by Laura Brown
Her eyes warmed. I didn’t want to see the concern. Not in regards to this. “You have to.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Really? I need to read a letter maybe connected to my birth father? Twenty years too late. I think not.”
“What if it’s important?”
My eyebrows shot up even farther. I signed nothing.
“Right, right. Sorry. My bad. But aren’t you curious?”
I shook my head and pushed the chair back, the wood strained against the linoleum. I didn’t make it far before she caught my arm.
“I know this is bothering you. I can’t imagine it’s easy to suddenly receive a letter from your birth father. But holding it inside won’t work.”
“I have nothing to say.”
My phone vibrated in my back pocket, and I grabbed it, ready to kiss whoever provided me with this interruption. Even Tanner. When I saw Carli’s name, I couldn’t stop the grin.
Carli: How are you going to watch the video for class?
Unfortunately Val read the screen as well.
“Wow, she really does think like a hearing person. She doesn’t know about closed captioning?”
I ignored Val.
Me: What do you mean?
Carli: Do you use interpreters?
Damn, Val was right. How could she not know of captioning? Or did she not realize the video had them available?
Me: It has captions.
“You really have a project set up for yourself with this one,” Val signed.
It wasn’t about the project. Not with Carli. It was about something more than the project. Sure, she could benefit from what I could show her. But more . . . I liked her.
Me: Have you used captioning before?
Carli: No.
Me: I can set up your TV if you want. Do you live on campus?
I had to stop by the library anyways and could use a break from all this weekend studying.
Carli: Yes.
I shouldn’t have smiled, not with Val still watching me. But resisting was pointless.
Me: Want me to come show you how to set up captioning?
As I waited for Carli’s response the sensation of two lasers digging into my skull set in. Sure enough, Val’s eyes were locked on me.
“Is she a project or a date?”
Good question. What was Carli?
“A friend.”
Val’s lips curved. “Are you ready to fuck the rules?”
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and tried to walk away, but Val grabbed my arm. “What has being cautious done for you?”
I glanced at the wrinkled envelope on the table. “Protected me from shit like that.”
Val didn’t let go.
“My problems with Beth came after the fucking.” I yanked my arm free, but Val stomped on the floor.
“Fine. Fine. You win. I just want you to start living. A part of you died with your father.” I pointed to the envelope, but she kept signing. “Not that father, your real father. The one who raised you.”
She collected the envelope and left me alone. Points to Val. When she was right, she let it be, never needing the confirmation. And dammit, she was right.
Of course, she didn’t realize Dad taught me to be cautious. Or rather, not to be stupid. He was convinced my birth parents were teenagers who got themselves into trouble. As a high school teacher, he’d seen teenage pregnancies and heard statistics that products of teenage pregnancies were more likely to become teenage parents themselves.
I carried his warnings under my skin. Ready to scold me the minute my hand made it up a girl’s shirt. It made me cautious, a point Val and Tanner loved to drive home. Caution was somehow an abnormal trait. Didn’t matter; it was who I was.
And speaking of cautious, a certain girl in my linguistics class wasn’t too keen on having me in her dorm.
Me: OK, silence. I get it. I can explain it. But each TV is different. Search for captioning when you get the chance.
Carli: Sorry. I didn’t hear my phone.
Me: Did you want some help with the captioning?
It took her a few more minutes to respond, but when she did, it was worth it.
Carli: Sure. I’ll text you when I’m back on campus.
I put my phone away and turned back to my textbook. The words blurred in front of me. I ran my thumb down the page in an attempt to pull my attention back to the words. Failed. Screw work. I wasn’t getting anything done anyways.
In need of an outlet for my energy, I changed into shorts and a tee shirt and set out for a run. I ran until the shirt clung to my back and my breaths came in fast puffs. I ran until my phone vibrated. Over on the grass, I steadied my breathing and pulled out the phone.
Carli: I’m home. I live in South Campus, off Beacon St.
And I was dripping in sweat.
Me: Be there in about an hour, that OK?
Could I shower that quickly? Must remember she’s not on Deaf Time.
Carli: Sure.
Too late. I picked up my pace and made it back to the house. After a quick shower, I bumped into Willow in the kitchen carrying a bowl of popcorn.
“Want to watch a movie?” she asked, chewing and therefore not moving her lips for a change. “Penelope is on.”
I barely resisted rolling my eyes. “Can’t.” I almost signed I had a date, but I didn’t. Not really. Not an established one.
Willow smirked. “Helping a poor, lost, hard-of-hearing girl?”
I turned to the living room and narrowed my eyes at Val. She threw her hands in the air. “I barely said anything.”
“Bullshit.” I stuffed my wallet into my back pocket. Before I left, I asked Willow what channel Penelope was on.
“Why?”
My lips curved against my will. “C-A-R-L-I likes that movie too.”
Chapter Seven
Carli
I PACED MY bedroom as I waited for Reed to arrive. My stomach fluttered, and I counted the butterflies. When I started in with the X-to-the-power-of, I knew I was in deep trouble. Instead I focused on cleaning my bedroom, or at least making sure my bra no longer hung on the doorknob (it did; I took care of it).
The waiting made me insane, so I pulled out two of my textbooks and got to work. In the middle of round two of bouncing between subjects, my phone buzzed.
Reed: I’m here. Someone was leaving and held the door open.
I almost dropped the phone. For thirty seconds I turned into a girly girl. I ran to the mirror, smoothed my brown hair artfully around my shoulders, wiped off a smudge of makeup, and caught myself before I pushed my breasts up.
A knock at the door caused me to jump. No time.
I opened it, and Reed smiled at me, one of those dazzling smiles. And every bone I had turned to jelly. I let him into the dorm, grateful my jelly bones still remembered how to work.
Reed looked around, taking in our small living space with campus-provided couch and chairs. He moved to the television, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back. He looked at me, large eyes full of questions. I shook my head and walked to my room, keeping my hand on his arm.
Which had nothing to do with the hard muscle I held. Honest.
The television in the living room belonged to D. She claimed she needed it out of her bedroom in order to study, but she did most of her studying in the living room. Didn’t matter to me. Whatever worked for her.
In my room I let go of his arm and pointed to my personal flat-screen. Reed nodded, though I caught something flash in his eyes. Disappointment? Did he think I brought him in here for something else? Because . . . I was tempted.
He made a motion with his hand, which just had me eyeing his biceps. Pay attention. He wants the remote. By the time I grabbed it, I caught Reed eyeing the books on my bed. He held up two fingers and raised his eyebrows in question.
I shrugged, not knowing how else to explain myself. I wasn’t good at explaining myself, even in English.
He got to work on my television, and two minutes la
ter, I had a black rectangular box at the bottom of the screen with white letters flashing across. The shimmer in his eyes said he was damn proud of himself, as he should have been. Not only had he figured out the captioning but he also had my knees weak. Again. Then he gestured to the screen.
What were the odds Penelope would be on TV? A laugh escaped me as I collapsed onto my bed, eyes transfixed. Penelope wore a scarf, covering the lower half of her face, making lip-reading impossible. I never quite knew what she said. I had my guesses, and they didn’t match the words being displayed.
The scene ended and a commercial came on. I tore my eyes away and looked up at Reed and the big smile on his face. At a loss for anything else to say, I signed, “Thank you.”
His grin widened. It should be illegal to be as handsome as he was. A tough square jaw riddled with a day’s worth of stubble, brown hair that flopped onto his forehead, and the biggest eyes I had ever seen. He glanced around my bed, grabbed one of the notebooks and a pen, then looked at me with those eyebrows raised, signing, “Write?”
“OK.” My hand shook as I tried to remember the alphabet.
He paused, taking in the fact I’d now signed twice to him, no doubt, and then began scribbling in a fury.
I was going to ask how you liked the captioning, but now I want to know why you didn’t tell me you knew the ASL alphabet.
I grabbed the paper back from him.
I didn’t. I looked it up. There are some cool online dictionaries.
He blinked at me, then laughed. With a shake of his head, he pointed to the word captioning on the paper before handing it to me.
I shook my head. My hand would cramp if I kept writing. Time to pull out the big guns. I put the paper and pen back with my books, then grabbed my laptop and opened up a blank document.
Me: The captioning is really cool. I always assumed Penelope’s spoken words were different in that scene.
I wondered how many other things I had misheard and feared the answer was a lot.
Reed took the laptop and it hit me how . . . intimate this was. We sat on the edge of my bed, thigh to thigh thanks to the regulation twin. Heat radiated off him, warming my thigh as it sent little electrical heat elements in all directions. When he moved, his arm brushed mine—more heat. His head dipped as he typed, and a whiff of citrus shampoo tickled my nose. Would it be wrong to push him back and thank him in a different manner?
Reed: Now you can read and not have to guess.
The words broke through my lust-filled haze. Guess. I’d been guessing my way through life. Huh. My solid world rocked on its foundation as I saw things in a new light. How much of what I thought to be true wasn’t? What else was I hiding from myself? My headache increased as a knot formed in my stomach.
A hand on my arm broke my internal chaos.
“You OK?” Reed signed.
I nodded and took the laptop back, pulling myself together. Time for a distraction.
Me: Were you born deaf?
Reed angled the laptop but kept it on my lap. Each touch of the keypad caused the warm machine to press against my thighs.
Reed: Yes.
He turned the laptop back to me. The action increased the intimacy of the moment. If he moved his head a few more inches, our lips would meet. As it was, his breath brushed my cheek, and I couldn’t stop the shudder of need that traveled through me. I pulled myself together.
Me: Did you always know ASL?
His face hardened, ever so slightly. He took the laptop from me.
Reed: ASL was my first language. I was adopted at the age of three. My mother wanted kids and didn’t care what package they came in. She dealt with a fussy three-year-old who couldn’t communicate and took the time to figure out why. When my hearing loss was diagnosed, we learned ASL together. She never once judged me for my lack of hearing.
Me: No father figure?
Reed paused with his fingers over the keyboard, airborne above the letters, eyes on the screen. I almost took the laptop back, but he started typing.
Reed: Dad was there too.
He hovered over the keys again, as though he had something else to type, but in the end he handed the laptop back to me.
Me: What happened to your birth parents?
He shrugged.
Reed: Don’t know. It was a closed adoption. Mom got limited information. We suspect the struggle with my hearing caused them to give me up.
My heart broke. I had no idea what kind of kid Reed was, but the adult sitting next to me didn’t deserve to be abandoned.
Reed: Don’t look so sad. My mother is my mother. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
When Reed didn’t mention his father at all, my curiosity piqued again, but a loud noise came from the television, and I looked up. Instead of watching the actors’ lips, I read the captioning. And realized, again, how much I missed.
Me: I really need to thank you for this.
Reed leaned into me, shoulder to shoulder. I pressed against him, unable to stop myself.
Reed: For pressing a button?
Button? My head snapped toward his, and all at once we were way too close together. Our faces were inches apart. His eyes had gold specks in them. This close, there was no mistaking the enlarging of his pupils as he stared back at me.
He kept his eyes on mine as he reached behind me and grabbed something. My heart hammered so loud it drowned out all other noise. His warm hand lifted mine, and I couldn’t help the shudder. Then something cold landed in my hand.
The remote. And, what do you know, there was a button labeled CC. Closed captioning.
When I looked back at Reed, he smirked at me. I shoved his shoulder, and he let out a loud laugh.
Reed: No need to thank me. You planning to take an ASL class?
The laptop sat on his lap, and I crinkled my nose as I read. Without thinking, I leaned across his lap and typed.
Me: Who would I sign with?
He leaned back and held out his hands, giving me a puppy-dog look I was sure he perfected as a kid. My cheeks felt way too warm.
Me: Sorry, I didn’t mean that.
Reed: I can teach you and see if you can audit ASL 1. My advisor is one of the ASL teachers.
I bit my lip. What did I want? I had no idea. The foundation rocked again, my feet scrambling for purchase. How had so much changed since meeting Reed? It seemed absurd. A deaf guy showed up in my class, and all of a sudden I contemplated learning sign language.
Reed: I don’t mean to be forward. Forget I “said” anything.
I laughed and took the laptop back.
Me: It’s not that. It’s just . . . a lot. But yes. I think I’d like to learn.
He took the laptop from me and closed it.
“Hey,” I said, hands out at my side. A single eyebrow rose high on his forehead, his entire face dialed to Tease. My heart kicked, and I reached for the laptop. Two could play this game. I snatched it back, only to have his other eyebrow join the first. He gestured for the laptop. I shook my head and clutched it to my chest. He got his hands around the side, one hand grazing my stomach. I quivered but kept my grip firm, even as he tried to pry it from me. Wasn’t happening. I leaned back to get away from him. And ended up flat on my back, with him on top of me and the laptop wedged between us.
Reed stopped wrestling. He stopped moving. Only his eyes moved, taking in every bit of me he could see, which wasn’t much with our position and the laptop. His gaze traveled from my eyes to my mouth, and I licked my bottom lip before I could stop myself.
He took a deep breath, let go of the laptop, and got off me. In fact, he got off the bed. The absence of his body heat left me cold and confused. What the hell? He closed two fingers down to his thumb, then held up the N sign until he saw something in my face that must have shown my recognition, followed by the O sign.
N-O. No.
Ouch. Well, I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, I was damaged goods. At least, Dad always told me so. I blinked at the sudden burning i
n my eyes and copied his sign and mouthed the word. He nodded and grabbed the notebook.
Probably not a bad sign to teach you.
He paused and took in my face. I put on my best blank look, perfected from years of not showing my boredom when I couldn’t hear. But somehow he saw through the façade. He brushed a thumb over my cheek. Once again his eyes traveled down to my mouth. Only this time I didn’t lick my lips. Nope, I kept them in a straight line. This guy had to be the most confusing male I’d ever met.
With a shake of his head, he returned to the notepad.
I’m sorry. Now, pay attention.
It took a little while for me to push the mystery of Reed out of my mind. He proceeded to point to different objects around my room and show me the signs. I had no idea how much of this I’d remember, but it was seriously cool. Made me think of high school when I taped note cards around my room with Spanish words on them. It would be harder to do this with ASL, at least until little video note cards were available. Huh, video note cards. Now there was a concept. Could I figure out the formula to—
My phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Reed: Hit your limit?
I didn’t think so, but considering I just went on a mini mental vacation, I guessed I had.
Me: Sorry, my mind wandered.
He pointed to me and swiped two fingers down his chin before following it up with spelling out the word.
“C-U-T-E.”
He thought I was cute? We were in my bedroom, and he thought I was cute. I hoped there was enough air, because my lungs threatened to suck it all up in a matter of minutes.
My phone buzzed.
Reed: I should get going. See you in class on Thursday?
Did I dare ask him to stay?
Me: Sure. Thanks for all your help.
Stupid chicken. I was never the forward one. Wasn’t going to be any different with Reed. With his odd behavior, we might never lock lips.
Reed: I had fun. Hope it was helpful for you.
I didn’t know what to say. He introduced me to a whole new world. I managed to nod. He leaned forward, and I held my breath, not sure what he was about to do but hoping it involved his lips. And mine.
He gave me a quick two-second hug, waved, and jogged down the steps. A part of me wanted to yell after him to come back. The other part of me realized the ineffectiveness of calling after a deaf man.
