Page 75 of What It Means To Be Found

“But…you’re not completely hearing. You have hearing loss,” Taylor said, the same confusion I felt was evident in their tone.

“Sure, but I still have some hearing. The aids help me identify specific words, and I get by extremely well with lip reading. I can speak very clearly when I focus hard enough or have my aids to help me distinguish the sounds.” Beck shrugged a shoulder. “I have had members of the deaf and hard-of-hearing community tell me that I don’t exactly ‘count’. That being said, it’s important to remember that they have had to deal with a lot of trauma and discrimination due to their experiences with complete hearing loss.”

“But so have you,” Courtney argued, “You literally weren’t given resources to accommodate your hearing loss as a child.”

“Sure, but not everyone knows that. They just see me vocalizing with others and that I wear hearing aids and they assume things. Everyone assumes things, and it's normal for people to feel threatened by those who do not understand their experiences entirely. Hearing people look at me, see how ‘well’ I get by in a hearing society, and they use me as an excuse to minimize the trauma and discrimination that those with more severe hearing loss or deafness have.” Beck shrugged again. “I’m not offended by their concerns. In a way, I actually agree, that ‘hearing with hearing aids’ is an accurate category for my experience with hearing loss, but I also agree that I am simply hard of hearing. I have pretty severe hearing loss and therefore am a branch of the deaf and hard-of-hearing community. But I also have my own community,” Beck gestured vaguely around the room, making my heart squeeze, “So I don’t feel excluded from some club because of Alonzo’s words. I’m sure if I integrated myself more in a formal deaf environment that they would accept me with open arms and teach me more about how they view the world. But I’m also okay where I am. I have come a long way to even be here, and I do not take that for granted.”

I contemplated Beck’s words, surprised at how empathetic she was.

If I was Beck, and I was talking to a man who was deaf, who had the confidence to tell me upon our first meeting that I was not the same as him simply because my hearing loss wasn’t as significant, I would have been offended.

I would have probably said something rude back.

But Beck wasn’t me.

I remembered a few years ago, when I had organized a trip to Big Bear for employees at the clinic, before I even officially worked there myself. Beck, Adam, Taylor, and Courtney were all lounging on the patio furniture after a long day. Before I had sat down with them, Beck mispronounced the word “libido,” vocalizing it as “libby-do” because she had never heard the word out loud, and only read it in books. Taylor and Courtney teased her mercilessly for her slip-up, and instead of being offended by their relentless teasing, Beck laughed with them. She was embarrassed, her face red with it, but she wasn’t upset or disgruntled. She even went as far as to tease herself for her slip-up.

It was admirable.

I…haven’t always been like that.

I thought about how Logan and I started out. How I was so desperate to be liked by everyone here, that the first time Logan dismissed me, I immediately broke down. Later on, I toughened up a little bit, but I still let his teasing upset me to the point of smashing pie on him.

It was silly because I realized at that moment, when the conversation naturally drifted onto other things, that I didn’t need to get so worked up anymore. Everyone in this room accepted and welcomed me with open arms. Adam was the only one who was hesitant about my friendship with these people, as he had every right to be. But now even he wasn’t bothered by my intrusion anymore.

I stood up from my spot as the conversation shifted to something else and everyone finished putting their shoes on. We were all going for a small hike at Crystal Cove, and then meeting up back here to eat dinner. Logan would also be meeting us here after his practice.

If anyone else noticed that I was quieter today during the hike, no one said anything. Instead, I stayed near the back of the group on the trail, almost forgetting Josh’s security detail lingering behind us, as we all took in the ocean views and landscapes. Inhaling that salty sea air was something I had always loved growing up here, and while everyone else joked around on the hike and laughed and chatted, I let myself get lost in my own thoughts.

Beck’s conversation was still sticking with me. How she was able to validate Alonzo’s truth, without worrying about jeopardizing the validity of her own.

Something that had bothered me the last few days, ever since that incident with Connor at Logan’s hockey game, was everyone asking me if anything more happened. I knew what they were asking me without saying it explicitly. Based on my reaction to certain situations with Connor, my friends were concerned that I was unsafe, or taken advantage of, the one night we spent together.

However, I had consented. Hell, I even initiated. If I hadn’t blatantly shown him my interest at my parents’ house that one night, we probably wouldn’t have hooked up at all. So, no, I didn’t think that the experience I had with Connor was as concerning as my friends' questions would imply. He didn’t take advantage of me. I was sober, and completely aware of my actions. I never told Connor no.

Then, naturally, I thought about the most recent night I wasn’t sober. And how I had made a very clear pass at Logan, and he still turned me down. Logan, who I had slept with enthusiastically and consensually multiple times. Even knowing that I thoroughly enjoyed sex with him, he still took one look at my bloodshot eyes and decided that I wasn’t sober enough to truly consent.

And…how I loved that.

Sure, I had consented with Connor, too. But after a certain amount of time, I definitely wasn’t enthusiastic with him. I just wanted it to be over. I stopped engaging, and just let him use me how he wanted to.

Connor didn’t hesitate to use me.

…And honestly, what the fuck was that about?

I huffed irritation at the thought, forgetting that I was surrounded by friends and met the glance of a concerned Adam as he looked over his shoulder at me. I smiled at him to hopefully convince him that everything was okay, before staring at my feet marching on the dirt path of the little hike we were on.

Would it really have been so hard for Connor to notice that I wasn’t enjoying myself? That I was biting my tongue and just wanted the whole thing to be over? Did he really care so little about how the woman that he was inside of was feeling about the situation?

Yes, I consented to be with Connor.

But also, even though I didn’t vocalize it specifically, at some point, my consent was no longer enthusiastic. During the course of the night, even though I never said the words, my actions showed that I no longer truly, willingly consented.

Both could be true at the same time.

If Beck had experienced what I had, I wouldn’t hesitate to explain to her that consent wasn’t black and white. That it wasn’t a trap you fall into by agreeing one single time. And yet, for some reason, I had been struggling to come to terms with that myself. Whenever my friends asked me if anything happened with Connor, I was quick to feel embarrassment and shame and ease their fears. Some of that, I suspected, had to do with my people-pleasing side that I was still trying to deconstruct every day. It was also probably why I didn’t just give Connor the finger and leave before the night escalated.

It was also probably why I didn’t just give Connor the finger every time I bumped into him since then.

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