by Laura Ward
Ricky stared at me, his color pallid, eyes wide and round. “They can’t hear. They couldn’t hear you. Oh my God. Aveline, oh my God.” The words sounded like they were ripped from his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me? How could you keep this from me? If I knew… If I understood…” He gripped the sides of his head as if to cover his ears and drown out my words.
The sound of my heartbeat filled my ears. Seeing Ricky’s reaction scared the shit out of me. I had never seen another person look like they were in shock before. It didn’t lessen my ache or dull the pain of giving my heart to the wrong person, but I was taken aback by what I saw in Ricky’s eyes. Dazed. Hollow. Shattered.
“You need to go.” The words shook as they left my lips, my chin quivering uncontrollably. “Dad asked you to leave because I’m clearly upset. I’m asking you to leave because you broke my heart.” I walked past Ricky, past my parents, and opened the front door.
Ricky followed me, grabbing onto my forearm. “No, mariposa, please. I love you. I’m sorry. I made a terrible mistake. Please forgive me.”
I ripped my arm away. Ricky fisted his hands by his chest, whether to keep from touching me again or to keep himself in check I didn’t know.
“I made a mistake too. I trusted the wrong person. My parents were right all along. A little fear of this crazy world is a good thing. I should have feared you, I never should have let you into my heart. We’re over.” I laughed a short semi-psychotic giggle. “We never began. Because you can’t begin anything when everything you thought was real was based on lies.”
I watched his panic subside, a deep resonating sorrow shadowing his handsome features. He stepped outside our front door, turning around and looking ready to say something else, something that could only send more daggers into my battered heart.
I shut the door on him, locking it, before he could try to salvage the mess he made of our relationship.
Seconds later I heard a loud crunch, like something was kicked or punched, followed by a long, dark, powerful scream.
Ricky had inflicted some kind of injury on himself and instead of feeling smug, I was destroyed. This agony was far-reaching and ever-lasting.
Looking up into the caring, concerned eyes of my parents who without having heard a single word, knew their daughter’s heart was fractured, I sobbed.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ricky
I DROVE MY bike almost all night. My hand, the one I had stupidly punched against the brick wall of Aveline’s house, throbbed.
I deserved every millisecond of that pain.
All I could picture was Aveline’s face when I’d told her I’d gotten to know her to try and get money from her parents—ravaged, destroyed. And the look on her face when she told me her parents were deaf, and that was why they didn’t save her—defiant, proud, and done.
She looked fucking done with me.
As guilty as I felt for sabotaging us, I was also furious with her. Why would she choose to keep her parents’ inability to hear from me? I thought we were falling in love. Her parents’ disability answered many questions, both for me and about her life. Her lack of trust in me to fully open herself up was a gaping wound in my mangled heart.
I had hoped and prayed that Aveline could look past my mistakes and forgive me because she loved me, but now I knew that would never happen. Wave after wave of emotion and pain had crossed over that expressive face as I explained my actions last night. As each realization hit her I felt like I was sucker punched, the wind knocked right out of me.
The worst part was that I knew this would happen. I’d expected it. And yet, at some point, I thought loving someone would be more important than a lie, a mistake. And for some people, maybe that was true, but not for me. Not for me or any of the working class, barely getting by, Martinez family.
I’d had a taste of pure, sweet, goodness in my life and that would have to be enough to last. I didn’t deserve the chance to be in love with Aveline when I was stupid enough to use her and risk her happiness to get closer to her parents.
I’d learned my lesson. I would never open my heart to love again. My time and devotion would be for my parents. I would make sure Marcela and Teresa went to college and were successful. I had a new plan.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I turned off onto the side of the road.
I pulled my cell phone out and saw that Teresa was calling. “Hola, Teresa.”
“Ricardo,” Teresa screamed. “We’re losing him. His heart stopped. Dios mio, Papa is dying,” she said, hiccupping back a sob. The terror in her voice made my stomach plummet and my heart have palpitations.
“Teresa? What’s happening?” I kept my voice calm and controlled, something I had never been able to do during Dad’s medical troubles.
“Ambulance is here,” she gasped for breath, sounding like she was running. “Meet us at the hospital.”
The line went dead. I jumped on my bike, peeling my tires as I took off down the road.
Twenty minutes later, I ran through the emergency room doors of St. Vincent’s hospital.
“Ricardo!” Mama cried out and I turned, seeing my mom and sisters huddled together in a corner of the waiting room.
Jogging over, I knelt on the floor in front of them, taking Mama’s hands in my own. “How is he?” I asked, fatigue from the emotion of the last twelve hours making my voice raspy.
Mama frowned. “Not good. His heart stopped. The paramedics started it again, but God only knows what damage has been done.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” I looked from my mom to my sisters, knowing that I was needed here with them. I had been wrong, letting my own selfish desires take precedence over them.
Mom tightened her grip on my hand. “Do not apologize. Did you work things out?”
I shook my head, hoping she would know that this was not something I wanted shared with my sisters. “It’s all fine, Mama. I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
Her eyebrows drew together, but before she could object, I got up, moving next to Marcela. Resting my head against the wall, I allowed my eyes to close, hoping that with some sleep the nightmare I was living would ease.
A short time later, Marcela shook me awake. A doctor stood before us, clad in scrubs. “Mrs. Martinez?” he addressed my mom.
“Si,” she sat up straight.
“I’m Dr. Montgomery. Your husband is alive, but he’s very sick. He has a pulmonary embolism that grew so large it stopped blood flow to the heart.”
My sisters whimpered, Mom smothering her anguished cry. We had long since been on the lookout for the signs of embolisms, knowing that blood clots were more likely with Dad’s paralysis.
“Deep vein thrombosis is the original culprit, so he’s on a heavy cocktail of blood thinners and we are aggressively watching the clot to make sure no further damage is done until it can pass. But he’ll be here a while, brace yourselves.” The doctor finished providing his update. Mom followed him to the front desk to begin admission paperwork.
Marcela looked over at me with a sigh. “She’ll need to be with him here. As long as it takes.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“I called a friend of a friend. I got a waitressing job that can start tomorrow. After school until later at night. With tips, I can help fill in some gaps with money.”
“No.” I stood up, shrugging on my coat. “You’re in high school. Finish your year strong. I’ve got this.”
“Ricky, this is not falling all on you.” Marcela stood as well, hands planted on her hips.
I kissed her cheek. “No one is saying you aren’t capable of helping. But I’ve got a plan. Thought I had one for a while, but I messed up. Big time. The only good thing I can say is that I’ve got my head on straight now. I know what I need to do.”
Marcela started to argue, but I waved her off, heading out the front door. Pulling out my phone as I jogged to my bike, I made the first call I thought of during the newly revised plan I created while driving around last night.
> On the third ring, Dean’s father answered. “Hello?”
“Mr. Goldsmith, this is Ricky Martinez.”
“Ricky! Great to hear your voice. How are you?” Mr. Goldsmith asked.
I took a deep breath. For a long time, the words I was about to say were my biggest fear. Now, after losing Aveline, this felt like the path I deserved and one that was in the best interests of everyone around me. “Sir, I’m looking for a position at the factory. Do you know of the quickest way I might get a foot in the door?”
There was a long pause. “Son, I thought you were in college?”
“I am, Mr. G. But my father’s not doing well and what my mother makes isn’t enough. The bike shop where I work closes next week. I need to put food on the table, plain and simple.” My throat was dry and my palms clammy. Getting the questions out of my mind, however, felt better. It was done. Out. Finished. My path was chosen.
“I see. Hate to see you givin’ up on college, Ricky. But I sure do respect a family man,” Mr. Goldsmith said. “Especially a man who takes care of the people in his life who need him. See you doin’ that and I admire it.” His voice was warm and proud, the emotion I heard made my chest tighten.
“Thank you, sir.”
Mr. G waited for me to say more and when I didn’t he continued. “I’ll call my supervisor now. Expect a text with a contact by the end of the day. I’m sure you’re ready, but it’s tough work, son. Dirty and long days. You okay with that?”
I’d done dirty work. I’d had long days. I was okay with that because I had no other choice.
“Yes, sir.”
We ended the call and I hopped on my bike, ready for the second part of my new plan. Within minutes, I was parking my bike at the sales shop. Jumping off, I grabbed the spare helmet and lifted off my own.
An hour later, I had enough cash to cover rent and food for a few months. Enough to get Marcela’s graduation gown and Teresa’s birthday present. Enough to cover us fully until paychecks from the factory came in.
The knowledge of this is what allowed me to walk away from my first dream, my bike, and cross the street to stand at the bus stop.
Ricardo Martinez needed to man up. Precious time had been wasted on a plan that hurt the one person who deserved it least in the world. That time could have been used working hard, at extra odd jobs for real money. Now sacrifices had to be made.
Because the monster inside me won. And when it did, a butterfly lost her wings.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Aveline
MY PARENTS HAD left me alone and although I was unable to sleep, at least I didn’t have to answer their questions for a while. Mostly, I was numb. When Ricky finally unloaded the truth on me, I was left with whiplash, like I was jerked around from all angles, never knowing what would slam into me next.
Morning hit, and I stumbled down the stairs, pouring a mug of coffee and adding creamer. I watched the steam rise above the cup, evaporating into the air. I felt like that steam. I had to rise above the pain, but without Ricky, I feared I’d disappear.
Sipping the hot liquid, the sugar and caffeine settling in, I felt more focused and human than I had in days.
In reality, it had only been hours. Mere hours since I’d discovered the only man I had ever loved, one I had thought was too good for me all along, was only using me to get to my wealthy parents.
The mug hit the counter hard, coffee spilling over the side. I wheezed, gasping for air; my dark thoughts almost brought me to my knees.
Tobias brushed past me, his warm hair tickling my bare legs. March had the weather turning spring-like, and last night I’d worn shorts and a tank to bed.
“Hey buddy,” I cooed, petting him.
Standing up, my parents walked into the kitchen, heading straight to the coffee maker. I smiled a small, sad, lopsided grin as I grabbed a napkin to mop up my spilled coffee.
I brought my lukewarm cup to the kitchen table and sat down. I owed my parents an explanation for last night. I was grateful for the time and space they allowed me, but hell, I knew my mother. Time was, most certainly, up.
Dad and Mom sat across from me in their pajamas, a warm mug of coffee in each of their hands.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I started after I had their attention. “Mom, I told Ricky what you found out, and it’s all true. Getting money for his family was the only reason he paid any attention to me in the first place.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Ricky’s family is very poor. I’ve been to his apartment. Three kids in one bedroom, Dad is a quadriplegic. Ricky’s mom is on the cleaning staff at a low budget hotel,” I signed. “I learned all of this during a class project in that Psychology class. Ricky realized I was wealthy and he was mad at you two.” I paused, sipping my coffee and giving my hands a break from communicating so that my parents could drink too, processing my story.
“He was mad at us?” Mom asked, lips pursed.
My lips flattened. “He didn’t know you both are deaf. He was mad that you didn’t save me, and that his dad did. He felt that with all of your money, maybe you could help his mom out with his dad’s care. That you owed him that.”
Dad and Mom read my words and immediately faced each other, speaking with their eyes as only couples could. Super annoying to anyone that wasn’t part of a couple.
I banged the table with my hand, knowing they’d feel the vibration. When they looked my way, I asked, “What?”
Dad started off. “He’s not wrong. We’ve thought over the years that the person who saved you, if he lived, should be paid a reward. After all, he saved you. Our baby girl.”
I started to sign, but Mom jumped in. “Let us start by explaining a few things. A few days ago, when you and I had our disagreement about Ricky, I told you that we had our reasons for being overprotective. One was the text messages I was getting, demanding money. Last night, your father and I decided it was time you knew the rest.”
I looked back and forth between them, anxiety bubbling in my stomach, but their faces didn’t look distraught. Just determined.
“When I got pregnant with you, your father and I were about to graduate from university in France. We weren’t married and, obviously, both deaf. My family was furious, irate. Not for the reasons you think, but because they didn’t think two deaf parents could or should raise a child. My mother swore that we would harm you, neglect you. And if that happened, she vowed she would come and take you away.”
My eyes widened, mouth falling open.
“You know me. I’m a perfectionist. I’m a tough nut.” She smiled a rueful smile, self-deprecating, but also humorous. “And I’m absolutely nothing compared to my mother. From the day I discovered I was pregnant, I promised I would be as different from her as I could be. And I was. I still am, but at the start, I really, really was.”
She stopped signing, her eyes filling with tears.
Dad took over. “God, we were so happy before the accident. After the threats from your mom’s family about taking you, we married in secret in France and then up and moved as soon as we graduated. We picked Indiana, thinking it was almost the center of America and as tucked away from your grandmother as possible. We got jobs right away at the Indiana School for the Deaf and bought this house. The first years of your life were tough, but we managed, and we loved every second.”
Mom jumped in. “That day at the lake was like any other. Nothing stopped us. We traveled. We went to the zoo. We took you everywhere with us and we embraced our lives. That day we had a beautiful picnic, one you had helped me shop for. We’d brought paper and colored pencils, newspapers and magazines. We spread out food and sat on our blankets, sunshine pouring down on us. And for a moment, your father and I focused on each other to sign, and while communicating, lost track of you.”
Tears pooled in her eyes and spilled over her cheeks. “It wasn’t until we saw the commotion that we realized you weren’t sitting with us. I’m so sorry. I failed you. I wi
ll never forgive myself.”
I got up, coming around to their side of the table. I kissed my mom’s cheeks, looking into her eyes. “I lived. It was an accident. Nothing for you to torture yourself over.”
Pulling a chair closer, I sat next to her, holding one of her hands as Dad spoke.
“It was all over the news. The reporters never got names, but everyone wanted us to talk and I’m sure they wanted Ricky’s family to talk. Now I know that the reason we both didn’t was a language barrier. Reporters couldn’t ask us questions in sign language, and Ricky’s family probably felt isolated, only speaking Spanish. But even if they could have, we would have never given an interview. If this news story traveled, there was a chance your grandmother would hear about it. Exactly what she had threatened us with. We were certain two deaf parents losing track of their hearing child at a lake, that child calling for help, and the parents being unable to hear those cries, would constitute as neglect to her. From that day forward, we lived in constant fear she would come for you.” Dad finished, sitting back and waiting for me to respond.
“That’s why you homeschooled me. That’s why you were so protective. You thought she was coming to fight for custody.” I deduced, signing slowly and methodically as my hands caught up with my rapid-fire thoughts.
“Always.” Mom signed, her weepy eyes settling on mine.
“And it’s why we didn’t fight harder to learn about the man that saved you,” Dad explained. “We couldn’t be sure that his family would keep this private. We couldn’t risk the media attention. We couldn’t risk you.”
I sat back in my chair, dragging in a few long breaths. So many things finally made sense.
“I have to admit something to you both, too.” Their eyes followed my fingers, moving up in an attempt to read my eyes. “I never told Ricky, not until last night, that you both are deaf.”
Mom and Dad looked at each other before looking at me. “Why not?” Mom asked.
I sat back in my chair, chewing on my bottom lip. “I don’t fully know. But I think, my whole life that is what defined me. I was the daughter of two amazing, strong, loving, deaf parents. I was raised in silence and that constant quiet resonated through my bones. I was afraid to say it too soon, like it would continue to define me into adulthood. But now, today, I’m proud. My whole life, I thought you were scared to live.” I stopped looking at both of them in the eye before finishing. “Now I realize that really, you’ve lived fully. Your only fear was of losing your dream. Me. Thank you for that. I get that. The loss of a dream is horrible.”
