Two fingers rubbing the skin just below it.
The movement became more frequent over the following days.
He would pause while carrying wood.
Press his palm against the side of his head.
Wait.
Continue.
Clara asked once.
He wrote:
Old pain.
Nothing more.
A week later she found him beside the woodpile.
The axe lay in snow.
Elias was bent over, one hand braced against a stump, the other clamped over his right ear.
His face was gray.
Clara ran.
“Elias!”
He could not hear.
She reached him.
Touched his shoulder.
He jerked violently and nearly struck her by reflex.
His hand stopped inches from her face.
Horror replaced pain.
Clara held still.
Elias backed away.
She pointed at his ear.
He shook his head.
Clara grabbed the notepad from his coat.
Inside. Now.
He read.
Almost smiled.
Then another spasm hit.
His knees buckled.
Clara caught one arm.
He was too heavy.
They staggered together toward the cabin.
Inside, she sat him near the fire.
He sweated despite the cold.
She wrote:
Doctor.
Elias shook his head immediately.
No.
Why?
He wrote only:
No doctors.
Clara stared.
Since when pain?
He hesitated.
Then:
Always.
She frowned.
Always means?
He wrote:
Boy.
Clara’s eyes lifted.
He continued.
They said deafness causes pain.
Clara did not know enough medicine to challenge it.
But something about the sentence bothered her.
Deafness was absence of hearing.
Why would silence feel like a knife?
She wrote:
Blood?
Elias looked confused.
She pointed toward his pillow in the loft.
He had not known.
Clara climbed up and brought it down.
A dark rust-colored stain marked one edge.
Elias stared.
His face changed.
Fear.
Not surprise.
Clara saw it.
You knew before.
He shook his head.
Too quickly.
She waited.
He finally wrote:
Sometimes as child.
The next attack came at supper.
Elias dropped his spoon.
His body folded forward.
Clara moved around the table.
This time she did not touch until he saw her.
She held up the notepad.
Let me look.
He shook his head.
Clara crossed her arms.
He stared.
She waited.
Elias rolled his eyes.
Then nodded.
She moved the lamp closer.
The outer ear looked irritated.
Swollen.
There was dried blood deeper inside.
Clara had seen infections.
Her mother had cleaned children’s ears with warm oil.
This looked different.
Something dark sat far within the canal.
She could not tell whether it was dried blood.
Three nights later, the pain woke him.
Clara knew because the dog began scratching at her door.
She lit the lamp.
Found Elias collapsed beside the hearth.
Both hands pressed against his skull.
She knelt.
His eyes were unfocused.
Clara forced the notepad into his hands.
Happens often?
His pencil trembled.