in the direction the thick, deep timbre came from, the caller of my name appears surprised I heard him as I am that he knows my name. We’ve met before, but that was an extremely long time ago, so why is he staring at me like a halo is circling my head.
“You heard me.” Henry Gottle bridges the gap between us with three long strides. I’m tempted to bolt like Katarina did, but a weird sensation pinging through my veins keeps my feet planted on the ground. I also don’t want to appear frightened in front of my colleagues because not only did Julian’s grip on my hand tighten when Henry called my name, every set of eyes in the room honed in on me.
A silent gasp leaves my mouth when Henry cups my jaw in his palms. Because his hands are so big, his fingers weave through the hair I wore in tight curls with the hope it would hide the internal transmitters of the implants behind my ears. The difference in my pitch to people not born deaf already discloses I have cochlear implants, so they don’t need additional proof. I’m not ashamed I was born deaf, I just hate when people assume it’s a disability. It isn’t, it’s a uniqueness.
I can tell the exact moment Henry unearths the cause of my newfound hearing. His gasp is as silent as my earlier one, but I didn’t need to hear it to know of its existence. It fanned my face with a pricy alcoholic scent.
“I can’t believe you decided to get them done.” Henry’s words are only for my ears as are his eyes. “It’s been years. Over two decades. Do you remember me?”
The hope in his eyes almost has me nodding, but the sweat from Julian’s hand seeping into mine stops me. Since he’s clutching my hand as possessively as Henry is holding my face, he’s being roasted by the microscope of scrutiny right alongside me.
I won’t have him subjected to a rumor-monger because my parents had a weird kinship with Henry many moons ago. For all we know, their meetings could have been business-related. But since this town loves gossip, and I can’t shut them up by telling them to keep their eyes on their own paper, I lie as I was trained to do on cue.
“No, I don’t, sorry.” After stepping back, freeing myself from the fingers weaved through my hair and the hands warming my cheeks, I dip my chin in farewell. “But it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope you enjoy the festivities.”
I hightail it to the exit as fast as my quivering legs will take me. Since Julian’s hand is enclosed over mine, he falls into step rather quickly.
“What the hell was that?” Julian mutters when we break through the double doors of the ballroom guarded by secret service agents like the President is in attendance. “Do you know who that man is?” Although he’s asking a question, he doesn’t give me time to conjure a reply, much less articulate it. “He’s Henry Gottle. Henry. Gottle.” He repeats his name slowly like I’m still deaf. “How do you know him, Mel? You’ve never mentioned him previously.”
I move to the edge of the sidewalk to flag a cab. “I don’t know him. He must have mistaken me for someone else.”
“He said your name.”
I roll my eyes like he’s being ridiculous. He isn’t, but when the chips aren’t in my favor, I have a proven track record for acting immature. Brandon learned that the hard way seven years ago.
“There are plenty of people called Melody.”
My eyes snap to Julian when he snickers. “And how many of them were born deaf?”
With my back up, I get snappy. “I don’t know, Julian. How many? You’re the one whose profession feeds off the ‘disabled,’ so your statistics would be better than mine.”
All it takes is for our eyes to collide for the quickest second, and Julian’s campaign to unravel the connection between Henry and me is set aside for comforting. He does the same thing any time we fight, and I’m ashamed to admit, I use his dislike of arguing anytime I’m overwhelmed with either fear or frustration, or sometimes both, such as tonight.
While joining me on the curb, Julian tugs off his swanky black tuxedo jacket. My heart warms as well as my body when he drapes the quality material over my shoulders, wrongly believing I’m shivering because of the late fall evening. I’m not scared.