“I’m sorry to say, Ms. Garcia, that your son can hear,” Doctor Collingwood said behind his desk. ”We performed all the standard tests.”
Dolores Garcia sat mutely in front of him, on his expensive leather chair. It stretched taut below her, as if it were holding her tight in her grief. ”What? Could you repeat that?” Dolores said. ”I don’t understand. Did you say … hearing?”
Doctor Collingwood sighed with a puff of his cheeks and stood up. His lab coat swinging with him, he walked around the desk and stood next to Dolores with one hand on her shoulder. ”Yes, he can hear. But it’s okay. There’s no cause to panic. I’ve asked Doctor Quigley, our visualogist, to speak with you.”
After the doctor finished speaking, Dolores sat there and said nothing until the door to her right opened, admitting a young woman in her mid 20′s. She had brown hair that came down to her shoulders and red shoes.
“Hello, Ms. Garcia. I’m Doctor Quigley, and I’m here to help you with your son.”
—
“He’s only one year old!” shouted Mr. Garcia, red face punctuating his words. ”God damn it, this doesn’t make any sense. Why can’t we just treat him normal?”
Doctor Quigley leaned back in her chair and looked at Ms. Garcia, who was sitting next to Mr. Garcia. ”You have to understand that this is a process. Your son is special; he was born with the ability to hear. Fortunately there is a way to provide your son with the tools he needs to grow up and integrate nicely in society.”
She leans back towards the Garcias and adds after a short pause, “Tools such as this.” She holds up a small box with the words IRIS AMERICA on it, and a stylized logo of an eye. ”This is the latest technology, and I believe it’s the best thing for your son.”
—
To be continued.
