Chapter 2
The day I left the hospital, Gail showed up with a brand new pair of in-ear hearing aids and dropped to one knee to propose.
"Anabella... Will you be my wife?" he said, his voice trembling with nerves. With my hearing aids on, I could hear every quiver in his words. I smiled and said yes.
On our wedding day, he wrote in my palm, "Gail will always belong to Anabella."
But then my phone lit up with a message from Emma.
It was a photo of a man fast asleep, his face turned to the side, messy hotel sheets sprawled in the background.
I rushed into the bathroom, gagging, and knocked over a bottle of pills on the counter.
Amid the clatter, my phone rang with an unknown number.
"Anabella?" His deep voice rumbled in my ear, sending a shiver through me.
"Lawson?" I stammered, barely believing it was him.
Lawson Carlson was my rehabilitation therapist.
Six years ago, after a car accident, I lost all hearing in my left ear, and my right ear could only pick up the faintest sounds.
The first time I met Lawson, he was sitting in the clinic, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, drumming his fingers on my medical chart.
"Miss Peterson, your auditory nerve is like a cable struck by lightning," he said.
When those intense eyes locked onto mine, it felt like he could see straight through to the darkest corners of my mind.
Lawson paused, then added, "But electricity always finds a new path through the wreckage."
I quickly lowered my head, embarrassed.
Maybe it was because he could see right through the mask of self-loathing I put on for the world, and beneath it all, I just longed to hear the music of life again.
Maybe it was just my own insecurity, but after that, I always tried to avoid him.
Whenever he came by for his rounds, I'd just pretend to be asleep.
Lawson must've sensed my resistance, because after that, he had a nurse take over my case notes.
One day, I overheard the nurses whispering. "Poor Dr. Carlson. His sister committed suicide a couple of days ago..."
That night, on a whim, I texted him: [Want to listen to Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata'?]
Gail knew how much I loved playing the piano, so he had someone bring one into my hospital room just for me.
But ever since the accident, I hadn't touched a piano.
My fingers were out of practice, and with my trouble recognizing sounds, I kept recording and re-recording, just trying to get it right.
I carefully sent it to him, my heart pounding.
He texted back at 3 a.m.: [You rushed the third measure.]
After that, we got into this odd little habit.
He'd send me pictures of the clouds outside his clinic window, and I'd send him melodies I improvised on the piano.
But after I left the hospital, our contact slowly faded away.
The night Gail said he wanted to move out, Lawson texted me, asking what I was doing and when I'd come in for my next check-up.
My mind was stuck on that one word, "separation", so that was all I could think about when I replied.
Curled up on the couch, utterly lost, my fingers shook as I typed out: [Lawson, I don't have a home anymore...]
Dad was gone. Mom was gone. And even just getting through the day meant I needed these hearing aids.
And now, Gail was walking out on me too.
What the hell was I supposed to do now?
I really had no clue.
But I never saw it coming when he said: [Why bother with a separation? Just get divorced. It's faster.]
Before I could even type a reply, his messages kept popping up one after another.
Lawson messaged: [Divorce him. Be with me. Do you dare?]
I could hear muffled laughter coming from outside the door.
"Anabella didn't even cry this time? Does she actually believe Gail's bullshit?"
"Without Gail, she can't even afford the latest hearing aids."
"Bet you three months' rent she won't last a week before she's crawling back!"
Gail scoffed, flicking his lighter and taking a drag. "Five days, tops. She'll come crawling back."
"She can't survive without me. Seriously, who else would ever put up with her like I do?" he sneered.
I zoned out, my eyes drifting to the hazy, unfamiliar shapes moving outside the door.
I shot back: [I do!]
Once I hit send, all the strength left my body, and I just sank into the couch. This time, I was really walking away from Gail.
Maybe Gail was just trying to knock me down a peg, because he didn't bother contacting me for two days straight.
If it were the old me, I would've caved and called to apologize that very day.
But now, I was busy packing my bags and handling Gail's stuff. I didn't even have the bandwidth to think about him.
Just as I was hauling my things out of the apartment, Gail suddenly messaged me.
He asked: [Not even a call? Don't you miss me at all?]
Then he sent over a few scenery photos.
He said: [You love the ocean, don't you? Maybe one of these days I'll take you to see it.]
I tapped open the images and saw a sunny, smiling girl on the beach, grinning at him.
It was Emma.
So that was where he'd been these past few days, hanging out with his dream girl.
I replied coolly: [Forget it.]
I went through all the stuff Gail had put under my care.
I got rid of all those designer bags and jewelry he'd bought me.
After double-checking everything, I gave him a call. "Are you free tonight, Gail Riddle?"
"We need to talk."
On the other end of the line, Gail's breathing stalled for a few seconds.
After five years of marriage, this was the first time I'd ever called him by his full name.