Being Jazmine (Invisible Series Book 3)

by Cecily Anne Paterson

  To be honest, I don’t think hearing people can understand it. Mum doesn’t get it. Geoff tries, but he’s kind of clueless too. They just think there’s something wrong with us, because we can’t hear well. What they don’t understand is that we’re fine. And we would be fine, out there in the world, too, if people just accepted us and realized they had to change their communication a little bit.

  But at night, sometimes, when I’m on my own, and things are still, around me, I do miss Gabby.

  More than I’d like to admit.

  I miss her crazy smile. I miss her over-enthusiastic texting. I miss her organising stuff for us to do, and checking on me, and being willing to obsess over the tiniest details of life. I miss the way she laughs and makes things funny. Without her, I feel almost too serious.

  But I can’t text her. Because then I’d have to say sorry, and then it would become hard again, with the explaining and the trying, and going back to how everything was before.

  And I’m not the person I was before.

  Even though Mum’s obviously still trying to make me think I am.

  She brings in a photo album one day. With a note. Geoff’s tactics, I think. I read the note: Old pictures of Dad and you. I found them in a box I never got to. She stands there, holding the album out towards me, with a smile on her face. The smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which are telling a not-so-happy story; she still can’t hide how she feels about me.

  “Thanks,” I say out loud and there’s a flicker of hopefulness that dances across her face.

  ‘Okay,’ she signs, and I take the book from her with a smile. She leaves the room with a lighter step.

  The album is a red vinyl thing, with a plastic slip cover over it. One of those ones where you stick the photo into a small sleeve. I recognise it: it’s one that Mum put together, a few years before Dad died. Probably just before he started to go downhill with his bi-polar episodes too. Back when we were all still happy.

  Although, maybe we weren’t happy.

  The thought strikes me before I can do anything about it.

  Maybe Mum was never happy about me.

  I turn the pages, looking for clues. There’s me as a very young baby, held in Dad’s arms. He’s wearing a football jersey, standing by the BBQ in the garden of our old house. He’s smiling. But did they even know, then, that I was hard of hearing?

  There’s another picture of Mum and me; I’m a toddler, with blond fluff for hair, and a pink dress that I actually remember wearing. It had flowers on the front, which I loved to look down at. The embroidery was nice to feel. An old memory flickers at the side of my brain: me touching the flowers, running my fingers over them. The feeling of it made tingles and sparkles in my scalp. I was almost hypnotizing myself. Then, suddenly, the shock as Mum appeared out of nowhere, scooping me up. I remember the suddenness of it, the fear that came with it, and then the tears: she’d disturbed my lovely experience, and I didn’t even know she was coming.

  Was it then that Mum and Dad had my hearing properly tested?

  Had they been worried? What had they thought when they were told I’d need hearing aids?

  How had my mother asked it? What’s wrong with her, doctor?

  And how had the doctors replied? She has a problem, Mrs Crawford. She’s deaf.

  I flipped through the rest of the pages, looking for clues: pictures with hearing aids, and without, before and after. Mum’s face, tense with something, as she held me, three years old, and wriggling to get away.

  And then, another photo. Dad, and me, a bit older now. Maybe four? Or five? We’re standing outside a building I don’t recognise, and our hands are making the Auslan sign. Hello.

  Hello.

  It must be our first Auslan class. I don’t remember having the picture taken. I have a vague, hazy memory of a classroom, and people in it, and a woman out the front, showing us how to speak with our hands.

  And then there’s a burst of another memory: the frizzle of hopeful joy I felt when I realised I could understand people by looking at them. It came on me slowly at first, and then more quickly. I have a snapshot in my head of going home in the car, Mum and Dad sitting in front, and me, in the back, practicing the signs I’d learned, over and over.

  I was unstoppable for a while. We went back to classes and at home, I insisted we all use signs whenever we could. Mum laughed, I remember it distinctly: she was standing in the kitchen, at the sink, trying to wash up, and I pulled at her jeans until she looked at me so she could see what I was signing.

  “Oh, Jaz,” she’d said, with a great big smile on her face. And then she’d signed. “You are so happy about this. I love you.”

  Why did we stop going? I have no memories about that at all. Maybe it was Dad: from what Mum told me last year, he was all up, and then all down in his moods. Maybe he was the one who first took us, in an up time. Maybe he hit a low and refused to go again, and Mum didn’t take me anymore.

  I don’t know.

  But I do wonder what might have happened, if things had been different. If Dad hadn’t been so unwell. If Mum had been okay with my hearing loss. If things hadn’t been so hard.

  Maybe I would have gone on camp right from the beginning.

  Maybe I would always have known myself as deaf.

  Maybe I wouldn’t have struggled so much to understand - and be understood.

  Maybe I would be an entirely different version of Jazmine.

  I put the album down, and a tear leaks out of my eye. I sniff and wipe it. If there was a movie camera here I’d look like some melodramatic actress in a lame Hollywood tearjerker.

  But my life isn’t a movie.

  This is real.

  And honestly? It doesn’t seem like there’s any kind of neat, packaged, happy-ever-after heading my way at all.

  Chapter 18

  And then, Charlotte’s secret isn’t a secret any more.

  Mia finds out.

  I don’t know how it happens. I’ve never been part of a gossip chain, and Mum and I have never lived anywhere long enough so that we’ve actually met the neighbours, or had anything to talk about with them.

  But apparently the Deaf community is small.

  And apparently, someone saw Charlotte at the implant clinic, and asked a question and her mum told them, and then they told someone else, and they told ten more people each and somehow, in a roundabout way, it got to Mia.

  And, boom. Everything explodes.

  There’s a messaging storm. My phone is buzzing in my pocket all day. Notifications are popping up from Freya, from Truck and even from Nick, and especially from Mia herself.

  We have to have a group chat, she texts. Tonight. No exceptions.

  At 7.30 I tell Mum I’m going to bed, close the door to my room, and set up my phone so I can see everyone. Everyone except Charlotte, who’s not invited.

  ‘Who knew about this?’ Mia asks. Her face is furious. ‘Or did she keep it a secret? I can’t believe she wouldn’t have told someone.’

  I feel awkward. I knew, Freya knew. Probably Truck and Nick knew too, but Charlotte had been really clear about it: don’t tell Mia. I don’t answer Mia’s question, but neither do the others and for two seconds, it’s like there’s this lull: I’m looking around, waiting for something to happen, but so is everyone else. It’s Mia who finally breaks in.

  ‘So I’m guessing you all knew.’ Her signs are fast and jerky. ‘And no one thought to tell me.’

  Freya jumps to her own defence. “Charlotte said that we couldn’t. She said you’d be really mad if you knew, so she made us promise.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘I mean, I told her that she should have just been up front about it. I told her she should have been honest.’

  Mia looks at me, through the screen. ‘You knew too, Jazmine?’

  I shrug a little. ‘I mean, I guess so. I didn’t think…’

  I mean to say, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal, but from the look on Mia’s face, it is a big deal.

  A re
ally big deal.

  Freya’s trying to appease her. ‘Look, her mum probably made her do it, you know how she is, and I’m sure Charlotte won’t change. She’ll still come to camp, and she’ll still be, you know, one of us.’

  Truck makes a face. ‘Yeah, right. Remember Sarah.’

  Mia goes still and subdued for a moment. ‘Yeah,’ she signs. ‘Remember Sarah. Remember what can happen. Remember how people can betray you. Remember how they all just want to make us invisible.’

  ‘She won’t,’ says Freya. ‘We know Charlotte. She’s not like Sarah was. She’ll be fine. And we’ll all still be ‘us’.’ She wipes the hair away from her face. ‘But you’re totally right. She totally should have told you.’

  ‘You should have told me,’ signs Mia. ‘It’s not something you can keep from friends.’

  Freya looks apologetic, a little sheepish. ‘Yes, you’re right, Mia,’ she signs. ‘I should have. I’m really sorry.’

  ‘And you should have told me, too,’ says Mia, to me. ‘I could have done something.’ She still looks mad. Maybe a little bit calmed down, but not too much.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I sign. I don’t really know what else to say.

  ‘Don’t blame Jaz,’ signs Truck. ‘She’s only new.’

  Mia gives me a glance, almost sizing me up. ‘Yeah, but she’s alright. New, but okay. So she should have known.’

  I’m trying really hard to look like I know exactly what they’re talking about, but to be honest, I really don’t. The confusion is swimming in my chest and swirling in my brain. I have to ask, even though I don’t quite know what the question is.

  ‘I don’t really get this,’ I start. I’m trying to look neutral, so no one gets mad with me. Well, actually, I’m really just trying to avoid Mia getting mad with me. She’s pretty scary. ‘Um, what could you have done about it anyway?’

  There’s another tiny second where everyone just looks at each other, through their screens, and then looks away, and then back, kind of like they can’t believe what I’ve just signed.

  Mia’s face goes slightly reddish. ‘I could have made her change her mind, that’s what I could have done. I could have told her about how those stupid implants are wrecking Deaf culture. How once she gets one, she won’t really be Deaf any more. I could have made her see what she’d be giving up, just so she could hear a bit better. I could have reminded her of what happened with Sarah.’ She twists her face up. ‘If I’d known, I would have told her not to do it. Not like you guys, who just went along with it, like sheep.’

  Freya looks embarrassed. I’m feeling pretty small myself.

  ‘So what’s going to happen?’ asks Truck.

  ‘Well, obviously, with implants, Charlotte won’t want to be hanging around with us anymore,’ signs Mia. ‘So she’s kind of already made her decision.’ She shrugs. ‘We don’t need her anyway.’

  ‘And we don’t want the Sarah thing to happen all over again,’ signs Freya. ‘You’re right, Mia. That’s what Charlotte wanted to do, so she can live with the consequences.’

  I hardly know what to think, and my hands move before I can stop them. ‘You’re dropping her?’

  Mia makes a face at me like, yeah, what about it? and Freya steps in again. ‘It’s for the best, Jaz. Honestly, it is. She should have told, and not kept it a secret. Everything’s going to change for her, and she’s not going to treat us the same. And after what Sarah did to Mia…’ She makes a face. ‘This is the best thing. You’ll understand one day.’

  But I don’t understand. All I see is my friend getting dropped by my other friends, who had been her friends, just because she got an implant to improve her hearing.

  I don’t understand, but I let it happen anyway. What can I do about it? Mia is Mia, Freya is Mia’s friend and follower, and I’m the new girl, who signs slowly and doesn’t get what’s going on.

  Just like that, Charlotte is out of the group.

  I still message and video chat with her though. I don’t tell anyone else I’m doing it, even though I feel a teeny bit guilty for going behind Mia’s back, but I like Charlotte, and I want to see how she’s doing.

  She’s not doing great.

  ‘They dropped me?’ Her face is devastated. ‘I mean, I should have known it was coming, but I thought Mia would just be mad, and then it would be okay.’

  I make an apologetic face. ‘She said you’d start to think you were better than them. And then they mentioned Sarah a lot. But I don’t even know who she is.’

  She puts her face in her hands and shakes her head for a few seconds. ‘Oh, man. They said I’m going to be like Sarah? I don’t even know how they can think that. This is terrible.’

  I have to ask it. Because my head is still spinning about how all of this is happening. ‘Who is Sarah? And what did she do?’

  So Charlotte tells me the story.

  Sarah and Mia met at a school Deaf camp back in primary school and clicked with each other straight away. They liked all the same stuff, they had the same sense of humour, they even looked alike. It was one of those friendships that you know is just meant to be. Mia comes from a Deaf family, who only use Auslan at home. Sarah was 90 per cent deaf, but from a hearing family.

  ‘Like me, I guess,’ signs Charlotte, making a face. ‘Her mum was like my mum, too. I met her. Focused on fixing all the problems in the world.’

  ‘You being deaf is a problem?’ I ask.

  ‘For her, yes.’

  She keeps on with the story. Sarah had a cochlear implant when she was 10, and then a second one when she was 12.

  ‘And that was when she and Mia had this huge bust-up,’ signs Charlotte. ‘She kind of picked on Mia for about a year. It was subtle, it wasn’t anything really vicious, but everything she said just made her out to be better than Mia. She said stuff about Mia’s family, about how being deaf meant that her parents couldn’t get good jobs.’ Charlotte scratches her head, like she’s trying to remember things. ‘And then she started saying that Mia would always be kind of left behind, because she’s not oral, you know, she doesn’t speak.’

  I can’t imagine someone picking on Mia or even slightly putting her down. I can’t even imagine someone looking at Mia wrong. ‘She must have hated that,’ I say.

  Charlotte thinks a bit. ‘Mia’s changed. When I first met her, she was not so…’ she searches for the right sign, ‘…not so tough. It’s like she kind of grew a shell around her once Sarah started to reject her. I mean, they were best friends, at least until they had their huge fight. They did everything together, and then Sarah got her cochlear implants, and she totally got mean. She just changed.’

  She looks away for a moment, and I wonder if she’s thinking about herself.

  ‘Do you think you’ll change?’ I ask.

  There’s a pause, and Charlotte signs, ‘I don’t know.’ A tear runs down her cheek. ‘I mean, I could say my parents made me get this implant, but the truth is, I didn’t say no to it either. And honestly, it helps me heaps. Not at camp, or with deaf friends. There, it doesn’t matter. But out there,’ and here she makes a movement with her head like she’s pointing outside, ‘where everyone is hearing, it does help.’

  ‘But now you’ve lost your deaf friends,’ I say.

  She makes a face. ‘Yeah, and I don’t have many hearing friends,’ she signs. ‘It’s not like I’ve suddenly figured out how to become popular, or know what people are talking about, just because I’ve got an implant.’ She looks sad. ‘It just seems like you can’t win. If you’re deaf, no one from the hearing world wants to know you. If you’re hearing, you’re not really in the deaf world. And if you’re an implant girl, like me, it’s like you’re living outside of two worlds and you don’t fit into either one.’

  Chapter 19

  At night, tucked under my doona, in my new room, I turn it all over in my mind. First, Mia is upset about Charlotte’s implants because Sarah got them, and was mean to her.

  Tick, okay. I get that, kind of, although I
do think Mia’s overreacting. Charlotte hasn’t been mean to anyone, even with one implant. She’s hardly likely to change. Maybe Sarah was always a person who was going to be mean, and no one realised it.

  No, there’s something else that’s bothering me. And it’s what Mia said in our chat: those stupid implants are wrecking Deaf culture.

  I don’t get it. Not really.

  It takes a chat with Freya to explain it. She rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath, like she can’t believe I still don’t understand.

  ‘There are two worlds, right?’ she signs. ‘There’s the hearing world, and the Deaf world.’ She checks with me to make sure I’m following.

  ‘I get that bit,’ I say, with a grin.

  ‘So by getting implants, Charlotte is basically letting the hearing world say: there’s something wrong with you, and we can fix it.’ She looks around, like she’s trying to think of some way to explain it better. ‘It’s like, I don’t know… if you’re left handed. In the old days, teachers used to make the left handed kids change to their right hand. But there’s nothing wrong with writing left handed. Okay, so maybe they get ink on their hands, but there are ways around that, and who says having ink on your hand is a bad thing anyway?’

  She checks my face to make sure I’m following. ‘Why would you make left handers into right handers? There’s nothing wrong with them. And why would you make Deaf people into hearing people by giving them surgery? It’s basically saying Deaf culture isn’t worthwhile, it means nothing. But Deaf people are awesome. Deaf culture is awesome. We don’t need fixing.’

  I get it, but I still can’t quite bring myself to cut Charlotte off, like Mia has. I mean, she’s still a nice person. She’s still someone I like. And I can’t quite believe that she thinks Deaf culture is stupid or that she wants to get rid of all the deaf people.

  Not Charlotte.