Silence (15 page)

Stella and Emerson exit through the door together, and I watch them go before I turn toward the parking lot. I am expected at the nursery for a couple of hours after school. Then I will stop by Stella’s house. I have a surprise for her.

14

— 
Stella
 —

After dinner, I help my mom wash the dishes. Emerson finishes her homework on the computer. The kitchen is my favorite room. It’s peaceful in here. Mom rinses while I put the dishes in the dishwasher and tell her about my day.

I still can’t understand my mom, but I have learned how to read her face. So when I say, “I didn’t eat lunch with Lily today,” her eyes widen with understanding.

“It’s not the same,” I explain. Mom nods. She writes something on the pad on the counter.

Give yourself time.

“Okay,” I tell her. “I will.”

But she doesn’t know. Time has already driven me and Lily apart. I have been replaced by a posse of populars. Time is my enemy. Each moment that ticks by takes me farther from the life I had. Moves me into a future I don’t recognize. The unknown scares me. I resist it even as I know I have no choice. I must learn to see myself differently.

Just like Hayden said.

Emerson brings Hayden into the kitchen. He looks taller in our house. More golden. As if the room has been lit by his presence.

He’s holding a bag of groceries in his arms. I smile and cross the room to greet him.

“Hi,” I say. It seems inadequate. Too small for all the things he makes me feel.

His eyes rest on me, and for a long moment, we just gaze at each other. Silent. Like we are the only two people in the room.

Then my mom reaches over and hugs Hayden. It is how she always greets him. He gestures to the bag. “Would you mind if we used the kitchen?”

She answers him with wide open arms. I imagine she is saying, “It’s all yours. Just clean it up when you finish.” Then she leaves.

“We’re cooking?” I am surprised. This is the last thing I expected.

He tilts his head to the side. “Baking, actually.”

“Is chocolate involved?” I ask as I take the bag from him and set it on the counter.

Hayden reaches into it and begins unloading. Flour, sugar, brown sugar, eggs, chocolate chips, and butter.

“Let me guess,” I offer, considering the ingredients. “Chocolate chip cookies?”

“You must be an expert.”

I take a couple of mixing bowls out of the cabinet, then preheat the oven. I show Hayden the drawer with the measuring cups and spoons. Hayden hands me the bag of chips and points to the recipe on the back. I laugh; I know this one by heart.

I’ve made chocolate chip cookies dozens of times before, but it’s never been this fun. We work together silently, in unison, as though we hear each other’s thoughts.

Hayden deftly cracks the eggs with one hand, like chefs on television. I am impressed. I measure the flour and baking soda. He adds the salt. I pack the brown sugar. He measures the cane sugar. I pour the vanilla, and he mixes in the butter. He holds the measuring cup while I shake out a cupful of chocolate chips.

Our movements are harmonious, almost like a dance. I notice things I never have before. The smooth, powdery texture of the cool flour against my fingers. The sweet aroma of soft, brown sugar. The cocoa tang of the semi-sweet chocolate chips I steal. The deep sunflower shade of melted butter, which reminds me of the center of the daisies Hayden gave me.

We use tablespoons to drop balls of dough onto the cookie sheets. I’m not surprised when Emerson barges into the kitchen. She grabs a spoonful of dough and dashes away before we can stop her. I know she will be back when she smells the scent of baked cookies. Hayden seems to find it amusing.

“Life with a little sister,” I say as I roll my eyes.

Hayden picks up the cookie sheet dotted with clumps of dough. Puts it into the oven. I set the timer for 10 minutes. We sit at the kitchen table with glasses of orange juice to wait.

“This was a good idea,” I say.

Hayden fixes me with his sapphire stare. I see a scattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. I’ve never noticed them. What else haven’t I noticed?

He grins and tilts his head to the side. “You don’t need to hear to cook.”

It’s not a question. It’s a simple statement. A reminder of his challenge. He is showing me all of the things I can do whether I can hear or not. He is showing me that life is beautiful.

“Thank you,” I say.

He nods. Once again, words are not necessary.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. We just watch each other. I feel bonded to him. Sealed, as though this moment was decided long before I ever fell into the pool. Before I ever auditioned for Maria. Before everything.

Hayden breaks eye contact first. The sweet smell of sugar, butter and chocolate fills the kitchen. Tells me the cookies are done. I am not surprised when Hayden moves toward the oven. I know the timer is beeping even though I can’t hear it.

I bring over oven mitts and remove the trays. The cookies are golden brown, the chocolate chips slightly melted. They look delicious—soft and chewy.

Bringing back memories of baking with my mother.

“My mom and I used to make chocolate chip cookies together,” I say. “Whenever I had a bad day at school.”

Hayden has a faraway expression in his eyes. “I don’t think I have any good memories of my mother.”

I imagine the emptiness in his voice from the expression on his face. He doesn’t envy me. He just grieves for something he never had. I ache for him, for his loss.

“She hurt you, didn’t she?” I don’t think about it. I just
say it.

And bam. It’s like I’ve slapped him. He reels back. Wariness crosses his face. I sense he is about to change the subject. He has done it before. Every time I start to get close to the truth. So before it’s too late, I blurt out, “I’m so sorry, Hayden.”

This time he doesn’t speak for so long, I am sure he won’t answer. Then he says, “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.”

But I can see from the look on his face that the wounds are still raw. Hayden hasn’t healed. I want to hear his story. To listen to him. But his expression has shifted. It’s closed off. He won’t let me in.

That’s when Emerson saves me by sneaking into the kitchen and making a big fuss over the cookies. Stuffing them into her mouth. If she notices the tension in the room, she doesn’t show it.

I’m grateful for the distraction. I busy myself with making her and my mother a plate of cookies and glasses of milk on a tray. Not until she leaves the kitchen with the tray can I face him. I am sure he will leave, offended by my imposition. I am prepared to apologize. To tell him that I have no right to pry into his past.

But he doesn’t leave. He waits while I make a plate of cookies for us. When I dare to raise my eyes to his, he is still here. Not running away. Still with me.

I reach for something to say. Anything.

“Do you play backgammon?” I ask.

His smile is all the answer I need. I hurry to the cabinet in the hallway to retrieve the game. I hope he won’t disappear while I am gone.

When I return to the kitchen, he is still at the table. He has waited for me before eating any cookies.

I grin at him. “I have an unfair advantage, you know.” I set up the backgammon board on the kitchen table. “I’m the family champ.” I can beat everyone in my family, including my father. I expect to beat Hayden as well. He just doesn’t know it.

“Not so fast, Layne. I may be better than you think,” he teases me.

The cookies are delicious. Warm and sweet, they taste of happiness and comfort. I will never bake them again without remembering the sweetness of this day.

Within a short time, I am not surprised to find myself the winner of our game.

I sit back and tell him, “I did warn you.”

“Fair enough. Do you have a chess board? That’s a game I can win.”

“I’m pretty good at chess, too,” I say. “You’d better bring your A game.”

I love chess. Not because I am so good at it—at least, not as good as I am at backgammon—but because I love the idea of it. Chess takes thought and strategy. There’s no luck to it—winning is all about the talent of the player.

We don’t speak while we play. I can’t read lips and watch the board at the same time. Hayden seems to understand, so we play in silence. I open my thoughts to hearing Hayden—not with my ears, but with my mind. I try to anticipate his moves by watching him. I study the expressions on his face, watch his body language. I move my pieces accordingly. I’ve never played chess like this before. Truthfully, I’ve never played this well before.

I move my queen, putting his king in check. I glance at Hayden’s face. His expression is one I haven’t seen on him before, sort of a half-smile with a raised eyebrow. I have surprised him and impressed him. He is seeing a new side of me. I can tell all of this without words. I grin at him, and then watch in dismay as, with only two moves, he escapes my queen, and puts me into checkmate. Hayden has won.

He stands and bows. A really formal bow. “That was the best chess game I have ever played,” he tells me. With anyone else, I would think they were lying. But I see nothing but truth in Hayden’s eyes. So I smile and thank him.

Then I add, “Me, too.”

Mom comes into the kitchen. Taps her watch. It’s getting late. Hayden stands. His grandfather will be waiting for him. I walk him to the door. He has shown me yet again how to enjoy my life without hearing. And I am grateful to him.

“Thanks for today,” I tell him. I hand him a baggie with four of the cookies we baked. “For your grandfather.”

He grins. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I echo. And then, to my surprise, he reaches over and trails his fingers across my cheek. His touch is as soft as a daisy petal brushing across my skin. But it leaves an imprint that I can feel tingling even after his hand drops back to his side.

“Sleep well, Stella.”

And then he is gone.

Pieces of a puzzle

— 
Hayden
 —

I almost told her. I almost told her everything.

I drive home slowly, thinking of her. The way she looks at me, as if I mean something to her—something real. Stella is the first person outside my family who knows something bad happened to me. I can tell by the emotion in her eyes, the expression on her face.

What makes her different from everyone else is that I sensed no pity in her. It was more like an embrace. In her reaching for me, I was comforted for one split second. And in that second, I was understood.

I can’t allow that to happen again. I can’t let her get so close. I have fit the pieces of myself back together. Pieces that were tossed around by my mother. Some were destroyed, but I glued myself together. If I let Stella in, she could pull some of those pieces loose. I don’t think I could put myself back together again—not after Stella. She could destroy me.

If I were smart, I would pull away now, before it’s too late. But I made her a promise—seventeen days to show her that she can imagine herself differently, without sound. I am showing her what she can do without hearing. I am opening her mind to possibilities. I can’t walk away now.

I will just have to be stronger.

Love brings pain. Don’t let yourself fall in love.

Anything but that.

13

— 
Stella
 —

The second day of school is better than the first. I know what to expect now. And time seems to move faster at school. In less than two weeks, I will know if I can hear again.

Lily is waiting for me at my locker. Looking prettier than ever, she smiles and hands me a note.

Would you come to my cheerleading tryouts after school today? It would mean a lot to me to have my BFF there.

Before I even finish reading the note, I know what my answer will be.

It’s hard for me to say no to Lily. Even now.

I nod. “I’ll be there.”

I text my mom and ask her to pick me up an hour later. Then I hurry to class. I can’t hear the bell ring, but I can read the clock. And I am about to be tardy.

We watch a film in health. It isn’t captioned, so I can only watch the images. Time for my mind to wander. I think about yesterday. About Hayden.

Because of him, I have started to see the world differently. I see myself differently. Walking through the halls this morning, I couldn’t hear the melody of school. But it didn’t matter. And people stared at me. Before, I would have cared, worried about what people thought of me. How they viewed me.

But I am changing. I’m stronger somehow. Less afraid. I am more myself without a part of me than I ever was with it.

So I open my senses and use them. I may not be able to hear the melody of Richmond High, but I can smell the paper on the hallway floors and the markers used to make the posters announcing the school dance. I can smell mints in the backpack next to mine. The guy in front of me uses the same shampoo as my mom. And I can see the giggles on the face of the girl to my right. I play a game with myself.

I look around the room at each face. I try to see if I can tell what they are thinking, feeling, doing, just by watching their expressions.

Some are enjoying the film. Others are lost in their thoughts. Daydreaming. Sneaking bites of breakfast from under their desks or texting. A few are sleeping. I never noticed how much was going on around me. I never looked around to see. Not like this.

My mind drifts back to Hayden, although he is never far from my thoughts. Yesterday, I tried to draw him out, get him to trust me. I asked him a question about his mother. And I got my answer. She did hurt him. I saw it on his face. As clearly as if he had spoken the words. She broke his heart.

He told me it was a long time ago and didn’t matter anymore, but it isn’t until this moment that I register the importance of what he said.