Page 21 of The Voice We Find

“I pride myself on keeping confidences, and you know more than anyone how precious Gabby is to me, so please know I only share this with you because I know how much you dislike being caught off-guard.”

I hold my breath, braced for the words I’ve feared most since the day I became Gabby’s legal guardian.

“Gabby doesn’t feel you can provide what she needs as a growing young woman.”

“Gabby’s asked if she can move in with me.”

“Gabby sees through all your false pretenses and is ashamed of you.”

“Gabby deserves more than you can give her.”

Aunt Judy shifts her stance but holds her gaze steady. “Your sister told me that because of these weeks at camp and the community she’s building, she’s considering applying to the private all-deaf college that sponsored the camp. She’s asked me to help her with looking into scholarships, as the tuition is pricey.” She rubs her lips together. “But the good news is, Radiance University is only a six-hour drive from here, and she’ll likely know a few—”

I shake my head. The conversation regarding Tyler might have caught me off-guard, but this? This is a different kind of blow altogether, one that threatens to take me out at my knees.

“Deaf college?” I ask in a tone that’s teetering too close to a line I’ve never allowed myself to cross. “She doesn’t need to go to an all-deaf anything. She has hearing aids, and when she wears them, they work perfectly fine.”

“That may be true for now, but think about the future, August, and what the doctor told us. I think this summer has helped herdiscover just how important shared community is with peers who are dealing with similar challenges. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if God plans to use her hardship for something that will eventually bless a whole lot of people.”

Blindsided by this announcement, I can say nothing. Do nothing. None of this is the plan. Gabby is going to complete her associate’s degree by the end of her senior year through the local community college and then go into elementary education right here at Sonoma State University so she can stay at home. Save money. She’s great with kids—excellent, in fact. Teaching is what she’s wanted to do since the year my parents adopted her from Colombia.

“If it’s the tuition you’re concerned about, there are scholarships and grants out there, we just have to find them.” She gentles her voice, and I know whatever comes next will be about money. I’m not wrong. “I have a little investment account I’ve put aside. I’ll talk to Jeff. I’m sure he’ll be happy to donate a set amount toward Gabby’s tuition.”

“While that’s very generous, I think we might be getting too far ahead of ourselves here.” I laugh, though there is little I find humorous. “Gabby and I have been talking about her future plans for well over a year now. I’ve helped with her transcripts and met with guidance counselors to look over her schedule for the online college classes she’s adding this fall. The admin has assured me she’ll have every accommodation she needs. She doesn’t need an all-deaf college to become a grade school teacher.”

“Why do you think she’s become so passionate about learning ASL this past year?” Aunt Judy doesn’t wait for my answer. “Because she refuses to fear the future, whatever it may bring.”

I study my work boots for several long seconds. “If Gabby attends a school for the deaf, what’s to stop her from becoming isolated by her impairment instead of learning how to integrate with the hearing world?”

“All she’s done is integrate. She was even willing to drill a hole in her head to please you, August. But the cochlear implant wasn’t the answer. And the aids are only a short-term solution.”

“There are new developments happening in medical technology all the time,” I counter, taking care not to say more. It’s neither the time nor place to go into the experimental procedures I’ve researched like an after-hours job. She’d never understand the submission process for such things, much less the upfront medical costs required. Aunt Judy might be a woman of faith, but she accepted my sister’s prognosis at face value before I’d even signed Gabby out of the hospital.

It’s been a long time since we’ve tapped into this recycled conversation, and to be honest, I don’t think either of us are up for it. At least, that’s what I’m banking on.

“You heard Doctor Radcliff the same as I did, August,” Aunt Judy says gently. “Her prognosis is degenerative. Outside of a miracle, it won’t improve. Her only option is adaptability. Right now she can still hear with her hearing aids, but we have to be realistic. Neither of us knows how long that will last. Until then, I believe her time is best spent preparing for a future without sound.”

My gut roils. “He’s only one opinion.”

“He was yourfourthopinion—all of which were nearly verbatim.” Her eyes mist with passion as she closes in and touches my cheek the way she did when I was a young boy. Her musky perfume sticks in my nostrils. “I know it’s hard. But you need to learn to accept where she’s at. If not for your own sake, then for hers.”

When I don’t respond, she pats my cheek and moves to the dining room to swipe her purse off the table. She pulls out a colorful brochure and places it on the table next to the fudge. All I see are the words:Radiance University.

She pauses in front of me again. “It’s noble, what you’ve sacrificed in order to care for her needs. You’ve honored your parents by how you’ve provided for their daughter, but they couldn’t know when they wrote their will just how different Gabby’s life would be at the time of their death.” I stare at the brochure featuring several happy, smiling young adults on the cover. “It might be time you take a baby step back and allow her to speak for herself.” She grips myshoulder, squeezes. “In the meantime, I’m praying for you both. I’ll never stop.”

She doesn’t wait for me to speak again. She simply slides her purse strap over her shoulder and lets herself out, leaving the brochure for an alternate life and an alternate future behind.

Voice Memo

Gabby Tate

2 months, 3 weeks, 4 days after the accident

Hello?

I guess it’s strange to say hello to myself. I’ve never done this before. Obviously. Weird, it really is dictating everything I say just like the nurse said it would. And wow, it’s adding punctuation, too? Okay, so I guess this is a pretty cool app. Anyway, I don’t really know what all I’m supposed to be recording. She said I should treat these memos like a diary since I can’t write anything down with my arm still in a sling.

Still, this is really awkward.

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