4

In spite of the rolling hills and checkered fields of the farms she passed as she drove on the country road, Maven took none of her usual pleasure in the beauty. It had been a rough two days. She was able to admit that, but she’d survived it.

And now it was Monday—a new week and a great time to start a new life. A life on her own. Without Paul. Today would be better than yesterday, and the next day would be even better. Because it sure couldn’t get much worse.

Paul hadn’t come home yet.

She wasn’t sure if that good or bad. The best thing might be to face each other, get it over with, and both of them to move forward. But so far, all she’d heard from Paul was silence. Oh well. When he was ready to deal with it, she’d be ready too.

Maven pulled her bright red car into the Colemans’ drive.

She grabbed the book, the electronic tablet, and her purse off the seat, then pasted a determined smile on her face. Give me strength. I can’t do it without You. Maven rang the doorbell. Nothing happened. After a minute or so, she rang it once again.

A dog barked from inside and then the door opened.

A tall, thin woman stood there. Still in her pajamas, the woman looked at her. “Are you Maven Morris?”

In spite of Mr. Coleman’s assurances, his wife didn’t look ready for anything. Except maybe a nap.

Maven nodded with a smile. “Yes, that’s me. Can I come in?”

The woman opened the screen door. “I’m Layla Coleman. I’m not really happy about any of this, but my husband is insisting I work with you.” Her voice was soft and sounded so sad. She turned her back on Maven and then walked to the middle of the living room.

Maven didn’t bother responding.

The woman wouldn’t hear her if she did.

Instead, Maven walked inside the door without waiting for an invitation.

Layla turned to her and motioned for her to sit on the sofa.

Maven did, laying her things on the coffee table between them. She picked up the tablet and tapped on an app. She typed a message and then turned the tablet towards Layla.

I know this is awkward for you. We can use this time any way you want. If you want to scream and yell, I can listen. If you want to learn a few signs, we can do that. If you want to cry, that’s OK too. I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you.

It was important to empower those without a voice. And right now, Layla Coleman had lost more than her hearing—she’d lost her voice. A deadly silence filled her soul.

Maven could help—if Layla would let her.

Layla’s eyes moved across the screen as she read it. When she was done, she threw herself down in a chair opposite Maven.

Layla started to speak, but then stopped. Her lips quivered. After a few moments, she tried again. “I…I don’t know what to do. This is so horrible. I never expected something like this to happen to me. Ever. Even after the doctors told me it might happen, I didn’t think it would.”

Maven picked up the keyboard and typed in another message.

I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through. My heart breaks for you. It must be a nightmare. How did you lose your hearing? Want to tell me about it?

Layla read the screen and nodded. “I was diagnosed almost two years ago with brain tumors called schwannomas. I’d never heard of them, but I wasn’t all that concerned. I felt great. I didn’t have really any symptoms. Not even a headache. I didn’t think it was any big deal. After all, they said they were benign.” She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, there’s nothing benign about them.”

Layla told the story of how she’d become deaf.

Now and then, Maven would ask a question using the keyboard, but mostly she listened.

Everyone needed to talk about their problems—especially something this traumatic.

Layla wiped away the tears. “You can’t imagine how hard being deaf is. It’s as if I’m in a room with thick glass walls. I can see the world, but I can’t be a part of it. I can see people, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. I reach out to them, but can’t touch them. I can’t feel them.”

Maven nodded.

“I feel all alone. The glass wall is too thick. I can’t break it down.” Her words crumbled into sobs. “I’m all alone.”

Communication wasn’t just about giving and understanding information. Communication allowed people to touch other people. To connect with someone else’s heart, their soul, the essence of who they were.

Oh, Paul. I thought we had that connection. I didn’t see the walls that must have been there for you. I’m sorry. If only…Maven pushed the useless thoughts away. It was time to focus on her client, not her past.

Maven typed.

You’re not alone anymore. I’m here. And I know your husband loves you very much because he told me so.

Layla read the message, but kept crying. “I know. That’s the worst part. I can’t hear him. I can’t talk with him. I can’t hear him sing or laugh or make silly jokes.”

Maven sat quietly—waiting.

When Layla ran out of tears, she ran her fingers through her hair as if just noticing she wasn’t dressed. “I must look a mess. It’s just that I can’t seem to find the energy to care about anything. Not even putting on clothes.”

Maven typed.

I certainly don’t blame you for that. And I think you have every right to feel any way you want, but there’s a way to tear down those barriers that are separating you from everyone. If you want!

After reading the screen, Layla met her gaze. Her eyes were dull, hopeless. “I don’t think it will work. Nothing will work.”

What could Maven say to give Layla enough hope to try? This wasn’t the time for useless platitudes. She needed to be real with Layla if she would be of any help to her. Her fingers clicked on the keyboard.

Do you believe in God?

Layla nodded.

Do you believe God loves you and wants you to be happy?

Layla closed her eyes, but the internal struggle played out on her face. She wiped away a tear and then opened her eyes. She met Maven’s gaze and nodded.

Losing your hearing was devastating. I’m not going to tell you that it wasn’t, but there are many deaf and late-deafened adults who live happy, productive lives. And so can you. So what do you say we start tearing down those barriers? Want to learn a few signs today?

Layla shrugged. “I suppose so. That’s what Henry wants me to do. He says I can learn them and then teach them to him when he gets home.” She paused and wiped away another tear. “He’s been so good about all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

A picture of Paul flashed in Maven’s mind. She brushed it away. Paul wasn’t part of her life any longer. Instead, she gave Layla two thumbs up.

Everyone knew what that meant.

Maven opened her purse again and pulled out the index cards she’d prepared in advance. She handed them to Layla and then typed in a message.

I picked five words or phrases for today that I thought would make your life easier. Next time, you have ten cards ready with words or phrases you want to learn. I want you to practice these words at least three times every day. OK? If you want to do it more, that’s even better.

After Layla read the message, she nodded, even though she didn’t look convinced.

We’ll also practice the alphabet and fingerspelling today. If you get proficient at reading fingerspelling, anyone can tell you anything. As long as they know how to spell.

They went through the alphabet and then the list several times. On the fourth time, Maven watched as Layla signed.

When she finished, Maven smiled at her and then signed, “Good job.”

Layla smiled as she recognized the sign. Attitude counted for so much. If Layla could break through her barriers and rejoin the world, she’d be OK.

There didn’t have to be anything deadly about the silence.

As Maven drove home, thoughts of Paul came unbidden. No matter how hard she tried not to think of him, she did. She hated all the angry, negative thoughts swirling around. Layla described her barriers as glass walls. Layla said she could see the world but wasn’t part of it.

Maven couldn’t even see the world, let alone be a part of it. Her walls had been painted black with anger, despair, and hopelessness.