Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I didn’t have a good response, but as soon as I opened my mouth to ask her a question, she added, “If they don’t need to move someone in with you, you’ll have this whole room to yourself. That’s pretty awesome, right?”
“Sure. I suppose.” I shrugged.
“Are you mad that I’m leaving you? I know it’s been hard since Ben left, but I really want to live off campus.”
“It’s fine.” I returned my attention to my text book, rereading the same sentence because nothing was sticking in my brain.
Ben consumed a majority of my thoughts, but Matt still occupied space along with the pressure of finals. I wasn’t sure I had the mental capacity to think about Olivia moving out. It wasn’t like we were best buddies. We were roommates who occasionally ate together and talked about sex, but she spent most of her evenings and weekends with Becky and Cassidy or on a date. Moving to the bottom bunk was a big bonus.
“Are you sure?” She hugged me from behind. “I’ll still come visit you.”
I laughed. “It’s fine.”
“If Ben comes to visit, you two can get it on without worrying about me interrupting.”
I couldn’t imagine a world where Ben would visit me, so I just replied with a tight-lipped smile.
A week later, with no word from Ben, I headed home for Christmas.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
RICHARD MARX, “RIGHT HERE WAITING”
Ben
Even I was sick of myself. The monotony of each day mixed with a lack of direction and a nonexistent level of motivation was not only exhausting, it was annoying. But what was the alternative? How was I supposed to get motivated? That wasn’t something I could pull out of thin air.
I never took the time to formulate a Plan B. Music was my first love. The possibility of going deaf never entered my conscience. Blind, sure. I had a BB gun, and my sister liked to use it and was a terrible shot. Even losing a hand while working in the meat department of the grocery store or becoming a paraplegic from a car accident would not have shocked me.
Perhaps, aside from death, going deaf was the most unimaginable thing for someone like me. Therefore, I just … never imagined it.
However, after dry humping my best friend, which was better than any actual sex I had ever had because it was Gabby, I scrounged enough joy to leave my room for a birthday dinner and to help decorate the house for Christmas.
Did I open the letter Gabby sent? No.
The card? Nope.
Why? Well, that was a good question. The answer wasn’t so simple. It laid between a lack of self-esteem and the fear that, without music, I’d try to make her my whole world. Being someone’s everything sounded romantic, but it was a lot of pressure. To love her the way she deserved, I had to want her more than I needed her.
Without the ability to hear, I felt pretty fucking needy.
Tillie poked her head into my bedroom and pointed to her watch. I nodded, adjusting my red tie in the mirror. I was going to church for the first time since losing my hearing. It was for my mom. She wanted the whole family there since it was the Sunday before Christmas.
I dragged my feet on the way to the car. “I need to pee once more,” I said.
Mom frowned and her lips moved before I moseyed back into the house, wasting more time. My goal was to get to the service no more than a minute or two before it started, so I didn’t have to endure watching everyone smile and try to communicate with me. Also, Gabby was home from school, and I hadn’t seen her yet. I needed a little more time to figure out what to say or how to act. Since I wouldn’t hear the sermon, I could watch her the whole time and gauge her demeanor and mood.
After pissing a full ounce, checking my tie again, and grabbing gum from my desk drawer, I returned to the car. Mom continued to scowl at me while Dad rolled his eyes and Tillie smirked. I shrugged like I’d done nothing wrong.
As planned, we arrived just as Gabby’s dad, Pastor Jacobson, walked to the lectern. He smiled and said something, then the congregation bowed their heads in prayer. Our family squeezed into a small space in the last row of pews. I followed the lead a minute later when everyone sat down.
Hearing virtually nothing in my bedroom or among my immediate family was weird. Hearing faint sounds as the choir stood to lead everyone in song was jarring. I felt like an outsider looking in, removed from reality—a ghost.
As I surveyed the packed sanctuary, my gaze snagged on Gabby, glancing over her shoulder at me from the front row, standing next to her mom. She didn’t smile, nor did she give me the middle finger, and after a few seconds, she returned her attention to the front of the church. For the following forty-five minutes, Gabby shot me an occasional quick glance and my mom elbowed me, pointing to her Bible as if I needed to follow along with the scripture even though I couldn’t hear the sermon.