Page 120 of A Good Book

Because you wouldn’t read my letters! And I had no one. So he offered to go with me. I wasn’t thinking about getting to hear the heartbeat. I was lonely and scared!

I read her words, but they didn’t help, so I wadded up the paper and threw it toward the trash can, missing by several feet. After so much time spent contemplating ways to make this work, telling our parents so Gabby wouldn’t have to, and looking for better jobs and places to live, I didn’t stop to think of everything I would miss. But her journal entry hit me so hard, it made my eyes burn with painful emotions and my heart deflated like someone had a tight grip on it.

She reached for the pad and started to scribble again.

He was here when you weren’t

I yanked the pad away from her and heaved it at the trash bin, and I did everything to keep from crying in front of her. But it hurt like hell.

With the back of my hands, I roughly wiped my eyes. “I will never hear our child’s heartbeat. Their cry. Taking their first breath. Giggles. Squeals. First words. My …” My voice cracked. “My name, Gabby. I’ll never hear them say ‘Daddy.’” I shook my head, rubbing my fist in circles over my heart. “And that reallyfuckinghurts.”

She threw her arms around my neck, holding me tightly. It broke me, and my body shook with a sob. When would I stop seeing all the things I was missing? When would I forget that sound ever existed?

After I contained my emotions, she released me and pressed her hands to my chest, guiding me to sit in the desk chair. She stood between my spread legs and covered my eyes. Then she uncovered them, wearing an obnoxiously big grin. Then she covered them again. When her hands left my eyes for a second time, she was squinting with her tongue out.

Again, she covered them, and again, she removed them. This time, the tip of her tongue reached for her nose while she crossed her eyes.

I laughed, and her face relaxed into a soft smile. She took my hand, holding it palm up while her other hand feathered along my skin. It kinda tickled. Then she slowly ran her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes because it felt so good.

In the next breath, her lips ghosted along my cheek. When her touch vanished, I opened my eyes, and she was tearing open an orange package of Reese’s peanut butter cups. After pulling one from the wrapper, she held it to my nose, and I inhaled. Then she held it to my lips, and I took a bite.

It was our favorite. The perfect mix of sweet and salty.

She didn’t have to write a single word or sign anything. I got it. We experienced the world and the people in it in different ways. Joy was a smile, a funny face, a soft touch, the aroma of something sweet, and the mouthwatering marriage of peanut butter and chocolate.

I held up my hand with my middle two fingers folded in.I love you.

She nodded and smiled while returning the same sign before framing my face and kissing me.

* * *

The mind wasself-destructive if left to its own devices. Lucky for me, Gabby had a way of interrupting those thoughts. As I held her hand during the OB appointment, she’d occasionally lift it to her lips and kiss it. When the doctor listened for the heartbeat, Gabby released my hand and pressed hers to my chest. Her index and middle fingers tapped, and I realized she was letting me feel the rhythm of our baby’s heartbeat. I covered her hand with mine and mimicked the rhythm until we were in perfect sync. And when I closed my eyes, I could piece together memories of sounds, and I heard it with my mind instead of my ears.

And it was beautiful.

On our way to my car, I squeezed her hand. “I gathered our parents in the front of the church and told them I knocked you up. I thought God would protect me.”

Gabby giggled, shaking her head.

“I think I’m going to stop learning ASL. I kind of like it when you’re forced to be my captive audience, and you can’t talk back to me.”

She hugged my arm while playfully shoving me to the side.

“Careful, I might just tickle you until you pee your pants.” I reached for her sides, and she tried to wriggle out of my hold, bending forward.

I scooped her up in my arms, and her mouth opened. Again, I could hear a faint noise, but my memory remembered the way she released a blood-curdling shriek when I tickled her, and that memory was enough.

CHAPTERFORTY-THREE

THE B-52’S, “LOVE SHACK”

Gabby

Ben couldn’t stayuntil the end of semester because he needed to look for a job, but he did the one thing I had wanted him to do since he lost his hearing—he sent me letters.

Dear Gabby,

How are you? Passing your classes? Any juicy gossip on your floor? Are you keeping your plant alive? What else did I want to ask you??? Oh, yeah, how’s our baby?

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