Page 86 of Interpreter

I remember the devastation on her face. She was never the same after that night.

“She was off-pitch most of the show that night,” I explain. “Concertgoers were disappointed and filed complaints with the management.”

“People are so cruel,” she adds, her hand leaving my throat long enough for her to sign.

I shrug, uncomfortable with this whole conversation. “My father said they paid for a show and they should have received one. If she wasn’t feeling good, she should have canceled.”

“But she didn’t know it would happen!”

A grin pulls onto my face as I watch Milah defend a woman whom she’s never met.

“She didn’t,” I agree. “And I think if she would have known that would happen, she would have spared herself the embarrassment. She would have never wanted to disappoint her fans.”

“What happened after the show?” She knows the story doesn’t end there.

I cup more water and watch it rain down her neck. “My father asked her if she wanted to go home—back to our hometown. Back to Georgia, where we had nothing. We were so accustomed to the finer things, so my father blanched when she stayed silent.”

I can still remember his rage.“Fix this, Penelope. I don’t care what you have to do. Fix it!”

“She saw so many doctors. Back then they didn’t have as many options as they do today. They offered her hearing aids, which she accepted.” I scoff. “My father flipped out. Told her she couldn’t sing with the hearing aid and use the in-ear monitors on stage.”

“No offense,” she says, “but your father sounds like a dick.”

I chuckle. “He was. I mean, he still is. He knew how to manipulate her with his words.”

“What about Timaeus, huh? Are you going to throw away his chances with the orchestra? Lessons cost money, Penelope! What are we supposed to do? Sing on the street corner and beg for pennies?”I clear my throat and shake off the memory.

“He used you against her, didn’t he?” Milah isn’t smiling when she asks the question.

I nod once. “He did. Finally, she found a physician that was offering surgery to correct her hearing loss.” I feel my body tighten underneath Milah’s hands. “By then she was completely deaf.” Milah’s eyes are red and puffy. “And he offered her a cure.”

I look away for a moment, a heaviness pushing down on my chest. “For the first time in years, she had hope. She began preparing to make another album. She was excited. My father was happy, and that meant she was happy.”

I turn back and face Milah. This is the part she wants to know. “After surgery, she got an infection. She didn’t realize it, and so it wasn’t caught until her follow up appointment. The day she was supposed to hear again.”

Milah’s arms hold me close to her.

“The infection destroyed her inner ear. She was never going to hear again.”

A tear streaks down Milah’s cheek and into the bubbling water.

“My mom never recovered. My father not only had an affair, but he waited until she confirmed that she would never sing again before divorcing her and taking half of her fortune.” The rage I have for that man could take down an army. “Last I heard, he found some nineteen-year-old pop star that made him millions. I read in the gossip magazine that they were married a few years later.” I shake my head. “But my mom….”

“She didn’t take it so well?” Milah asked.

I shake my head. “She was devastated. Not about the divorce as much. She knew my dad was having an affair. They were already going to divorce before the surgery, it just wasn’t filed until he knew she wasn’t going to be his meal ticket anymore.”

“I want to junk-punch the bastard.”

I chuckle at her choice of punishment. “You can’t imagine what I wanted to do to him,” I say, thinking of all the scenarios I thought of throughout the grieving process. “What really affected her the most was losing hope. She had so much hope that she would hear me again. Sing again. Listen to music again.” I swallow past the knot in my throat. “She wanted to hear me play the piano again.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to play in front of a crowd?” She’s not being nosy. Her earnest expression tells me she only wants to understand me.

“That’s part of it. The other part is that I’m scared to make a mistake and relive her concert all over.” For once, I finally let it all out, and it doesn’t feel as embarrassing as I thought it would.

Milah nods and runs a hand through my hair. It’s soothing. “What happened to your mom?”

A rumbling sound vibrates in my chest. “She became depressed, and when I was off at college, she killed herself.” I leave out the part about her leaving me a note, the deed to the house, and all the bank account information I would need to live a nice life.

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