by Laura Brown
Fun times.
I made my way around the room, greeting everyone, before ending up in the kitchen, the quietest spot on the first floor.
A while later the noise level grew, in part due to Dad raising the volume of the television. I was so bored I almost started counting the kitchen tiles, even though I already knew the answer = 356. I turned my attention to my phone, grateful for the small amount of entertainment Reed provided.
“Carli,” my father yelled, and I nearly leaped out of my skin. “Goddammit, how many times do I need to call your name before you hear me?”
I put a hand on my chest to try to contain my racing heart. “Sorry, Dad. I don’t hear well.”
Dad stood, small potbelly protruding as he did so. “Then you need to try harder.”
My hands shook, but I was tired of hiding what I was. “There is no trying harder with hearing loss. I don’t hear well. End of story.”
He puffed out air. If he had a gold nose ring he’d look like a bull. “You have hearing aids to fix it.”
“I have hearing aids to amplify sounds. That’s it. I hear your television and everyone talking, but I can’t decipher words.” Of course, I could now hear a pin drop because everyone had gone stark still around me and someone had muted the television. Didn’t stop Dad from yelling.
“You should be able to decipher your own name rather than have your head in your phone.”
I don’t know what came over me, but I answered him honestly. “I was texting Reed.”
“Who’s Reed?”
Crap. Too late to back down now. “My boyfriend.”
Dad pushed up his sleeves and took two steps toward me. I was twenty-one, almost twenty-two. What difference did it make if I had a boyfriend?
“Why doesn’t he call on the phone and be polite?”
I took a step back, not liking the crazed look in my father’s eye.
“Everyone texts nowadays, Dad,” Matti piped up.
Dad stopped, leered her way, and then turned back to me. This was my own father, but I no longer felt safe. I refused to quit and squared my shoulders.
“Reed’s deaf. Texting is his way of calling.”
Dad’s face turned beet red. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Matti with a hand over her mouth, shaking her head. Then I realized I had signed when I spoke.
“What’s that nonsense with your hands?”
My nerves were replaced with anger. “Nonsense? ASL is not nonsense. It’s a language I can understand. Even in loud places like this. There are so many resources out there for hearing loss—all I got was hearing aids and being yelled at to try hard—”
I was looking toward my sisters, my ashen-faced sisters, for some form of support as I finally stood up to the man who verbally terrorized us our entire lives. I wasn’t facing my father when his arm reared back. I wasn’t facing my father when he swung it forward. I wasn’t facing my father when his fist collided with the side of my skull. The next words were beaten out of me. Literally.
I stumbled backward as a second fist clocked me on the other side of my head. My feet slid out from under me, and I crashed to the ground. My head hit with such force the room went dark. Pain worse than any headache I’d ever had brought me out of the darkness. I still couldn’t see, could barely breathe. Huddled in a fetal position, I withstood more blows.
Then the world went dark once again, and I felt nothing.
WHEN I CAME to, the blows had stopped. My eyes were open, and I wondered if they ever had closed. My ears rang, but I started to focus on the chaos of commotion that was our living room. Matti was by my side, encouraging me to stand. Tears drenched her face. “Come on, Carli. Come on. We’re leaving. Let’s go, baby sister. Let’s go.” She repeated her words like a mantra, almost in a blind haze. The words were soft and loud at the same time.
Andi and . . . dammit, what was her latest fling’s name? Whoever he was had helped pull Dad off me. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like What’s-His-Name had taken a swing himself. Or someone did, because blood gushed from Dad’s nose. Lesli had the boys held close to her as she ushered them out of the house.
Mom stood in the kitchen, back to us, washing dishes.
I tried to stand, but my head felt like it was splitting in two. Matti supported one side, Andi the other. And then I was outside and sitting in Matti’s car.
“Keys, Carli. We need your keys,” Lesli said as she squatted down outside my open door. She spoke loud, almost as if she had to repeat herself. But I’d heard her speak only once.
I nodded, then wished I hadn’t as my head yearned to fall off. My purse landed in my lap. I pulled out my keys and handed them to Lesli.
She walked over to my sisters, all convening outside. Andi kissed her boys, then What’s-His-Name, and took my keys in her hand, before making her way over to me. “You okay?” she asked, alert eyes taking in every visible part of me.
I didn’t dare nod, but I could barely speak. “Yeah,” I mumbled. Or slurred. I really wasn’t doing well.
Andi pulled a still-blubbering Matti into a hug. “We need to get her home. You okay to drive?”
Matti nodded. “It’s the same thing all over again.”
“No, it’s not. We stopped it. We stopped it.” Andi pulled Matti in again, then squatted in front of me.
“How many fingers?” she asked, holding up her three middle ones.
“You have three, but that’s the sign for six. Which answer do you want?”
She choked out a laugh. “Good answer.” Then she kissed my head and closed the door.
Matti got in beside me. “We’re going back to your dorm.”
My head leaned against the headrest, but it still felt like it was moving. “Shouldn’t I go to the hospital?”
Matti backed out of the driveway and started down the road. “Reynolds girls don’t go to the hospital.”
What? I lifted my head and the world darkened along the edges and got fuzzy. Matti’s hand pushed my head back.
“Rest, Carli. I’ll explain later. I promise. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I relaxed into the seat and resisted wrapping my arms around my head. Instead I focused on my breathing, trying to work through the pain.
That wasn’t working as a distraction, so I pulled out my phone and saw the multiple messages from Reed.
Me: Sorry, bad family day. Very bad. Matti bringing me home now.
My thumbs moved in a sluggish manner over my keys. This wasn’t good.
Reed: I thought you had your car?
Me: I do. Andi’s driving it.
Reed: You OK?
Me: No.
Reed: I’ll meet you at home.
I thought about typing OK, but I never quite managed the message. Instead I let the vibrations of the car lull my heavy eyelids closed. And jerked them open when Matti practically screamed and shook my shoulder.
“NO, Carli! Don’t go to sleep!”
The way she shook me had my head playing tilt-a-whirl with razors.
“I’m awake. Don’t do that.”
Andi and Lesli arrived the same time we did. I took my keys back and let us into the building. I wanted my bottle of aspirin in the worst way.
In my dorm, D took one look at me and jumped up from the couch. “Holy shit, Carli, what the hell happened?” She was on me in a second, holding my face in her hands. I guess I looked as bad as I felt.
I shook my head. The contents jiggled and threatened to rip and break off. Both my hands shot to my head, desperate to keep the damn thing from rolling away. I blinked back tears as I struggled through the pain. “Meds,” I mumbled and when I stumbled forward Matti and Lesli had me flanked.
“Do you know what meds she’s talking about?” Lesli asked.
D, eyes wide, nodded, and ran into my bedroom. She appeared a moment later with my aspirin, and I took it into the kitchen to find a drink. My movements were akin to a drunken sailor, and I had to grab onto furniture for support. Andi was two steps ahead of me and h
ad a drink waiting. I popped two pills into my mouth and chased it down with the water.
I wanted answers. I wanted to know why my sisters didn’t seem as confused by this as I did. But I just couldn’t formulate the words.
My phone vibrated again, a text from Reed saying he was there. I showed the text to D, and she ran over to the door.
A minute or an hour later—time wasn’t really settling in—Reed entered the dorm. He took in my sisters. Then his face dropped when he saw me. He ran over to me and took my face in his hands, eyes scanning over each part of my face.
“What happened?”
I couldn’t say it. I could barely hold my aching, throbbing, falling-apart self together. The concern on his face caused my own tears to swell and slide down my cheeks.
Reed let out a breath and pulled my head into his chest. He held me close, resting his hand gently on the part that normally hurt the most, though right now every part hurt the most. I snuggled in, desperate to have him work his usual magic, to touch the spot that took all the pain away. But nothing worked, not this time. His body vibrated with tension. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind he would have retaliated for me. But his touch was gentle, comforting, as I sobbed into his chest.
He pulled one hand off me, and there was movement all around. My right ear pressed into his chest, my hearing aid muffled by his jacket. But my left ear received . . . nothing.
I picked my head up, finding myself on the couch. I didn’t even remember sitting, never mind moving here. With one hand I grasped onto my hearing aid and pulled it out of my ear. The aid looked fine, small beige shell attached by clear tubing to a clear mold shaped to my ear canal. I opened the battery door, closed it, and cupped my hand around the shell to create feedback. I held it up to my right ear, and it made a high-pitched noise, letting me know it worked. I put the aid back in my left ear.
Silence.
I pulled the aid out again and rechecked. The battery still worked. I took off my right aid, put it in Reed’s hand since he was watching my every move, and held my left aid up to my right ear.
More feedback. Crap. I tossed the left hearing aid on the coffee table and put my right aid back on.
“What’s wrong, Carli?” Andi asked, worrying her bottom lip.
I looked at them all. They had information I didn’t. “Why are you not surprised?”
My sisters each looked at their shoes.
A sickening realization overtook me. “This isn’t the first time he’s done this.”
Reed moved to the kitchen table, where D had her laptop set up. I wasn’t sure when that happened, but I was grateful he wasn’t left out. Without his comfort, I scrunched down on the couch, pushing my head into the cushion. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and breathe out the pain, but I needed them open to see my sisters and hear their answers.
Lesli sat down across from me and moved a pillow behind her back. “I wasn’t a klutz. I was pushed down the stairs.”
Matti squatted in front of me, eyes filled with tears. “You were born hearing, Carli. You had single-minded attention and determination. Once you got into a project it was hard to get you out of it. One day you didn’t respond to Dad. The rest of us were upstairs. Dad got pissed, yelled at you for not paying attention and . . . ” She choked up.
My mind spun, and I reached up and held it in place. “I was born hearing?” And without concentration issues?
She sniffled and nodded. “We used to whisper to each other at night, back and forth, quiet enough so that we didn’t get into trouble. Then after this incident . . . You never heard me again. You were four years old. I knew you couldn’t hear well, but I was too afraid. I didn’t say anything.”
“Who else has he done this to?”
Andi stepped over. “All of us. You avoided Dad like the plague after your hearing loss. And since he waited until we were one-on-one, you never heard any of the other incidents.”
“So you kept this from me?”
“You had a good childhood, Carli. We couldn’t ruin that,” Matti said.
“Good? Good?” I exclaimed, then groaned and settled back down. The noise was too loud even for my right ear. “I lived in the same hell you all did.”
“You lived in a hell where your father didn’t beat you for disobeying.”
I opened my mouth but clamped it closed. I looked in each of my sisters’ eyes. They’d protected me. And my head was really killing me. I rubbed the heel of my palm over the worst spot and curled farther into myself.
“Um,” D began, “Reed’s writing in all capitals that she needs to go to the hospital, and I agree.”
I looked up and caught his eyes. “Hospital, now,” he signed, jaw tight.
My sisters shifted awkwardly. “She’ll be all right,” one of them said. I couldn’t register the voice and didn’t catch the mouth movements.
Reed pounded on the keyboard. “No, she’s not all right,” D read. “She’s in worse pain than I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen her flat on her back and rolling in pain. What happens when the shock wears off? And what about the fact she’s been hit in the head?”
He stopped typing and caught my eyes. “Head pain not normal,” he signed while D finished reading, her spoken words overlapping his signing.
I held his stare. He was right. It wasn’t normal. And the room swayed a bit. I tried to stand, and my head attempted to change shape.
My sisters were closer, but Reed was faster. He grabbed onto me and pressed my head against him, kissing the top of my hairline. Only it wasn’t going to be enough, not this time. I shook my head, and he stopped kissing me. Since I didn’t move, he didn’t let go.
I heard voices, but I couldn’t make them out. When I shifted, I found D’s laptop propped nearby so Reed could see it and hold me. Andi stood by my side again.
“He’s right; she needs a hospital. We’ve never gone to the hospital. Not one of us. Not right away, at least. But Dad’s never hit one of us as an adult. It’s up to Carli what she wants to do.”
What I wanted to do? I wanted my head to stop hurting. I wanted to never have been hit in the first place. Then I wouldn’t have constant headaches. Then I wouldn’t have trouble concentrating. Then I wouldn’t have a hearing loss. I could accept myself if this was the way I’d always been, but now I knew that was a lie.
And I needed a diagnosis. I backed away from Reed. “Hospital,” I signed.
His shoulders sagged forward in relief.
“Hospital,” I said again with my voice. My sisters didn’t appear nearly as supportive as Reed and D were, but they didn’t stop me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Reed
MY KNUCKLES TURNED white as I gripped the wheel. All my energy forced into my hands to keep my lead foot inactive. I needed to drive slowly, cautiously. Keep Carli safe. Keep Matti behind us. Anger, speed, none of that helped her right now.
Beside me Carli pulled down the visor, examining herself in the small mirror. I had no idea if she’d seen her face since the attack. My guess, no. Not in the way her jaw fell open. Not in the way she took in every discoloration.
She caught me checking on her. The devastation on her face nearly broke me the rest of the way.
“I look bad,” she signed.
If I lied, it would be obvious. “Yes. Still beautiful.” It was the truth. The bruises couldn’t make her any less attractive to me.
I merged around traffic, careful to keep an eye behind me and confirm Matti followed. I was sure she knew where to go, but I needed her ears and mouth once we got to the hospital.
If I used my lead foot, we’d be there already.
I glanced at Carli, to find her eyes closed. A shock of fear slammed into my system. Don’t go to sleep. Hand shaking, I reached over and shook her shoulder. She didn’t move. Panic turned sharp and lung-crushing. Cars surrounded me on all sides, too many to pull over and no place safe enough to do so. But if Carli didn’t move soon, I would, and get Matti to help me. If I had to, we’d call a
n ambulance and fuck up city traffic. With my eyes darting back and forth between her and traffic, I shook her again and made as loud a sound with my vocal cords as I knew how.
Her eyes fluttered open as if nothing big had occurred. As if she hadn’t cut off a year of my life in those few short minutes.
“I’m fine,” she signed.
No. She wasn’t fine. Not even close. I kept one hand on her shoulder, afraid if I stopped she’d slide away from me.
Her hand covered mine. Cold. Clammy. Why weren’t we at the fucking hospital already? I should have checked to see if Mom was on duty. If so, we could have taken a longer drive and got her to take care of Carli. I could’ve . . .
No. Closest hospital. End of story.
I pulled into the emergency room parking lot, and Matti parked beside me. We helped a disoriented Carli out of the car. I didn’t know Matti, she didn’t know me, and we couldn’t really communicate. But she sent me a look I understood 100 percent. This wasn’t good. We were both worried, and in that moment we didn’t need words to know the same troublesome thoughts ran through our minds.
Matti won me over at the check-in desk. We stood there, all but ignored. She banged on the counter, mouth flapping, hands waving. The check-in staff looked up and followed Matti’s gesture to Carli, propped against my side. Once Carli’s face registered, the game changed.
They brought us to a half cubicle and started talking to Carli. Only Carli scared all of us by not answering. She’d open her mouth, but even I could tell she wasn’t saying anything. Matti took over, talking while she filled out the paperwork. She gestured for Carli’s wallet, and I got it out of her purse before Carli could turn around for it.
Next to the computer monitor, I focused on the white sign with multiple different languages all saying the same thing: interpreter. They even had the ASL symbol. I wanted to request one, but this wasn’t for me; it was for Carli. It sucked that I couldn’t communicate. But I wasn’t the patient.
The paperwork took too damn long. Yet I knew Mom would yell at me for thinking such thoughts. Carli rubbed her forehead, laying her head against my shoulder. I could no longer see her face. Matti looked over, concern and anger on hers. From her gesturing and her lips, I guessed Carli’s eyes were closed again.
