I was sitting on the couch, my hands trembling, looking into the doctor’s mature eyes. He’d just examined me and wrote his conclusion on the paper. I’d lost my sense of hearing completely, but I had big chances to hear again if I agree to be operated. The risk was minimal. I had nothing to lose. After operation I would have to use a hearing device for the rest of my life, though it would be a low price to pay as I would be able to hear the sounds of the world again: the voice of my mother, singing of birds, plashing of water and music, that was nothing but genuine cure for my soul. I was not sure I could play the trumpet again and was dejected by the thought of it. After all I gave my consent, hopping for the better future.
Lying on the operating table, I saw a light and felt the easiness of my body when the surgeon’s face faded above me. I smiled, preparing for a dream. Surprisingly, it was a very short dream like a wink. The flash of light dazzled my eyes again, when I was waking up, attacking by the unusual whistling sounds in my ears.
“Look, he’s awake” I heard very far the voice of my mother and breathed out with excitement. The warm wave of emotions overwhelmed me. The sounds were not so loud, but still I managed to hear them. It was definitely my little victory. It was my new chance to do something important.
I lifted my head and saw my all big family, staring anxiously at me. There were my mother Sylvia, my father Steve, my uncle Rob, my sister Liza and my granny Edda in the ward.
“Oh, Philip! We are so sorry for our last family dinner. Please forgive us.” my mother cried, kissing my chick with her wet mouth.
“Sylvia, we don’t know if he hears you.” said uncle Rob too roughly. “Don’t waste your words.”
“But the doctor said the operation was successful.” my mother continued, grasping my hand tightly, making my fingers whiten.
Uncle Rob shook his head.
“We need proofs.”
I heard them and was very happy about it, but something told me my uncle Rob wasn’t happy to see me at all as if I were a burden for our family. That sulky thought brought slight tears to my eyes, but I managed to hide all my despair, behind the mask of stillness.
“Do you hear me, my son?” my mother asked me, stroking my hair. In her eyes I was a little helpless boy.
I said nothing, looking at my granny Edda, who gave me a wink and a kind smile full of hope.