The Silence Between Us

by Alison Gervais

  I don’t know how long I remained in the ER waiting room while a nurse went to go track down the VRI. Once you experienced being thrown into fast forward, having time go ticking back down to a crawl was not an easy thing to adjust to.

  It was a stroke of pure luck I remembered to grab my phone before racing out of the house with Connor, and I used it to text Mom the second I could. It was just after two in the morning, but Mom never had her phone more than an arm’s length away when she went out of town. She was worried enough about going to Aspen; she would answer.

  At hospital w/ Connor. Don’t know what’s wrong. They are tracking down VRI now.

  I slumped down in one of the uncomfortable chairs filling the waiting room and dropped my head back, squeezing my eyes shut.

  Why was this happening? Why was this happening?

  Mom’s response came a minute later.

  I’m on my way.

  Mom had a three-hour drive ahead of her, and three hours sounded like an eternity. I got up and did some pacing. I sat back down. I got up for a drink of water from a fountain by the bathrooms. I sat back down again.

  How long did it take to track down a VRI? They couldn’t possibly be that busy this time of night.

  I leapt to my feet when I saw the same woman from earlier crossing the waiting room to me, notepad and pen in hand. The ID badge pinned to her scrubs said her name was Kelsey. When she held the notepad out to me, I made the instantaneous decision to turn my voice off and communicate strictly through this notepad.

  My heart went freefalling when I read Kelsey’s words:

  Our VRI seems to be broken.

  My hand was trembling as I carefully wrote my response of, What?

  Kelsey took the notepad back, wrote something down, and passed it back to me.

  Can’t establish internet connection with interpreter.

  This had to be a joke.

  NOW WHAT? I wrote in capital letters, underlining the two words. What about my brother?

  Kelsey’s lips went tight when she read my note, and her eyes were narrowed when she wrote down her response on the notepad and passed it back to me again.

  Do you have anyone you can call to come sign for you?

  Now this was a sticky situation. Hospitals were supposed to have VRIs for this exact reason, if no live interpreter was available—and this late at night it was unlikely one could be found.

  I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I didn’t have Kathleen’s number, and she was an educational interpreter anyway, trained to interpret in an academic setting, not one like this.

  Well, there was maybe one person. If Nina had been farther along in learning sign, I would have texted her, but she wasn’t quite as good as someone else I knew, and I needed to know what was happening with Connor.

  It was a long shot and I didn’t think he would actually answer given how late it was—and maybe there was even the chance he wouldn’t want to talk to me after this, because this was a lot to ask of someone you were only just getting to know—but I sent the text to him anyway.

  I need your help. Can you meet me at hospital?

  CHAPTER 20

  It was just past three o’clock in the morning when Beau came striding into the ER. He was still in the sweatpants and T-shirt he must’ve fallen asleep in, his jacket and sneakers hastily thrown on, and his hair was a mess. But he was here, and his eyes found me immediately.

  WHAT HAPPENED? he signed as he approached, concern etched across his face.

  It took a tremendous amount of effort not to leap into his arms and beg him to tell me everything was going to be okay. I had to take a few deep breaths while I gnawed on my lip before I could sign a proper response.

  MY BROTHER, I signed to Beau. CAN’T BREATHE.

  YOUR BROTHER OK? WHERE INTERPRETER FOR YOU? he asked, and he jabbed a finger back at the check-in station.

  I signed, DON’T KNOW, about ten times because I didn’t know.

  I didn’t have an interpreter, we’d been at the hospital over an hour now, and I still had no idea what was going on with Connor. If he was even . . .

  Beau took me by the hand and steered me over to the check-in station, slapping his free hand down on the counter to get Kelsey’s attention from where she sat behind her computer. Had he picked up that habit from me?

  I saw Kelsey say, “Who . . . you?” to Beau and he did one spectacular job of signing and using his voice together when he signed, I SIGN FOR HER. WHAT HAPPENED WITH HER BROTHER?

  Beau conveniently did not mention he wasn’t a certified interpreter, just that he was here to sign for me.

  Kelsey sized Beau up, looking as if she were about to object, but the next thing out of my mouth was a sigh of relief when she very clearly said, “Okay.”

  SEE HIM NOW? I signed to Beau, because that was the one thing that hadn’t left my thoughts in the last hour.

  I needed to see my little brother.

  Beau relayed my question to Kelsey, and she did some tapping around on her computer before she shook her head. I felt myself deflate even more.

  WHY? I signed, swallowing back a sob. WHY?

  I didn’t need Beau there to interpret when Kelsey said, “They need to stabilize . . . first.”

  I couldn’t take any more. I walked back to the chairs in the waiting room and threw myself down in my seat, crumpling forward and dropping my head into my hands. My entire body was throbbing with the unfamiliar ache of heartbreak, both mental and physical. One thought zipping through my mind like lightning: If I were hearing, could I have gone with Connor?

  It was a stupid thought, I knew it. But I couldn’t get rid of it.

  This had to be the first time I think I hated the fact I was Deaf. I just wanted to know what was going on without a stupid interpreter here. I just wanted to be with my little brother. And I hated this feeling of complete and total helplessness.

  I forced myself to look up at the soft touch to my arm. Beau had sat down beside me, reaching out to me, and I simultaneously wanted to shove him away and pull him in close.

  YOU OK? Beau signed.

  I suddenly had an urge to apologize to him. Beau didn’t sign up for this. It was a lot to ask of him—maybe too much—but the fact he was here, right beside me, his hand outstretched as if for me to take it, had to mean something. Didn’t it?

  NO, I signed to him honestly. NOT OK.

  SORRY, Beau signed back. HARD FOR YOU, I KNOW.

  I dragged my eyes over to meet Beau’s gaze when he gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

  HE OK, he signed to me. YOUR BROTHER.

  DON’T KNOW THAT, I pointed out.

  He gave a nod of agreement and signed back, MAYBE. BUT TRY NOT WORRY.

  I sucked in a huge breath of air, leaning my head back to stare up at all the beige dots covering the white ceiling tiles.

  Not worrying was easier said than done. It wasn’t Beau’s little brother in some hospital bed, struggling to breathe.

  When the receptionist, Kelsey, came over to us in the waiting room, I sat upright, gripping Beau’s knee so tightly I saw him wince. I hadn’t kept a close watch on the clock for fear of losing my mind completely, so I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since I was last told I couldn’t go see Connor.

  Kelsey looked to Beau when she approached and said, “. . . her you can . . . see him now.”

  SEE HIM NOW? I quickly signed to Beau, and he nodded, signing, YES.

  I was up and on my feet, hot on Kelsey’s heels as she led us to the double doors Connor disappeared through when we first got to the hospital. I wasn’t sure when I laced my fingers through Beau’s, holding onto his hand impossibly tight, but I didn’t let go.

  Kelsey led us down a long corridor full of medical equipment, people in scrubs, and beds with green privacy curtains pulled closed on either side of us. It felt like we walked the distance of a football field before Kelsey finally stopped and pulled back the curtains around a bed toward the end of the corridor.

  Beau’s h
and slipped from mine as I took a step forward, my eyes fixed on Connor. He looked so small in the gigantic hospital bed, dressed in one of those oversized gowns, a breathing tube inserted carefully down his throat. I chose to focus on the fact that Connor was breathing and not the fact he looked so miserable, even unconscious.

  My hand was trembling when I reached out to Beau, trying to sign, HE OK?

  I must have gotten the point across because I caught sight of Beau speaking to Kelsey, but all Beau signed in response was, DOCTOR HERE SOON, HE EXPLAIN.

  Kelsey tugged the privacy curtains shut on her way out, leaving Beau and me alone with Connor. I felt rooted to the spot, my mind kicking into overdrive trying to process everything that happened in such a short amount of time. It took effort to put one foot in front of the other to go to Connor’s side.

  I stood there, my hand curled around Connor’s tiny one, until the privacy curtains were pulled open again and a gray-haired man in one of those white doctor’s coats stepped in, a chart tucked up under his arm. Beau had taken a seat in the one chair on the other side of the bed. He got to his feet as the man came forward.

  He introduced himself to Beau as they shook hands, and they both came up to the bed where I stood. I saw Beau say, “Just . . . slow,” and the man nodded.

  DOCTOR W-E-S-L-E-Y, Beau started to sign, pointing to the man, and I nodded, stumbling my way through introducing myself in sign language.

  WHAT HAPPENED? I signed, motioning to Connor.

  Beau listened for a moment, then turned to me. HE HAVE . . . Beau paused as soon as he began and then said something like, “In . . . please.” A second later, he started finger spelling, C-O-L-L-A-P-S-E-D L-U-N-G.

  A collapsed lung was always a possibility when you had cystic fibrosis, but the fact that it happened to my little brother—when having a collapsed lung could kill you—was beyond my comprehension. I could’ve lost my brother tonight.

  I curled my fingers tighter around Connor’s hand, not caring that a fresh wave of tears was threatening to yank me under the surface again.

  HE OK NOW? I signed with one hand, not moving my eyes from Connor’s face.

  Beau had to wave a hand to get me to look at him again, and he signed, OK NOW, BUT HE STAY FOR A FEW DAYS.

  Beau explained a nurse would be over soon to move Connor to his new room on a different floor. I waited until Dr. Wesley left us to sign to Beau, THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP.

  NO PROBLEM, he signed back, a weak smile on his face.

  YOU GO HOME NOW, I signed next.

  I would be forever grateful Beau went out of his way to come down here in the middle of the night to help me, but I wanted to be left alone with my little brother now. I couldn’t see myself able to stop crying anytime soon, and I hated when people saw me crying. Beau had seen me doing a whole a lot of it.

  OK IF I STAY? Beau signed in response. WAIT FOR YOUR MOTHER WITH YOU, he added when I gave him a skeptical look.

  I don’t know why he wasn’t jumping at the chance to get out of here. This had to be awkward and uncomfortable, not to mention inconvenient.

  I gave up trying to deduce his reasoning and signed, OK.

  FIND RESTROOM, Beau told me as he reached for the privacy curtains. COME BACK SOON.

  When Beau disappeared, I carefully maneuvered myself onto the hospital bed next to Connor, making sure not to disturb any of the tubes or wires he was hooked up to. The bed was more than big enough for the both of us as I lay down beside him. He unconsciously shifted toward me in his sleep when I rested my head on the pillow beside him.

  “Please be okay,” I whispered. “Please.”

  CHAPTER 21

  I must have fallen asleep, because I was met with a harsh, unfamiliar light when I opened my eyes again. Everything was shifting in and out of focus when I sat up, and after a few seconds I realized I wasn’t in the ER with Connor anymore.

  The ER had been replaced with a bland hospital room with beige walls and old green furniture. Connor was still asleep in the bed, the breathing tube still present. Mom was next to him, slumped over in the chair beside the bed, her chin in hand, eyes closed.

  I stumbled my way off the cramped loveseat I’d been moved to and went over to Mom, shoving my hair out of my face as I went. Her eyes snapped open when she heard me moving and she straightened up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

  YOU OK? was the first thing she signed to me.

  FINE, I signed, even though I didn’t mean it one bit. I was stiff all over and my head was throbbing painfully. YOU SHOW UP, WHEN?

  EARLY MORNING, Mom answered. TIME 5:30.

  TIME NOW? I asked, looking around the room for a clock.

  Mom pulled her cell phone out of her bag and signed, TIME 8:24, MORNING.

  How could I have slept for three hours?

  I SHOW UP, B-E-A-U WITH YOU, Mom signed to me when she put her cell phone away.

  Right. Beau.

  I . . . DON’T KNOW, I started to sign to Mom, wanting to tell her everything that happened. DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, DON’T KNOW HOW HELP CONNOR, HOSPITAL V-R-I NOT WORK, I—

  Mom caught my hands in hers and squeezed tight, and I knew she was just trying to comfort me, but I felt like I was going to collapse.

  NOT BLAME YOU, Mom signed when she released my hands. NOT YOUR FAULT.

  FEEL MY FAULT, I signed back.

  Mom scooted over in the chair and gently tugged me down next to her, wrapping one arm tight around my shoulders.

  YOU DO YOUR BEST, she signed to me. SCARY, I KNOW, BUT YOU HELP CONNOR. HE OK.

  I dropped my head onto Mom’s shoulder and shut my eyes, wishing everything around us would just fall away and disappear into nothingness. I could feel the vibrations in her throat and I knew she was talking, so I leaned up to get a better look at her.

  CONNOR OK, Mom signed, her free hand pressed against my cheek. I KNOW YOU NOT THINK THAT, BUT YOU BRAVE. NOT EASY.

  NOT . . . I had a hand against my chest, wanting the heavy pressure there to go away. I just wanted things to be normal again.

  Mom raised an eyebrow in confusion, not understanding where I was going with this.

  I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN BECOME R-T, I signed, tremors running through my hands. I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN.

  Mom’s expression went from confusion to shock.

  WHY NOT? she quickly signed back.

  BECAUSE WHY? I LOSE MY MIND WHEN CONNOR CAN’T BREATHE. HOW I HELP KIDS WITH SAME PROBLEM IF I CAN’T COMMUNICATE?

  It had taken me years to get to the place where I was comfortable being Deaf, enjoyed it and embraced everything that came with it. But now it felt like it was the one thing standing in the way of the dream I’d had since I was a child.

  I hadn’t been able to help my brother last night. I’d been panicked and confused and unable to speak, sign, or listen. I’d cried a million times and barely held myself together. If I couldn’t help Connor, how could I help anyone else?

  DIFFERENT, Mom signed firmly. KIDS YOU WORK WITH NOT YOUR BROTHER. DIFFERENT EXPERIENCE.

  SURE? I signed skeptically. BECAUSE I DON’T LIKE HOW I FEEL NOW.

  UNDERSTAND, Mom agreed. BUT I BELIEVE I-N YOU.

  I knew Mom believed in me, but why didn’t that feel like enough?

  YOU FEEL DIFFERENT LATER, Mom signed after a slight pause. PROMISE.

  I wanted to take Mom’s promise to heart, but right then it felt impossible.

  When enough time had passed to where my breathing had become even again, Mom turned back to me and signed, B-E-A-U HERE STILL.

  “What?” I said aloud, and signed, REALLY?

  Mom nodded, taking a sip of coffee from the cup that had been on the nightstand.

  WHERE? I signed, hastily pulling myself up to my feet.

  WAIT ROOM, Mom answered, nodding toward the door.

  I let myself out of the room as gracefully as possible and took off down the hallway at a sprint, following the signs leading to the waiting room. When I rounded the corner, I came
skidding to a halt when I saw Beau.

  He was standing off to the side, in conversation with a short, brown-haired woman dressed in Thanksgiving-themed scrubs. Reading his body language and seeing how relaxed he appeared to be, the polite smile on his face, Beau must know this nurse.

  I was close enough to where I could catch a couple words of what he was saying, like, “school’s good” and what I thought might be, “Yale.” I was sure I looked ridiculous standing there, my eyes glued to Beau, but I wasn’t about to waltz up to them and butt into their conversation.

  Beau noticed me a moment later and was quick to wrap up with the nurse. He gave her a fast hug before moving my way.

  HELLO, he signed, meeting me in the middle of the waiting room. HOW ARE YOU?

  Responding with, FINE, would’ve been a lie, so instead I settled for signing, WHY YOU HERE?

  Beau gave a blink of confusion and used his voice to say, “I wanted to make . . . you’re okay.”

  I ended up signing, FINE, anyway.

  I was trying for a calm, collected expression, but I wasn’t sure how successful I was.

  DON’T LIE, PLEASE, Beau signed to me, an unusually somber look on his face. YESTERDAY BAD FOR YOU.

  FINE, I repeated, biting down on my lip. MY BROTHER OK NOW. YOU LOOK TIRED. GO HOME.

  He winced once he understood what I was saying to him after I had to repeat myself, and he very hesitantly signed back, I WAIT FOR YOU.

  WHY? I signed.

  Beau took his time responding to my question. Splotches of color dotted his cheeks, and I saw him swallow hard.

  I . . . WORRY FOR YOU, he signed after a long pause. DON’T LIKE YOU SAD. I WANT YOU OK.

  I ignored the way my heart stuttered in my chest at Beau’s confession, and I shook my head, insistent when I signed, FINE. REALLY.

  Beau very much looked like he wasn’t buying it, but he relented in the end, giving a one shouldered shrug. IF YOU SURE, he signed with a weak smile.

  I had no rational explanation for why I did it, but I took a step closer and wrapped Beau up in a hug. He didn’t waste any time sliding his arms around me in return. I scrunched my eyes closed, ignoring everything else around us, and for a split second it felt like I didn’t have a rough few days ahead of me while Connor recovered. Eventually I had to tell myself it was time to let Beau go.