Signs of Attraction

by Laura Brown

  I had a moment of déjà-vu. Carli, on my bed, writing, like it was the most normal thing. It hit me deep inside, a sight for sore eyes yet also a bit like a ghost sat in my room. I wanted to touch her, feel her body moving beneath mine, see her naked skin. Ensure she was real. I turned to the floor and worked on keeping myself in check.

  She looked up, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, and handed over the notebook. I took it from her, careful not to touch her this time.

  I’m sorry, and thank you. I haven’t touched the OxyContin since you left. I wanted to. Oh how I wanted to. But I couldn’t. And I didn’t. And as my head cleared, I realized it had been part of what held me back. If you hadn’t challenged me . . . If you hadn’t shared your father’s story . . . I don’t know where I’d be today. I owe my recovery to you.

  I shook my head and picked up the pen.

  But I pushed you away. I didn’t stay to help you through the rest. I deserted you.

  Her eyebrows pulled tight, and she looked up at me. “You talk to M-A-T-T-I? Don’t listen to her.” She picked up the pen before I could respond.

  You gave me what I needed. No one else would do that. D tries, but she doesn’t know me like you do. No one does.

  My chest ached at her words. She took the paper back and wrote. I studied her face, the curve of her cheek, wondering where we stood. Where I wanted us to stand.

  She tore the paper off and folded it in half. She held up a finger and bent to her purse, pulling something out that she then held behind her back. Her eyes were wide. With her hair in a ponytail, a pulse point beat at the base of her neck. She nodded toward the letter.

  I salvaged these from the trash. I haven’t refilled. There’s very little I can do to prove I haven’t taken any. I kept this to prove to myself I could overcome. And, yeah, in case I failed. I don’t want to fail. I want you. I know, I’ve probably lost. Too little, too late. But you need to know, not everyone ends up like your dad. Sometimes the only crash is the pills going in the trash.

  I looked up, and she held out the bottle, the date from months past. She walked over to my trash can and tossed them in. Shoulders back, shuddery breath aside, she turned to face me. Tears filled in her eyes, but she stood her ground. We stared at each other. Words floating back and forth, both of us trying to figure out the right thing to say.

  “I like your beard.”

  Wasn’t expecting that. I scratched my cheek as she collected the paper and pen.

  I liked it on you the first time we met, and the random spots in between where you let it grow. I always wondered what it felt like.

  Her cheeks were pink when I finished reading. Like when we first met, those two spots of color on her face. In fact, she resembled that woman, before the attack and the pills. Was Carli really back?

  I took a step toward her and picked up her unbandaged hand, brought it to my cheek. Even through the hair, her fingers were cold, always cold. I held her to me as her fingers played with the bristles.

  The wall between us crumbled. We stood still. One of us needed to make the first move. Did I trust her? Could I trust her again? Caution had been my way of life, taught to me by my father.

  I thought of his last message, of his faith in me. He told me to go with my gut, to fuck it all. What I wouldn’t give to do just that and take Carli back.

  She slid her hand down my face, brushing her fingertips under my bottom lip. Then she was gone and back to writing.

  I didn’t know love until I met you. Sure, I love my sisters, and they love me. But we don’t say those words. We don’t know those words. We weren’t raised with love. We were raised to survive. And be perfect. Only I was never perfect, and until you I truly believed that. Imperfect Carli, no one would want me.

  I closed myself off. But you are stubborn. You told me you love me and kept signing it even when I never signed it back. You gave me all of you when I had nothing to give.

  You must know you have my heart. You have all of me. I don’t know where we stand, or where we can even stand after everything I put us through. But you deserve to know this much, to know what’s been there and I’ve been afraid to acknowledge. So . . .

  I blinked at her words for a moment, scarcely allowing myself to believe them. Was she about to tell me what I thought she was?

  I looked up at her nervous face. She took in a breath and signed, “I love you.”

  I smiled so wide it hurt. She loved me. I thought I lost her, either through my own behavior or her father’s or the pills. Yet here she was, telling me she loved me.

  I squatted in front of her. No longer holding back. This was what I wanted, what I needed. The only way to get it was to trust her words as truth. “I love you too.”

  Carli’s watery eyes nearly spilled over. “Still?”

  I brushed at her cheek. It was dry, but I needed to touch her. “Forever.”

  She grabbed my cheeks and pulled my face to hers, giving me an openmouthed kiss, one with the promise of longevity and future. The past two months faded away as I collected her into my arms and poured my heart into hers. Only this time, she poured right back. This was Carli, full and open and everything I’d ever wanted.

  Mine. Truly mine.

  I kissed down her neck, rubbing my beard against her skin. Her grip on me tightened, and something vibrated in her chest. I pulled back. “You really like the beard?”

  She caressed my cheek. “Keep it. Please?”

  I kissed her again, planning on never shaving it off again. “Only if you stay. With me.”

  A flicker of worry crossed on her face. “You want me, brain damaged?”

  She hadn’t figured it out yet? I reclaimed her lips, giving her everything I had. “Yes. I want you. As you are now.”

  A warmth crossed her eyes, and I nearly kissed her again before waiting for her answer. “I’m yours.”

  I yanked her to me until we both fell backward on the bed. Our mouths devoured each other without reserve or resolve. Just her. Just me. Together.

  Author’s Note

  SIGNS OF ATTRACTION began as a very simple concept for me: I wanted to write a story about my own hearing-loss journey. Once upon a time, I was very unhappy with my ears. I didn’t like them. I didn’t like wearing hearing aids. I wanted to be “normal.” And yet in many ways, my ears have always been a part of me, as much as my hair color or the shape of my nose.

  As a freshman in college, I took an ASL class. This class changed my life forever. I not only found a language, I found a home in the Deaf Community. I stopped calling myself “hearing impaired”—a negative term within the community—and began calling myself Hard of Hearing and sometimes even Deaf.

  I transferred to Boston University, into the Deaf Studies program. One of those classes was a linguistics class. I had CART with me, and a grad student used interpreters. Now, Signs isn’t a personal love story. Sure, he was cute, and we were friendly, but I was already dating my future husband.

  Flash ahead years into the future, when an idea struck. I thought back to that linguistics class, with the mix of CART and ASL interpreters, and an idea was born. Carli began speaking her lines, replacing my actual linguistics professor with my macroeconomic professor I could not understand, and the rest really is history.

  There are bits and pieces of truth in this novel from my own life, and many things that are not from my own experience. My hearing loss is genetic, though I did envision Carli as a mirror image of my ears. One thing that is true: I spent my first college party at BU in a corner, talking with another Hard of Hearing student. This was the first time I had a conversation with anyone who understood what it was like to wear hearing aids. This friend was so kind to spend the entire party with me. The experience affected me enough that I wanted to give Carli the same.

  So, what are my ears like? I have what is considered mild to profound conductive and sensorineural hearing loss. What does this mean? I’ll start with the second part: conductive sensorineural loss means my damage is from both ne
rves and bones. In fact, when I was nine, I had surgery on my right ear, resulting in a bone being removed from my body. As to the first part: my left ear has a mild hearing loss. I can hear spoken language even without my hearing aids on, though I do need the volume turned up.

  My right ear is a bit more complex. When I was younger, this ear had a moderate hearing loss and missed some speech sounds without my hearing aids. The surgery didn’t help, and two accidents later, my ear is now considered moderate to profound. Deaf. For me, this means I can still hear sound, but parts of speech are missing, and everything needs to be LOUD. I still wear a hearing aid, and it helps, even if listening solely with my right ear is a bit of an extreme sport in guessing games.

  I sometimes describe myself as Deaf/Hard of Hearing, using both signs at the same time, much like Reed did in the novel.

  As for Reed, I wanted to make him Deaf—he might hear a few extremely loud sounds like a lawn mower or airplane, but mostly he hears nothing—and show how much Deaf people can. We can drive. We can go to college. We can do just about anything, even play music and dance. Here I have an educated Deaf man, a teacher, a graduate student, who is very comfortable in his own skin. Is that true for every Deaf person? Sadly, no. It really boils down to language access. ASL is a full language and denial of it has hurt so many.

  I always wanted to bring hearing loss into my stories. I find that many people know of hearing loss without really understanding it. Hearing aids don’t fix hearing loss. They amplify sounds. That’s all. Think of taking an old recording that is scratchy and turning the volume up. The sound becomes distorted and harder to hear. That’s similar to hearing loss.

  I hope to have spread a little awareness with Carli and Reed. But mostly I wanted to write stories about my world, my ears. And give these stories to others like me. Hearing loss isn’t something I’ve seen as an attractive trait I possessed, especially not hearing aids. It’s been an uplifting personal challenge to write a heroine and hero with a hearing loss. These characters, these words, have helped alter my personal view of myself, removing those lingering traces of negativity related to my ears.

  Thank you for stepping into this world with me. If you share my ears, I do hope you enjoyed. If you’re hearing, I hope I showed you a little about what it’s really like to have a hearing loss, from both Carli and Reed’s POVs.

  About the Author

  LAURA BROWN lives in Massachusetts with her quirky, abnormal family. Her husband’s put up with her since high school, her young son keeps her on her toes, and her three cats think they deserve more scratches. Hearing loss is a big part of who she is, from her own Hard of Hearing ears to the characters she creates.

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  He stretched out his hand. “Jace Aldridge.”

  She stared at his chapped knuckles. Beside her, Sammy Jo gave her arm a discreet nudge, urging her to accept his handshake. After all, it would be impolite to refuse. Even if, in addition to riding rodeo, he was a hunter, an adversary of the animals she and her wildlife rescue group regularly sought to save.

  Lifting her gaze to meet his, she replied, “Delaney Collins.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Jace said, his rich, baritone voice smooth and . . . dangerously distracting. His hand gave hers a warm squeeze, and although he glanced toward Sammy Jo to include her in his greeting, it was clear who held his real interest. “Are you with the press?”

  Delaney glanced down at the Canon EOS 7D with its high-definition 20.2 megapixel zoom lens hanging down from the strap around her neck. “Yes. I’m taking photos for True Montana.”

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