Li’s belief in Sophie’s independence was very strong, and I couldn’t argue with that. He was her father and had to have a say. He was already teaching her his recipes for four basic Chinese meals so she could cook for the Triers from time to time.
Before I knew it, just about everything had been taken out of my hands. It was decided. Sophie would return to Houston in a few months and start eighth grade at St John’s in August. Melbourne Girls Grammar School had granted her the permission. She would attend the school on a full scholarship, which we suspected had something to do with the Triers making a special donation to St John’s to enable this.
Her flight was booked, her cases packed, and she was beside herself with excitement. I still hadn’t changed my mind and tried very hard to convince Sophie to stay, right up until her final night at home. I felt sick in the stomach and I recalled how Coralie told me she had a stomach-ache when I first left for London.
Li put his foot down. ‘Mary, stop it! If it doesn’t work out, I’ll go and get her. All she has to do is call and I will be there to bring her home.’ This eased my mind only a little.
The next morning, there I was with the rest of the family at Melbourne airport. I still felt sick but put on a happy face. It would be the first time Sophie had been away from me for more than a week, and now she was jetting off on a US adventure for six months at the age of just fifteen.
Back home I was bereft with sadness and fears. I lay on Sophie’s bed thinking of her, missing her terribly. Some days I could barely function. I marked off the days, counting down on the calendar the day she’d come home. It was a long way off. It was agony. I felt ill, like one of my arms had been cut off, without Sophie by my side. I worried about her constantly and couldn’t concentrate on anything else. I was hardly talking to Li, given he had put me through this.
The only place I found I could escape was in ballet class. God, how I loved that studio at the Australian Ballet, helping talented dancers perfect their art. After class I always felt satisfied and a littler calmer.
The weeks continued to drag and I longed for Sophie’s weekly calls. She told us how fun it was being with the Triers, but mostly she would talk about school, adjusting to working with boys for the first time and struggling with the sheer amount of homework. It seemed the school was more challenging than she’d imagined. ‘Sophie, we don’t care if you are deaf or not,’ one of her teachers had said to her. ‘If you don’t put in the work, then don’t even bother coming to school.’ Sophie soon realised she had two options: stay and work harder, or pack up and go home. So, she decided to put in the extra effort. I was proud of her.
Life with the Triers was good. They looked after Sophie as one of their own, taking her to ballet classes and picking her up from cheerleading where she was a bit of a star due to her dancing ability. I knew she felt safe and loved, and that was really all that mattered to me. And she had the opportunity to reconnect with Ava Jean.
But the most fantastic thing was that Sophie was making friends. Her classmates were inviting her to places, and she was going to pizza nights and sleepovers. Despite one intense pang of homesickness when she phoned missing us terribly, she was having an incredible time.
I planned to visit her in November, near the end of her stay. Li reassured me that he could juggle work and home life while I was gone. I hoped I’d feel more at peace with it all once I saw her.
As soon as I arrived, I could immediately see that the experience was marvellous for her. I couldn’t decide whether she’d gained confidence in living with another family or by establishing herself in a new school environment where she was accepted for who she was. Probably it was both.
I loved being there, just her and me. Ginya and Clayton loaned me one of their cars and I dropped Sophie and John at school in the mornings and picked them up in the afternoons. It was such a full week of activities and I felt emotional when it was time to say goodbye. Ginya and Clayton would soon be taking Sophie skiing in Utah for Thanksgiving, and after all, it was only six more weeks until she’d be home.
She finally arrived two days before Christmas. It was just heaven. I was ecstatic. We were all waiting at the arrivals gate with big hugs, so relieved to have her back. It was my best Christmas present ever, and over the next few weeks we learned more and more about her time in America.
‘You were so brave, darling,’ I said. ‘Dad and I are so proud of all you’ve achieved.’
‘I wasn’t brave, Mum. I had to escape. Escape from you.’ She winked at me, and we all laughed.
That was something else she’d gained. Sophie had started to make jokes. In the past she had asked me to teach her how to be funny, and I didn’t know where to begin. Now she had a new self-belief in what she could do and achieve, especially academically. ‘Mum, Houston made me realise that I’m actually smart. I jus’ missed things, but I can catch up. I know I can do it now.’
And she was proving it – she even started to offer me book recommendations. One of them was the coming-of-age novel The Secret Life of Bees and it was great.
This was a first! The important realisation for me was that other people had been able to teach her, so I knew she had become an independent learner. I had to admit the trip to America ended up being life-changing for Sophie.
‘Lucky it turned out okay,’ I told Li with a wry grin.
It was obvious straightaway that Sophie’s oral skills had also improved in her time away. She continued to use the new implant even though it was still not working as well as we had hoped. I wondered if it would ever deliver. But on the other hand, her language development was finally starting to snowball. There were less and less syntax errors, but she still struggled with complex words. It was what we had been waiting eleven years for! She was beginning to be more motivated to take on that responsibility herself. Li and I agreed that our daughter was becoming even more amazing.
It was a joy to be able to have simple exchanges such as:
‘What’ for breakfast, Mum?’
‘Would you like scrambled eggs?’
‘Can I ’ave pancake’ with lemon and sugar? Bridie likes those too.’
‘Of course you can. Why don’t you cook it?’ And she would! I couldn’t do pancakes anyway.
Originally, I had desperately wanted my daughter to say one word. Then I’d wished for a paragraph, then whole conversations. My dream was slowly becoming a reality. Sophie was now able to tell us more and be much more expressive. I hung on to every word and provided quiet places to allow this to happen. She began to share more.
‘Thank you for sending me America. It was bes’ time of my life. But Mum, food in the US is awful – a lot of hamburgers and fries, and heavy meals,’ she said, pulling a face. ‘I missed Dad’s Chinese, especially the veggie dishes.’
The change in the dynamic between us was wonderful. We actually started being able to have meaningful conversations. I found that Sophie had returned almost more mature than a lot of other teenagers.
Li was ecstatic that he too was now able to have conversations with his daughter. ‘Mary, the whole environment has pushed and challenged her, and she coped with it all by herself.’
16
For now, I was in a whole new space, happy at home and at work. I felt we were really coming out of the woods at last. Bridie at seven was unstoppable with her gymnastics; Tom was at secondary school at Melbourne Grammar, still playing tennis and also singing in Chapel Choir; and Sophie was navigating her way in the world with such strength and determination. What an amazing girl, so poised now, and the spitting image of her father – kind, generous and with the same strong work ethic. I couldn’t have been happier as she headed into Year 10.