Chapter 9
JASON
The next morning, he woke in the dark guest room at Roan’s. The house was still and quiet. Everyone had already left for whatever it was they were called to do that day. Except for him.
This house had sat empty for all the years he and Roan were in California. He wondered if the house had felt as lonely for Caroline Hayes as it had for him and Roan.
As he lay there, a thought occurred to him.
He’d not come home for so long because he didn’t want to face the truth.
His mother was not here. She would never be here again.
The loss felt fresher in this house and town, as if no time had passed, even though his mother had been gone for sixteen years.
He’d only had her for eighteen. Before long, he would be older than she had been when she died. It all seemed impossible.
He rolled to his side, staring at the wall, grief overcoming him. He spoke to her silently. Mom, I miss you so much. I’ve been running too long, though. This was once my home. Could it be again? Without you?
His eyes were damp as he sat up. He splayed his hands on his knees as the loss swept through him as if it were the day she died, not sixteen years later.
He let himself cry. Actually sob. When he was all cried out, as his mother used to say, he rose to his feet and went into the bathroom.
He ran a shower, standing under the hot water until he was no longer chilled.
He dressed in jeans and a sweater and went down to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.
He set up his laptop at the kitchen table, telling himself he should use the quiet time to work on his lines.
Some actors could memorize quickly, but he wasn’t one of them.
He needed the words to implant themselves into his soul, which meant practice.
He flipped to the fourth scene in the film, a fight in an alley.
His character was tracking the man he suspected of taking his wife.
In this section, Jason’s character had trapped him on a back street in Karlín, a neighborhood in Prague.
The scene was good, although violent. His mother would not have liked to see Jason beating the stuffing out of someone, even if it was pretend.
After reading through it twice, he closed the document.
He sat looking at the desktop background—dolphins swimming in the sea— and tried to summon the excitement he’d first had when he looked at the script.
He’d had the feeling that this was the role to take him to the next level.
But today he felt numb, almost out of his body, like the script belonged to someone other than him.
Ironic, since he’d fought hard to get the role in the first place.
That was before Mauve. Before he understood what it was like to walk away from someone you loved.
How quickly the days were passing. Slipping away until all traces of magic were only flecks of gold in the cold Vermont wind.
He opened a new browser tab, and pulled up Expedia to look at flights from L.A.
to Burlington. Direct flights from LAX were rare and expensive.
Most required a connection through Boston or New York.
Two stops, sometimes three. Eight to ten hours door to door.
How would that work? Mauve would spend most of a weekend traveling to and from.
They’d have a window of about five hours to be together. It could not work.
He closed the tab, buried his face in his hands and just sat there at the table, with the clock ticking on the wall and his coffee growing cold, and let himself be miserable.
Since he’d lost his mom, he’d run from his memories and his emotions, putting them all into his roles.
But today he couldn’t run. They were everywhere in this house.
And he was stuck in the present. He couldn’t go back, and he didn’t want to go forward. What in the world was he supposed to do about that?
Jason headed up the stairs to Mauve’s office with his laptop tucked under one arm and a small, wrapped package under the other.
“What’s in the box?” Mauve said from the doorway of her therapy room.
“Apple cider doughnuts from Bean Counters. Tara sends her love. And wishes us good luck. I told her about our plan with Ollie.”
“She’s a doll,” Mauve said. “Ollie will love a doughnut after we finish.”
He set the box on her reception desk and crossed to her and kissed her quickly, knowing Sarah and Ollie would be there in a few minutes, but firmly enough that the unsettled feeling he’d been carrying all morning eased in his chest.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, hugging him tight.
“I am too. This is going to be epic.”
He placed his laptop on the small table in the therapy room, propping it on a stack of two picture books so the camera angle was right for a kid sitting on the rug.
Mauve plugged in her own phone speakers so the audio would be clear.
She tested it to make sure it was all set up right.
They were ready when the bell downstairs rang and Sarah came up with Ollie holding her hand.
Ollie had on a green sweater with a snowman on it. He saw Jason and signed J-actor before he’d even smiled his hello, hand brushing his chest with the J in proud, quick motion.
“Hey, buddy.” Jason crouched and bumped Ollie’s fist. “Ready to get your actor on?”
Ollie nodded, very serious.
“Mary’s excited to meet you. Are you nervous?”
A small nod.
“That’s okay. Feeling a little nervous gives you some edge, which is what actors want. It pushes us to bring our A-game.”
Ollie smiled, then signed the letter A.
“You’re getting good at this,” Jason said. “I’m proud of you.”
“Is it okay if I stay for this?” Sarah asked. “I wanted to try to learn it so I could practice with Ollie at home.”
“Of course,” Mauve said. “You’re more than welcome.”
Sarah took the chair by the window, leaning forward, hands clasped.
Ollie sat on the rug next to Mauve. Jason settled on the rug across from them and hit call.
Mary answered seconds later, sitting in her kitchen in Burbank.
Her hair was up in a high knot, and she had a massive pink water bottle next to her.
She lifted both hands to the camera the moment she saw them and signed hello hello hello, three quick waves, big smile.
Ollie’s whole face lit up. He lifted his small hand and signed hello back.
“Hi, Mary,” Jason said. He signed it as he spoke, for Ollie’s benefit. “This is Ollie. And this is Mauve. And in the corner there is Sarah, who is Ollie’s mom.”
Mary smiled. “Hello, everyone.” She signed and spoke at the same time, easy and clear, the way she did when there was a mix of hearing and signing people in the room. “Ollie, I have heard so much about you.”
Ollie ducked his head, suddenly shy, his cheeks turning pink.
Mary continued. “I’m happy to meet you. Jason has told me you’re working very hard on the song. Can you show me what you’ve learned?”
Ollie glanced at Jason. Jason nodded.
“Do as much as you can,” Jason said.
Ollie took a small breath and stood up, which tickled Jason. He set his feet shoulder-width apart and looked into the camera. Then, he began.
“Frosty the snowman”—his shiver, hands cupping snow, his theatrical shudder—“was a jolly happy soul”—the brush up his chest, wide grin, his expression bright with the cheap-seats smile.
Ollie held it. Then he relaxed.
Mary peered through the camera, eyes shining. “Ollie, that was gorgeous. Can I tell you something? I teach grown-up actors who get paid a lot of money. Most of them cannot do what you just did. You’re a natural.”
Ollie nodded his head, grinning, then made the sign for thank you.
“You went big, which is exactly what the song calls for. “Jolly happy soul” is not a small feeling, right?”
Ollie shook his head again.
Mary leaned forward. “Before we continue, Jason has told me you wanted to ask me something. Is that right?”
Ollie nodded, eyes wide.
“You can ask me with your hands or you can ask me with Jason’s voice. Whatever you want.”
Ollie looked at Jason. Jason waited.
After a moment, Ollie lifted his hand. He made an O with his fingers, and pointed at himself, and made his eyebrows go up.
Mary got it right away. “You want a name-sign.”
A slow nod.
“Ollie, I would love to give you one. I’m honored,” Mary said. “But first I want to ask you something. May I?”
Another nod.
“When you did the “jolly happy soul” part, your expression was exactly that. Jolly and happy.”
Ollie nodded.
“Will you do it for me one more time? Just that part. Just the smile.”
Ollie did not hesitate. He brought his flat hand up his chest, and his face bloomed—wide, goofy, full-bodied, the cheap-seats grin Jason had taught him.
Mary beamed through the camera. “That is you, Ollie. You’re that happy face.”
She held up her hand. Made an O with her fingers—the same shape Ollie had been making, except hers was confident and practiced. She brought her hand to her chest and brushed it upward in the same arc as the sign for happy. “This is your name. O-happy. Because that’s who you are.”
She did it again, slowly. O-happy.
Ollie watched. He did not move for a moment.
Then he lifted his own hand, and made his own O, and brushed it up his small chest, mirroring her.
“Yes,” Mary said. “That’s it. That’s you. O-happy.”
He did it again. Then again, faster, more sure. Finally, he turned to Jason and did it, pointing at himself afterward. Me. O-happy. Me.
Jason swallowed the lump in his throat before signing it back to him. “It’s perfect for you.”
Mary let him sit with it for a moment. Then she leaned forward.
“All right, O-happy. We worked hard for that name. Now let’s see if we can learn the next part of the song. You ready to keep going?”
Ollie nodded, suddenly all business.
“Let’s work on the second verse together,” Mary said.
Ollie lifted his hands and started in on the second verse. “There must have been some magic in that old silk hat they found.” He moved through it carefully, eyebrows up, mouth shaping along with each sign. He stumbled on magic —his fingers fumbled the opening shape—and stopped, looking down.
“Good catch,” Mary said. “You knew it wasn’t right.
That’s important. That’s what good actors do when they feel when something’s off.
They stop to think it through.” She held up her own hands.
“Watch me. Magic. Both hands in closed fists with your thumbs tucked, then they open up like a big pop. Like sparks coming out. Magic.”
She did it twice, slowly. Ollie copied her. The second time, his hands popped open the way she’d shown him.
“There it is. Do it three more times. Just that one sign.”
He did. Each one a little crisper. By the third, it looked like a sign someone had been making for years.
“Good. Now put it back in the line. From ‘There must have been.’”
He went again. The line flowed all the way through. “There must have been some magic in that old silk hat they found.”
“Beautiful. Now, just one note. When you said ‘old silk hat,’ you brought your face down a little, like you were tired. Why?”
Ollie thought. He shrugged.
“Was it because the line is about an old hat? Did old feel sleepy to you?”
A nod.
“Okay. That’s smart. But this song is about a jolly happy soul. So even when the words are about something old or sleepy, your face stays bright. Because it’s a happy song about a magical thing. Does that make sense?”
Another nod.
“Try again. Same line. Keep your face bright the whole way through.”
He did. His face stayed up, making the line lighter and more wondrous.
Mary beamed. “There. That’s it. Hold on to that one.”
They worked for another twenty minutes like that.
Mary moved him through the rest of the second verse the same way, finding the sign that wasn’t quite right, sharpening it, putting it back in place, then asking him about his face and his rhythm.
By the end of the call, Ollie had a workable version of the second verse from start to finish and three new signs in his vocabulary that he hadn’t had an hour ago.
Mary said they could meet again for the third verse.
“And Ollie,” she said, just before she signed off, “I want you to practice your name. Not just the sign. The being of it. Every time you do that O-happy, I want you to feel it all the way down to your toes. Can you do that for me?”
Ollie nodded. He made the sign once, slowly, looking into the camera at her.
She put her hand on her own chest, the same shape, mirroring him.
“I’ll see you all soon.” Mary waved goodbye and then the screen went dark.
“Jason brought apple cider doughnuts,” Mauve said. “I think you deserve one after that hard work.”
Ollie bounced on his toes and signed yes. Jason laughed as he retrieved the box and held it open for Ollie to peer into. Ollie took the smallest one with great seriousness.
“Same time Thursday?” Sarah asked.
“Same time Thursday,” Mauve answered.
Sarah gathered Ollie, who was clutching the doughnut in one hand and his coat in the other, and walked him to the door. At the threshold, he turned, made the O-happy sign at Jason and Mauve, and disappeared down the stairs with his mother.
Jason, feeling pleased with himself and Mary and most especially Ollie, turned to Mauve. “We get an A plus for this, don’t you think?”
She nodded, wiping her eyes. “It’s all too sweet. And you and Mary are rock stars for giving your time so generously. I can’t thank either of you enough.”
He pulled her to him. “I can think of a way.”
She tilted her head up, meeting his gaze with a pair of twinkling eyes. “Yeah?”
He kissed her. “Let’s make dinner at home and watch Christmas movies.”
“You had me at Christmas.”
“The scrooge is softening?” Jason asked, teasing.
“That’s what happens when the scrooge spends time with you.”
He tucked that away to think about later.