Chapter 24
24
S ophie
O n the same day I listened to the last voice memo Gabby sent me, I received a callback from the casting director Dana’s been in contact with in LA, asking me to fly down for a final reading. Six months ago, I would have jumped at the opportunity, no questions asked. But six months ago I didn’t know just how full my life could be, or how badly I would want to stay in California.
Which is why I’ve struggled to reconcile Gabby’s powerful testimony with August’s reluctance to speak with me about the accident at all. It’s not as if he hasn’t had the opportunity or time ... we’ve been with each other daily for months now. It’s this brutal truth that has brought more uncertainty about our current standing than my willingness to let go of a lifelong dream.
The juxtaposition is happening again in real time as Gabby prints out a copy of what we’ve been working on together all afternoon for her part in the showcase: stage sketches, prop brainstorms, a bas ic one-act play template in English, and a dramatic narrative outline for ASL.
Technically, Gabby has everything she needs to take her raw voice memo of that inexplicable event and mold it into something ready for the stage. But I can’t let her do that. Not yet anyway.
I crouch down beside her as she uses a neon yellow highlighter to indicate the key sentences she wants us to rework into our two scripts—hers and mine. And though I’ve heard this story spoken by her own voice, reading her words on paper now makes the impact all the more real. I can only imagine what it will do to a captive live audience.
I still her arm with my hand, and she glances my way. “This is the reason you have so much peace about your hearing loss, isn’t it?” I touch my own ear. “And about your parents.” My gaze drifts to their picture on her nightstand. It’s of the three of them at a beach—all in swimwear, giant ice cream cones in their hands with the surf behind them. They’re a beautiful family, despite the one not pictured.
It takes Gabby a second to process what she’s read on my lips seeing as she’s opted not to wear her hearing aids today. “I do have peace.”
I reposition myself on her rug directly in front of her. “I’m proud of you for being so brave.”
She signs God in ASL, and I know there is nothing flippant or cliché about it. How could there be after everything she’s suffered and endured? After everything she’s experienced?
I tap on the paper and make sure I speak clearly even though my voice breaks. “You have a powerful testimony.”
“I’ve been praying God will use it,” she says.
“He already has.” I place a hand over my heart.
She fiddles with the highlighter. “I’m a little worried about how some people might respond....”
I wait for her to speak again, but when she doesn’t, I touch her shoulder to draw her attention back.
“Are you afraid they won’t believe you?”
When she confirms my suspicion with a nod, a knot of fear roots in my belly. I can only hope “some people” doesn’t refer to a man we both love and care for deeply. Despite my unanswered questions, she’s held me to my promise not to share any of this with August, saying she has a plan and that she’s praying God will answer it in the right time.
I have no choice but to trust her.
I also know I do have a choice when it comes to having a different conversation with her brother. One I’ve been putting off out of fear. But I know it needs to take place tonight.
Gabby and I spend the next hour syncing up lines and phrasing that can work for both scripts while trying to keep the storyline pure and the facts undoctored. It’s a challenge, but the results have been beautiful so far. The best thing about dramatic narratives is how they aim to enhance an original storyline by bringing it to life through visual and emotional cues.
As soon as I hear the front door unlock and open, a sensor triggers a light on Gabby’s ceiling that blinks on and off three times.
She looks at me. “August’s home.”
The swoop in my abdomen is equal parts anticipation and nerves.
I listen for a moment, waiting for him to call out for us. He doesn’t. Odd . But even still, Gabby begins her cleanup of our afternoon’s work, and I watch her slide her hearing aids into each ear and adjust them with her phone.
“I have plans with Tyler’s family tonight,” she says, once her aids are in. “He’s picking me up at 5:30 for his dad’s birthday dinner. We’re doing build-your-own nachos and a game tournament. Their family goes crazy over games.” She shoves the loose papers inside a notebook, then stands and moves toward her closet. “Can I get your opinion on an outfit really quick?”
“Sure.” I pop up from the floor and hear a commotion going on in the dining room. Just as Gabby whirls to show me the cute blue fuzzy sweater and black denim combo on hangers, there’s a knock on her door.
Again, her ceiling lights flash to indicate her brother’s presence on the other side. There’s a button August installed that I missed the first few times I was here.
“Hello?” he says through the door. “You ladies in there?”
I give Gabby a heads-up before I open the door a crack. My heart does a little hippity-hop maneuver at the sight of him in a quilted gray-and-black flannel that looks so cozy over his black undershirt. But more than that, he looks so ... happy . Unusually so.
“I have a surprise out here for you both.”
“For us both?”
He nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Yes.”
I widen my eyes, intrigued. “We were just finishing up a fashion consultation in here. Let me check where we are on that.” I pull my head back into the room as Gabby slips out of her walk-in closet fully dressed in the outfit she showed me. She’s let her hair down from her messy bun and is currently scrunching some kind of product in it with both hands. Oh, to have naturally curly hair. “August has a surprise for us out here.”
Her eyebrows tick up as she gestures between us both. I laugh, given I’d done almost the exact same thing.
“That’s what he says, yes.”
“Hey.” I pop my head back out the door to ask a question for his ears only, thinking, Now or never . “Do you think we can talk later on tonight?”
His face registers curiosity, but I don’t miss the note of concern in his voice. “Everything good?”
I nod quickly and then wonder if that’s actually true.
Gabby opens the door wider from behind me, and August’s expression turns suspiciously delighted once again.
“You ready?” he asks. “It’s in the dining room.”
We follow him down the short hallway into the open living room and then turn left into a curtain of helium-filled balloons. There have to be a dozen or more of them tied together and floating at the end of their dining table—all brightly colored and many of them with the words Congrats! or You’re the Best! printed on the latex. Gabby and I exchange confused glances, as I’m certain we’re both thinking how today is not either of our birthdays. I know for a fact that Gabby doesn’t turn seventeen until after the new year, in mid-February.
Augus t beckons us around the mass of bobbing balloons to the broadside of the tables where there are two flat bakery boxes—each with one of our names scrawled across the lid in black Sharpie.
“Pizza cookies!” Gabby suddenly exclaims with a clap. “You went to Old Bay Bakery?!” She glances at me. “It’s my favorite cookie shop ever!”
She reaches out to open her lid, but August stops her. “Sorry, sis. Sophie needs to open hers first. We are celebrating two special occasions tonight.”
I’m staring between the two of them like I’m the party guest who wore the wrong costume to theme night.
“Go ahead.” August’s eyes gleam as he points to the box on the left. “Although, please don’t judge me too harshly on the flavor choices. I didn’t know your favorite, so I had to guess—and by guess, I mean I asked for a four-flavor combo.”
I bite my bottom lip as I reach for the box and flip open the lid to reveal a giant combination cookie pizza with green and red piping in the center that reads #Augie .
I study the strange word and then slowly rotate to face him. “What does hashtag Augie mean?”
He laughs. “That was my question, too, when Chip first mentioned it at lunch today. Apparently, it’s our couple name . Our audio performance of Mistletoe Matrimony has acquired somewhat of a large online fan base in the last couple of weeks.”
Gabby steps between us, her phone already drawn like a loaded gun as she types in the strange hashtag. “Let’s find it.” And just like that, we do. I gasp as dozens and dozens of posts pull up on a single hashtag—the audio teaser being liked and shared tens of thousands of times. When Gabby taps on one popular post of her brother’s face photoshopped under a branch of mistletoe with the words All I Want For Christmas underneath, I think I might actually hyperventilate. My laughs are more gasping inhales of air than anything else. As are Gabby’s.
“Okay, okay. I think we all get the picture.” He rolls his eyes and then turns to steady me between his strong hands. “The point is, we did it. We earned our bonuses and then some, and perhaps even better than that, Fog Harbor wants to negotiate more originals with us in the new year so hashtag Augie can grow in popularity.”
“ Really ? Oh, August!” I throw my arms around his neck in an affectionate embrace, not caring that his baby sister is only a foot away. She seems just as thrilled for us as we are. “That’s the absolute best news ever!”
“It’s pretty darn close to it, but I think Gabby’s cookie has ours beat,” he whispers before he gently lets me go and then touches his sister’s shoulder. “You’re next.”
Gabby sets her phone on the table face up, where my professional headshot is side-by-side with one of August in a wet suit next to a surfboard.
“What?” he all but shouts. “Where are they even finding these? That picture has to be at least five years old.”
“Internet pics live forever,” I tsk.
He shudders, and I stifle another laugh as Gabby leans down to open her lid.
Unlike mine, Gabby’s cookie pizza appears to be a hundred percent one flavor—white chocolate chip macadamia. And also unlike mine, her white piped icing spells out a date: December 29th.
As soon as she looks to him for an explanation, a slow-searing dread begins to crawl up my spine.
He steps toward her. “I found a surgeon who can help you. She’s already reviewed your scans and read all your medical reports, and...” He touches her shoulders and swallows the crack of emotion in his voice. “And she thinks she can repair the hearing in your left ear with a new procedure she’s developed. You’re scheduled for a consultation with her on December 29th at ten a.m. Her staff thinks they can get you in for surgery in February. Right before your birthday.”
Gabby stays frozen, speechless, for some time, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s struggling to understand him or if—
“You’ve been talking to a surgeon about me?” Her question comes out flat and stilted, causing the dread in my core to enter my limbs.
“Yes,” August confirms. “I found her a little over a year ago—Dr. Johnston—but I had to secure the funds before I scheduled anything. The surgery isn’t covered by insurance yet.”
Her eyes narrow, and she steps out of his hold, nearly falling as the backs of her knees bump against the bench seat under the table.
“Why not?” she asks. “Why isn’t it covered?”
“Because it’s...” August’s pause makes me think he’s considering his word choice carefully. “New.”
Her breathing grows as rapid as her blinking. “Like an experiment?”
He says nothing to this, probably because there’s no better terminology than the one she just used. And by the way her nostrils flare and her fingers ball into fists at her sides, it’s the wrong one.
“ I am not broken .” The fierceness of her voice causes me physical pain, and August flinches.
“I’ve never once said you were broken.”
“But you think it all the time, don’t you? You can’t stand that I’m D-E-A-F.” She fingerspells each letter in ASL, and my stomach rolls with nausea at the sight of her hurt. Oh, August, this was not the way to do this.
I place a hand on Gabby’s upper back in hopes of de-escalating a conversation that, if left to its own devices, could spiral wildly out of control. Her heavy gaze meets mine and practically begs me to intervene on her behalf, to help her brother understand, but then her expression falls slack. “Did you know about this? Did you know what he was planning for me behind my back?”
Despite it being ages ago when August first mentioned another surgery as an option, I can’t claim ignorance. Although, I so wish August would have discussed this with me before springing it on her. So much of my understanding of Gabby’s situation, of her intimate thoughts and overall vision for her life, became clear when I listened to her voice memos. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that surgery is not what she wants.
“Did you?” she repeats a bit weaker now.
My chest squeezes at the note of betrayal in her tone. “I know your brother is hopeful that your hearing might be fully restored some day.” Softly, I touch her cheek in hopes my words might reach her heart. “Because he loves you very much and wants the best for you.”
Immediately, her eyes glaze with unshed tears, and when she speaks again, her voice is small. “I thought you understood me.”
“I do, or at least, I think I do now,” I fight to reassure her as I blink back tears of my own. I’d wrap my arms around her if it didn’t mean compromising our communication. Instead, I make sure she can see me clearly when I say, “And if this is not what you want, then—”
“Of course it’s what she wants,” August cuts in, and both Gabby and I shift our attention to her big brother. “Doctor Johnston’s success rate is nearly seventy percent. She thinks you have a promising case. We can discuss all your concerns with her at the consultation.”
Gabby’s laugh is dark and far from compliant. “My concerns?” She slashes her pointer finger through her hair above her left ear. “It’s not your head she’ll be experimenting on. I’ve already had brain surgery, remember? I’m not doing it again. I’m fine with the way I am, and so are the people who actually love and accept me!”
“And who’s that?” he challenges coldly. “Tyler?”
“August,” I warn, but he barrels full steam ahead.
“Tyler doesn’t get a say in your future. You are still a minor under my care.”
Despite her aids and her concentration, I can tell by the way she’s angling her head she’s struggling to keep up.
“Slow down,” I hiss. “You’re speaking too fast.”
He repeats his statement, and I cringe when he doesn’t take the opportunity to soften or revise a single word of it. I wish I could intercept them before they made impact.
Gabby’s entire body goes rigid, her voice lethal. “Tyler would never ask me to change just so he could be more comfortable in my presence.”
“That’s not what’s happening here, Gabby, and you know it. I’m offering you the chance to hear again— forever . Don’t you think if Tyler was offered that same chance, he’d take it?”
“He was offered that chance!” she fires back. “His parents gave him the choice to get a cochlear implant when he was younger, and he didn’t want one. If Mom and Dad were here, they would have given me the same choice . They listened to me, they asked me questions, they trusted me to know my own mind and heart. But how would you know any of that when you don’t even let me talk to you about them!”
“That’s not true,” he says in a way that reveals just the opposite. “We talk about them plenty.”
Gabby’s openly crying as she pulls her phone from her pocket and begins furiously texting. I don’t have to wonder who the recipient is.
“We talk about them plenty,” August repeats in a far more frustrated tone, but her eyes are not on him, and whatever discussion is happening on her phone is of far more interest to her than what her brother is saying.
I gasp when August rips the phone out of her hand and watch in horror as he begins to skim through the text exchange between her and Tyler. Gabby tries to swipe it back from him, but August is too fast and too tall, and she has no chance.
“No way,” he grounds out while reading the messages. “You are not going anywhere with him tonight.”
“Wait a second, August,” I cut in. I’m done pretending to be a neutral party when I grip his arm and force him to see me. “She already had plans to go to his house tonight for his dad’s birthday dinner. It’s why she’s dressed up. Honestly, I think taking some space apart is a good idea for both of you tonight.”
But August doesn’t choose to hear me. Instead, he continues to glower at his sister. “Do you understand me? You are not to leave anywhere with him tonight. You’re grounded. And this—” he tucks her phone in his back pocket—“is mine now.”
“Oh, yeah?” She rips the aids out of her ears and tosses them on the chair. “Then you can take these, too.”
Due to our proximity to the front door, I hear the hum of Tyler’s engine as he rolls into the driveway. My eyes flick to the window for o nly a second, but it’s enough for Gabby to realize that something has changed. In this case, her knight in shining armor has arrived.
She darts to the door and throws it open as August barks for her to come back, threatening her with heftier punishments if she so much as thinks of getting inside his car. But of course, Gabby hears none of these threats because her hearing aids are in the living room and the rumble of Tyler’s engine drowns out whatever residual hearing she has left. She doesn’t spare a backward glance in her brother’s direction.
When August starts for the open door, I’m determined to block his path. The last thing he needs is a confrontation with Tyler. There is no scenario in any world where two heated men who love the same woman are going to see eye to eye.
I slam the door closed, lock it, and brace my body like a shield against the wooden frame.
“Open the door, Sophie.”
“No. You need time to cool off before you talk to her again.”
“What I need ,” he grinds out, “is to get my sister away from that punk.” He tries to unlock the door around me, but I bat his hand away. He looks startled by the physical contact. Good .
“Listen to me, August. You are going to lose her if you go after her like this.”
“Would you rather me call the police after they leave? Because that’s well within my rights. He’s about to take a minor in my care off my property.”
I shake my head. “Do you even hear yourself right now? Look at me.” I reach out and place my palm over his pounding heart. “Look at me, August. If you call the cops on her boyfriend, you might get her back physically, but you will lose her heart forever.” My voice is strained but firm. “And we both know that’s a much higher cost than you’re willing to pay.”
His chest rises and falls three times before I hear Tyler pull out of the driveway and down the street. I have every desire to sag against the door with relief, but then I take in August’s stormy expression and know this night is far from over.