Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [59]
I waited for Grace to settle. “I know you’re angry, Mom, and I’m sorry for not paying more attention to Grace, but the band isn’t a waste of time. They’re getting better every day.”
Grace popped off the boob yet again and pawed at Mom’s face, leaving an angry scratch across her cheek. Mom flinched as she touched the spot with her fingertips.
“Oh really, honey? And how exactly would you know that, huh?”
I felt my breath catch, her words sharper than a knife. We both knew what those words meant, and so I waited for her to apologize, to point to the bags under her eyes and admit she was too tired to think straight. But when she finally looked up, she just seemed defiant.
“Fuck you.” The words came from somewhere deep inside me where the censor had been turned off. I was as surprised as anyone that I’d said it, but I meant it with all my heart.
For a moment no one moved, but then Dad leaped up. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother like that.”
I needed to back down, I knew I did, but I couldn’t. “Oh, that’s right. Side with Mom.”
“I’m not taking sides. Your mother told the truth, that’s all. I’m sorry if that’s tough for you to hear.”
I could feel the tears coming, but angry laughter slipped out first. “Oh, so I can hear now?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re deaf, Piper, okay? That may be painful, but it’s a fact.”
“You’re wrong. You’re so wrong it’s practically a joke. One of these days you’re going to work out there’s nothing painful about being deaf. But I find it pretty significant that you keep using that word. Is that why you spend every waking minute cooing over Grace instead of talking to me? Does it make you feel better to know that at least you were able to cure one of us?”
Dad’s hand balled into a fist, and I could feel his anger like a living, breathing presence. In the heat of the moment I willed him to yell at me, to scream obscenities, to declare war once and for all. It would have made it easier for us to admit there was no connection between us—never had been. Suddenly I saw the evening’s bonding session for what it had really been: a mirage, brought on by an overdose of Jimi Hendrix, not by me. But then Dad forced himself to relax. “That’s not fair, Piper,” he said, and I hated him for keeping control, for trying to seem reasonable.
“You’re damn right. And it’s not fair you never bothered to learn more than fifteen signs, even though you know it’s how I prefer to communicate. All these years, and the best you can do is ask how my day went, then pretend to understand my response. You don’t know a single sign to express an emotion . . . happiness, sadness . . . nothing! Signing with you is like talking to a computer.”
I took a deep breath and focused on keeping it together, saying what had always needed to be said, without breaking down. If I broke down, he might feel guilty, and I didn’t want him to feel guilty for that moment; I wanted him to see the wrongness of always.
“I—I’m sorry, Piper. If I’d known you felt this way I’d have ...”
“You’d have what, Dad? Learned to sign? And you and Mom would’ve refused to give Grace an implant because you think I’m so perfect you want her to be like me? Don’t blame me for this one, Dad. This one’s all on you.”
I saw the way my words had crushed him, deflated him as surely as a punch to the gut, but I still didn’t cry. I didn’t even cry when I saw Mom hunched over Grace, a worn-out shadow of a woman with eyes shut tight. It should be them breaking down, not me, I thought.
But then I felt a hand on my arm, warm and comforting. I turned and looked at Finn, his face full of remorse and understanding, and I began to cry anyway. Through the tears I saw my father help my mother to stand, and together they shuffled out of the den without another word.
I turned back to Finn and buried my face in his shoulder, gave up fighting my battle against tears now that it was blindingly obvious I could never hope to win.
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