, he knows exactly what I need.

  I let me tongue linger on his mouth, tasting the sweetness of his lips before I pull away. Sitting up, I draw my legs in, and cross them. I motion for Thor to do the same thing. Grabbing the phone off the bed, I type, an idea striking my brain. I’ve got a surprise for you.

  Thor: Oh, really?

  I nod enthusiastically. For weeks now, I’ve been thinking about a name sign for Thor. I think I’ve finally nailed one down. It’s perfect.

  Me: I’ve got a sign for you. Copy me.

  Dropping the phone between us, I raise my left hand to mirror Thor, knowing he’s left-handed. I put my thumb between my index and middle fingers and motion like I’m hammering.

  Thor replicates the motion. “What’s it mean?” he asks.

  I make the sign again and mouth his name. “Thor.”

  His eyes dance when his smile touches them.

  Picking up the phone, I send him a message. Do you like it?

  Thor: Let me show you just how much I love it.

  He pinches my chin between his forefinger and thumb, drawing my mouth to his. This time, his kiss does set a fire as we fall, tangled together, onto the bed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Harper

  The door to the hospital closes with a whoosh behind me and I wave to Trisha who follows me out of the hospital.

  “See you tomorrow. Bright and early,” she says, her face widening into a yawn. “Sorry.” She covers her mouth and shakes her head. Luckily, the light from inside the hospital is bright enough that I can see Trisha’s face.

  “I’ll be here,” I sign, mouthing the words,
hoping she can see me well enough in the dim light to read my lips. I yawn, too, knowing exactly how she feels. I’m exhausted. I can’t wait to get home, shower, and plop on the couch with Chloe. I’ve been looking forward to our date night with Ryan Gosling all week. “Have a great night.” I sign.

  “You too, Harper.” Trisha crosses to the parking lot and heads to the side of the building, and I walk to my car in the front lot.

  Unlocking my car, I climb inside, my stomach grumbling. I bet Chloe is already in the kitchen, whipping up her fabulous shrimp fajitas. I’ve had those suckers dancing in my head all week, like sugarplums dance at Christmastime.

  I push the button on the dash to start the engine, my car rumbling to life. Even though it’s the middle of October, the weather is unseasonably warm, which means I can still enjoy the luxury of driving with the top down. I press the button and the top disappears to the back. Pulling out of the parking lot, I head toward home, hungry for shrimp fajitas, Ryan Gosling, and the ginormous bag of peanut butter cups I’ve stashed in the pantry.

  *

  “What about Blue Valentine?” I ask, knowing I’ll never change her mind on what she thinks is the best Ryan Gosling movie. The Notebook is Chloe’s all-time favorite, the pinnacle of Ryan Gosling hotness and acting ability. “Blue Valentine is a heartbreaking love story. And well acted by both G-O-S-L-I-N-G and W-I-L-L-I-A-M-S.”

  “I agree, but it’s not the best. R-Y-A-N and R-A-C-H-E-L even got swept up in the romance of The Notebook. That’s when you know it’s good. When the lead actors even blur the lines between fiction and real life.”

  Can’t fault her logic. They were a hot couple. On and off the screen.

  I take a bite of my fajita, marinade dribbling down my chin. Oh my goodness. Full-on food orgasm. “Chloe, these are outstanding. Can you just skip Cupcake Wars and go on some other cooking show? You’d win with this recipe.”

  “Thanks. They’re so easy to make.” She passes me a napkin, winking.

  Diving back in for another bite, my phone flashes and a text message pops up on the screen. Thor: Home from the studio. So fucking tired. This two-job gig is going to be the death of me. How’s movie night? Can’t believe you’re cheating on me with Ryan Gosling.

  I put down my fajita, wiping my fingers on a napkin. Smiling, I pick up my phone, and type a response. How’s the album coming? When do I get to hear it? Sorry, babe. Crazy Stupid Love’s up next. The RG lovefest continues.

  Setting my phone on the cushion, I’m just about to pick up my fajita when a wadded-up napkin hits me in the head. My eyes flick to Chloe, who’s giving me the “I just ate nails for breakfast, don’t mess with me” look. Lips pursed and everything.

  “What?”

  “No cell phones on movie night. You know the rules.” Finishing with a point in my direction, she eyes me.

  “Sorry.” I cringe. If he keeps texting, I’ll need to be stealthy. “Ready for the next movie?” I ask as a peace offering, ignoring the flash of another incoming text message.

  She nods and pops the last bite of her fajita into her mouth. Getting up from her end of the couch, she changes out the DVDs.

  With her back to me, I take a sneak peek at my phone. Thor: I guess I can share you for tonight. But tomorrow, you’re all mine. The record studio is throwing a party in our honor. Be my date?

  Whoa! This is huge. He wants to take me somewhere his friends will be?

  For so long, he’s been careful not to let his personal life interfere when I’m around. Why has he been so leery of sharing all the parts of his life with me? He doesn’t seem put off by my deafness, but maybe that’s why he’s kept me at arm’s length all this time. Maybe he doesn’t want everyone to know he’s dating a deaf girl.

  Worry takes up residence low in my gut, feeding on my most negative thoughts. He can’t be ashamed of me, can he? When we’re together, he’s nothing but wonderful.

  You thought the same thing about your parents all these years, too.

  The heart-to-heart with my dad helped me understand where he was coming from, and our relationship is healing. But, it’s going to take baby steps. The same thing can’t be happening with Thor, not with this party invitation, right?

  On her way back to the couch, Chloe hits the lights and the room is plunged into darkness as the title sequence begins. She and I are like a well-oiled marathon-movie-watching machine. She takes the DVDs in and out of the player, and I navigate the settings, turning on the subtitles. With a quick stash of my phone, I pick up the remote and get to work.

  Finishing my dinner, I’m still reeling about Thor asking me to the recording studio’s party. I pat my lap, and Bobby jumps up, walking in a few circles until he finds a comfortable place to curl up and snuggle. Petting his head with my right hand, I slide my left under my classic car fleece blanket, along with my phone, trying to bite back the giddy smile on my face. If I don’t play it cool, Chloe will know exactly what I’m up to and banish me from future movie nights. Gilmore Girls is up next. Can’t miss the season three rewatch.

  Although, at this point, watching Ryan Gosling coach Steve Carell in the fine art of picking up women at a bar is barely holding my interest. I want to sneak upstairs, lock my bedroom door, and text Thor. With our busy schedules, we haven’t gotten to see each other in the last four days. By our standards, that’s a long friggin’ time. With my phone hidden under the blanket, I type out another message.

  I am so excited to go to that party with you!!! Yes! I’ll be your date! Ever seen Crazy Stupid Love? It reminds me of you. You picked me up in a bar. You could totes school both of these guys on how to pick up a girl at a bar. ;-)

  Two seconds later, I have a response. And the bottom drops out of my stomach. Acid spilling everywhere, burning up every cell and molecule in my body. Mom: Excuse me? I’m not sure I understand your text, Harper. What’s going on? Are you out drinking? Someone picked you up in a bar? What party are you going to?

  Shit! I sent Thor’s text to my mother? I am such an idiot!

  The temperature in the room skyrockets. I’m roasting under this damn blanket, but if I ditch it, Chloe will see that I’m texting, breaking movie-night law. And Bobby will hate me; he’s snoring away.

  Time for some damage control.

  Me: Sorry, Mom. No, not drinking. At home watching a movie with Chloe. Didn’t mean to send you that text.

  Cringing, I wait for her reply. Keeping my eyes dead ahead, I pretend to watch the movie, but inside, I’m freaking out. There is no way Mom is going to let this go.

  Mom: I’m glad you’re not out drinking. But what is this about being picked up at a bar? Are you seeing someone that met you at a bar?

  While I read Mom’s text, another one from Thor comes in. Now I know why Chloe banned texting from movie night. I’ve gotten myself into a crazy, stupid mess.

  Thor: Unless you don’t want to go? Not forcing you, or anything.

  Before my attention dives back under the covers, I glance at Chloe. She’s completely engrossed, curled up in her snoogie (Yes, she has a pet name for her blanket, don’t judge), eating popcorn. I’m still good.

  Me: Sorry. Yes! I’d love to go to the party with you! I hit send and pull up Mom’s message, so I can reply. Me: Mom. Yes, I’m seeing someone I met at a bar. He’s a nice guy.

  I keep it simple. I’m quite sure that Thor’s nice-guy status would be lost on my mother if she saw him. Let’s just say, Mom’s not the tattoos-and-grease, I’m-in-a-band kind of woman. And the even bigger obstacle will be convincing my mother that I can juggle a career and a love life.

  Ryan Gosling’s bare torso draws my attention back to the television. Damn, he looked hot in this movie.

  Chloe turns her head in my direction, eyes wide. “That is one beautiful man.” She signs. This is why she’s my best friend. I think we share a brain.

  “Speaking of beautiful men, whatever happened with Trey after you and Megan ran into him at The Cave the night you two went out?” I ask. Yes, her ex-b
oyfriend is a colossal douche bag, but there’s no denying that he is a gorgeous man. The last Chloe and I really talked, she mentioned that she’d seen him, but didn’t go into details. So help me God, she better not be hooking up with him after what he did to her.

  “Ancient history.” She shoos away his name like a pesky fly. “And good riddance.”

  “You’re okay?” I watch her face for any tells, the smile extinguishing the light from her eyes, a subtle downward turn of her mouth, anything that will lead me to believe that she isn’t fine, but hiding behind her words.

  “Perfect. Really. I’ve got a good thing going right now. I don’t need Trey or his bullshit drama. I’m married to Cupcake Wars. And R-Y-A-N G-O-S-L-I-N-G.” She points to the TV.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m so happy that Trey is out of your life, for good. You’re better off without him.”

  “None taken. And don’t I know it.” Pulling on the front of her hot pink snoogie, she readjusts her arms in the sleeves.

  “I do have some bad news, though. You can’t have R-Y-A-N, because I’m already married to him.”

  “Ha! I’m sure Thor might have a problem with that.” She sticks her tongue out. “What’s up with you two, anyway?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “From my perspective, it looks like you two are kinda perfect together.” She winks.

  Warmth spreads from the center of my chest. When it’s just us, we are perfect. When the world pushes in and crowds us, that’s when Thor backs away. But, this party invitation is a step in the right direction. “We’re good. He’s a great guy. I just wish”—I hesitate, dropping my hand on Bobby’s head—“he’d let me in. The second personal stuff comes up, he closes himself off.”

  “Well, give him time. You know those hot, broody types, they have to keep an air of mystery about them, or their reputation is shot.”

  “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” I agree with her, but inside, I don’t feel at ease. In my gut, I know Thor’s dealing with something big…heavy. The other night, when he came over after my horrible day at the hospital, something was up with him, but I couldn’t pry anything lose. Whatever it is, it’s weighing him down.