Soon afterwards, we flew to the Gold Coast for Christmas with the family. Sophie was still grumbling at having to take the first implant off to practise hearing with her new one and was uptight and stressed. No wonder. She’d been relying on sound from her first implant for ten years – ten years of sheer hard work that right now seemed like it was all in front of her again.
Sophie’s dislike of her new implant continued. She kept begging me to put her first bionic ear back on and not use the new one at all. ‘It’ shit, Mum. It’ a waste of time,’ she told me repeatedly.
‘Sophie, just keep going. You just have to be patient,’ I told her.
‘I don’ like it! You wear if you like it,’ she said stubbornly.
We persisted all through the summer of 2004 and eventually Sophie started to hear more sounds, albeit still unpleasant ones, robotic and unnatural. But she found it hard to decipher words. I prayed we would get there one day, but how successful this implant could become, only time would tell.
Sophie was still participating in the bilateral implant trial. She responded well in the testing after her surgery and had been able to give the researchers valuable feedback. Although the new implant wasn’t giving her the direction of sound, it did help her guess where the sound was coming from. Now if I called her in the house to come help me – something I had never been able to do before – she would yell, ‘Where are you?’ She was getting some level of surround sound. Noisy situations remained difficult, and she still required subtitles for TV, which were rarely available then.
She couldn’t understand everything at the movies but sometimes went with friends anyway. She had retained a few friends from Grade 6 and was occasionally invited to parties. They weren’t the popular group, but they were kind to Sophie. I decided that she might benefit from having some deaf friends, so I started to explore opportunities for her to meet deaf kids her age. At Sophie’s weekly therapy appointments, I often chatted to other parents and made the occasional playdate for Sophie and their young teenage children.
As for Li, well, he was on yet another career trajectory. Within weeks of its publication, Mao’s Last Dancer hit number one on the bestseller lists, and there it stayed and stayed. My instincts had been right all along. It was wonderful to see people reading his book in public, to overhear others raving about it. It had quickly become one of those books whose success is achieved as much by word-of-mouth as official publicity. Perhaps even more so.
Before we knew it, Li was combining stockbroking with travel around the world to speak at company, charity and industry events. He wore his heart on his sleeve when he spoke. Audiences would gasp, laugh and cry. His years of performing on stage had made him comfortable in front of an audience, and gave him the ability to relate and get his message across. He had the same charisma as a speaker as he’d had as a dancer. And international film directors and producers were after him as well. Who would have thought our life would take this turn.
I missed him terribly when he was away and was always so grateful when he returned as he would always ask, ‘How can I help, darling?’
I would say ‘Cook, please cook!’ and he would head off to the kitchen and whip up something delicious. However, his car-pooling duties were not as good – sometimes he’d get lost dropping the children to their activities – but it was bliss to have the shopping done and dinner cooked. He never once criticised me for an unmade bed or a messy home. Sometimes I had the home immaculate, but other times it couldn’t be helped. I would be completely exhausted, and he understood.
Li’s book had been published in partnership with Penguin in the US. There was a lot of media interest. At Easter time, we decided to take all the children to the launch in Houston, where we reconnected with Ben, Ava Jean, Charles and Lily, Clayton and Ginya, the Mad Mothers and many ballet mates and friends. It was wonderful to be back in the city where our careers had flourished, and sharing this part of our lives with the children. Li loved being back in his old hometown, where he’d first known a life of freedom. Houston would always hold a special place in his heart. The response to his book showed that his popularity had hardly waned after more than nine years of absence.
The family felt at home staying with Ginya and Clayton. Li would thank them by preparing a Chinese feast. During dinner, Ginya brought up the topic that had been shelved since they visited us in Melbourne in 2001.
‘Mary, Li, have you thought any more about Sophie coming to live with us and going to St John’s School?’ she asked. My stomach sank a little.
‘Yes, Ginya, but Mary is concerned about all the logistical challenges with her deafness,’ Li replied.
‘Sophie has come on marvellously. Just look at her now,’ Clayton said.
‘Mary, we understand it’s a huge thing for any child to do something like this, but Sophie would benefit from St John’s. And we really want to do something for her,’ Ginya said.
‘Ginya,’ I replied, ‘we love you guys, but Sophie isn’t ready. Her challenges are so different to hearing kids’ and it’s not easy to handle. I’m not sure whether she would cope without me . . .’
‘Of course it’ll be hard, Mary, but we’re prepared to do everything we can to make this a special experience for her,’ Ginya said. ‘You know our offer is open, but younger is always better with learning. Why don’t you sleep on it?’
Li was bringing a whole steamed fish to the table at that point. ‘Mary, don’t close the door on this before we’ve thought it through,’ he said. ‘Think what Sophie would gain and how she would mature. The more she’s exposed to the world, the sooner she will be more independent.’
I really wanted to steer the conversation away. But Sophie’s eyes lit up and she said, ‘Mum, can I go see school?’
I felt I was losing the argument. ‘Let’s not talk any more about this now,’ I said. ‘Let’s eat.’
Back in our room Li was very persuasive, saying St John’s was not only one of the top academic schools in the USA, it was renowned for its outstanding teachers. ‘Darling, teachers are a key ingredient in any child’s life. Look at those who made all the difference in ours. It’s time, Mary. We should have some faith in Sophie.’
As I lay there fretting, I knew Sophie would be well cared for but I was full of misgivings. I would miss her terribly. Without Sophie, there would be a huge hole in my life, I just knew it.
The next day we all went to visit the school, with its elegant stone buildings set in manicured parkland. The affable and smiling headmaster impressed us all no end, especially Sophie. Instead of getting cold feet, she was in love with the promise of an adventure. As we walked out of the school, she turned to me and said, ‘I want go here, Mum.’
I said we would talk about it when we got home, hoping that everyone would see some common sense once we’d left Houston behind – though I feared I was outnumbered and didn’t stand a chance.
Back in Melbourne, Sophie wouldn’t let up and neither would Li. I sometimes wondered if Sophie just wanted to get away from the girls with their quick conversations that excluded her, or from me with all my relentless pushing and insistence. Li often told me I needed to lighten up and give her some space. Was I doing too much for her? I only ever wanted the best for my daughter. It was curious, then, that I didn’t share Li’s views that a stint away was for the best. I was concerned that the progress we’d made with Sophie’s speech would come to a standstill. I had never taken my foot off the pedal, but without me that would happen. These thoughts nagged at me, and I talked a lot with Mum and Brig. Neither of them thought it was a good idea.