Signs of Attraction Page 2

  Juan Suarez.

  A name. A name belonging to any random male in any random part of the world. No, the name didn’t mean a damn thing to me.

  The handwriting, on the other hand, meant something. The same loopy, messy scrawl as mine.

  My car lurched; the wheel shook. I pulled my eyes back to the road and the pothole I’d hit head-on. The car teetered and tottered. I eased off the gas, but the whole damn car trembled. A thump, thump rattled my veins. Dammit.

  A pedestrian waved at me. Yeah, yeah, I got it. The car’s making sounds now. Well, deal. I pulled over to the side and exited the car. I rounded the back, finding nothing out of the ordinary until I came along the front passenger tire. Flat with dented metal.

  I kicked the tire, just to be sure. Still flat. Someone stood next to me, probably talking the way hearing people did. I didn’t have time to play nice. Not today. I whipped out my phone and set up a text to my roommate.

  Me: Tire flat. Help please.

  I checked the time. I was already late for my first day of classes. If I didn’t arrive in twenty minutes, the interpreters would leave. Not acceptable.

  While I waited, I pulled my books from the backseat and stuffed them into my workbag, along with the pile-of-shit letter.

  Val: Again? ;-p

  My roommate, keeping my ego in check since 2002.

  Me: Pothole. Either hit car or pedestrian.

  Or be distracted by messy handwriting I could duplicate.

  Val: Pedestrian. Always pedestrian.

  Me: Help? Yes. No.

  Val: Yes. I help. Car where?

  I gave her the location, then hightailed it out of there.

  One small bonus: I got an extra run in.

  I should’ve been distracted by the letter in class. Instead I got distracted by Carli. A lot better than staring at my own handwriting as I took notes. The loops reminded me of Juan. My gut told me he was my birth father.

  Not the birthday gift I had hoped for.

  But Carli . . . It had been a while since anyone caught my attention. She had brown eyes so full of emotions I wanted to name every single one. And pink cheeks against pale skin, all without the need for makeup. I liked making her blush, more than I should. Toward the end of class, my phone vibrated, pulling me away from studying whether her hair hit her shoulder blades or below. Normally I ignored my cell, but Val could have a status update on my poor tire.

  Only the text displayed a strange number I hoped was Carli.

  Unknown: How do I get this CART thing?

  Yeah, definitely Carli. Much better birthday gift.

  Me: I’ll take care of it.

  AFTER CLASS I made my way to the chain pizza restaurant my friends and I frequented. Located on the outskirts of campus, it served as a good place to meet up. Furthermore: good food and alcohol.

  Due to class, and Val having to deal with my car, I arrived first. Two hostesses stood at the wood podium, both new. I waited for the two girls dressed in black to look up, and then I held up four fingers. They continued to stare at me, one saying something. I tried to catch a word on her lips, but the chewing gum made it near impossible.

  I leaned over their desk and pointed to a pen and paper. They continued talking. I pointed to my ear and shook my head. Finally, I lip-read something.

  Girl One poked Girl Two in the ribs. “ . . . deaf.”

  If only a face palm was an acceptable interaction outside of the Internet.

  Girl Two led me through the bright restaurant, decked out in neon signs. She stopped at a corner table. Score. I scooted into the booth. With my back to the wall, I had optimal view of the entrance. Then I pulled out my notes while I waited.

  I thought of Carli as I looked over my scribbles. Her paper had been blank when we chatted, and I hadn’t caught her writing anything the rest of the class. Good thing she took up my offer. While I was thinking of CART, I sent an e-mail to Nancy, a provider I had used in my English classes.

  Then I stared at my notes. If Carli continued in the course, she’d need to know what she’d missed. I snapped a picture of my notes with my cell and sent them her way.

  A shadow covered my phone. I looked up to find Willow, hands on hips, long brown hair braided and draped over one shoulder.

  She removed one hand. “Whatcha doing?” I packed up my books, and she sat next to me. She pulled me into a hug, standard greeting in the Deaf World. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks. And to answer your question: I’m helping a new friend.”

  Willow’s eyes tried to break free of her sockets. Before she collected herself to harass me, as I knew she would, the other members of our group arrived.

  Willow and I scooted out of our side of the booth to greet everyone properly. Tanner gave me a hug/pat on the back, while Val gave Willow a hug and kiss. As always, Tanner was stuck on the girl-on-girl action. Being Val’s roommate for longer than the two-plus years they’d been dating, I was more than used to it. Though I will admit, walking in on two girls making out was much better than walking in on a guy and girl.

  We all settled back into our seats. Only Willow forgot the be-nice-to-the-birthday-person memo. “Reed’s helping a new friend.”

  Val’s hand landed on the table with enough force that I felt the vibration. Eyes on me, she signed, “When’s the last time he picked up a new friend?”

  “Shit,” Tanner signed before grabbing a menu.

  “Beth.” Willow bounced in the seat, the movement traveling from her end of the booth to mine.

  I fisted my hands and gave the table one swift pound. “It’s my birthday. We are not talking about Beth today.” I preferred we didn’t talk about her again, ever. But two years was not long enough for Val and Willow to let it go.

  “Tell me about the new friend,” Val signed.

  Clearly my birthday meant nothing to these assholes. “Her name is C-A-R-L-I. She’s hard of hearing, no support services. Her hearing aid battery died during class.” I spelled out her name since ASL sign names were not related to their English counterparts. They were their own breed, awarded to members of the community.

  Val and Willow gaped at me, mouths open. Tanner, on the other hand, raised his hands up to the sky. “Finally! He goes after a hot girl again.” He studied me as only an asshole would. “Where does she fall on the hotness range?”

  I shook my head. “The last time I answered that, Val stole Willow.”

  Val blew me a kiss. “Not my fault she swings both ways.”

  Willow gave both of our shoulders a squeeze. “I’m still open to the three-way.”

  Val and I recoiled. We’d been friends since elementary school, closer to siblings than anything else. We were comfortable enough with each other to live together, not have sex.

  “You horny bitch,” Tanner said.

  “Yes, I accept that label. Go on.” Willow flailed a hand dramatically.

  The conversation halted there, as the waitress came over. Val, an interpreter student, slipped into her role. Both Willow and Tanner watched Val like I did, even though they were Hard of Hearing. They didn’t always need her, and I hadn’t a clue why they heard in some situations and not others.

  I didn’t use Val to place my order; I pointed to what I wanted on the menu. She helped me when needed, and in turn I used her only when absolutely necessary.

  “Hotness range. Answer. Now.” Tanner leaned forward, elbows on the table. Staring me down.

  I thought of Carli. Those large brown eyes with a swirl of captivating shades. Her long brown hair as it dipped into the V of her shirt, against ample cleavage. I signed the outline of a curvy body, my hands itching to feel the warmth of the real thing.

  Tanner turned to Willow and Val. “How long has it been?”

  “Two years. Since Beth,” Willow signed.

  “Where’s the damn alcohol?” I signed small, seen and ignored by the assholes I called friends.

  “Two years.” Tanner leaned back. “In that time no new friends. No dates. No
sex. Nothing. You sure your dick hasn’t shriveled up and fallen off?” For added emphasis, he let the “dick” bounce on the table.

  Two sets of eyes were on mine. Only Willow dared glance lower. I should’ve offered to show the fuckers my penis remained intact. Instead I signed, “Back off,” before I thought about it, realizing too late the hole I’d dug myself.

  Val’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. She’s special.”

  Tanner’s dick jokes had been going on for over a year now; they knew I’d beat his ass later. It’d been a while since I welcomed anyone new into my world. Same amount of time since I felt protective over anyone. And who could blame me? Sticking up for Beth kicked me in the balls.

  I wanted Carli to be different. Needed it, really. My crazy radar had failed me before, and it could very well fail me again. Still, I couldn’t spend the rest of my life avoiding new contacts because of one gross error in judgment.

  Our drinks arrived, and I gulped down a third of my beer. “My car fixed?” I asked Val.

  “Yeah.” She eyed my drink. “I guess I’m driving?”

  I patted my pockets. “I don’t have the keys. And it is my birthday.” I gave her my best puppy-dog eyes.

  Willow raised her glass. “Happy birthday. May twenty-three be a good year for you.”

  We all clanked glasses.

  “New age. New girl. Good start.” I wanted to yell at Val again, but the sincerity on her face stopped me. She wasn’t poking me, not anymore. “You deserve it.”

  I swallowed more of my beer. The look in her eyes could mean only one thing. I’d left the envelope in the car. And she’d known me long enough to know what it meant.

  WE CLOSED DOWN the restaurant, as usual. It was a Deaf thing. When you can’t communicate with the world at large, you hold on to the ones you can communicate with a little bit longer.

  I expected Val to bring up the letter during the car ride. I kept one eye on her, in case she removed her right hand to sign. She didn’t. She let the car remain dark and focused on the road. Her tune didn’t change when she pulled up to the two-family house we called home. We climbed the side steps to our second-story apartment. I said good night, before she got any ideas, and made my way into my bedroom.

  I dropped my bag down by the door and kicked off my shoes. Physically and emotionally exhausted, I stripped down to my boxers and fell face first onto my bed. The soft brown comforter enveloped me, and I almost closed my eyes right then and there. But I didn’t. I had something left to do.

  I grabbed my cell from my pants pocket and checked my text messages. Before I got to my mother’s, I froze at one I didn’t expect.

  Carli: Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.

  A smile took over my face. One class with this girl and the rules I’d set in place two years ago faded from sight. I couldn’t deny it felt good to help someone again. I couldn’t deny it felt better helping her.

  Me: :-)

  The next message belonged to my mother. We’d celebrated a few days ago, but I knew the drill.

  Mom: Happy birthday, baby boy. I didn’t give birth to you, but I know you were born at 10:43 p.m. It took three more years for you to enter my world, and I’m grateful every day. I love you.

  The next text would be the hard one. It had been two years, but it wasn’t getting easier.

  Mom: And from Dad: make a wish, hold it close. A new year begins. Pick a new goal. You have 365 days to make it real.

  I blinked back the tear threatening to fall down my cheek. Didn’t matter that I was alone. Dad taught me not to cry. He taught me a lot of things, half of which went out the window when he died.

  Each year since then, I had to make a choice: Did I pick a goal? The past two birthdays, the answer landed firmly in the no column. It had been 100 percent yes before his death, before the betrayal.

  But this year I had a goal. Carli. I wasn’t sure what it meant. I could want her friendship. I could want to help her understand our linguistics teacher. My gut rejected both of those notions, suggesting a more personal reason for my fascination.

  It had been two damn long years. But hours after class, her pink cheeks still came to mind, clear as the text in front of me.

  This year, my wish? Carli wouldn’t be anything like Beth.

  Chapter Three

  Carli

  NAIL BITING TURNED into a competitive sporting event as I tried not to think about this CART thing. And how embarrassing it was to need this assistance. I envisioned all sorts of awkward, larger-than-life, and—hopefully—unrealistic scenarios this would create. To the point where I had CART = a fire-breathing dragon.

  Outside the linguistics classroom, the hall light still flashed, flickering yellow light down on the wooden door and off the white tiled floors, creating the perfect spot to film a gritty horror movie complete with screaming co-eds and bouncing boobs.

  One would think that with the amount of money we paid in tuition, they could fix a faulty light bulb. And perhaps my nerves turned me into a bit of a bitch as I stood in the alternating shadow and light. Time to get out of the flashing.

  After a deep breath and further contemplation of the horror movie—zombie students, definitely zombie students—I forced my legs into action. And froze once inside the room. Reed had already arrived. I almost didn’t recognize him. Or rather, I shouldn’t have recognized him, not with a smooth jaw with only a light hint of stubble. He looked different, stealing my breath more than before. Yet I knew it was him. Beard or no beard still equaled Reed.

  He sat at a corner desk next to an older lady who had a laptop set up and was facing his way. Her hands moved swiftly as she pressed on keys from some small device nestled between her legs. Complete words popped up on the screen as she continued pressing down. It reminded me of an awkward piano player. When she finished, Reed reached forward and typed a response.

  I didn’t see what he wrote, not that I was close enough to read the words. My traitorous eyes traced his jaw, where so much hair had been just last week. He looked younger. A part of me wanted to ask why he’d shaved. Another part of me wanted to throw out his razor so he wouldn’t do it again.

  I shook those crazy thoughts aside and walked over to them. He looked up and smiled as I approached, and damn if my knees didn’t wobble a bit. Maybe I didn’t need to confiscate his razor after all.

  Carli? the older lady with short white hair typed onto the laptop.

  I nodded. “Hi.”

  Reed leaned in to type on the laptop.

  Reed: This is Nancy. She’s a CART provider. If this works out for you, I’ll show you how to get it set up for the school to pay.

  I looked back and forth between the two of them. “Who’s paying you now?” I asked Nancy.

  She smiled and pressed on her keys, my words appearing on the screen. Then she continued pressing keys as she spoke.

  “Reed’s an old friend. He asked if I was available and explained the situation. Best for you to try CART first. Since I’m available and on contract with the school, we can work it out if it helps.”

  It was kinda cool to listen to her voice and read her words on the screen. I didn’t have to mentally fill in the gaps of any words I didn’t hear.

  Reed: I’ll let you two chat.

  He moved to grab his bag, and a wave of panic hit me. He was leaving me? Alone with this strange technology and a clear label that I wasn’t like the rest of the students?

  “You’re leaving?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  Nancy transcribed.

  Reed scratched the back of his head as he looked at me. His intense scrutiny made me feel somewhat exposed and vulnerable.

  Reed: I’m used to sitting in the back, but I can join you.

  He moved over one seat and pulled out his notes. The now-familiar scribbles made me smile. I set up my own belongings, then took my purple pen and leaned across to his desk.

  Thank you, I wrote on a corner of his page. He read my note, then locked eyes with mine and smiled.

&
nbsp; There went my knees again. His presence made me feel better about needing assistance hearing. Heck, he made me feel. Period. And that wasn’t a good thing. Reynoldses didn’t feel.

  I pulled my attention back to Nancy, and she talked a bit about CART and how she needed to have words in her computer dictionary. If the word wasn’t in the vocabulary, it might come out wrong.

  Mind-boggling. Learning about this was mind-boggling.

  Dr. Ashen arrived, and before he even put his bag down, he started speaking. Sharon, perfect ringlets pinned back, moved next to him and signed for Reed. My ears still couldn’t make out a thing Dr. Ashen said. The mustache prevented me from lip-reading anything but spittle.

  I pulled my eyes away from the flapping mustache and focused on the screen. Nancy busied herself with awkward piano movements and words popped up in front of me. Coherent words. Full sentences that made actual sense.

  Students around me took notes, and for the first time, so did I. As Nancy typed I managed to look down at my paper, scribble what I needed to remember, and look back at the screen, catching myself up with the words still available to me. Even with my head down, I didn’t miss anything. Pretty amazing with a teacher I couldn’t understand a single word from.

  An hour into the class, Reed slid a folded note over to me. My heartbeat rose to a gallop. What was this? Middle school? As far as I could tell, he was a graduate student, slipping me a note. It made me feel sort of warm and fuzzy. I unfolded the paper.

  Any better?

  I held in a laugh. Before responding I looked up at the laptop. Interrupting Dr. Ashen, Nancy had written:

  Nancy: Don’t let Reed distract you from your learning.

  This time I didn’t manage to keep the laugh in, but I think I kept it soft enough. Reed, however, looked over and saw Nancy’s tease. He snorted, shook his head, and turned his attention back to the interpreters.

  Much better. I owe you some coffee.

  I slid the paper back over to his desk and returned my attention to the laptop. I didn’t fail to catch Nancy’s smirk. Okay, so maybe I was flirting a bit. But I really did want to thank him. This class had gone from the one I understood the least to the one I understood the most. Who would’ve guessed?