ARC TWO

peu à peu
Origin: French
Little by little

DISCLAIMER: The personalities and opinions of these characters do not represent those of actual idols themselves, the Juilliard students, the New York Philharmonic, or any of its employees. The Juilliard School is not responsible for the accuracy of information.

The Forty-Eighth Measure

Wednesday: April 14, 2021

I have no ing clue what drugs I was on. Maybe morphine. Maybe some other type of narcotic.

When I woke up, I pretended to sleep in my hospital bed, eyes closed shut and breathing leveled. I wasn't in the mood to speak to anybody.

I overheard The Crack Squad, my fanclub, and various members of the Juilliard Orchestra and the Pops Orchestra entering my room. Sowon and her two minions, Yuju and Umji, bought chocolates from Grand Central market. Mingyu and Joshua brought in a plethora of balloons and stashed them in the corner near the bookshelf. Nayeon threw a fit, proclaiming that she wanted to burn the homophobes while Jihyo had to calm her down. Yerin and SinB baked a rainbow-layered cake. Mark and Junior bought me a penguin pillow pet. For a couple of minutes, Eunha just sighed and clasped my hand until Jackson picked her up for their violin lessons. Jeongyeon, Dahyun, Tzuyu, and Momo sobbed silently for a good hour.

Then Sana came in and I decided to "wake up" from my slumber.

She sat on the foot of my bed with her head lolling down, white cable-knit mittens to her cheeks while she was deep in thought. Tears streamed down her face too. This comfortable silence surrounded the two of us for ten minutes until Sana finally came up with what she had to say.

"You didn't have to protect me", Sana shot back, rubbing her eyes, "Why did you want to get more hurt if you're already suffering?"

I straightened myself on my bed, "The degree of pain that I had to endure doesn't matter."

"It matters because you have an acoustic neuroma", she defended, "You didn't have to hurt yourself; you could've called for help from upstairs. "

"Sana", I heaved, praying that my voice wouldn't crack from quiet sobs, "Those men were shouting those slurs loud enough for people on the aboveground to hear. But you know what? Nobody came down to do something about it. It's the bystander effect."

A clock was ticking away in front of me, ticking and ticking and ticking. The emotions were building up from inside.

"It would kill me if I just stood there to watch my friend take the blow", I said, "And it would kill me even more if I didn't do anything about it."

It looked like Sana's heart wanted to smile, but her mind dictated otherwise. She projected some tears instead, soaking her cheeks in the way that rain does to your boots. She wiped the tears off with her hands and switched to a different topic.

"What did the doctors say about your conditon?"

I gave out a sigh, "Dr. McIntosh, that neurosurgeon, wants to do another MRI on my brain since I got whacked in the head. Can't go home yet."

"Oh", Sana's shoulders dropped, "I'll text you the homework and give you updates on the Juilliard Orchestra and Pops Orchestra."

". I'm going to fall behind on practice for this", I griped.

Sana could feel my desperation and grief in my words, but she just grabbed my hand, "Mina. You need to rest."

"I've had enough rest", I shook my head firmly.

"Maybe you should've not been involved with those two men then", she retaliated.  

I sunk lower in my bed and under the covers. I didn't want to argue with Sana. She's going to bring up how I haven't been taking my meds recently.

"You know what? I'm not upset about what happened. I'm kind of glad that I got hurt", I laughed in my bed and it kind of creeped Sana out, "Just the notion of standing up for a friend and for the LGBT community is such a gratifying feeling. Suits who I want to be."

Sana couldn't dispute with that. A light smile graced her features.

"You've become brave."

Brave.

It felt pleasant hearing that from her, especially after succumbing to my parents, The Six, and the other evils in the classical music industry for too long. Sana leaned in to give me another hug before heading back to Juilliard for orchestra rehearsals. While waiting for a nurse to come in and call me for dinner, I pulled up the lyrics to "Audition" on my phone and studied intensively, quietly intoning the words.

"You sing beautifully", one of the nurses peaked in and grin.

"Jesus!" I was startled and my phone fell to my lap, "Where'd you come from?"

"The cafeteria is now open for dinner", she told me, "Will you need help getting there? "

I shook my head, "Nope. I can navigate myself."

"You won't have vertigo?" she asked worringly.

"I'm sure."

The Forty-Ninth Measure

I always sit alone in hospital cafeterias. It's nothing new. I grabbed my carton of chocolate milk, a plate of chicken salad, a cup of jello and went on my way to the corner. The cafeteria was empty, save for a couple of tables that were occupied by patients and their parents.

I kept myself occupied by reviewing the other scores that align to our orchestra repertoire — Symphonie Fantastique, Elgar's Cello Concerto, and the Pops Orchestra pieces. Then I dragged out the score to Silent Sonata and went over that, all before overpassing Chaeyoung's part and choking on a leaf of lettuce. Silent Sonata is the definition of my childhood and having four smiling and being happy-go-lucky families situated on the opposite end of the cafeteria wasn't helping. The warmth and contentment that I possessed earlier was replaced with a feeling of abandonment and heartbreak. I closed the folder and tossed it in the empty seat next to me, later bringing out the lyrics to "Audition" and singing softly.

"She lived in her liquor
And died with a flicker
I'll always remember the flame."

"You didn't tell me that you could sing!"

I swiveled around and looked up at the girl who was addressing me.

"Oh my goodness", I clapped my hands to my mouth, "Bona?"

She was wearing the same signature light blue hospital gown as me, her wavy hair gathered into a side ponytail and an intravenous drip attached to her left arm. But even though she's in the hospital, the smile on her face still matched the radiance of her skin tone. Goddamn this girl is so pretty. Her hand was gripping the IV stand while her other free hand hauled over an empty seat. 

I gave her a brief hug, "Seriously? What are you doing here?"

"I did my duties at the facility and got out yesterday", she answered, "But then for some reason, as soon as I was released, I got a stomach virus."

"Oh, shoot."

"It's nothing serious. I'll be outta here by tomorrow", Bona beamed, "Then I'm going to pick up my daughter from mine and Dahyun's grandma."

I giggled at her jovial mood, "Good for you. I forgot that you were Dahyun's cousin."

"I heard on the news that you got involved in a hate crime and that you shielded your friend or something", she described and it caused me to gasp from drinking milk, "Yeah, those two men are always up to no good. They also assaulted a transgender man last month."

These news are putting a damper on my mood, "I don't get why people commit hate crimes. Can't they just keep their opinions to themselves?"

"Simple answer", Bona began, "They are terrified of the difference, and they are ignorant about people who are different from themselves. They can't accept the fact that subordinate communities are gaining widespread recognition, so they try to defeat us."

"Without a doubt, I know who I am", I said boldly.

"Mina", she swallowed the lump in before talking, "What you did was admirable. Not just because you stood up for your friend and protected the LGBT community, but because you located the inner peace within yourself. I still remember when we were talking about ualities."

Bona always flashes her glistening teeth when she speaks. It ignites a feeling of satisfaction within my heart because she's right. If I hadn't met her or her friends at the correctional facility, I would've not been able to reconcile with my inner feelings about my identity. 

"I still recall your solo in Simple Gifts", Bona continued with a sense of pleasant rememberance, "Forgive me because I'm not a musician and therefore I'm not a music analyst, but your playing enamored me. I found hope from your music; hope that I could change the course of my life and be a good person. So I worked my off in the prison cafeteria, took parenting classes, and met with a therapist until I was pardonned." 

I fiddled with my fingers, looking down at the floor in wonder, "I..."

"I just wanted to thank you, that's all", Bona projected as she got up from her seat, "I don't mean to leave so soon, but my nurse wants me back at a certain time to take my meds."

"No, it's fine", I assured, "Thank you for talking to me. I hope we can keep in touch with each other."

"Mina, I hope that despite the hardships, you continue to keep in touch with yourself", she reiterated my words before leaving, "Just like you did today."

The Fiftieth Measure

Saturday: April 17, 2021

A bunch of hearing tests and medical tests were done in the past few days. Then Dr. McIntosh sedated me before sending me off for my MRI.

In my dream, I was on the subway in winter on a day where the city was blanched out by snow. At the peak of dusk I was heading to the Upper West Side from Tribeca until the icy stretch along the tracks began to thin under the train wheels, the sun's rays peaking through the gray clouds. The train perseveres but then it strayed sideways and the ice collapsed, and finally, the train tipped over until it hit the ground. Turns out that the ground was also composed of ice caps and the sun allowed it to melt into a pond, a deep one at that. The train capsized and I'm drowning with other faceless passengers, screaming for help. I was never taught how to swim in my entire life, so water clogs up my ears and I felt like I was trapped in an aquarium, surrounding by penguins who were cackling at me. Penguins can't even laugh. What the hell?

I couldn't hear anything. I was losing my senses, and I was losing my mind.

Bona, who was discharged a few days ago, visited my room after my MRI. We conversed about LGBTQ+ politics and she lent me a USB with illegally downloaded lesbian movies. I tucked it in my purse for safe-keeping, knowing that Chaeyoung would favor this treasure.

Then Bona left and Dr. McIntosh came in to discuss the results of my tests.

"According to the hearing test, your hearing in your left ear has been descending", Dr. McIntosh concluded.

"De-Descending?" I croaked faintly.

"You're a musician, aren't you?" he asked, "We're going to have to figure out a 'Plan B' if you still want to pursue working in your field. It's definitely possible to play instruments with a lack of hearing. It's been done before, but it'll be difficult. You'll need to visit the audiologist more often."

I couldn't feel anything. I felt as though as I into one of those medical shows, or perhaps into my dream.

"I know that music is important to you so we're not going to conduct your second surgery until the day after the Juilliard Orchestra's next concert", Dr. McIntosh added, "But it has to be that soon or else the untreated tumor will become life-threatening, and you'll end up dead rather than deaf."

He said 'dead' and I whimpered, preferring a loss of hearing over a loss of life, "Okay."

"We'll work this out, Mina", Dr. McIntosh shook my hand assuringly, "You can go home now, if you'd like. The costs for your stay will go off your family's health insurance plan, so you don't have to stress about payments or anything."

"Thank you for your help", I said quietly, and then he left the room so I could change into my normal clothes.

The Fifty-First Measure 

I didn't go home right away.

Central Park was a seven minute walk from the Columbia University Medical Center. I needed a quiet space where I could just sit down and think, perhaps even cry. As the sun was about to set, the cool weather began to kick in with a few chilly breezes. The bed rock appeared extremely beautiful when the flame-colored trees appeared in the autmn. One rock used to be shaped like an upside-down strawberry, another had an exposed rock outcrop and looks like a bald dome, and other rocks looked like cones or series of cone shapes. But now in the spring, still recovering from the snow and the rain, the rocks had no variety. They were all stale and lifeless, like a flat note.

"I hope that despite your hardships, you continue to keep in touch with yourself."

I sat on top of the Umpire Rock, an exposed bedrock that rose like the waves of a tempest, contorted and crimped by disturbance in the earth's depths. My legs were folded and I used my arms to embrace my knees, tears starting to run down my cheeks. It was a great build up of the uncertain thoughts associated with the upcoming surgery. I don't know how I can keep in touch with myself now.

"Descending"

Dr. McIntosh was right. My degradation of hearing was starting to become obvious. There's a street performer standing a hundred feet away from me, but the only noise that my left ear can register is his strident voice; not his guitar. I wasn't aware that there were angry taxi drivers when I distractedly jay-walked across 59th Street. I didn't know that there were birds nestling in the tree above me because their chirps are so reticent. 

I didn't even get to play Silent Sonata with Chaeyoung yet.

I'm not going to hear my own voice, my own music, my friends and their music — I'm not going to hear the minor details the same away I do now. Chaeyoung is more adept than me at sign language because she knew that she was going to be deaf for a long time. 

If my parents paid attention to my health condition when I was younger, I wouldn't have to go through this today.

"You picked an odd place to ponder, bassoon-chan."

"I'm not in the mood, Jeong—" I blinked twice before recognizing the figure in front of me, "Jeongyeon?"

"What's shakin' bacon?" she chuckled, embracing me in a tight hug, "I didn't know that you were supposed to be discharged today."

"Me neither", my voice faltered into that of dubiousness.

"Thank god that you're alive", Jeongyeon added.

I had to laugh at her last sentence.

"You seem troubled", Jeongyeon observed, "Why don't you come over to my place? Momo is cooking tonight."

"What are you even doing here?" I asked.

"I thought about taking a walk here, but as soon as I got off the bus, Momo frantically called to inform me that she forgot to buy some stuff for her hot pot", Jeongyeon showcased her shopping bags filled with unidentifiable items, "The Trader Joe's on Broadway is the only store that sells the Japanese ingredients that Momo needs for her cooking, and after I picked them up for her, I took my walk."

I glanced up at the sky, which was nearing dark, "Don't you guys have orchestra practice at this time?"

"Today is staff development day. No school", she stated, "So are you coming?"

"Yeah, I guess", I shrugged.

Getting to the subway was a struggle. I needed to run my hand against a wall in order to walk properly, and the only walls that I've encountered are in the underground. That's one symptom of the acoustic neuroma — vertigo. Jeongyeon ended up supporting me with her arm.

Momo and Jeongyeon live in a one-bedroom apartment in Bushwick, a working-class neighborhood in the New York City borough of Brooklyn. Though Jeongyeon claimed that the apartment was tiny, their living space was vast, fitted with a kitchenette, a small bathroom, and one single queen-sized bed in the bedroom. In the living room, there was also a beanbag chair and a modern corner sofa facing a wide-screened television set with a DVD player and old gaming consoles such as the Nintendo Wii, an Xbox 360, and a PlayStation 3. Wooden shelves displayed various cartoon action figures topping a bunch of board games and video games stacked upon one another. Under the shelves, there was a vintage makeup table with a NYX Cosmetics Train Case and a box of unfinished macarons. In the corner, a basket of clothes was waiting to be folded.

"I thought that you guys were poor." 

Jeongyeon threw her head back and cackled, "Mina, what's your definition of 'poor'?"

"I'm sorry", embarrassed, I hid my flushed cheeks with my palms, "That was a dumb remark."

"Nah. It's fine", she cut in offhandedly, patting my back as she escorted me to their dining table, "Those games are from my childhood, and the cosmetics case was gifted to Momo from her older sister whose a chef in San Francisco."

I wasn't hallucinating. Momo's sister really does work at the Japanese restaurant where Sunny treated me.

And it shows.

Momo's hot pot had a divine, savvy aroma diffusing from the dashi soup stock and the earthen pot that she used. Pork belly slices and thinly-cut beef coupled with daikon, green onions, enoki and shiitake mushrooms, edible chrysanthemums, and kudzu starched noodles. The components just wafted down and beckoned you. My mouth watered the moment Jeongyeon fished out a slice of pork belly.

Jeongyeon slurped her noodles before she turned to me, "Are you feeling a bit better, Mina?"

"Wait, what happened?"  Momo questioned.

"Stress of losing her hearing in her left ear", she said.

I dropped my chopsticks, "Wait, I never told—"

"Little did you guys know this, but I can read people's minds", Jeongyeon joked, popping another slice of beef into .

"So what am I thinking about?" Momo challenged with a smirk, the tone of her voice coming off as squeaky.

"Easy", her partner twirled one of her chopsticks around and guessed, "You're thinking about food."

"You're right!" Momo blurted out in astonishment and I rolled my eyes. You don't need to be psychic to know when Momo is thinking about food. If she curls her lips, sticks out her tongue, or raises the pitch of her voice then you'll know that she's hungry.

"And Mina is probably thinking about deafness", Jeongyeon repeated, "Getting hit over the head with a baseball bat can lead to that conclusion."

"I... okay fine. You're right", I admitted, flinging my arms up as if I were surrendering, "I don't know. I'm just stressed pondering about it."

Momo chocked down another mouthful of pork and vegetables before asking, "Stressed about what?"

"What Jeongyeon said: losing my hearing in my left ear", I reiterated, "I mean, I'm not trying to say that being deaf or hard of hearing is a bad thing because clearly, there are people who are content with being deaf and they can identify with others in the Deaf community. But for me, as a musician, I don't know how I can accept it."

"It's different from being born deaf", Chaeyoung expressed through her signs, "You're more aware of what you're going to lose than what you're going to gain because you were born hearing-abled."

Both girls weren't sure how to address my dilemma. Sixty seconds passed with the three of us not sharing a word with one another.

"It's a process", Jeongyeon was the first to end the minute of silence, "I watched Chaeyoung go through this sort of acceptance as well. And she's still struggling especially after the cyberbullying she received from The Six."

"Exactly", I nodded, taking in what happened in the past month, "But it's also not being able to hear music in the same way that I did in the past. I didn't actually get to fully enjoy my own music until you guys taught me to view music in a different light."

"Hey, Jeong!" Momo called, "You should give Mina that USB!"

Jeongyeon almost fell off her chair, "Right now?"

"What USB?" I crinkled my eyebrows.

The timpanist sighed as she reached for something in her purse, "Since Momo spilled the deets, your fanclub and The Crack Squad made a video for you. We intended to show it to you on your birthday but we forgot. Anyways, watch it whenever you feel discouraged."

"Uhh... okay", I grabbed the pink USB and placed it in the same pocket with Bona's USB with lesbian movies.

"Mina", Momo finished drinking the broth in her bowl and then she started, "I'm not disabled so I don't know the pain that you're going through, and I'm afraid that I'm going to say something that'll offend you, but I'll be glad to share your pain."

I was speechless for a while, surprised by the violinist's genuineness, "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, Mina", Jeongyeon clapped my shoulder, "You're struggling right now and I get why. We'll see if we can figure out how to solve this together. You don't have to be alone on this because you have me, Momo, and all of your other friends who'll be there."

Biting my lip, I answered, "That's really sweet. Thank you."

"That's what friends are for, right?" Jeongyeon responded with a warm smile, "They'll be there for each other."

"And they'll give you food", Momo jested.

"You can stop right there", Jeongyeon glared at her blonde girlfriend, but Momo just leaned in and kissed her on the head. 

"Thank you guys for your hospitality", I smiled, sliding my chair under the dining table, "I'd love to stay longer but I need to get home and practice. I'm really behind on my work and I haven't touched my bassoon in days. My hands feel without it."

"Don't overdo yourself, shortcake", Momo laughed, "You're still healing."

"I'll see you guys at school tomorrow", I said as I waved over to Jeongyeon and Momo. They waved back before Momo closed the front door.

BONUS (Chaeyoung's Dreams Part 3/3)

Chaeyoung has been stationed at the mental institution for a couple of days now, yet she had already accustomed herself to the daily minutiae of her assigned ward. Many of the patients in her ward are there for depression, anxiety, and have made suicide attempts before. She has a roommate named Seulgi who snores and mutters intelligible words in her sleep, sometimes reciting her own dreams and nightmares. There's another girl in her morning group session named Yeri who repeatedly cries about something Chaeyoung can't comprehend. A nurse reprimands Yeri for disrupting this so-called "safe space" and it catches Chaeyoung off guard. Isn't that what she's here for? To get help?   

Before lunchtime, there's a guy named Manuel who shouts and punches the walls with his fists, claiming that he's hearing voices in his head. A code team is appointed to sedate Manuel and place him on restraints. This is not uncommon.

After lunch, Chaeyoung consumed an entire cup of the hospital's watery coffee before meeting with her psychiatrist named Dr. Sing. With an interpretor by the deaf girl's side, they run through the same questions that she's been receiving every single day since she's been admitted. "Do you still want to hurt yourself?", "Have you been taking your medications?", "Why are you here?" — those types of questions. Chaeyoung broke down when she recalled the day she overdosed on drugs and Dr. Sing called her "selfish" for trying to kill herself. 

As if it was Chaeyoung's fault.

Chaeyoung trudged out of her room with guilt recognition sliding down her neck. Not wanting to talk to anybody, she retreated to her room and laid on her trundle bed. Seulgi is still there, reciting a nightmare about a bear sitting on her chest so that she couldn't move. That's how Chaeyoung felt right now: her heart heavy, on the brink of hysterical tears at Dr. Sing's words.

Without permission, she snuck in a sleeping pill and swallowed it, waiting to fall back into a deep sleep. She didn't want to turn up to her education group in the late afternoon. Some lady was supposed to be there preaching about medications, and maybe even God.

Eventually, Chaeyoung did fall asleep.

In her dream, she was transported to someone's house located off of Golden Gate Park. It was a very small and simplistic house with an old-fashioned white clapboard fixed with shutters and a wraparound porch. It has a canopied swing off to one side and has a few steps up to the door. The front yard had small little statuettes of rabbits and cubs are hidden near brazen bushes, purple flowers, pink, yellow, and blue perennials and lots of fauna and flora that drapes, shades, hides and flatters the modest structure. Even a small fountain is buried in the greenery so you always hear the softness of a babbling brook. Man. Who could afford such a nice house in the wing of San Francisco?

Chaeyoung, first swallowing the lump in , motioned towards the circled door and knocked.

*Knock Knock*

No response. She retracted her arm and waited a few seconds for a sign of life — perhaps footsteps or maybe a mother's call. But alas, five minutes have passed and not a single budge was made. This time, Chaeyoung laid her hand on the golden knob, twisted it, and maybe hoped that no one was inside. She was right. Who the hell would leave their front door unlocked?

There was a young woman with long, chestnut-colored hair and large, crestfallen eyes staring dully at a photo frame. The picture featured a family photo with her and a handsome man with a wide smile embracing his daughter in his arms. Chaeyoung suspected that she had become a widow.

The door behind her swung open again to reveal a blonde girl and her instrument case. She wasn't just some other girl; it was Sana, except she's in her early teens. Chaeyoung gasped as a young Sana strode past her, not recoginizing her existence. I guess she can't see me.

Chaeyoung was in Sana's house.

Her mom lowered the picture frame and acknowledged her daughter with a soft grin, "Hello, Sana. How was youth orchestra practice?"

Wait. Sana's mom is deaf? No wonder Sana is good at sign language.

Sana set her case aside and plopped down onto the worn-in couch, "Alright." 

Her mom identified her dispirited features and sat down next to her, "You don't look alright. It's okay to be honest with me." 

"I..." Sana was working so hard to not show any tears, but that resilience caused her voice to crack, even though she was going to resort to signs to communicate to her mom, "I feel like a burden to my section. Everyone calls me 'last chair' because I'm the worst musician in my section, and it's actually true. No matter how much I try to pick myself up, I always fall behind because they're better than me. When we lived in New York and when I hung out with Mina, I always felt confident in myself. This time, I'm not too sure."

That made Chaeyoung frown, subjecting to intense tears rolling down her cheek. I know exactly how you feel, Sana. Chaeyoung had actually used the same word choice when she was devising her suicide note on her blog page.

"Oh, my daughter. I'm so sorry", her mom started, transforming into a state of vulnerability in order to connect with her daughter.

"You seem distraught, my dear", Chaeyoung heard a deep, sultry voice behind her. She whipped her head around and noticed that it was the same man holding seven year-old Sana in the photo frame.

"Mr. Minatozaki?" she croaked, "I-I thought you were dead?"

"I am dead", he chuckled feverishly, an amusing expression carved on his youthful features, "I'm just a ghost."

What the hell is going on?

Sana's dad took off his glasses and wiped the lenses with his sleeve, "So tell me, Chaeyoung. What's going through your head at the moment?"

He knows my name?

Chaeyoung took a glimpse at the mother-daughter figure displayed on the couch front of her. Sana was venting to her mom about her loss of confidence since departing from New York and Mina, and then being difficult for her peers at the youth orchestra. Her mom listened attentively. Well, listen isn't the right word; she watched Sana's signs very closely and conscientiously. It was a scene that struck Chaeyoung close to home.

Chaeyoung heaved a sigh and shifted her gaze back to the ghost of Sana's dad, "I'm deaf, and I know that sounds silly because I'm talking to you. But in real life, I'm deaf. It's been bothering my orchestra members because my lack of hearing causes them to be behind during practice, and it burdens those in my percussion section because they have to direct their attention to me more than their instruments."

"But it's not your fault that you can't assimilate to the hearing environment", he reassured, "You don't have to accomodate to them."

"I don't know", Chaeyoung fretted, shaking her head, "I'm just not good enough for them."

"You are good enough. No, you're better than them", Sana's dad guaranteed, "You possess something that they all could wish for and that's drive. Look how far you've come despite your deafness. You're a student at the coveted Juilliard School of Music! You're a member of their prestigious orchestra! You've been invited to perform with Mina at the BBC Proms! Your outreach performances, such as the one with Jeongyeon at the correctional facility in Queens, has inspired people in many different forms. Those kids who are belittling you would die to be in your shoes."

Chaeyoung wonders how Sana's dad knows about her whereabouts, but she doesn't question it because she remembers that she's in a dream.

Her dad kneels down to meet eye-to-eye with the percussionist, "You're a lot more accomplished than what you give yourself credit for, and I think that's something to celebrate. You can't let other people define your worth. That's what I try to tell Sana and my wife every day."

Chaeyoung quietly wept as she buried her head in her hands. She was frozen, too shocked to even look at Sana's father in the eye.

"Do what you love and don't let anyone stop you", he gently pulled Chaeyoung to a fatherly hug, "Keep those who are important close to you."

The percussionist looked up to see Sana's mom tug her daugher into a comforting hug as tears threatened to fall down Sana's face. It correlated with what Sana's dad was trying to project to her: this notion of believing in yourself and having a strong support system.  

"How are you so good at this?" Chaeyoung asked as she released herself from the hug.

"My wife is deaf", Sana's dad stated, "When the two of us were in high school, our classmates spat the same demeaning words to her as your peers probably did to you today. Being quite the overprotective man I am, and as someone who loves justice, I wanted to protect her."

"Sana is just like you", Chaeyoung revealed, "Especially today."

"Really?" he beamed, "I'm elated to hear that!"

And before Sana's mom went back to the kitchen to make dinner, she looked at the photo frame again and kissed it. It warmed Chaeyoung's heart. 

"You two love each other, don't you?" Chaeyoung asked with a light smile, searching for hope in this somber situation.

"With all of my heart, yes", he sighed blissfully, "I never felt any source of pity towards her. There are people who are proud of their Deaf heritage and she's one of them, and I support that. She accepts herself as a part of the Deaf community, and she views herself as part of a distinct cultural minority as opposed to a disability community. Nonetheless, my wife possessed a beautiful singing voice and our shared love for music is what pulled us together and made us stronger in the face of hardships. And that's why I married her."

Chaeyoung was getting all giddy hearing Sana's dad proposal of love towards her mom. But what drew her into his narrative the most was his wife's love for the deaf community. Having pride for what people view as a detriment was a foreign concept to her, but it built on her confidence.

"Thank you so much for talking to me", Chaeyoung said in her breathy voice.

"Anytime, Chaeng", he winked and it was his most dashing feature in Chaeyoung's eyes, "You can always turn to me in times of need."

And the dream ended there.

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