Silence (26 page)

His words fill me with sunshine. Make even this gloomy day bright. Bright with the thought of seeing him again. Until Emerson hands me a note.

Lily is coming over to help me with my cheer routine.

So much for my happy day.

Two hours later, I am pacing in my room. Door closed. Trying to figure out so many things at once. All I know for sure is that I have a blazing headache. Right between my eyes.

Mom opens the door. I wave her in and sit down on the bed with a heavy sigh.

She grabs the pen and paper next to my bed.

The hardest thing in life is to forgive. But we need to forgive to move on. Lily isn’t perfect, but she was your best friend. There are things about her that you respect and admire, or you would never have chosen to be close to her. She’s here now, helping Emerson. And I don’t think it’s really for Em. I think she’s helping your sister to reach out to you. I’m not saying to forget. I’m just saying that when you open your heart, you let the light in.

I finish reading. Look up at Mom. I wonder if she has finally taken her own advice. If meeting Christophe last night showed her that she needs to move on. Even if she never sees him again, that she deserves to move on. Let the light in.

I stand and curl my arms around her. Gather strength.

And then I go outside to see Lily.

She is sitting under the big tree, Emerson seated beside her. The clouds haven’t spilled their drops yet, but the air is scented with perfume heralding rain. The chill drifts across my bare arms. Tickles my nose.

As I draw closer, Lily looks up at me. Her face is damp, her eyes swollen. She runs a hand under her nose. Even like this, Lily is beautiful. Her hair is tangled chaos. Her makeup is smudged. She looks vulnerable. Her expression unguarded.

I sit on the opposite side of Emerson. We bookend Lily.

“What is it?” I ask her.

Her mouth opens. And speaks one word. I read her lips.
Connor.

I didn’t want her to know, didn’t want her to get hurt. I wanted to protect her.

Mom’s advice lingers as I slide an arm around Lily’s shoulders. She leans against me. Her head touching mine.

She hands me a folded piece of paper. A note. The sentences run together as if she wrote too quickly to remember punctuation.

Connor broke up with me Said he needed to be honest He’s seeing someone else He was cheating on me all this time I wish I had broken up with him Then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much You know I probably only made the cheerleading squad because of him I lost my BFF because of him I’m so sorry Stella

Things have a way of working themselves out when you least expect it. At least, that’s how it happens for me. Because, finding Lily here, apologizing, is the last thing I expected today. And my reaction to it—complete and utter forgiveness—is a total surprise. But that’s how I feel. I forgive her. For all of it.

I think about telling her about last night.

But I don’t.

Because it’s over. Telling her more bad news will only hurt her more. So I keep it inside. One day, maybe I will tell her. But I doubt it. Some things are meant to be kept silent.

Lily has reached out to me. The real Lily. So I reach back.

I turn to look at her. “You made the cheerleading squad because you were the best. Not because of your boyfriend. I was there, remember? You deserve better than Connor. But it’s not even about that. It’s about you, Lily. You have so many gifts. Stop pretending to be someone you’re not. Be yourself. Trust in you.”

Lily’s eyes widen. I think I have surprised her. Maybe I have changed more than I thought. I never would have spoken to her like this before, but now it seems natural. Comfortable. With the sleeve of her sweatshirt, Lily wipes tears from her cheeks. Manages a small smile.

With her finger, she writes three letters in the dirt.
BFF.

I grin and add an exclamation point. Then I laugh as Lily throws her arms around me.

Emerson watches us hug, clearly happy that we have made up at last.

Maybe Lily has changed. Or maybe she has learned not to change. Our friendship is damaged; there’s no way around that. But perhaps Mom is right. Perhaps by opening my heart to forgiveness, I can allow for rebuilding. By accepting Lily for who she is—and by being her friend.

By midafternoon, rain begins to fall. Hayden sends me a text.

Want to take a walk in the rain?

When?
I return.

After dinner?

Ok.
I answer.

It’s pouring outside when he arrives, but he’s not wearing a jacket. He has on a sweatshirt and jeans. Raindrops bead like diamonds on his long hair.

“Ready for that walk?” he asks.

“In the pouring rain?”

Hayden nods, his grin looking slightly mischievous.

I tilt my head and look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Okay,” I say doubtfully.

I open the closet and take out an umbrella. Grab my red jacket from the hook near the door. “Mom!” I call.

Her head pops out of the kitchen. I’m sure she’s been listening the whole time, but just in case . . . “Hayden and I are going for a walk. We’ll be back soon.”

Mom smiles and waves at Hayden. She says something to him. He grins at her.

“We will,” he answers.

The sky is pewter and silver. Rain comes down in sheets. Unrelenting. I breathe in the smell of damp cement. Wet grass. And somewhere, orange blossoms. Hayden removes the umbrella from my hands. Holds it over our heads with his right hand. Then he takes my right hand in his left. And we walk out into the night.

Puddles slosh against my boots. Seep through the soles to dampen my socks. A chill sneaks through the open collar of my shirt. Water gathers on the sleeve of my jacket. Runs down my arm in little rivulets.

In the dark, I can’t read his lips, so we can’t talk. But it doesn’t matter. We walk side by side. I feel his hand, warm against mine. His skin is smooth but not soft. His hand is strong, safe. I breathe in and out, tasting the wet air in my mouth. My eyes adjust to the milky darkness, and I see the lights in the houses as we pass them.

Some people are sitting down to dinner around tables in their dining rooms, eating as a family. The way my family used to eat together. Others are watching television. The blue glow from the screen flickers gently. A few cars drive down the street, their lights illuminating the shiny sidewalk in front of us. A sense of calm floods me. Peace.

Then we reach the end of the street and a small park here. Just a grassy area with a tree and benches in the middle. Streetlights that burn amber. Hayden walks me to the tree. The leaves and branches form a shield from the rain. He releases my hand so he can close the umbrella. Sets it down.

Then he places one hand on my waist. Takes my other hand in his. I shiver. Not from the cold. From the closeness. Hayden pulls me against him. I raise my left hand to his shoulder. Look up at him. In the glow of the lights, I can see his expression. Rapt. Focused only on me. As I am focused only on him. And then he begins to move. Dancing with me under the canopy of leaves. Dancing in an empty park. Without music. In the rain. I am drenched, but I don’t even care. I am warmed by him. By the heat of his body against mine. I am pressed close to him. Wrapped in his arms.

I follow his lead, moving with him. Then he starts spinning me. Around and around. Until I am dizzy. And laughing. I look up at him, his face glistening. He looks down at me, and I am mesmerized. Suspended. I don’t even realize we have stopped moving at first.

I don’t know how long we stand like that, neither of us moving. But then I shiver. I am soaking wet. And suddenly freezing. Hayden pulls away and picks up the umbrella. He opens it and holds it over me with one hand while he pulls me close with the other. And that’s how we walk home.

At the front door, I stop to look at him. I don’t want this night to end.

“You need to get inside,” he tells me.

“I don’t want to say good-bye,” I say.

“Tomorrow,” he promises with a soft kiss on my forehead. “Six o’clock.”

And so I go inside. Mom takes one look at me and shakes her head. I just laugh and go take a hot shower. I am asleep in less than twenty minutes. A smile on my face.

The sound of silence

— 
Hayden
 —

Tomorrow.

Our last day together.

Our last day in silence.

Tonight she was more beautiful than she has ever been. She makes my heart race and ache at the same time for what I have found and what I will lose. But I have kept my promise—I have taught her to imagine a different life, one filled with sensations she’s never noticed. I have done for her what no one ever did for me. I have given her the tools to survive no matter where her journey takes her.

And she has given me something even greater. She has healed my heart. In the mirror of her eyes, I can see myself, the me I always wanted to be, but was too afraid to try to become. Hiding behind stutters, anger, bitterness. She has melted all of that away.

Tomorrow night.

Our last day together.

I only hope I can stay silent.

2

— 
Stella
 —

Six o’clock. I have been counting down the minutes all day. As if all the hours leading up to now were standing between me and this moment. As if I had to conquer them rather than live them.

I am wearing my Easter dress, the blue one with the lace overlay. I had hoped to see him the day I first wore it. Hoped he would see me wearing his eyes. The dress I chose is the exact shade of Hayden’s eyes when they look at me.

I leave my hair loose in a side part. Tuck the front section back with a silver butterfly bobby pin. I wear the daisy pendant around my neck.

I don’t know where we are going tonight. Only that this is my first official date with Hayden. The first time I have been given permission from both parents to go out with him.

I wait in the living room, holding a small wrapped package on my lap. My present to Hayden. I spent hours searching for it today. I knew what I wanted. I just didn’t know if I would find it. But after hours of searching through endless shelves, I discovered the perfect gift.

I run my fingers over the silver and white diamond shapes on the wrapping paper. Think about the past seventeen days. A short time to cradle so much change. I have grown to love Hayden. Not for what I see on the outside, but for the complicated and beautiful person he is inside. Without my ears, I have learned to see, to touch, to taste, and to feel. I have reached outside myself. I have learned the lessons Hayden wanted to teach me. I can imagine myself differently. Because I am different.

The countdown to April tenth has changed from being the countdown to something I anticipated—the return of my hearing—to something I fear—the end of Hayden’s commitment to me. Will he disappear once he has fulfilled his promise to me?

At five to six, Mom opens the front door. Hayden steps through. Wearing a crisp white shirt tucked into dark jeans. Hair loose, like it was the first day I saw him leaning against the lockers. Watching me.

He turns to me. His eyes reach me first. I can read him now. So I view the myriad of emotions that cross his face like a poem.

Cautious optimism
Barely contained
Overflowing at the edges
Wanting so much
Yet still unsure
Questions unanswered
Words unspoken
Emotion colliding with reason
Waiting so long
Always waiting

“You look just like the butterfly,” he says as he closes the distance between us in three smooth strides.

I know exactly what he means. The butterfly on our walk through nature. The one in my photo. My continual reminder of the rewards of patience. It seems fitting that I should be one with the butterfly.

Hayden’s gaze drops to the present in my hands. He cocks his head to the side, asking the question without words.

I glance down. Then back at him. “It’s for you. For later,” I tell him.

A small grin touches his face. And his hand reaches for mine. As we move toward the front door, I see Mom and Emerson standing side by side. Smiling. Watching. Being happy for me.

“Nine thirty,” Mom reminds me. I nod. I would agree to anything she asks as long as she lets me walk out the door with Hayden.

“Where are we going?” I ask. The truck rolls along. The silver knot swinging back and forth.

“It’s a surprise,” Hayden answers. He can’t hide the joy on his face. And I can’t hide mine, either. This feels like a celebration.

I don’t try to figure out where we are going. I don’t want to know. I want to be surprised. To relish the delight of someone caring enough to surprise me. To plan something just for me.

I watch the houses we pass. Let my mind drift. Flow.

Hayden’s hands wrap around the steering wheel. Eyes on the road ahead of him. At a stoplight, he reaches out. Runs his hand down my arm. Ending with my fingers. Tracing them one by one. As though he is drawing a handprint on a piece of paper. As though he is memorizing it.

Then the light changes. And he lifts his fingers from mine.

Hayden pulls into a driveway, climbs out of the truck. Opens a metal gate. Then he drives through. Plants overflow into the driveway. Trees with pink flowers. Beds of flowers. Statues. Fountains. I read the sign, “Flores’ Nursery.”

“It looks closed,” I tell Hayden.

Hayden nods, a knowing grin lighting his features. “It
is
closed.”

I don’t understand. But I don’t have time for more questions, because he has jumped out of the truck again and is already walking around to my side.

Hayden opens the door. I step out. My feet hit the ground closer to him than I planned. So as I stand, he brushes against me. Tiny bells ring inside of me.