Page 28 of Miguel

“I’ll fill out whatever forms you need me to fill out. If that doesn’t work, then I have money.” A fuck ton of it. Probably more than I’d ever need. Gun and drug running paid a hefty sum, but the shop didn’t do too badly either. And no amount was too high for Zeke. “Just do the fucking tests.”

She sighed as if I was the one irritating her. Eventually, she conceded. “Fine. We would have to page for the audiologist to do a behavioral auditory evaluation.”

A hearing test. Alright. “Then do it.”

We had to wait for another hour before the fucking specialist showed up. He was a middle-aged man with a friendly fucking smile that I wanted to shoot off his stupid face. He took Zeke into a small sound specialized room and fitted a big pair of headphones on his ears, giving him two small remotes in both hands. There were nurses in there with him, and machinery that I could never begin to understand.

I watched through the window as they got to work on the testing. It felt like it took about an hour. When he finished, he jotted notes down on a clipboard, nodding at the nurses. There was a grim expression on his face. When he came out to meet me, I prepared for the worst.

“Señor Lopez, I’m afraid I don’t have the best news.”

“Out with it.” I was already on my fucking toes here.

“It appears that Zeke suffers from profound sensorineural hearing loss.”

Lorena had been right. What’s more, I should have fucking noticed. I should have known that he wasn’t acting like other kids acted. I was too busy wallowing in my own fucking stress and how my life had been suddenly upended that I’d chalked it down to trauma. To sadness. It was more than that. Zeke had profound sensorineural hearing loss. I couldn’t even fucking pronounce that shit, let alone begin to understand what it meant in medical terms the doctor started using to explain.

I could only blink in my own dumbfounded stupidity as he showed me a detailed image of a child’s inner ear and pointed with the tip of his pen. The terms jumbled in my mind and I couldn’t sort through or understand a single thing he said.

“He wasn’t born with it,” the doctor continued, noting my hopeless expression and slowing down his explanation. “That much we can gauge for certain, especially based on the paperwork for his one-year check-up. Hearing loss can be displayed later on.”

“How?” I demanded, the sound coming out of me broken.

“There are many factors. In this case, we can discard a blow or loud noise to the ear drum. Had that been the case, we would have noted damage when we checked earlier. There are some injuries that go beyond what we can see, so he will need an MRI so we can make sure. A bad case of the measles, flu, or untreated ear infections could influence hearing loss. Even the effects from second-hand smoke…”

That fucking bitch.

If it was because of untreated illnesses or second-hand smoke, then it was Zeke’s mother’s fucking fault. That woman. Had she ever given a shit about him? I didn’t remember a lot about her, but right then I wished she was in front of me, if only so I could wring her worthless neck.

“Zeke can still hear sounds and certain frequencies. Particularly those that are very startling like sirens on police cars, trains passing, helicopters, big, startling machinery and the like. However, he has difficulties hearing words and conversations that are happening in front and around him.”

“So what do we do?” I strengthened my resolve. Even if this whole situation was fucked up, I would deal with it. In any way I could.

“Well, first we need to get him an MRI and assess if there’s any damage in his nerves that can’t be seen with the otoscope. Once we have that, there are plenty of options like cochlear implants or hearing aids.”

We spent more time there, getting the MRI where the doctor found damage within the nerves and tissue of his ears. He explained cochlear implants and hearing aids to me, making sure we knew all of our options.

“Hearing aids are personalized for the wearer, depending on the frequencies they’ll need. It will be able to help amplify the tones of voices of those speaking directly to him. However, they can become overwhelming particularly in large crowds.”

“So he’d still be able to hear?”

“Only sounds and tones. Perhaps not words. He will need speech therapy, sign language… The aids won’t give him his hearing back. In fact, higher pitched or loud noises could create feedback and become overstimulating for him.”

But they would help. And as I looked at Zeke’s unruly hair, I knew that’s what he needed. Perhaps his life wouldn’t be what I envisioned for him, but I would help him navigate this new stage. In any way I could.

“Alright,” I whispered. “Whatever it takes, doc.”

The next few weeks dragged on. Eventually, I had to get back to work, so Cami started helping me take Zeke to school in the mornings while I had one of the brothers pick him up after class. I was working overtime. Even though I had the money to pay for Zeke’s treatment and the hearing aids, I didn’t want suspicion to rouse on the club, especially with Loco scrambling to get the shit-show under control. We still hadn’t figured out who’d taken our guns, so he had to make a deal with the Raven Brothers to extend the time and get more.

It was bad for business, but it was the only thing he could do.

Meanwhile, I drowned in work, greasing my hands and busting my knuckles at the shop, waiting for the doc to call and let me know that Zeke’s hearing aids were in.

All the while, I searched for the best specialists money could buy, but I hadn’t found anyone just yet.

The day the doctor finally called me back, I all but rushed out of the shop to pick Zeke up from Cami’s house. It was one of her rare days off so she had been amazing, watching him so I could work.

After buckling Zeke into the SUV, I drove over to the hospital, where we were forced to wait an hour before the doctor called us in.

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