Emily

Warning: This story contains a conflict over the bodily autonomy of a minor - soon to be adult. It also contains discussion of *divisive topic, Cochlear Implants.

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For the most part, being deaf didn’t bother Emily Beckman. It bothered other people, but Em, herself? It was just… her. How she interacted with the world. She was Deaf. And she liked who she was.

Sound? She didn't need it. It was just a bunch of vibrations that her brain couldn't translate, and you know what?

I do not need it, Em curled and twisted her fingers slowly, enunciating her signs, dark eyes intent on the set of eyes so similar yet different from her own.

Daniel Beckman frowned, his wide nose wrinkling slightly as he turned to Em’s mom. His mouth began moving, perfect white moving beyond slightly chapped lips. Tell ___ this __ what’s best for __.

Em wrinkled her own nose and narrowed her eyes, before snapping her fingers sharply, Why won’t you sign?  He kept his eyes locked on his wife, ignoring Emily. She curled her lips and clicked her teeth in frustration before speaking slowly as she signed, No, this isn’t what’s best for me. I do not want it! She motioned at the doctor who stood off to the side looking equal parts awkward and sheepish behind his thick rimmed glasses.

Caroline Beckman was tugging at her graying blonde braid, the lines around her eyes looking all the more severe under the clinical fluorescent lighting. There was a slight shake in her hands as she signed, Baby… Your father- your father and I, we are just trying to- this could make your life so much easier.

Emily let out a scoff, turning away from her parents, instead staring at the door- at the large poster so stark against the dark wood. A picture of a little boy smiling brightly up at a doctor, a device sitting above his ear, looking as innocuous as the hearing aids she wears so she can hear ambient noise… The words, Cochlear Implants and what they can do for you, emblazoned in vibrant blue. She swallowed thickly, there to the left of the smiling boy was a cartoonish image of the outer ear leading to the inner ear with a small metallic looking wire leading from the device on the outside… trailing along outside the ear canal and attaching directly to the cochlea.

That tiny piece inside her that didn’t work the way hearing peoples did.

It didn’t look so bad all cartoonish, sitting next to a boy who was grinning like Christmas had come early… but…

She jumped at the two light taps on her shoulder, Emily let out a sigh and turned slowly, looking up at her mother, she lifted her hands, signing hesitantly, Do not make me do this.

Her mother’s brows pulled together, lips worrying between her teeth. Emily steeped around her mother looking at her dad. He’s been different ever since he started talking to this doctor, what had been supposed to be a consultation had turned into two. That had become long phone calls with her back turned to Emily, her mother picking at her sleeves before smiling tightly as though everything was fine.

Dad, please, she signed crisply, just the way she’d been practicing for her graduation ceremony. There was a tension in her father’s shoulders, tucked and hidden beneath the layers of plaid and denim, a twist to her mouth that she used to see all the time when she was a kid… back when she went to hearing school.

Emily, this is for your own good. His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles white, he didn’t sign, but was enunciating his words clearly. He’s been doing that a lot lately, talking without signing.

Mine, Emily hissed as she signed, Or yours?

The tension released as he unclenched his fists and rubbed tiredly at his face… the lines of his looked darker and deeper than they had only days ago. When had he gotten old? He took a step towards her and rested a hand on her shoulder briefly before pulling away and finally finally signing, It is a parent's jobs to protect their kids. It is my job to try and make things easier-

No! Emily snapped her fingers to thumb together sharply, That part of your ‘job’ is done, okay? I am seventeen, almost eighteen. This, she motioned to the sharp and severe doctor’s office, This is fear.

Eyes squeezed shut his shoulders moved in that way she knew he was sighing gustily, she’d felt him do it enough throughout her childhood, she tapped on his shoulder lightly two times and waited for him to look up at her. You are making this decision now because in a few months it won’t be your choice anymore. You’re scared of what the future might bring. But I’m not, okay? That, she motioned to the poster on the door, That scares me.

Her mother moved into Emily’s line of vision, signing and mouth moving, Are you afraid of the procedure or what the future looks like hearing?

It was her turn to fiddle with her hair, dark as her fathers, but thin and fine like her mother’s… The truth was Emily had never really thought seriously about the implant before a few months ago. It was this mythical, horrific thing signed with quick and furtive fingers. She’s seen video of people crying in happiness at hearing their parent’s voices for the first time, she’d seen video of people saying it was the worst thing that had ever happened to them… The truth was…

I don’t know, Emily murmured, fingers relaxed at her side, glancing at the doctor, the man sent her a small encouraging smile, This… I don’t know, okay?

Her mother stepped forward, Emily’s hair tickled her cheeks as her mother tucking some loose strands behind her ears before cupping her face. She pressed a kiss to her forehead before releasing her, stepping back and signing, Daniel, maybe this this something she needs to think and decide for herself?

She watched as her father ran his hands through his hair again, scratching at his scalp almost aggressively, ____, maybe your _____.

Emily tilted her head, missing half the words due his hands covering his face, before he signed, Your decision, but I want you to try to keep an open mind.

Her mouth opened, and fingers ready to shoot off something snarky, maybe something along the lines of ‘I’m not the one with a closed mind!’ But Emily grit her teeth and instead signed slowly, I am already thinking about it, okay? My thoughts are not necessarily good, but I’m willing to… She shrugged and flapped her arms uselessly for a moment searching for the word or phrase that could describe the whirl of confusion twisting inside her. I’ll try.

Her mouth twisted to one side before she flicked her fingers flippantly, Maybe.

Emily watched in tapered amusement as her fathers shoulders tightened up like a wind up toy, he brought his fingers up dark eyes sparking. Kidding, kidding, Emily signed, smiling wryly before signing more seriously, I promise to think about it seriously. But I want to take my time, okay?

Okay, her parents signed almost in tandem, Emily wrinkled her nose in faux disgust.

I hate it when you do that, She stuck her tongue out and crossed her arms after signing, a faint smile playing on her lips. Traitor thing.

Do what? The signed again, this time closer to in sync. The smirk on her mothers face mirrored the one she saw in the mirror at times. Her father still looked worried, but less stressed, as if conceding defeat had released a great invisible weight. She’s really missed this, the ease between the three of them. Things had been so tense for so long...

Okay, she signed more to herself than to anyone else before squaring her shoulders and stretching out her fingers, she looked over her shoulder at the doctor, Sorry, doc, but we won't be needing your services today... The small smile on her lips widened just a fraction, Maybe not ever.

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Authors Note: I am not Deaf. I admire the Deaf community, as I admire a lot of different cultures and communities. I know some sign but am certainly not fluent, customer service level at best. I tried to mimic some other writing I'd seen when writing deaf characters, mainly the use of italics, but the descriptions of hand movements and the tone of those movements was something I noticed in ASL, that a great deal can be conveyed in the way a hand is moved- Not just the position of the hand or fingers, but in the sharpness of the movement, the speed, or lack there of. It's an interesting language that I wish I had time to learn fully, and a culture I've only skimmed the surface of.

*Now, Cochlear implants: I'm a writer, not a doctor, so what I know about the implant is surface level. And maybe it's not as divisive now as it was 10 years ago when I first heard of it, but I still think the same thing I thought then as I do now. That it is a deeply personal choice, whether someone gets it or not and shouldn't be forced or dictated by anyone.

Final Note: 'Emily,' isn't based on any one person, or event- but several.