Page 95 of The Voice We Find

His nod is slow but sincere as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his chinos. “Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

He’s already turned to walk back to his office when I call after him. “You have to keep me updated, too, ya know?”

He swivels his neck with a questioning eyebrow.

“On the other collaboration. For the record, I don’t think Bo Jensen and his beefy books have anything on you,” I reply.

His only response is an eye roll and a two-finger salute.

I tuck into my car, grateful for the solitude.

I suppose a civilized person would have waited until they were home to make the phone call they’ve imagined making since the audiologist first spoke the words“I’m afraid her condition is degenerative. You’ll need to make the necessary adjustments to her daily life as we work to test her for hearing aids. Of course, they will likely be a temporary solution.”

No,civilizedis far from what I feel when I click into the email I’ve read a dozen times and tap on the contact number near the bottom and place the call. I breathe in the mix of relief and triumph as the medical admin searches for the surgeon’s next available consultation date, but it’s the sense of absolution I’m still waiting on as I make my way to my sister’s favorite bakery to pick up the sugar supply a celebration like this demands.

24

Sophie

On 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, abasic 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 signsGodin 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 rootsin 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.

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