FascinatingRhythm (12 page)

Swallowing past his disappointment that she wouldn’t be
coming with him, Hunter showed her an expression of total calm. “You need to
let them prep you. I don’t think we can come with you for that part.” He
glanced at the doctor. “How long will it take?”

“If the procedure goes well, no more than an hour. If we
need to make some adjustments, then a little longer.” He concentrated on
Sabina. “You do understand that if the operation is not a success, you will
most likely lose all your hearing?”

She swallowed and nodded. “I have a little hearing, but
although it helps me speak, it isn’t useful for anything else.”

“You would be surprised. You’ll use it without realizing,
for instance when negotiating heavy traffic. By the way, because of the
possible effects on your balance, we would rather you didn’t drive for the
first month. After that, you will regain your equilibrium. But you plan to stay
here, yes?”

She nodded. “I’m staying in Stockholm with friends.” She
paused and then said something else. She’d probably remembered, as he had, the
situation with his mother. “I can get the train.”

“Good. Best you stay where others can cater to you. The
aftercare program can be rigorous. It will tire you, because you’ll be using a
sense you haven’t used in years.”

Maybe good enough to travel with him? No, although the
band’s improved financial situation had helped enormously with comfort, touring
still wasn’t an easy option. But…but it could be done. A month. His mind went
rapidly through the tour dates. All Europe. Possible to get around on rail and
road. No flying needed. Only when they came to cross the Atlantic in the fall—
He had a lot of questions for this doctor and not much time to ask them.

Let her get the operation over with first. Nothing was more
important than her coming back to the ward alive and healthy.

After she’d gone behind a screen and changed into the gown,
she took her place in a wheelchair and Hunter and Adela went with her to the
door of the prep suite, where they both kissed her goodbye. Farewell, Hunter
told her firmly. He wouldn’t go anywhere until she’d come to. Even if it meant
missing the plane to Beijing, he swore to himself silently. He wouldn’t leave
her.

Coming around was like coming up from a deep dive. Slowly,
blurred images began to make sense and Sabina blinked, focused and saw Hunter.
Still
here, he’s still here.
But she couldn’t hear anything. She’d expected to
hear something, at least.

Hunter smiled, a reassuring, professional smile, then he
said something, but her vision was too blurred to make out what it was.

Oh fuck, she was deaf. Stone deaf. It had gone wrong and
she’d lost everything. She felt as if someone had dropped a stone through her
head. It plummeted through her, lying heavily in her stomach. Trying to wrench
her mind back to her attitude before the operation, she found only fuzzy
certainties and the one sure conviction that she’d made a terrible mistake. She
blinked and her vision cleared.

Lifting his big, beautiful hands, Hunter signed, “Your ears
are filled with plugs and covered with dressings. They want them to stay like
that for an hour, then they will take the plugs out and apply lighter
dressings. You are hooked up to a monitor and you’re receiving a drip for
hydration. They’ll remove those soon too.”

She tried to sign, failing miserably, the tubes and wires
flapping against her bare arms. Her throat was sore, scratchy, filled with
filth. She cleared it and almost choked. Hands behind her back lifted and held
her. When she was leaned back, it was against a bank of pillows and the support
all hospital beds tended to have. The world reeled and then steadied itself.
She closed her eyes then opened them again quickly. Without anything to focus
on, she felt even sicker.

Her mother, Hunter, the surgeon and a nurse stood facing
her, all within her sight so she didn’t have to turn her head. The surgeon
signed, his style fluid and efficient. “You will feel better when we take off
the dressings. Then we will see what we have. You have small cuts behind each
ear, which will leave scars. Your hair will cover them in time. We shaved the
smallest patches that we could.”

“But was it a success?” Easier to sign now, when she sat
upright and didn’t have to move her head. “Will I hear?”

“Too early to tell,” the doctor signed back. “The operation
went well. You have been asleep just under an hour. You may wish to sleep some
more. You will be tired for a day or more, while the effects of the anesthetic
wear off. We will prescribe some painkillers for the first day, then you can
manage on over-the-counter ones, and only if you need them. There should not be
much pain. So far we are pleased with your progress.”

Memories filtered back. Her mother, Hunter. Shit, Hunter.
“You have to go soon,” she signed to him.

“I will not. I will stay here.”

He had to appear at those press conferences; otherwise they
might not let him play at the concerts. Might cancel the whole thing. She’d
gathered enough from what he’d told her to read between the lines and get that
part. If he let the rest of the band down, they’d resent him, might even fire
him. After all, they’d fired people before. Matt, V’s partner, used to be their
vocalist. They’d announced that he’d left, and he did remain friends with the
band, but at the time the rumor went around that he was fired because of his
substance abuse.

“You have to go,” she signed.

“No.”

“I have my mother. I am not going anywhere.” She forced a
smile. Nothing was more important than this right now. She’d had the procedure,
come around, heard the operation had gone well. Now all she could do was wait.
“May I have a drink?”

“Of course.” The nurse, who’d been silent up to now, walked
across to her, temporarily obscuring her sight of Hunter. She handed Sabina a
glass with two straws and lots of lovely ice floating in the water. In a few
days she might be able to hear the ice chinking in the glass. The doctor signed
as the nurse helped Sabina hold the glass and drink. “Do not gulp. Sip slowly.”

Sabina did as she was told. Not always good at that, this
time she knew it was for the best so she obeyed. Maybe Hunter should do the
same. When the nurse took the glass away, she tried not to sit up and strain
after it. It had felt so fucking good, like the finest of chardonnays, the most
refreshing citrus drink. Better. “More,” she signed.

“In a moment.” The nurse had put the glass down and signed
the words. Sabina liked the look of her. She had a nice smile. “My name is
Birgit, and I will be your personal nurse. When they have gone, you may sleep
if you wish.”

“Yes. That sounds good.” She almost laughed as relief swept
through her but kept her face steady, knowing they’d think she’d lost it if she
burst into the giddy laughter.

Deaf people used “sounded” the same way everyone else did,
but they didn’t mean it the same way. In a few days, it might, just might, mean
actually sounds. At that moment she realized the truth of something Emmelie had
told her. A person turned from deaf to hearing by artificial means too early
might not learn the techniques of signing, the beautiful language of the world
of the deaf, and the language could be lost. Or if that person lost their hearing
again, it would be they who were lost. Without the skills of lip-reading and
signing, she’d be desperately isolated.

As it was, without any hearing at all she felt strange,
alone. Did Emmelie feel like that all the time?

The answer came quickly. No, because she’d learned the
skills she needed to communicate. The system of lights in her home told her
where people were. All the phones had flashing lights, the security alarms had
insistent, un-ignorable lights.

Sabina was old enough to remember what texting had done to
the deaf community. Revolutionized some aspects of it. They could communicate
without special devices with the hearing and deaf alike. It had drawn them
closer into the mainstream, if they wanted to take that course.

It wasn’t sour grapes or a sense of disadvantage. A strong
sense of community drove Emmelie.

So what drove her son? Sabina met his gaze and knew he’d
give up his opportunity of playing at one of the most staggering venues in the
world for her. But if he did that, he might lose what he held dearest. She
still wasn’t sure of his motives—guilt at walking out on her six years ago, the
excitement of the sex they shared? Sure, they were both factors, but there was
something else, something she couldn’t work out. Well, she’d have a few days to
do it.

A thought came to her, a way of driving him away happy. It
might work. She lifted her hands and signed to him. “You must go. I want to see
that concert. You said it would be televised, so I want a TV in this room.” She
glanced at the TV suspended from a bracket attached to the ceiling at the end
of the bed. “A big one.”

That would give him something to do for her. “I want you to
sign me ‘hello’ from Tiananmen Square, and then from Red Square. I want a
computer so I can Skype you.” Her lips curled when she recalled that amazing
call, but the ones she’d make in the next few days wouldn’t have that level of
thrill. “Can you arrange that?”

He smiled back. He knew what she was doing. “I hear and
obey. But I want to stay.”

“I don’t want you to. I want to sleep and shower and look
awful if I want to. I don’t want to worry about you.”

His chest heaved as he sighed. “I understand. You want me
gone.”

She paused, stopped herself shouting “No!” no matter how
weird it sounded. She didn’t care; she wanted him to stay so badly, she’d have
done anything, but she couldn’t. He had to go. She’d cope.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t have people to look after her.
Her mother had taken three weeks’ leave from work, the longest she could get,
and by then Sabina hoped she’d be more independent. Even driving again in four
weeks. She’d never enjoyed driving in an adapted car, but forced herself to
learn it, unwilling to depend on others to get around.

Her new understanding of Emmelie’s position made her want to
talk to her once-mentor. Not that her son would understand after Emmelie had
canceled the operation on her behalf. Sabina didn’t understand that herself,
and she wanted to. None of that was possible with Hunter around. She wouldn’t
tell him what she planned to do though. He might argue.

“When does your plane leave?” she signed, as if it were a
done deal.

“In six hours from Stockholm.”

She reached out to him. “Then we still have some time
together.”

He got to his feet and came over to the bed as if he’d
suddenly grown old, his muscles creaking, and took her hand with the gentlest
of touches. Then he spoke. “I’m glad you’re through this. However this turns
out, I’m here for you.”

He still didn’t say anything more. They’d shared a bed and
she’d given him much more than her body, but she didn’t know if he wanted more.
Her pride wouldn’t let her ask, or tell him how much he’d come to mean to her.
She knew she meant more to him because he’d promised to keep in touch, but he’d
never said, never intimated, that he wanted anything else but friendship and
sex. At first, that had been fine by her, but now—now she wanted more.

Squeezing his hand, she smiled up at him then released it.
The nurse found him a chair and he took it with a smile of thanks, settling
down in it and resting his hand on the covers. His presence strengthened her,
made her happier, more secure.

She loved him. The notion didn’t come to her as a
revelation, more a confirmation. If he stayed like this, refused to go, she
doubted she’d have the strength to send him away again.

Her nausea receded as the doctor explained the implications
of the procedure. Sabina didn’t like to interrupt him, but she’d heard it
before, read it, researched everything she could before taking this step, but
her mother and Hunter needed to know.

“Apart from the bandages, I don’t feel any different,” she
signed suddenly.

The doctor gave her a smile. “That is a good sign. We have
implanted fibers, artificial ones. If your body chooses to reject them, then
you will be given drugs to help, and you will have to take medication every day
for the foreseeable future. There is, however, a chance that your body will
accept them without drugs.” She nodded and let her mind drift as the doctor
told her mother and Hunter what they needed to know.

Hunter’s hand reached for hers and he squeezed it again
before releasing it so she could talk if she wanted to.

What if she remained stone deaf?

Yes, she could do it, because she had no choice. Not doing
it meant giving up. It meant relying on other people. At ten years old she’d
sworn a solemn oath to herself never to allow that. Already she’d known she
needed her independence.

But she hadn’t realized the difference between residual
hearing and nothing. Even lip-reading had proved more of a strain, another
reason she’d wanted a big TV. She could practice with that easier than she
could with the smaller model suspended from its bracket. Maybe she’d start
drawing again. She’d spent hours as a teen drawing imaginary creatures and
imaginary worlds, places where she could hear, until the last regret had seeped
away and she’d given up. Even then she’d known she wasn’t a great artist,
wouldn’t ever be, but it gave her pleasure.

After an hour her mother left with the doctor, ostensibly to
ask him more questions. Really, from the look she’d given them, to give them
some time together.

Hunter sat on the bed and gently enclosed her in his arms.
Sabina laid her head on his chest, feeling completely safe and completely
loved, however much of a fallacy that might be. His chest rumbled as he said
something, but of course she didn’t know what, so reluctantly she lifted her
chin to watch his lips.

He spoke slowly, as if he realized she’d been having
problems. “I will stay if you want me to.” He used English.

“No. I want to relax for a few days.” Somehow, she wasn’t
shy of speaking to him, although she had been with the other people in the
room. She had no way of knowing how loud or softly she spoke, or if she was
injecting her voice with that nasal quality she’d heard that the deaf often
used. And she hadn’t. Ah well, perhaps something else she’d have to get used
to. “You can come and see me after Red Square.”

“I thought I’d come back after Beijing.”

“Your manager says not. Where do you play after Moscow?”

He paused, dropped a kiss on her forehead while he thought.
Then he brightened. “Berlin and somewhere else in Germany. Then Prague, then
The Hague. I think. Not long flights at all.”

“I can’t fly.” If she was left deaf, then the doctor would
let her fly in a month or two. If it took, not for a year, to give the little
bionic fibers the chance to embed and grow. Her hearing should exponentially
increase over the next year. Exciting, if it worked.

Too tired to think, she sank her head back onto his chest
and closed her eyes.