Welcome to adulthood.
He put his arm around her and turned her toward the living room, where a naked little pine tree wilted in the corner. Her mother had kept the ornaments.
Come on, he said. Let’s open some presents.
* * *
—
That afternoon, Charlie did get a reprieve of sorts from her Christmas family dinner—when she and her father arrived at her mother’s, Charlie exited the car and fainted dead out on the driveway.
She woke moments later, still splayed there, though now her mother was cradling Charlie’s head in her lap, her face too close. Charlie took stock—she blinked, wiggled her fingers and toes—she felt fine. She tried to remember a time she had ever seen her mother sit on the ground before, but came up blank.
Sorry, she said. I don’t know what happened.
You o-k? said her father. You want me to call the doctor?
Charlie shook her head, feeling her mother’s hands cupping her ears.
No, I think I’m all right.
Her mother said something she couldn’t lipread upside down. Her father held out a hand to help her up. What did she say? she saw her mother ask.
Slowly, Charlie took her father’s hand to steady herself and stood. Her parents had begun to bicker about whether they should call someone, and she struggled to follow, but then the conversation stopped suddenly, Charlie’s mother looking beyond her and her father. Charlie knew it meant that her grandmother had pulled in.
The four of them went inside and Charlie’s mother suggested with uncharacteristic tenderness that Charlie rest on the couch while dinner was warming. From the corner of her eye, Charlie saw her father slip into the foyer and make a call. Wyatt, who was staring intently at a basketball game featuring two teams Charlie didn’t recognize, scooched to the far end of the couch to make room for her. She fell asleep deep and quick, and when she woke, everyone was at the table, eating without her.
on the afternoon of the thirty-first, Austin’s parents took Sky to the audiologist. His mother, annoyed that his father had scheduled an appointment for New Year’s Eve day when they were about to have a bunch of people over to the house, was not shy about showing her displeasure, slamming the side door as they went out to the car. Austin tried his best to tidy up and follow his mother’s list of preparatory to-dos—vacuuming, unfolding the card tables where they would set out snacks. Then his grandparents arrived, Grandma Lorna showering him with fuchsia-lipped kisses, Grandpa Willis clapping him too hard on the back. Austin got them drinks and turned on the Christmas tree lights. He tried not to look at the clock overhead—he didn’t want to appear too eager and leave himself vulnerable to a line of his grandparents’ questioning that would lead them to Charlie.
Where did your parents take the baby again? said Grandma Lorna after a while.
New earmolds, I think, he said, though as he did, he realized he wasn’t actually sure what the appointment was for.
They should give her little ears a break. It’s almost a national holiday!
Grandma Lorna changed the subject, asked Austin about school, the play, girls. He was glad he had opted not to invite Charlie to dinner. Her sign had improved rapidly over the past few months, but when it came to his grandparents’ old-fashioned signs and arthritic cadences, she would be underwater. Finally, his family returned, his grandma rushing to the door to retrieve Sky from her carrier, while Austin’s parents gave them terse hugs and headed into the kitchen. Austin looked on while his grandparents played with the baby, Grandma Lorna with Sky on her lap facing Grandpa Willis, their grandpa beginning a version of Goldilocks and the Three Deaf Bears that Austin remembered from when he was small.
He went to the kitchen to lend a hand. His mother was at the stove, bent too close over a pot of bubbling oil. She looked pale, but when she saw Austin, she quickly began to emit a brightness he knew was fake, not from its quality—which was actually quite authentic, his mother had always been good at that—but from the speed at which her demeanor had changed.
Are you o-k?
Her face fell, then reset, so quick other people might not have noticed.
Can you check if I put utensils out? I can’t remember.
Sure.
She turned away again. His father appeared through the side door, carrying several bags of ice, and a Ziploc containing Sky’s hearing aids with their newest earmolds, this set flecked with gold glitter.
Back in the living room, Austin watched his father remove the aids from the bag, gingerly inserting them back into her ears and adjusting the lanyard typically used on babies to prevent aids from getting lost if they ripped them out of their heads. Sky didn’t seem to mind them, though—after a brief swipe at her ear to inspect the new device, she continued chewing on the end of the remote control as if nothing had happened. His father sighed.
I saw Skylar trying to sign! said Grandpa Willis.
She’s definitely babbling, said Austin’s father.
That’s early, right?
She’s just stretching her hands.
Still.
She gets a lot of practice, his mother said, appearing just in time to glare at her husband.
Are you two o-k? said Grandma Lorna.
Austin remembered his mother saying that she’d never seen her parents argue. Grandma Lorna believed in a strict closed-door policy with regard to children and marital strife, and Grandpa Willis followed her lead. It was unclear whether Austin’s parents actively held an opposing belief or just couldn’t be bothered to hide from him, but in either case, he’d seen them fight plenty and he could tell that wasn’t about to change now, not for his or Sky’s or even his grandparents’ sakes.
Now Austin’s mother nodded, but it was obvious that neither she nor his father was okay, or at least they weren’t acting themselves. They were curt, stiff-shouldered, their signs clipped. He tried to recall whether he’d seen evidence of a rift earlier, or if something had happened on their outing. How had they been this morning? Two days ago? Christmas had been fine, right? His father had left them hanging more readily than usual during the family brawl, but, if they were being honest, neither Austin nor his mother had really wanted to join in that mess.
Should we do presents?
Let’s eat first, said Austin’s mother.
Austin’s father carried in a heaping plate of fried chicken, the crust still glistening with oil in spots. They took their seats, passed side dishes to one another. Sky smacked a light-up rattle against the side of her bouncer, then bit the handle with fervor.
Cute hearing aids, said Grandpa Willis. Not like when we were in school.
His grandpa described the hearing aids Austin had seen in old photos: a big electronic microphone box strapped to the chest, two wires snaking up to his ears.
Not even like when we were adults! said his grandma.
Neither of his parents responded.
O-k, what’s wrong? said Austin, looking pointedly at his father.
Nothing.
You don’t like the pink hearing aids?
I like them fine. They just don’t work.
They’re broken? I thought she just needed new earmolds. What’d the doctor say?
His father shook his head and took a bite of chicken, big enough that Austin knew he had been trying to buy himself some time. But that was the thing about ASL—you could talk with your mouth full.
Threshold for her left ear has declined, said his mother. She’s no longer benefiting from the aid on that side.
Doctor thinks it’s reasonable to expect the same in the other ear over time, said his father.
S-o. She’s deaf?
Officially.
Strong genes, his grandfather.
His grandma patted Grandpa Willis on the arm as if to shush him, but it was clear she took some pride in the news, too.
Well, maybe it’s good, said Austin.