Dangerous to Know & Love (7 page)

“You’re funny!”

“Glad I make you laugh!” she snorted, although she wasn’t really mad. It was good to see him smiling again.

But his smile faded quickly.

“I don’t want anyone else to know. I mean it: no one.”

“I promise, Daniel. Besides, it’s your secret to tell – not mine.”

He nodded slowly.

“Guess I’ll have to trust you.”

“Guess you will.”

“Fine, but I’m going to need another damn coffee.”

“Hey – no cussing! You promised!”

“I can’t even say ‘damn’?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Your old man a preacher, by any chance?”

Lisanne rolled her eyes. “So cliché! You think just because I don’t like cussing that I must be a Holy Roller? Now who’s stereotyping?”

He was saved a reply when Maggie came by to top up their coffee mugs.

“You want anything to eat with that, Danny? Or your friend?”

Daniel looked at Lisanne. “You hungry?”

“Not really, but thanks.”

“We’re good here, thanks, Maggie.”

“I’ll get you your usual,” she said, “and don’t you roll your eyes at me Danny Colton. I know that you never have any food in the house.”

“Thanks, Maggie,” he mumbled, sounding chastened as the waitress stalked away.

Lisanne raised her eyebrows.

“Danny, huh?”

He grimaced. “Yeah, well, she’s known me since I was a kid. She’s the only one who calls me that.”

“I don’t know – I think it suits you, Danny.”

“Keep it up, preacher’s kid.”

Lisanne scowled and Daniel couldn’t help laughing at her again.

“So, how come your chose this school?” she said, trying to make conversation.

He shrugged.

“It’s got a great business program, good for economics. And I got a partial scholarship. You?”

“It was more mom and dad’s choice. I knew I wanted to do music and there’s a music education program, so I’m training to be a music teacher.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Not really, but it’s close enough.”

When Maggie arrived with a plate of eggs, bacon and grits, Daniel tore into it like a starving man.

“Wow, I guess you really are hungry,” said Lisanne, her eyes about bugging out of her head, amazed by the speed with which he was inhaling everything in sight.

“Mmm,” he said, over a mouthful of eggs and bacon. “Didn’t get around to eating yesterday.”

“What? Not at all.”

“Uh-uh,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Why not?”

He swallowed the last morsel and reached for his coffee.

“Haven’t done any grocery shopping. Besides, it never lasts long, so there’s not much point.”

Lisanne shook her head, confused.

“Doesn’t your mom buy the groceries?”

As soon as she asked the question she realized she’d yet again put her giant-sized foot in it.

“Both my parents died – over two years ago now,” he said, staring at a spot on the wall behind her. “It’s just me and Zef now – my brother.”

The breath stuttered out of Lisanne’s lungs.

“How?”

“Car accident.”

All she could do was nod in appalled sympathy. Daniel had been born with intelligence and good looks, but within a few years he’d lost his parents, his hearing, a huge chunk of pride and dignity, along with hope, it seemed.

Lisanne couldn’t begin to understand how he functioned at all, let alone got up in the morning and came to school to study. He must be strong, she decided. Very strong.

Her heart swelled with admiration for him, then burned with pain for the hand life had dealt him.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, helplessly.

He shrugged.

“Life sucks.”

He stretched his arms above his head, and his t-shirt rose up and tightened over his chest. Lisanne’s cheeks began to heat, and then she felt horrible for having faintly lustful thoughts when he’d been baring his soul to her. She was a terrible person.

“What about you?” he said. “What’s your story?”

“Nothing interesting,” she said quickly.

“Tell me anyway.”

“There’s really nothing to tell.”

He frowned. “So you get to grill me about my life, but you won’t say anything back.”

“No, I meant… it’s just boring. What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about your family.”

She sighed.

“My parents are Monica and Ernie. They’re both high school teachers – math. I have a younger brother, Harry: he’s 13. He’s a complete pain in the… well, a pain, but I miss him anyway. He’s into the usual stuff: football, computer games, and just getting into girls.” She shuddered. “He has a poster of Megan Fox on his wall. Mom told him he was objectifying women, but I think dad kind of likes it – the poster, I mean.”

“Yeah, well, she’s hot!”

“Ugh! You’re such a
guy
,” she jeered.

He winked at her, and she couldn’t help grinning at him.

“Who do
you
have posters of on your wall at home?” she teased him.

“Why? You wanna see my bedroom?” he asked, raising one eyebrow, the one with the ring through it. “Because I gotta say, I didn’t think you were that sort of girl.”

Lisanne stared at him, utterly without words.

He smirked, concluding that he’d won that round of verbal jousting.

“You ever been kissed, LA?” he said, leaning forward and staring into her eyes, a smile hidden behind them.

“Don’t be a jerk!” she snapped.

“Thought not,” he said smugly.

“I’ve been kissed,” she stammered. “A lot.”

It was a damned lie, but there was no way she was going to admit that to
him.

“Good to know,” he said, sitting back, smiling.

“Well, what about you?”

“Yeah, I’ve been kissed. A lot.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I meant do you have a girlfriend?”

“Why, you offering?”

“I don’t know why I bother,” she huffed.

He smiled back at her.

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend. Anything else you want to know?”

Lisanne chewed her lip.

“Ask me,” he prompted. “I won’t answer if I don’t want to.”

“Fair enough.” She paused. “Well, I was wondering… when, um, when did you… when did… I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter.”

His playful expression vanished, and Lisanne could have kicked herself.

“We keep coming back to this shit, don’t we,” he said, his voice angry. “This is why I’m sick of it, why I hate talking about it. It’s so fucking fascinating to everyone else, but this is my life and I know what I’ve lost. Every fucking day I know what I’ve lost. I see you going to rehearsals with Roy and the guys and it fucking slays me. I’ll
never
have that again; I’ll
never
hear that music. And you know what? I’m beginning to forget. Sometimes I think I hear music in my head, but I’m not sure anymore.”

He closed his eyes, then spoke again. “Do you think it’s like that for blind people? I mean, if they used to be able to see… can they remember colors? Do they think in color, dream in color? Sometimes I think I can hear music in my dreams…”

Lisanne’s throat closed tightly, and she felt responsible for making him feel like this. And she had a responsibility to answer him.

“Yes, I think they do. I mean, I think I would. You know, Beethoven carried on composing even after he went deaf.”

“Yeah, like no one’s ever said that to me before,” he said, scathingly.

“It doesn’t make it any less true,” she said, quietly.

He sighed.

“My… condition… is called idiopathic sensorineural hearing loss – which means they don’t have a fucking clue. They think maybe it was a virus, but they don’t really know. It began after I started high school. The first thing was that I got into trouble: teachers said I wasn’t concentrating, or I was being a smart-ass and not answering them. One teacher really had it in for me, Miss Francis. She had one of those fucking irritating high-pitched voices, and I couldn’t hear a fucking thing she was saying. You lose the high sounds first – low tone reception takes a bit longer. I was too dumb to tell anyone I was having problems.”

He paused and looked down.

“Then my grades started dropping. I got into fights and my parents got called in a ton of times. One of my teachers was the first to guess what was going on. I was sent for tests… by the time I was 15, I had moderate to severe hearing loss.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face.

“The school said they couldn’t ‘deal’ with me anymore. So… my parents sent me to a
special
school. When they… when they died, I had just under two years left, so… I graduated, and I swore that I’d never live like that. I didn’t want that ‘disabled’ tag – ‘differently able’ for fuck’s sake. I fucking hate it.” He paused. “I lost just about all my hearing then. I have some hearing in my left ear, but I’m not sure about that anymore. I didn’t hear that fucking fire alarm. Maybe I could hear a damn bomb going off – I don’t know.”

Lisanne didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until her lungs began to hurt.

“And… hearing aids don’t help?”

Daniel pulled a face.

“Not really. They work for some people. I tried digital hearing aids but they didn’t provide enough amplification, and voices sounded muddy and distorted. The analog ones were better – but not by much.”

“But it would help a bit?”

“Sure, if you want people to treat you like a fucking moron.”

“Not all people!”

“Don’t fucking tell me what it’s like. People say shit like, ‘Oh, you talk really well’, like they’re fucking patting me on the back or something.”

“So… there’s no… no hope? The doctors…?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m one of their ‘worst case scenarios’. Memorable, you might say.”

Lisanne felt slightly sick, but plowed on.

“You mustn’t give up hope, Daniel. Scientists make breakthroughs all the time. You could… I don’t know… take part in a trial or something. What about those implants I’ve heard about?”

He shook his head again.

“I used to think like that, but I’ve had enough of being a fucking lab rat. I’ve spent so much time in hospitals and clinics, having different tests, being fitted for different hearing aids – each one more fucking useless than the last one. I couldn’t stand going through all that again… the hope. It fucking kills you.”

He looked so broken, that Lisanne wanted nothing more than to try and comfort him, but before she could think of anything, he shook his head, as if to clear it.

“Fuck me,” he said, “that sounded like a freakin’ soap opera. Do you wanna go do something fun?”

Lisanne’s head was spinning from his change of mood.

“Okay,” she said, uncertainly. “Like what?”

“Trust me?”

“No.”

He grinned.

“What have you got to lose?”

“Um, my life, my reputation, my sanity?”

Daniel laughed.

“Is that all? Come on. I’ll get you back to your dorm room in one piece. Can’t speak for your reputation if you’re seen with me, though.”

Lisanne pretended to sigh.

“Guess I’ll have to live with that.”

Half an hour later, Lisanne was staring in open-mouthed amazement, her jaw firmly on the floor.

Seriously? He’d taken her to an arcade?

“What are you? Thirteen?” she said in utter disbelief.

“No, baby, I’m all man,” he said with a smirk, winking at her. “Want me to prove it?”

She crossed her arms across her chest and tried to look stern.

Daniel just grinned at her.

“Aw, come on! It’ll be fun. We can eat chips, drink soda, and shoot up stuff. What’s not to like?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. His excitement was infectious – he was like a little boy, his eyes shining. Lisanne had to admit she liked this playful side of him. He was so serious most of the time.

He changed ten dollars into tokens and handed her a pile.

“Uh-uh, I think I’ll watch you.”

He grinned at her and headed for a machine called MotorStorm Apocalypse.

“This one’s awesome.”

For nearly an hour, Daniel played on various games. She was amused watching him act like an overactive kid; he reminded Lisanne of her brother. Every time he won or scored highly, he turned around and gave her a huge grin. He even persuaded Lisanne to take him on at Project Gotham Racing, and then kicked her ass in all four city racetracks.

Refusing a rematch, she wandered off to get the promised chips and sodas with a ten dollar bill that he insisted she take from his wallet, then they sat on a couple of plastic chairs and watched a group of junior high kids fight over Ridge Racer.

Lisanne had to admit that despite herself, she’d had fun. The one thing that disturbed her was that it was so easy to forget Daniel was deaf. Several times she’d spoken to him when he’d had his back to her, before remembering to tap him on the shoulder.

She could see how easy it would be for people to find him unresponsive or rude. She sort of understood what he’d said about not wanting people to know, but she didn’t really get why he’d rather have people think he was a jerk. She remembered the proverb her mom had drummed into her: you have to walk a mile in another man’s shoes before you judge him.

She sighed, realizing she had a lot to learn.

Eventually she decided that it was getting late and that she’d promised Kirsty they’d go out together tonight. A large part of her would have been happy to stay with Daniel, but a promise was a promise.

He offered to take her back to her dorm room, and Lisanne accepted gratefully.

But when he dropped her off, his face was anxious.

“Um, Lisanne – you won’t say anything to anyone, will you?”

“No, I promise. Like I said, it’s not my secret to tell,” she repeated.

He looked relieved.

“So, we should reschedule our study session,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, I guess we should. Give me your phone – I’ll program in my number.”

Wordlessly, Lisanne handed her phone to the hottest guy in college, trying not to smile as he punched his number into her contacts list.

“Just give me a cool ringtone, okay?” he said, an amused look on his face.

“I’ll give you Celine Dion,” she said. “You’ll never know.”