What Mattered in the End

It was lunchtime when she snapped, slapping the notebook out of her therapist's outstretched hand. It landed at an awkward angle on the floor, kinking it’s pages. Hot and fast angry tears poured down her face. It was so frustrating. She opened her mouth, shut it, opened it willing any single sound to come out, just one, only one, anything! But nothing. She wanted to scream at him, he was supposed to help her. Fix her. It’d been months now. But nothing, no progress had been made. But this stupid psychological trauma stopped anything from coming out. She just wanted to talk again. This had cost her everything, her job, her friends who had stopped bothering to read her notes or learn ASL. These people, all these doctors and therapists were professionals they were supposed to fix her. This is bullshit! They should be able to fix her. Help her. She just wanted to talk again.

In that moment the old man looked tired as he picked the notebook up, “Please, just give it a shot. Just writing down how you're feeling. It can truly help.” He was a kind man, with soft smile wrinkles on his face. All he wanted to do was help her. She grimaced, wiping away the tears from her face, shaking her head. What good would writing about her feelings do? “Please?” Begrudgingly she reached out and took the small black notebook.

The Booked Tea was a second home to her at this point. It was a small cozy store with loads of books lining it’s walls, and it always smelled just like french baked bread. Other than her empty apartment and all the doctor offices, she’d be here. Especially since being fired from her job. The bell sang as she walked in and her anger soothed over as she saw the girl. Joe. Joe saw her too, a smile spread across her face and she waved. And suddenly the last two hours of useless speech therapy didn’t matter. She went up to the counter where all the cinnamon rolls, danishes, and sticky buns smiled up at her and - behind the counter - Joe. Smudged makeup under her eyes revealed the bags. The goodies, a labor of her love and exhaustion. It was Joe’s shop, and it was her love and life.

Annie went up to the counter smiling fondly at the one person who stuck through everything with her and signed, “Time for your lunch break.” Joe went to argue, but Annie knew she was going to say: Oh let me just finish this, let me pop some french buns in the oven really fast, Just a few books need re-shelved. So she shook her head, “Lunch come on I’m hungry.”

Joe rubbed at her tired eyes, smudging the makeup more, then signed back, “You're a sight for sore eyes today, Annie," then nodded her head over to the table by the window that they normally sat at. Joe could talk, but her sister was born deaf, so she had become fluent in ASL out of necessity and was teaching Annie.

Joe the only person who could teach the unteachable. The only person who Annie never snapped at. Never yelled at, maybe because she had the patience to deal with Annie’s slower pace of learning. Or maybe it was just the hot danishes.

Joe brought two bowls of chicken soup and thick cut slices of bread and set them down. “I was thinking of adding this to the menu, what do you think?” The soup had hearty chunks of carrots, potato, and celery. It looked a bit more like vegetable soup, than chicken soup, honestly. But as Joe’s faithful guinea pig, she gobbed up the soup and listened about today’s woes. Which were painfully similar to the woes of the last few months. Not a single person on her staff could she rely on. She had continuously awful luck with hiring. And no one cared more about the place than she did. After all, it was hers.

Annie sopped the bread in the soup and sighed. It was warm and so very good, which made her want to take a nap. The book popped into her head. She set the bread down and rifled through her bag, pulled out the book. It slipped through her fingers and landed back down on the floor. On the first page there was a single line written.

Joe, I love you. I hope that you love me.

Annie slammed the book shut face bright red. She never wrote that. Her mind raced. That was her handwriting. She couldn’t let Joe see that! Fumbling she hid it away back into her bag. Then popped back up, as if nothing had happened to a very very puzzled Joe.

Joe Leaned forward elbows propped against the table, “Everything alright?” She asked with a little laugh. Annie bobbed her head up and down aggressively.

“It’s too heavy, the soup,” she signed, “It should be lighter and brother so you can better dip the bread in. Are you sure you have time for this?”

………

Annie sat on her bed with the book in front of her. She stared at it down not daring to open it. She had to have thought those words a million times these past months. But she’d never dared to write or sign it to anyone. But there she’d seen it written here in the small black book. A thousand questions ran through her mind as she questioned herself. Did she write it and just forget?

Holding her breath she opened it and there it still was. Joe I love you. I hope that you love me. Annie flopped down against the bed. I want to tell you, Joe. But I want to say it to you. I want you to hear it with my own voice. Which might be never. She sighed and shut her eyes for a moment.

I’m scared , Joe, that you won’t love me back.

The new line was written under the first. Annie snapped her head around the room, ducked under the bed. Checked then slammed and locked the windows and doors until she was locked up tight in her bedroom. Sitting on her hands she glared daggers at the book. Just try it again. I dare you. She stared at the book, it sat there. Looking rather innocent all in all. And not thinking about Joe or anything else, no more lines appeared. Frustrated at it just being a notebook she grabbed a pen and wrote back in it.

What are you?

Then like magic her writing appeared onto the page.

I am your truth.

She tapped the pen against the pal of her hand before putting back down onto the page.

What does that mean?

Do you want your truth?

Whatever just tell me

You can talk.

No, I fucking can’t! I’ve been trying to for months!

You're scared that if you talk, Joe will stop making time for you. You won’t need her to teach you sign anymore.

And for the second time that day Annie sobbed, she gripped the book to her chest and sobbed. And she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. If she didn’t need Joe, would she still make time for her? Or would she just go back to just making her a coffee then hurrying back to her shop? Lately that's even been doing more than just being at her shop and learning ASL. They’d gone out for frozen yogurt, watched a movie, and she’d even manage to drag Joe away for a hike. But if she could talk? If Joe didn’t have to make time, would she? Annie sobbed clutching the truth to her chest. She fell asleep crying, still clutching the book.

……

Annie hated getting up in the morning when she had nowhere to go. She loved the rush of the morning to get to work, she had lived for her job. But still she went through her morning routine. She tapped her teeth against the rim of her coffee cup, that she'd 'stolen' from Joe, as she waited for her coffee to brew. On the counter was the mysterious little black notebook.She licked her lips and flipped it open.

Joe, I love you. I hope that you love me.

I’m scared , Joe, that you won’t love me back.

I'm scared that if I talk, you won’t make time for me anymore. Because I won’t need you. But I want you.

Had she just dreamt what happened last night? She shook her head. Her phone rang, out of habit she answered, put the phone to her ear and opened her mouth. Silence.

"Hello?" The voice asked,"Is someone there? In calling from Gin Insurance about Annie Fillbean's temporary disability insurance. Is someone there?"

I’m mute you dumbass! She slapped her hand on the counter to make some noise.

"I'm afraid I can't hear anything. Please give me a call back." Then he rattled off his number.

And she messaged him back. He messaged her. Her jaw dropped. She’d forgotten that her gran was paying for temporary disability insurance. $20000. It was hard to process. She shook her head, thank you grandma. Thank you.

Joe! She had to tell Joe. Forgetting about the coffee she ran out. A vacation, she thought she should take Joe on a nice vacation. Yes, that's what she could do. She glanced to the sky as she stepped outside and her heart sunk at the massive plume of smoke in the sky. An ambulance passed her as she walked. A knot started to form in her stomach as they kept flooding by. She stopped walking and started running.

Joe! Dear God Joe, please be alright. Please!

The booked tea was still smoking when she got there. But the firefighters had done their job and all that was left was a few flickers of fire on the roof. Annie desperately looked around for Joe. Around the firefighters and officers and among the crowd of onlookers. Face after face she looked at; her breath caught in her chest No, please God no. Tears welled up in her chest and she ran. One of the firetrucks pulled away and there was Joe sitting on the curb covered in a blanket staring vaguely in the direction of the Booked Tea.

"JOE!" Annie slammed into her, tears overflowing her eyes, and slid her face into Joe's soft beautiful braids. She gripped into her tight sobbing and Joe's hands shook as she clung on.

"It's ruined," she sobbed back, "It's all ruined." She repeated it not letting Annie go. Joe stopped and looked at Annie with her bloodshot eyes. Lightning had struck and caught the roof on fire. The roof was ruined, and inside the books were all water lodged from the firefighters putting out the fire. But none of that mattered because she was alive.

Joe didn’t have anywhere to go. She lived in a tiny bedroom in the attic. And so Annie found herself with Joe sitting on the couch in her living room eating Chinese takeout. Annie reached out and took her hand, never had Joe looked so lifeless and exhausted. Annie would give anything to put that spark back into her eyes.

A slow idea sparked to life and then releasing Joe’s hand she signed with slow deliberate intent, “I'll pay for the roof to be fixed. For new books. Whatever it needs.”

Joe’s face lighted slightly and a bit of light shined back into her face. “You could do that? “ Annie nodded a slow smile spread across her face.

“For you,” Then she reached out and held Joe’s hands. Then swallowing in, she breathed out and for once her mouth worked, “I love you.”