You were a well established, well educated woman. You had a major in Music where you met your boyfriend Sigurd years ago in college. When you graduated, somehow you imagined a picture perfect world where you would travel around and learn all the music from different continents with him. It didn't turn out that way.
"We can do implants, if it's is viable, to restore a bit of sensation. But it would be expensive." The doctors were speaking, but you weren't listening. Instead, they were talking to your boyfriend who was the only source of stability at the moment. Your mother was back to work for the week. Sigurd glances over to where you sit, running his hands down a his black slacks. A bit, the doctor said. He exhales sharply with a nod.
"Let's run the tests." He says. The doctor flits out the room, leaving you with your boyfriend and a body of books on your bed. Behind you, Sigurd slaps his hands together sharpy.
You don't turn around.
With a thick sigh, he walks around your plasticy hospital bed. You reach out to stroke his cheek as he comes near, but your still clumsy hand misses. He leads it back to his cheek.
"They want to do tests on you, to see if we can restore some hearing with implants. Do you want that?" He starts. "We can stop studying for today." He forcefully pronounces the words. You glance to where he is pointing at your ASL books, slow as if you're stupid, and sign quickly.
"Move."
You never were one to give up and in a definite way, that was why he loved you. He only wished he had the nerve to say that before the ring burned a hole into his pocket.
