Signs of Attraction

by Laura Brown

  “Then go talk to a sister who understands, because obviously I’m too much of a cripple to get it.”

  “No, no, no, no.” Matti’s voice grew louder and softer, an indicator her drunk level had arrived at Crazy Gesture. “It’s not that. Forget I said anything.”

  “Drink your mysterious fears away, and go cry on someone else’s shoulder. Me? I’m going to sleep. I have class in the morning.”

  “I’m sorry. Get . . . sleep.”

  I disconnected the call and nestled back under the blankets. My heart refused to calm down. Try as I might, I could never decipher Matti’s code. And I believed she wanted it that way.

  Story of my youth. Matti waking up scared, me unable to calm her down, then me going to bed unsettled while Matti sneaked off to another sister’s bed.

  I turned off the light and closed my eyes. Only I saw an ashen-faced Matti dripping in sweat from fear. I could never go to anyone for my own comfort, to right the odd shifting of my world that occurred every time.

  I didn’t know what possessed me, but I sent a text to Reed.

  Me: I’m jealous you’re adopted. My family is driving me to drink.

  Now my heart hammered for a different reason. I put the phone under my pillow and squeezed my eyes shut. My pillow vibrated with an incoming text.

  Reed: If I didn’t have work in the morning, I’d join you.

  Dammit. Why did I wake him?

  Me: Sorry to wake you. I needed to text someone.

  Reed: No problem. If I was asleep, I wouldn’t have felt the text. If you still need a drink tomorrow . . .

  Me: No, no. I’m good. Matti, the 3rd sister (I’m #4 and the baby), had a nightmare and woke me up.

  How pathetic: my sister woke me up with a bad dream. What was I? Five? I buried my head in the pillow.

  Reed: That sucks.

  I laughed. And the earlier apprehension faded away.

  Me: You were just what I needed. Thanks for being awake.

  Reed: Anytime. You won’t disturb me. I keep my phone off me when I don’t want to be interrupted. But I’ve upgraded to a meal. Think you’ll be hungry after class tomorrow?

  Holy shit. Did he just ask me out? At two in the morning?

  Me: Define this meal.

  What could I say? I was bold at two in the morning, in a dark room, being warmed by the light of my phone and the words of a hot guy.

  Reed: ;-)

  Me: You have to give me more than that.

  Reed: Man. Woman. Dinner.

  A burst of laughter had me clamping a hand over my mouth.

  Reed: Otherwise known as a date, by the non-cavemen species, which I can’t guarantee I am not. You can practice the half-dozen signs you know.

  Me: As long as you don’t toss me over your shoulder, I’m in.

  Reed: As stated above, I make no guarantees. But I do need a few hours of sleep before my kids run all over me tomorrow. Good night, Carli.

  Me: Good night, Reed.

  I fell asleep wearing a silly-ass grin, dreaming of a man too alluring for his own good.

  I’D FORGOTTEN HOW hard it was to pay attention in class when my crush was in the room. Never mind sitting next to me. My hands were clammy, my stomach in knots, and my throat felt like it had survived a cat attack. Dr. Ashen lectured while I read Nancy’s words. The sounds floated through the room, my ears unable to grasp onto them.

  He talked about glottal stops and the different sounds of the alphabet, so my lack of comprehension had epic bad timing. A double T sounded like a T in my own head, but apparently was more a D in actuality. Dr. Ashen kept repeating the sounds, but my ears refused to process any of it. I had a long list of things that I planned on forcing my roommate to say when I got back to our dorm.

  I ripped off a small corner of my notebook paper.

  How are you following any of this?

  I slid the note under Reed’s elbow. He didn’t look at me but put down his pen and grabbed the offending piece of paper. With eyes darting between the interpreter and the note, he read.

  I forced my attention back to Nancy’s laptop, failing to wipe the silly grin off my face. The words sped across the screen, and I was lost forcing my brain to comprehend when the note landed next to my hand.

  I do my best, and Dr. Ashen is taking that into account. I’ve never heard words, so these differences are fascinating but impossible. My roommate’s hearing and has been trying to explain these to me, but . . . ?

  I tucked the paper under my notepad and waited a few minutes before responding.

  I’ve heard words and still can’t decipher most of this. And I can’t understand Dr. Ashen. All I have are the sounds in my head, and they don’t quite match up to what is being discussed.

  When I slid the note back, I brushed against the fine hairs on his arm. A warmth zinged through me at the contact. Even with a sweater on, I shivered in my boots. Meanwhile, he radiated heat through his short sleeves. My nipples tightened at the contact, my body thawing. For a full minute I contemplated curling up with his warmth—naked would be ideal—before snapping myself out of it. Stop it, Carli. Focus on glottal stops that make no sense.

  I realized I wasn’t the only one feeling the zing when the note came back and Reed’s hand lingered on my wrist.

  Make sure you talk to Dr. Ashen. He needs to know this is a problem for you.

  This note passing + reading CART = complicated. I made it work by writing fast and then catching up what I missed on the screen.

  I can’t understand a word Dr. Ashen says. How am I supposed to talk to him?

  We really needed to stop passing notes—this was going to get obvious soon. At least Nancy had stopped smirking at me.

  Call him over at the end of class and have Nancy type.

  And Reed was henceforth known as Captain Obvious. A good match for my Clueless Girl. Even in my own head, he got the better superhero name.

  At the end of class, I did just as Reed had suggested: I asked Nancy for help.

  “Is that why you two were passing so many notes?” she teased.

  I couldn’t help the blush. It was the truth. We were discussing the class. But we were also about to go out on a date. I refused to let my mind wander and called Dr. Ashen over before taking a deep breath.

  “I’m doing my best, but I’m having a really hard time hearing the differences you are describing. They all sound the same to my ears.”

  This was not easy for me to say. I didn’t talk about hearing loss. Ever. I played like I was hearing, changed my hearing aid batteries discreetly, and bluffed whenever possible. It was the way I was raised.

  Dr. Ashen leaned over the table but not in an imposing way. His moustache twitched as he talked. At least no spittle hit my papers or me. His voice grew a little clearer one-on-one, but I still would have been lost without Nancy.

  On your homework, let me know where you are guessing and where you feel confident. I will take this into consideration. I’m not here to fail you for not being able to hear, but I do want you to at least grasp the basic concepts.

  With a smile he stood up and returned to his desk, where another student waited with a question.

  “Feel better?” Nancy asked, while flexing her fingers.

  I nodded. “Yeah.” I moved to put my book and notes in my bag, to find them missing. Reed stood beside me, wearing his infectious grin, with both his bag and mine on his shoulders.

  I put my hands on my hips but couldn’t help the smile.

  He held up one hand, sporting the R shape, and shook it back and forth. I hadn’t learned that one yet and gave him my best blank stare. Very slowly, he finger-spelled.

  “R-E-A-F-Y?”

  No, that didn’t make sense. I must have gotten the F and D mixed up again.

  I nodded and followed him, willing the growing ache in my head to take a chill pill. Long days of classes, trying to understand complicated material, and hours of staring at a computer screen weren’t a good combination. And now my eyes were g
etting extra strain as I would either have to read or remember signs to understand Reed. But then he smiled at me, and the ache in my head and the strain on my eyes didn’t seem to be a big deal at all.

  Chapter Ten

  Reed

  CARLI AND I walked a path filled with visual noise. People wore all kinds of clothing, assaulting my peripheral vision with a kaleidoscope of colors. I focused on the teal sweater of the sweet-smelling woman beside me. For the first time in a long time, I wanted. This. Here with her. The anticipation of what might come. A chance to be fucking human.

  At one point I brushed Carli’s hand, her pale skin an addictive smooth texture. I wanted to feel more, find out if the same smoothness would continue. Her eyes caught mine, an invitation present in them, sending thoughts of naked skin straight to my dick. An invitation I nearly jumped on. Yet caution lurked in the recesses. I breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t like Beth. Not even close.

  At the grill, I paused. The location served more alcohol than food. I eyed my date. Too late, I realized I didn’t know her age. As a senior she should be twenty-one, right? I pulled out my phone.

  Me: You’re 21, or older, right?

  She nodded, and I breathed in relief. Her fingers brushed mine as she grabbed my phone.

  Carli: Yes. 21. You?

  I put the phone in my back pocket. “Two. Three. Twenty-three,” I signed.

  Her eyebrows drew together.

  I laughed, I couldn’t help it. I repeated the sign and she continued to stare at me. Come on, Carli; you can get this, I thought. Only she didn’t. I pulled my phone back out.

  Me: The sign for 23.

  Carli: You’re going to give me a headache.

  I gripped her shoulder and guided her into the restaurant, where moonlit dusk ruled. Each table had pendant lights over it—if not, I wouldn’t have come here. I liked seeing my food, but I needed to see my date.

  And then there was the whole communication thing.

  At the hostess station, a woman mouthed something. Carli turned to me, and I shrugged. I almost held up my hand to signal two, but Carli angled her right ear into the hostess and managed to communicate.

  Of course, her communication ended the same way mine would’ve, with her holding up two fingers.

  The hostess grabbed two menus and two sets of silverware before turning and marching off into the restaurant. Carli followed, and I reached out my hand, ready to place it low on her back, imagining the feel of the curve beneath my palm. Her pace kept her out of range. I shoved my hand into my pocket instead. Instead of focusing on what a fucking wimp I had become, I concentrated on the motionless patrons of the restaurant. Hands in laps or on the table. I liked the animated talkers, the ones who threatened to take an eye out with a fork. At least with them I had a hint of the conversation.

  We sat down across from each other at a narrow booth, our knees brushing as we both slid in. I kept my legs out farther than I needed to, our legs still touching as we sat, the contact a slow awakening to the person I used to be. The menus dropped to the table as the hostess’s mouth flapped some more. I almost labeled her an idiot, until I realized I hadn’t signed and Carli had spoken. Poor lady probably had no clue she wasted words on us.

  At least, she wasted them on me. I looked at Carli to see if she understood, but she just shrugged. I smiled and flipped through the menu. I planned to order a beer, but I scanned the cocktails page and found the drink Willow ordered the last time we were here. I had stolen half. There were times I wished it was okay for a dude to order a fruity drink.

  I turned my menu around to Carli and pointed to the drink, giving her a thumbs-up. She raised her eyebrows, so I shrugged. A smile played at her lips as she turned back to her own menu.

  When the drinks arrived, I grinned. She’d ordered my suggestion. Only now I wanted some. Would it be rude to steal a drink from a girl I hadn’t kissed?

  Yes, yes it would. Unless I kissed her now . . .

  And now I wanted a kiss more than the damn drink. I wanted to feel Carli. No alcohol, no pretense, just lip to lip. I shook my head and pulled out my notebook and a pen. We started off talking about linguistics class and CART. The more Carli drank, the more her filter loosened. I liked her loose. Especially when she slid a certain note my way.

  If this is a date, I should ask about anyone else you may be seeing. If this isn’t a date, then you keep your secrets.

  Her cheeks pinked, and she tried to grab the paper back. I was quicker, or less buzzed, and doubly glad for it.

  Yes, this is a date. And no, I’m not seeing anyone else.

  I made sure to touch her hand when I passed the paper back, my fingers lingering on her knuckles. The point of no return had been crossed. About damn time. Why had I taken so long?

  Tell me about your last girlfriend and why you broke up.

  That’s why. I scratched the back of my neck, trying to put into words the whole Beth shit storm in a way that wouldn’t scare Carli off.

  Last girlfriend was two years ago. A hearing student in the Deaf Studies program. I dumped her when a friend caught her talking about me like a fucking charity case.

  I really didn’t want to screw this up too soon. It had been way too long, almost as if I had waited for the brunette with soft brown eyes across from me. She caught my hand and squeezed. I had the urge to clasp tighter and pull her in for a kiss.

  Her loss. Partly why I don’t date much with my ears.

  Our food arrived, and Carli turned her attention to her lasagna, but I ignored my burger. She appeared to communicate well in spoken English. Why would her ears stop her from dating?

  Why?

  She read my words for much longer than necessary, a crease forming on her brow. As though I had poked a balloon and the air deflated. I didn’t like seeing her this way, especially when she had already given me so much. I collected the paper and wrote another note. Then I passed it her way while I ran a hand down her arm and tangled our fingers together.

  Their loss.

  Her eyes locked in on mine, our hands still clasped, a key sliding into the slot and turning. And somehow she stole a little part of me. Had this woman received praise? Been told how valuable she was? I didn’t know. But it had become my mission.

  I walked her home after the meal. The city lights twinkled instead of the stars, hidden out of view. Nighttime promises circled around us, reducing the crowded streets to the two of us and the question of how to end the date. I held her hand as we walked silently together, my warm palm to her cold one. Would her lips be cold? If so, I could work a little magic and warm her right up.

  When we arrived at her building, I stopped but held tight to her hand, needing her touch. My nerves were ready to go back to the two-year lonely existence. Her palm against mine was enough to prove the rest of me was not. I continued the silence as the air heated up around us. I wanted this moment to be her and me with no reminders of where we differed.

  Her eyes shined in the yellow streetlights. Open and receptive. My heart picked up to a jog as I leaned in. She tilted her head, angling to meet my mouth. Every part of me screamed to pull her to me and devour her at once. I didn’t. I held back. Worth it when my lips connected with hers. She tasted of alcohol and chocolate. I wanted a deeper taste, badly. My hand tightened on hers, and she opened her mouth, swamping me with need. I wanted to know if the magic would continue when I took all of her. Tonight.

  I wasn’t that guy, never had been. It had to be the years causing this, those two lonely years. I pulled back. When Carli opened her eyes, the same need burned. In that moment I knew it wasn’t the years. Whatever I felt, she felt too.

  My dick was on board for some more exploration, and I hoped like hell she didn’t look down. Because I was two seconds away from fucking all rational sense and taking her against her front door. But I still wasn’t that guy. I took a step back. Her smooth fingers slipped from my grasp.

  “Good night,” I signed.

  Her hands shook as she
responded. “Good night.”

  She stared at me awhile longer before heading up her stairs. Once she disappeared from view, I turned and sat on a concrete step. A smile stretched my cheeks, and my heart still trampled the pavement at a fast pace. I looked up at where the stars should’ve been, wondering if it was too late to follow her.

  Then one star came into view, winking among a murky midnight blue sky. I thought of Dad, and for the first time, my smile didn’t fade.

  Me: I had a good time.

  Without waiting for a response, I pushed myself back to my feet. Hands in my pockets, I made my way back to my car.

  Chapter Eleven

  Carli

  THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY I lay belly down on my bed with my linguistics work in front of me. Next to me, Reed copied my pose. Elbow to elbow we worked on diagramming sentences. To my surprise the deaf guy was better at this than me. English had always been my weak spot. 2 (45 + 53) / 4 (66 − 59) = 7, easy. Noun + Verb = Sentence, not so easy.

  In full teacher mode, he crossed out my diagramming and reworked it on the page, putting me to shame. I glanced at my notes from class, and my eyes caught on a quote. We have a biological predisposition to learning language. I grabbed my highlighter and marked the note in pink. Then elbowed Reed and pointed to the quote.

  He put his pen down and read the note. While he read I scribbled on a clean piece of paper.

  Perhaps that’s why you’re kicking my ass at this even though you didn’t have language until you were three.

  A smile crossed his bitable lips, and he began writing.

  I believe it’s true that we all want to learn. Deaf kids without language are starved to communicate. The old theory that ASL is a crutch is a bunch of bull. Give a child a language, any language, and he or she can use that language to learn others. Mostly it takes work and patience. My parents had both in abundance.

  As for you, you’re looking for the equation, and the grammar equation doesn’t make the same sense to you as math does. That’s OK. Many kids with a hearing loss gravitate toward math because it’s visual.