by Laura Brown
Gaby: My mother. You’re officially expected.
A hesitant smile crossed his face.
Levi: Should I be worried?
She shrugged and picked up her chicken sandwich. He settled back in his seat and laughed; a shock of noise from their quiet table. And just like that, all worries over dealing with her mother vanished. Yes, he should be worried. But at that moment, she really didn’t care because it meant more time with him.
Chapter Five
Trees blurred past them as the car sped down the highway. Gaby glanced at the GPS—two hours to go. In the driver’s seat, Levi relaxed with one hand on the wheel, the other clutching the automatic stick. He’d insisted on driving, claiming it was the least he could do. It took her months to get used to a new car, and yet he drove as if he’d always had a 2010 Camry with nearly 200,000 miles on it.
She really needed a new car.
But this baby, her college graduation present, had seen her through her formative adult years. They both got a few battle scars along the way, and she dreamed of the day a child or two would sit in the back seat.
Foolish, perhaps, especially as she now saw those kids with Levi’s bright eyes and wavy hair, the quintessential family driving down the road for a family gathering. It felt too real, full of too much potential, when in reality she knew this car would be a scrap heap long before she managed to start a family of her own.
Gaby tapped her fingers on her thighs. She wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how to communicate while Levi drove. Her nerves propelled her for words, in direct contrast to how comfortable the silence between them felt. She wondered if he could interact with people while driving, or if this was usually a lonely activity for those with hearing loss. She wondered a lot of things, actually, and feared her family would flag her on each and every one.
Her phone rang, and she glanced at the screen—speak of the devil. At her movement, Levi glanced her way, and she showed him the incoming call before answering. He gave a nod and returned his focus to the road.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?”
A breath of air that sounded more frazzled than accidental came through the line. “I got stuck with a frozen turkey. The fresh ones just didn’t feel fresh enough for me.”
“Nothing says Passover and wandering the dessert for forty years like the ability to keep food fresh in a modern ice box.”
“Gabrielle,” her mother said with a sigh. “That new boyfriend of yours must be rolling his eyes.”
“Nope. Levi’s not like that.” At least, he wasn’t with this particular conversation.
“You on your way?”
“I texted you when we left.” Gaby glanced at the roof and counted to three. Levi looked her way, and she pointed to the phone and rolled her eyes. He smiled, and just like that her tension faded away. She checked the GPS. “We’ll be there in a little less than two hours.”
“Good, that’s time enough for me to finish cleaning out all the breadcrumbs from behind the toaster.”
“Since when do you care about chametz left behind during Passover?”
“If I’m keeping Passover, then I want to do it right. Not like your father is here eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on leaven bread and not matzah.”
Her family always had both regular and kosher for Passover food growing up, skipping the tradition of removing all non-Passover food from the house, thanks to her father’s relaxed ways. Gaby missed sneaking into the kitchen and finding her father standing over the sink, sandwich in hand, holding a finger to his lips for her to be quiet as he gave her a bite. Every year since he’d passed, she expected to find him there, crumbs falling to the floor because he always missed, only to find the emptiness his absence left behind. Things changed after his death, this one memory magnified in thousands of other ways, which was part of the reason Gaby moved away. She couldn’t even make herself a sandwich in her father’s honor. Her mother needed the changes, but they made Gaby sad.
“Come on,” she said, swallowing back the unwanted emotions bubbling up, “just a few pieces in Dad’s honor?”
Her mother laughed. “I’ll leave the current loaf of bread in the fridge, then. In case your date needs something less heavy.”
Gaby smiled. “Deal.”
“Anything I need to have on hand for Levi?”
Gaby studied him as he shifted lanes, eyes on the road. She couldn’t ask him a thing. “Umm, no, he’ll eat just about anything.” Goodness, she was in trouble. Who could eat anything at Passover?
“Oh, hush, that’s not true. Put him on, and I’ll ask him.”
Oh boy. “I can’t, he’s driving.”
“So use the speaker. Honestly, Gaby.”
Yeah, she should have mentioned this already. Here we go… “Mom, he’s deaf.”
The phone went silent.
“Mom? You still there?”
“Deaf as in…”
“Deaf. Can’t hear. Communicates with sign language.”
“But you don’t know sign language.”
“I’m learning.” Which reminded her she really needed to study signs instead of staring at the passing trees.
“How will I communicate with him?” her mother’s voice wobbled.
Gaby’s heart warmed. “Pen and paper. We do a lot of typing back and forth on our phones. We can give you Levi’s number when we arrive so you can text him.”
“Okay.” Her mother paused. “I’m going to make a fool out of myself, I know it.”
“Don’t forget I’m your daughter, so I’ve already done that. We can be fools together.”
Her mother laughed. “Oh, so true. Your sister gained your father’s grace.”
If they were cartoons, Isabel would be the one who floated down the steps. Gaby would fall and land in a twisted heap. “Izzy still coming?”
“Yup. She’ll arrive for the Seder tomorrow night.”
“Works for me.” Static crackled over the line. “Mom, I think I’m hitting that dead zone, I’ll see you soon.”
“… soon.” Definitely the dead zone. Hopefully her mother hadn’t suddenly remembered an item she needed Gaby to pick up.
She disconnected the call and went back to spying on her date out of the corner of her eye. She wanted to ask how he was doing, but she couldn’t. So many things she couldn’t do, and so many new things she had to learn, with no time to adjust.
Gaby turned her eyes to the heavens. “I will eat nothing but matzah for a year if this works,” she promised. Her stomach grumbled in protest. “Scratch that. No one can eat nothing but matzah for a year. I’ll keep Passover to the bonus eighth day if you just give me this win.”
She hadn’t realized how much she wanted it, the feeling of her life being back on track. With any luck, she’d manage a small miracle of her own.
…
Levi had one eye on the road, the other on Gaby as she scrolled through her phone. On a normal day he’d enjoy the long car ride, always had on his way up to Maine to see his family. Even Monica tended to be quiet when she joined him. Nothing but road and scenery and a chance to let his mind wander without dealing with anyone else’s expectations. Today he had this incessant itch to talk with Gaby. To point to the trees that passed, or the car two lengths ahead with different colored doors. Intentional or necessity? Maybe she had some ideas.
He could finger-spell, and the time it would take for her to respond would give him more than ample time to figure her out while on the road. But he suddenly wanted more. The ease with which they could text or that he could sign with a friend. And with her parents’ house the destination, they’d have to wait a long time before they could relax.
Gaby put her phone in her lap and lifted her hands, eyes trained on the screen. The car up ahead hit the brakes for no reason Levi could decipher, and he had to switch his full attention to the road to avoid a collision
. He checked for reasons for the braking, but none existed—nothing but open road ahead and no signs of a cop on lookout or a critter scurrying across. When the crisis passed, he glanced at Gaby, finding her hands moving, forming shapes as she continued to study her phone. Signs. While he drove, she practiced her signing.
He focused on the road and not her poorly attempted sign for turkey. He taught ASL for a living, had seen many students come in who didn’t know their ABCs, and by the time they left could have lengthy conversations with him. But none of them created this funny heat spot on his heart like Gaby did, and he didn’t understand why.
He vowed to find out the answer before this trip was over. But first, they needed a few more actual signs under their belt to make this work.
A rest stop appeared in the distance, and he changed lanes. Gaby looked up, caught his blinker as he began the merge, and eyed him with curiosity shining in those tempting eyes. He pulled in and grabbed the first parking spot he could find, far back from the building and shadowed by a tree.
Her eyebrows furrowed, and he quickly collected his phone as she began typing on hers, the messages crossing midstream.
Gaby: Bathroom break?
Levi: I wanted to steal a few more moments before we got to your mother’s house.
A funny expression crossed her face, but he didn’t have time to decode her, not yet. He dropped his phone to his lap and slowly performed the sign for turkey.
Gaby’s face scrunched up, as if he signed something more complex than a single handshape—G—doing a single movement—wiggling under the chin—but then realization dawned, and she copied him, still using the wrong hand-shape—H. He shook his head and took her hand, ignoring how smooth her skin felt, and reformed her fingers, before lightly moving her arm to the motion, careful to do so high enough he wouldn’t accidentally brush her chest. Not that he’d ever had that issue before, but her body was like a beacon tempting him forward.
She nodded, and he let go and leaned back, needing space and air. She did the sign again on her own, correctly this time. All in all, she moved smoothly…too smooth for someone who had only started learning ASL a few days ago.
He tried to think of words he’d need over the next few days and jumped in with the first that came to mind. He didn’t have enough groundwork to really show her the words, so he settled for finger-spelling and then showing.
“W. A. N. T. Want.” He signed each letter slowly, waiting on comprehension to show on her face before moving to the actual word—hands outstretched, palms up, then fingers curling, arms moving close to the body, and then he realized his error.
He wanted her. That’s why he chose this sign. Not for wanting food, or privacy, or space, or to leave early. No, a very different kind of want.
If Gaby was onto him, she didn’t show it, her face open and ready. And that open face, giving him her full attention, copying his motions, signing want, had his dick stirring in his pants. She probably wanted a bathroom break, or to get the hell back on the road. Not to feel his hands on her body the way he wanted to feel hers.
He switched to dinner, kicking himself when the D handshape tapping the side of the mouth only drew his attention to her lips, making him wonder how they would taste pressed against his own. He quickly switched to table, pushing forward to keep his mind off things he shouldn’t be thinking of, and she even supplied some words herself, growing her vocabulary. She was eager, that much was clear, asking more and more questions, and if it were anyone else, he would’ve cut them off because they wouldn’t remember so much. But Gaby just might.
Still, he needed to cut this short before the sun shifted further in the sky and the light angled more on her face, bringing out those smooth cheeks. He pointed to the building, signing want, to see if she needed anything.
She nodded, her cheeks turning pink, and he realized another sign he forgot to teach her. He shaped his hand into a T, then shook it lightly side to side. “T. O. I. L. E. T.” The word was a little outdated, but it explained the T handshape.
She nodded again, cheeks now red, and scurried out of the car. He laughed as she walked away, the space between them allowing him to breathe a little easier. She was open and honest and eager to learn, but also shy and reserved at times. She would be a bit of a challenge to decode—one he wanted more than anything.
He checked his phone while he waited, catching a text from Meyer and one from his sister. He tackled the problematic one first.
Kayla: I can’t believe your work won’t let you take time off for Seder. Isn’t that discrimination?
Levi swore internally. Why did Monica have to give his family that line? Now he had to pile lie on top of lie, all because she refused to let their relationship end naturally. Things were doomed to crumble like bricks, or an exploded piñata. He yearned for the days of message via carrier pigeon. Everything would have been solved before he had to deal with this crap.
Levi: Yeah, some new higher-ups and bad timing. I’m working on it for the future.
Kayla: Sad, we were looking forward to seeing you two. So strange having Monica here without you.
Get used to it. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling like an absolute jerk. He hated lying. Carrier pigeon, where could he find one?
Levi: I know. See you soon. Maybe I can sneak out this weekend.
After Monica came clean.
Kayla: Hope so.
Guilt crawled up his spine, but he squashed it down. This was for Monica, to help her get what she wanted. Swallowing a few lies was the least he could do. But if that pigeon option appeared, he’d grab it.
He shook those thoughts aside and switched to the other new message.
Meyer: Dude, you need this app.
His text included a link to a new app that was basically a speech-to-text program set for real time transcribing.
Meyer: It might help with the fake date’s family.
Heck, it might help with his own family.
Levi: You try it out?
Meyer: No, but a friend did. Think news captioning or live YouTube crap, but better than nothing.
News captioning meant lots of errors and gaps in comprehension, plus a long enough delay that the text rarely matched what was currently onscreen. But live programming moved too fast for other options, even if an interpreter in the corner of the screen would solve the issue. He switched to his app store and downloaded it. Couldn’t hurt to try.
Levi: Thanks.
Meyer: How’s it going with the hearing chick?
Levi: Gaby is picking up a lot of signs quickly.
Meyer: Nice. Teach her the dirty ones.
Levi: No.
Meyer: Don’t be such an ASL teacher. Dirty!
Levi: Thanks for the tip. Enjoy your own Passover Seder.
Meyer: Five friends and a lot of wine. You know I will.
Levi shook his head as Gaby made her way back to the car, coat bundled up to her chin, hands in her pockets. The wind tossed her hair behind her, and even though she looked photo-shoot ready, he knew she’d be cold, and he itched to wrap his arms around her and warm her up.
“Thank you,” she signed when she got in, rubbing her hands together as though shaking off the cold.
He held up a thumb—no skin off his back—and eyed the new app on his phone. He switched to Gaby’s message thread.
Levi: Can you test something out for me? My friend gave me a new speech-to-text app to try, but I have no clue how well it works yet.
Gaby read, then looked at him and nodded. He opened the app, waited for the program to load, then showed it to Gaby. She bit her lip, eyes flickering upward in thought, and all he could focus on was that plump bottom lip dented by teeth.
He really wanted a taste. Could that be part of the ploy?
She started speaking, and thinking dots appeared on his app. He waited for words to show up, but
nothing did.
Gaby had stopped, and he held up the empty screen to her. She frowned, then held the phone closer to her mouth, speaking again, and he got transfixed by those lips again, until words appeared on the blank app screen and forced his attention to shift.
Let’s see…not sure…what food…lucky as fucking.
Levi blinked, then blinked again. What the hell? He stopped paying attention to the app, looking at Gaby, whose lips still moved as if she talked about the sky, not…
He swallowed, the off handed suggestion crawling under his skin. But it couldn’t be right. Could it?
She stopped talking, eyebrows lowered, and he turned the phone for her to see. Her gaze roamed over the screen, then her lips burst open and curved and her shoulders shook. She leaned forward, laughing hard enough her cheeks turned pink.
So, she didn’t say fucking.
Gaby collected her phone, shoulders still bouncing as she typed.
Gaby: Wow, that program is bad, huh? I didn’t know what to say so I mentioned food. I believe that was the “we’ll have turkey not stuffing” line. While turkey can be lucky, I don’t put it on par with fucking. Chocolate, maybe, but not turkey.
He made the mistake of locking eyes with her. Something simmered below the good humor, and thoughts of chocolate and Gaby and very little clothing filled his head.
He closed the app. Time to focus on their mission.
Chapter Six
Gaby mentally kicked herself. Why the hell had she gone on about the whole fucking thing with her fake date? Not her best move. Not when she looked at him and remembered all that controlled strength he had at the gym. He definitely wouldn’t be the stuffing level of sex; he had to be chocolate.
And now she was hungry on top of horny. Great. At least she could still have yeast for a little while longer.
Would it be acceptable to grab a candy bar after that conversation?
Nope, not even close. But they sat there, not continuing on their journey. And she really wasn’t ready to get moving. She picked up her phone.
Gaby: Do we need to review anything before we arrive? Go over the family members again?
