Chapter 21
“You’re totally not paying attention to me,” Auggie said. “If you’d just focus instead of getting distracted by everything going on—”
“Everything?” I turned my head back to him. “Yeah. Possibly has so much going on, Auggie. Watch out New York City—Possibly is where it’s all happening!”
I was met with a blank stare from my friend, but I could tell that he was doing his best not to grin at my silliness.
We were sitting on the ground under one of the trees outside of Starbuck’s, our to-go cups of café mochas nestled in the grass beside us.
A few weeks had gone by—and true to his word—Auggie was slowly beginning to teach me American Sign Language.
Each morning, after I showered off my sleep, we met at the barn and walked into town together.
Not that it was that long of a trip for either of us.
We said “hello” to Earl Dean and Jasper on Liberty Lane, even nodded at the police officer—whose name I learned was Officer Hanning—and stopped in to say “hello” to Sofia and check to see if a new letter from Shirlene had arrived.
After that, we would wave at Wyatt—who rarely returned the gesture—then we’d make sure to wave at Grandy and Mystic Molly.
We’d greet Agnes Broussard through the front window of Blooms and nod at Samuel as he opened his soda spray each day.
Lilly would get a gesture of greeting from us, too, before we headed over to Starbuck’s.
Levi Lee was always excited to see us approaching and would quickly revert from robot to human—he was still into that art—so he could give us a proper greeting in return.
Then Auggie and I would venture inside for muffins and coffees, shoot the breeze with Starbuck for a bit, then we’d make our way outside for a lesson.
For hours each morning, we’d pick at our muffins and sip our coffees as Auggie did his best to teach an unteachable person.
Formal schooling and structure weren’t really my thing, but I did my best to follow along and let Auggie lead the lessons.
Mostly, I’d steal blueberries from Auggie’s muffin when he wasn’t looking, plucking them out deftly with the tips of my fingers before popping them into my mouth.
The sticky, sweet, chewy berries that seemed to explode into juicy bits between my teeth just tasted like summer.
Which was coming along nicely.
The end of June had slammed into the beginning of July and the sun told the tale each morning as it climbed higher and higher into the sky.
Most amazingly, the weather hadn’t gotten hotter.
Sure, it was summer in Texas, but the warmth was bearable.
A decent pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and some flip-flops, and the weather was actually pleasant.
The grass in Possibly hadn’t turned brown and crinkly like it did in a lot of the southern towns I’d lived in during the warmer months of the year.
Green and lush, almost like shag carpet, Possibly looked like God had done the lawn work himself.
Of course, I’d seen the way people took care of their homes and businesses in town.
It really wasn’t the type of town where grass went un-watered or untended to in other ways.
Under a tree, sitting in the grass outside of the coffee shop, it was easy to let a morning slip away from us—especially with a treat and a drink from Starbuck’s.
Wyatt still shot randomly into the air all morning long, Earl Dean still “thwacked” his pickaxe into Liberty Lane in the distance, Levi Lee still did his crazy little performance art, and people opened and closed doors in the businesses downtown.
AMOR still played its one song a day for twelve hours a day.
And summer was pleasant. Especially sitting on the grass under the tree near Susurrus Creek with Auggie, who was willing to teach me the same thing over and over again until I got it.
We’d heard Back in the Saddle Again by Gene Autry dozens of times, thanks to Amos over at AMOR, before Auggie addressed the fact that I was running thin on attention.
It had been the same thing every day for a week.
Well, Amos played a different song each day, but my mind always seemed to drift once lunchtime started to come around.
I wasn’t sure if it was just a natural inclination of mine to get bored with lessons after a few hours or my stomach was trying to tell me it was time to eat.
Something about my gut makes it impossible for it not to warn me when another meal time is approaching.
“You know what I mean.” Auggie nudged me in the shin with the toes of his right foot. “You’re supposed to be paying attention to what I’m teaching you. Not anything else.”
“I’m sorry.” I groaned. “We’ve been sitting here for hours. Just like we do every day. I don’t think I’m ever going to remember all of this.”
“Have you been practicing?”
I picked at the grass with my fingers, avoiding Auggie’s gaze.
“Well?” he asked.
“No.” I pretended to be annoyed. “No. Okay? I haven’t. Does that make you happy?”
“Not really.”
“Jack’s just,” I shrugged and finally looked at Auggie, “he’s not an easy guy to get to know. You know? I mean, yeah, you guys seem to get along and all, but you’ve had more time. I haven’t seen him in…forever. What if I sign the wrong thing and upset him or something? I suck at this.”
Auggie smiled warmly.
“You don’t suck at this,” he said. “And Jack will be, like, super stoked that you even bothered learning more signs. I promise. Even if the conversation is a little awkward at first.”
“I guess.” I picked at the grass some more.
Jeez. The grass was so soft.
Auggie chuckled as he kicked his legs out in front of himself and leaned back, propping himself up with his hands in the grass behind him. His head laid back on his shoulders and his eyes closed placidly as his face turned up towards the canopy of tree limbs above us.
“You know,” he said, “you don’t actually have to be able to make the signs yourself, right?”
“Huh?”
“Well, Jack isn’t deaf, for crying out loud,” Auggie chuckled, his eyes still closed and his head still leaned back. “He can’t speak. As long as you can read the signs, that’s all that matters.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“People rarely think of the challenges of people who are different from themselves.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m not chastising you,” Auggie said as his head tilted to the side and his eyes opened to take me in.
“It’s just fact. Regardless, you only have to be able to tell what he is signing.
That way, when you say something to him, he can sign back.
He won’t have to get his phone or his notepad. That will mean everything to him.”
“Really?”
“Promise.”
“Okay, yeah. I get that. That makes sense. But I kind of want to be able to use it, too. At least a little bit so that he knows I understand sign language now.”
“Then you’re going to have to pay attention during lessons.”
I nodded to myself as Auggie turned his face back to the canopy of trees and his eyes languidly shut once more.
A soft breeze blew through downtown Possibly, ruffling mine and Auggie’s hair.
I couldn’t help but smile at the refreshing coolness and the smell the breeze carried with it.
Something…wild and sweet. Honeysuckle? Something was growing in the woods on the other side of Susurrus Creek—or the creek itself—that was picked up by the wind.
My eyes drifted to look at the creek and Lovelorn Pass Bridge.
It took everything I had to not roll my eyes cynically as Brandon—the boy I’d seen the day I arrived in Possibly—climbing up the railing on the bridge.
Auggie was still relaxing in the shade as Brandon stood perilously upon the narrow railing, threw his arms out wide, and screamed: EMMMMMMMMMILLLEEEEE!
When he fell to the creek below, I sighed.
The sound of his body splashing into the water below rode that sweet breeze.
The guy obviously had an enduring case of the fuzzies for Emily.
Emily, apparently, had not felt the same way about Brandon.
With no one else to stare at on the bridge, my eyes drifted to Two-Mile Trail and the sign announcing one’s arrival into town.
I frowned as I took in the growth just beyond the sign, beginning to partially block the way in and out of town.
Weeds grew here and there on the dirt trail, a few tree limbs had fallen, and several brambles were beginning to encroach on the trail.
“I’ve been here, what?” I asked Auggie. “Two weeks? Three?”
“Three weeks, two days, I think,” he sighed.
“No one has kept the trail clean,” I said. “It’s getting all grown over.”
Auggie’s eyes opened and he turned his head to look beyond the bridge.
“That happens,” he said.
“Who takes care of the brush and clean up?”
“It tends to work itself out,” Auggie said. “Everyone chips in one way or another around here.”
“What if someone tries to come to town?” I asked. “By the end of summer, it’s going to be completely overgrown. It was bad enough on foot. I can’t imagine what will happen if someone tries to drive down Two-Mile Trail.”
Auggie laughed. “No one has driven down Two-Mile Trail in…I don’t even know. One look and anybody would turn their car around.”
“Well, how will people get to town?” I asked. “How would anyone drive out?”
“If anyone actually leaves town, they usually take the highway.” He jerked his head in the direction of Jack’s place. “You’re the first person I’ve seen actually come to town on Two-Mile Trail in a long time. And I didn’t actually see you arrive, so you could be lying about that.”
I laughed. “I did. Promise.”
“Did you meet anybody else on the trail?”
“What? No?”
“See?” He shrugged. “It’s not much to worry about.”
I gave up. Obviously, the other long-term residents of Possibly were unconcerned with what lay just beyond Lovelorn Bridge Pass.
Who was I to make a mountain out of a molehill?
Then again, I couldn’t help but wonder why the radio on the pole was placed at the end of Two-Mile Trail that led into Possibly proper.
I’d found all of the other radios in town during my walks with Auggie each day—at the corner of the post office, alongside The Pueblo, behind Blooms, affixed to the outside wall of Samuel’s Soda Spray, down by Grandy’s Auto, and staked in the grass by Bend of the Road Graveyard.
But why have one at the end of the trail that led into town if no one was expected to use the trail?
Possibly was just odd.
However, it was still the best place I’d ever lived.
“So,” I asked, “why the radio?”
“Hm?”
“On the other side of the bridge?” I explained. “Just at the end of the trail by the town sign?”
“I told you,” Auggie said cryptically, “these things sort themselves out. Eventually, the trail will get cleared and someone will come walking into town again. It just happens.”
“Fine,” I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help but smile. “Be all I’m a Possibilian and we’re all weird and set in our ways and you’ll figure it all out one day.”
Auggie brayed with laughter and sat up to look at me. I smiled mischievously at him.
“You’ll officially be a Possibilian one day, too,” he said, then seemed to have a thought. “I guess right now, you’re just a Possibility.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “What’s the initiation like? Do I have to chuck corn cobs at the town sow that’s painted to look like a spaghetti monster who lives amongst the stars or something?”
Auggie was laughing so hard he was rolling in the grass, holding his stomach.
“Or jump off the bridge and scream someone’s name while knitting a scarf using yarn made of human hair?”
“Stop! Stop!”
I laughed, and even contemplated teasing him further, but Auggie looked as though his sides might actually split, so I swallowed any further comments.
“You’re ridiculous,” Auggie gasped for air as he sat up, holding his sides. “Absolutely ridiculous.”
“Okay,” I said. “Those ideas are ridiculous. How do I become a Possibilian, then? Officially?”
Auggie wiped his eyes and shrugged dismissively.
“Everyone knows when the time has come to accept that Possibly is their home,” he said. “One day, you’ll just know that this is where you want to stay.”
“Is this where you try to convince me to stay?” I asked, my cheeks warm.
Auggie was no longer laughing. He wasn’t even smiling.
“No one in Possibly will try to convince you to stay,” he said. “If you want to stay here, that’s a choice you have to make. It’s a choice everyone makes.”
“I didn’t mean…anything by that. I was just teasing you. Promise.”
It took a moment, but Auggie finally produced a small smile.
“I think the first step,” he said tentatively, “is that you learn sign language. Because if you choose to stay, Jack will appreciate it. It’ll make you a more well-rounded person, too.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
“Okay. How long do you think it will take me to learn enough?”
Auggie considered me for a moment.
“I think if you set your mind to it, you’ll be talking to Jack and reading his signs by the end of summer,” he said. “But only if you focus.”
“Really?”
“Well, you won’t be fluent,” Auggie admitted, “but you can have some pretty good conversations without a cellphone or notepad. I’ve taught everyone around here at least a little bit. In case Jack ever becomes social.”
I grinned.
“Okay. Then let’s do it. I’m going to be a great student. Promise.”
Auggie smiled. “Good. Now, face me, block out everything else, and we’ll get serious.”
I spun on my butt in the grass to face Auggie, crossed my legs, and gave him my full attention. That’s how it began. Under the tree outside of Starbuck’s, I decided to be a good student.
That was how June had melted away under the tree outside of Starbuck’s each morning.
Auggie and I would meet—either at the barn or at Jack’s place—and we’d walk through town.
We’d say “hello” to everyone, check for any new letters from Shirlene, get a coffee and breakfast from Starbuck’s, then spend the early morning hours under the shade of the tree outside.
Sometimes we’d venture into Samuel’s Soda Spray for a float or a soda, maybe even an ice cream cone, but we always ended up in the same spot.
Our tree.