Hey ;)

Warm applause greeted me as I walked onto the brightly-lit stage. The first thing I could see was the panel of judges, some staring me down, some with encouraging smiles on their faces. The hundreds of audience members behind them seemed to amplify their emotions. I took a deep breath, and sat down.

I broke the silence as my fingers tapped the piano keys, warming up with a few notes. “I’ll be singing a short song that I wrote.” The note became chords under my fingers. “It’s called ‘Please Don’t Leave,’ and as cheesy as that sounds,” a final few sounds, then a rest, “I hope you enjoy it.”

I closed my eyes, letting my fingers run across the smooth whites of the piano. The sounds of the song’s intro came out, and the memories came rushing back in.

=-=-=

“I dare you to… get that girl’s number.” Javi pointed across the party vaguely, his finger sweeping across the modest crowd in the house.

“Dude. Which one?” I asked.

“Uhhhh…” His eyes narrowed, like a falcon looking for its next victim. “Her.” Another vague point.

“Red shirt, dancing with friends?”

“Nah, nah. Too hard,” he answered.

“How nice of you.”

“The one behind them.”

My eyes narrowed too. “White shirt, jacket, cup in one hand, phone in the other?”

“Bingo. She’s pretty cute, too.”

I sighed, and took a swig of the drink in my hand. “Deal. Watch the master at work.” I strolled up to her, past all the dancing couples and noisy guests, with all the  newly-gained confidence of, well, a semi-drunk highschool teen on illegal alcohol.

I stopped in front of her, and with her head still down on her phone. I had just enough time to think of the worst possible opening line in history.

“Hey. You must be a construction worker, because you are building!”

… no, I don’t know where I was going with that either.

Luckily, I was saved the embarrassment by her barely reacting. In fact, she made no indication that she’d heard anything at all.

“Uhhh, hello?” I ventured. Still, no response. I waved my hand underneath her phone slowly, and she suddenly looked up in surprise. That startled the confidence out of me, and I took a step back.

“Uh, hi!” I began. Smooth, I know. But before I could continue, she threw her phone back into her pocket, and silenced me with an open hand. She then put a finger near the front of her ear, then traced it down to her mouth.

“Sorry, what?”

She sighed and her eyes closed in resignation, almost as if the situation was all too familiar. Before I could respond, she interrupted me again by pulling out her phone and quickly typing. She turned the phone to face me, and on it was a couple of words:

i’m deaf

:’(

“Ah, fuck. I, uhhh--” I was ready to turn around, but my stubborn brain decided that there was no way I was going to lose this bet. I pulled out my phone, typing out a quick word of my own. She looked at me, puzzled, until I flashed my screen back at her:

hey ;)

=-=-=

My hands were shaking as I knotted my tie in the mirror--it’s not everyday you get to attend your girlfriend’s graduation. And to be fair, High School graduations are once-in-a-lifetime, literally. I’d been fixing up my gift for Sofia for months now, but it still felt… incomplete?

The alarm blared on my phone--there was no more time for second-guesses. I rushed out the door, grabbing a bouquet of flowers on the way out. 

The ceremony went by in a blur. Lots of speeches. Too many names. So many awards; her batch was always one of the more competitive ones, after all. When she got called to the stage, I stood up. Even though she couldn’t hear my applause, or my cheers, or the reprimands I got after being forced to “sit your ass down,” she still saw me. And that moment was enough.

I met her outside afterwards, she still looking as radiant as she did when she first went in. Unsurprisingly, I wasn’t the only one who thought of flowers, and in a few minutes she was laden with bouquets and surrounded by congratulating family.

I couldn’t quite find the moment to enter. Luckily, I never had to. I made eye contact with her mom, hoping my puzzled eyes and nervous smile said the words I needed to. Miraculously, she understood, and with all the powers of an Asian mother and a loud voice, the crowd quickly thinned, leaving the both of us with a direct path to each other.

I waved. She waved right back. Before I could say anything, her hands moved again, signing slowly enough for me to understand.

Dare… you… say… congrats? I smiled. Ever since I’d told her about how we first met, she’d never wanted to shut up about it, and it became the quickest inside joke between us. I pulled out my phone, typing down a response.

Congrats!!

I have a gift for you, actually.

Her mouth opened in a face of mock surprise. It suddenly turned into a puzzled look when I put my phone away, and then actual surprise as I signed a phrase to her.

“Look. At. Me,” I mouthed, trying to remember how to move my hands to each word. “S-o-f-i-a.” That one word alone took me weeks to master. “I’m… very... proud… of… you.”

Sofia’s eyes were beginning to tear up now. “And… I love you,” I continued. “Dare… you… say… it… back?” 

She could’ve signed back any number of answers, but with one hand covering her mouth, another holding her diploma, and tears streaming down her cheeks, all she could do was nod.

=-=-=

Both of us agreed I’d taken way too long to plan it. But finally, a month after graduation, Sofia entered my house for the very first time. I was eager to give her the tour, but she only seemed interested in one thing.

“You have a piano?!” she signed excitedly.

I followed her gaze, onto the electric keyboard just starting to gather dust in the corner.

“I haven’t played in a while,” I signed back.

“Dare you to play?” She mimed pressing the keys, and laughed at the look of surprise on my face. “I can hear. Hard to explain. Trust.”

I shrugged, plugging in the keyboard and turning it on. When I looked back, she had her hand on one of the speakers, eyes closed and waiting. Still lost, I sat down, playing the first thing off the top of my head.

“C minor, B major,” I whispered under my breath, my hands slowly warming up to practiced motions. “C minor. Flat.” It was a simple melody, one for soft nights and slow days. I paused, only for Sofia to motion with her hand.

“Keep going.” So I did. I watched, entranced, as she swayed slowly to the gentle vibrations. My hands moved on their own, continuing the piece, as the melody changed into the background of an unforgettable moment.

=-=-=

“Are you ready?” I signed. Sofia could only nod, not taking her eyes instantly flicking back to the laptop screen. It was always a giant flag of nervousness when she couldn’t do more than move her head. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close.

I left her hand alone on the mouse, knowing she would move it when she was ready. Another deep breath. Another minute passes by on the clock. Suddenly, as if possessed, she jerked the mouse, opening the email from the prestigious university in an instant. Caught by surprise, I barely followed her gaze as we sped through the letter.

But there it was. In gigantic, unmistakable, letters.

ACCEPTED

I heard her unmistakably take in breath next to me. In Sofia terms, she was basically screaming out loud. She turned to me, the only movements being shaking points at herself, to the screen, and back to herself. On the other hand, all I could do was nod and smile anyways, so who was I to judge?

She finally managed to slightly compose herself. She signed “I’m going,” followed by hand movements I’d never learned. Seeing my puzzled look, she quickly typed down the word: Abroad.

“Congrats.” I signed back.

Her brows suddenly furrowed. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Different schools?”

I stopped her hands softly. “Don’t worry about me. You should tell your family.”

Her face brightened again, and with a final kiss on the cheek, Sofia rushed out of the room in excitement.

“Abroad,” I whispered to myself. I stared at the bold “ACCEPTED” on the screen. One word that had flipped both our worlds on their heads. 

“Abroad.” There was bound to be a lot of pressure, with worries not trailing far behind. As much crying as there were smiles. But the details would have to come later. For now?

I was proud.

=-=-=

I never did let it sink in. The months passed by in a blur. Me and her family, we took her as far as we could into the airport. No long distance. No hanging on. Time for us both to grow on our own, she told me.

But she let me have this, at least.

“Dare you to stay?” I jokingly signed at her, a moment before she left.

Sofia smiled. “Stay safe.”

“You too.”

=-=-=

Funny how, when the world goes to shit around you, everything just seems to keep going. I woke up to the daylight streaming in, the birds chirping, the fan blowing its air.

I woke up, but there were no miracles.

I threw myself back into learning piano after that. After all, grief is one hell of a motivator. It took me a while to get comfortable at it. Another period of time before I started writing lyrics, and one last before I found my voice. I didn’t mind staying up late if it meant filling my nights with smooth chords and rough singing.

I just needed a new way to keep my hands moving.

=-=-=

The song is almost finished now. I took my hands off the piano, turning my gaze to the crowd behind the judges. There were no more notes for the final line. Just a long rest from the piano, and that was intentional. Some people called it stupid. Others thought it was genius. Me? I just needed the moment.

“Please don't leave me, baby.” I sang softly into the mic, looking out into the faces below.

And in those moments of silence, I found the perfect amount of time. Just enough for my words to sink in, just enough for the vibrations to stop, and, as I’d found out in that memory before, just enough time for Sofia to open her eyes and look into mine.

The chances were low. To hope was… stupid. I knew that, even as I went through each gaze of the audience members. But who was I to stop trying?