He resisted at first.
Pride.
She glared.
He surrendered.
At the table, she wrote:
How long?
Elias:
Always.
Clara frowned.
Since deaf?
Yes.
Doctor?
Many.
What said?
He wrote:
Damaged. Nothing to do.
Clara touched the side of his face.
He froze at the tenderness.
She looked behind the ear.
Scar.
Pale crescent disappearing toward the canal.
“From what?”
Elias watched her lips.
Then wrote:
Fever. Then accident. I do not remember clearly.
That made no sense.
Which?
He shrugged.
Father said fever caused deafness. Fall caused scar. Same week.
Clara’s unease began.
Several nights later she woke to movement.
Elias was sleeping beside the fire.
His body twisted.
One hand clamped against his ear.
He made a sound.
Not a word.
A broken groan.
Clara rushed from the bed.
Kneeling beside him, she saw dark blood on the pillow.
She touched his shoulder.
His eyes opened.
Panic.
Then embarrassment.
He tried hiding the pillow.
Clara grabbed it first.
Blood.
She looked at him.
Furious.
Not with him.
For him.
She wrote:
This is not normal.
He replied:
Happens.
Clara underlined three times:
NOT NORMAL.
Elias sighed.
He signed something.
She did not know it.
Then wrote:
Doctors. Many years.
Clara answered:
Doctors wrong.
He looked amused despite pain.
You doctor now?
She narrowed her eyes.
Better than dead man bleeding on floor.
Elias actually smiled.
Then another stab of pain took him.
His face collapsed.
Clara stopped smiling.
Three nights later, supper nearly killed him.
Elias lifted a spoon.
Then dropped it.
The metal struck the table.
His body went rigid.
He grabbed his head.
Then fell.
Clara screamed though he could not hear.
She dropped beside him.
His breathing came hard.
Eyes wide.
Twenty-year terror.
Not new pain.
Memory.
Clara saw it.
She dragged the lamp closer.
His right ear was swollen.
Red.
Fresh blood.
“Let me look.”
He could not read while shaking.
She grabbed the notebook.
LET ME LOOK.
Elias shook his head violently.
NO.
Clara wrote:
WHY?
His hand trembled.
Afraid.
The word broke her heart.