Page 43 of A Good Book

I wanted to believe that. But if we were wrong, I would never forgive myself. When our parents drove Ben and me from Devil’s Head to Ann Arbor before the first day of school, their parting words were for us to take care of each other.

* * *

I wokewith a tap on my arm.

A nurse with a blond pixie cut smiled. “Are you Gabby?”

I nodded, sitting up in the chair while stretching and rubbing my eyes.

“Ben asked for you.”

“He did?” I hopped up.

If he asked for me, it means he was well enough to make requests.

“Can he hear?” I asked, following her through the doors.

“Not very well. But I have a pad of paper and pen for you to communicate so you don’t have to yell.”

“But he’ll get his hearing back, right?” I jogged to catch up to her.

She was shorter than me, but her legs were quick. “I can’t say yet. Here. We recommend you wear a mask since he’s been on antibiotics for less than twenty-four hours.”

I stared at the mask a second before taking it from her. After looping it around my ears, I stepped into his room.

Ben’s face and lips were so pale. Eyes tired. And I was glad to have a mask covering most of my face to hide my true worry because I couldn’t bring myself to smile even though I tried when he glanced up at me.

I squeezed his hand and fought my tears. “Your parents are on their way.”

He didn’t react, not a single blink.

Stupid.

He couldn’t hear, and to add to the confusion, a mask covered my face, so he couldn't see my lips to know I was trying to say something. I took the pen and pad from the table next to him.

Your parents are on their way.

His gaze rested on the paper for several heavy blinks, then lifted to mine, and he nodded.

My brave face slipped, and tears filled my eyes, so I looked down at the paper again.

I should have taken you to the doctor. I’m sorry.

When he read it, lines formed along his forehead, and he rolled his head from side to side. “No,” he whispered.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

He stuck his fingers in his ears like they just needed to be cleaned out. “I can’t hear.”

They think you have meningitis.

Ben nodded.

I underlined my first line and added exclamation points.

I should have taken you to the doctor. I’m sorry!!!!!

He grabbed my hand and rested it on his chest as I lifted my other arm to wipe my tears on my sleeve before writing more.

---