Page 13 of Broken Desires
The kindness and care Eva and Poppy have shown me in these few months starkly contrast the indifference I experienced at home. It’s a simple thing, really—caring for someone. But it requires a willingness to put in the effort, something my parents never seemed to possess.
It’s not hard to be kind to someone, to genuinely care—you just need to want to.
I feel more and more compelled to tell them about my deafness.
My thoughts are interrupted as Poppy bursts through the door, her energy infectious despite the precarity of her financial situation, and she’s carrying dessert, a triumphant look on her face.
“Guess who aced her presentation and is treating herself to dessert?” she announces, placing a box of assorted pastries on the table.
I can’t help but tease her, “Oh, is this a celebratory feast for your upcoming date with Ethan?”
She rolls her eyes but can’t hide her smile. “Oh, shut it, Nessa. You’re one to talk with your ‘not a date’ with Liam!”
I chuckle, snagging another chicken wing as I sit at the counter. “Date? More like I’m hoping for a hot night. Lord, I hope so.”
Eva laughs, joining in the banter. “A ‘hot night’? And here I was, thinking you were all about coffee and murder shows.”
I smirk, taking another bite. “Coffee, murder shows, and a bit of sweaty hot sex—I’m not a complex woman.”
Poppy snorts. “That’s fair enough.” She grabs a wing from the bucket and it makes me happy to see. She’s less cautious about taking shared food, and I noticed she’s starting to put on a little bit of weight and it warms my heart. I can see in Eva’s smile that she’s happy to see Poppy eat.
I grab her by the shoulders and give her a side hug. I am not big on physical contact; it’s not something I’m familiar with or really got growing up, but I’m getting used to giving more of it to the people I appreciate.
Eva turns on the TV, and we migrate toward the sofa with the food and the lush pastries Poppy brought.
It’s a show about drama in a ballerina school, and the girls are used to leaving the subtitles on. They never asked me why I wanted them, and I never explained.
I open my mouth, about to reveal my truth, when a ballerina comes on screen, and I can’t help but snort. “This is silly. Look at her hips! No way she can hold that p0se at all.”
Poppy turns toward me as the girl keeps on dancing like an idiot on the screen. “You seem to know a lot about dance?”
I shrug. “I used to dance a lot when I was younger. You know, a child ballerina.”
“Why stop? You have the lithe body for it,” Poppy continues between her big bites of dessert.
“And the grace too!” Eva adds with a little shake of her head “I never hear you appear in a room.”
I never hear you appear, either, I want to joke, but maybe another time. I smile. “Life decided otherwise.”
I don’t miss the way Eva flexes her left hand as if she can feel my words. “Yeah, life has a tendency to do that.” I don’t need to hear her voice to sense the sorrow. It’s etched all over her face.
I am about to admit my deafness when my watch vibrates with an incoming video call from my parents. I instinctively press “reject,” puzzled by their attempt to reach me. It’s unusual; they haven’t called since I moved to Silverbrook.
My watch vibrates again, and I look to see they are calling back, and I sigh. It’s close to dinnertime at home, and my mother is as strict on her schedule as she is on her own biblical rules. So it might be best to get the call now and suffer for a few minutes than potentially have to live through a never-ending one.
“Excuse me for a sec,” I say to the girls, slipping into my room. I pick up my phone and, with a resigned sigh, accept the video call.
As I answer the call, my mother’s face materializes on the screen. Her familiar frown, the deep lines of disapproval etched around her mouth, instantly transport me back to countless similar conversations. “Mom, hi. How are you doing?” I ask, my voice strained as I attempt a semblance of normalcy.
She skips the pleasantries. “Have you checked your emails recently?”
“Yes, why?” I trail off, unsure of what the issue is.
Her scowl deepens. “And when were you planning to answer?”
I hesitate. “I didn’t think it was urgent. I’m not even sure about my break dates yet.”
She cuts to the chase. “I need to know when you’re coming home.”