Chapter Eight
Blake’s house is only a mile from my apartment, so I walk home. I haven’t felt the need to buy a car yet. I guess that’s the city girl in me. But the thought of having to Uber to some of my other clients’ houses that are farther away isn’t all that pleasant. The first time I ordered an Uber, I had to wait forty-five minutes. A far cry from the city where you can wave your hand and a cab magically appears.
Before turning the corner to head out of his neighborhood, I glance back at his house. Blake has the perfect family home and doesn’t even know it. His yard is bigger than some of the others. His house appears larger as well. Interesting that in this family-friendly neighborhood, the bachelor may have the largest home.
He didn’t seem the least bit cocky about it though. The guy must have serious money, or at least his parents do, but he didn’t seem entitled. And I’m impressed at how much he wants to help the daughter he didn’t even know he had until yesterday. I’m sure he could easily send her away. Pay for a boarding school. Hire a nanny to ‘deal’ with her so he doesn’t have to.
The guy seems too good to be true. There must be something wrong with him. In my experience, no man is that handsome, well-off, and caring. Well, if you don’t count my dad. A smile cracks my face knowing I’m going to see my parents and Beth tonight. They’re coming into town to take me to dinner.
Hope flutters through me. I want so much for Maisy to one day feel about Blake the way I do my father. We have a long way to go, and I’m not exactly sure she even understands who Blake is to her. Who I am.
Maisy and I already have chemistry, that much is evident. But I need to be careful. She may see me as more of a parent than Blake. It’s a fine line I’ll have to navigate.
Maisy and I aren’t the only ones who have chemistry, though. He asked me to dinner. Well, sort of. It’s the only time in my adult life I’ve been tempted to accept a date with a hearing man. I’ve never dated one. Never wanted to. I was sure I’d never be able to have a connection with one. Especially one who doesn’t even know ASL or the first thing about Deaf culture.
Then why do I feel this pull whenever I see him? Why do I get the sense we can communicate without spoken words, without ASL, without anything but our eyes? It’s the strangest feeling in the world.
But he’s the father of a client. There’s a line. One I’m not sure I want to cross. No matter how much my body seems to want me to. Just thinking about him—his inviting lips, his electric touch, his chocolate-brown hair and how it falls perfectly back into place after he runs a hand through it—has dampness soaking my panties. What is happening to me?
A familiar SUV pulls up alongside me as I’m approaching my apartment complex. My smile is a mile wide when I see Dad at the wheel, Mom to his right, and Beth lowering the backseat window. Dad nods for me to get in the back, then angles the rearview mirror once I’m settled so I can see his lips. “Do you need to go home and change, or are you ready?”
“Let’s go eat,” I say and sign.
I sometimes speak verbally around my family. It’s how I practice speaking. Though they tell me I sound great, I’ve been reluctant to speak in front of others for a long time. As someone who is profoundly deaf, I have no clue what I sound like. I know I have an accent. Many deaf people do. A lot of us have a thick monotone or guttural accent since we can’t hear all the sounds letters make.
As a professional, especially one who advocates for deaf children, I know I shouldn’t feel the way I do about speaking. But after being bullied about the way I spoke back in middle school, I simply just stopped using my voice except around those closest to me.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Dad made a reservation at Lloyd’s,” Beth says and signs.
My family are all proficient in ASL and most of our conversations are held that way. But in the car, like we are now, we SimCom—speak and sign at the same time—so nobody feels left out.
Mom turns. “Are you all unpacked?”
“I finished yesterday. I still need to buy a TV.”
I’ve had my eye on a big screen, but I’ve been waiting for it to go on sale. Large screen televisions are really nice for deaf people as the closed captioning is much more visible, making it easier to both read and watch.
“We’ll pick one up after dinner.”
I shake my head. “I have a job, Mom. I can buy it myself.”
Beth elbows me and signs without speaking. “She’s been going crazy. You have to let her pamper you a bit.”
I roll my eyes and sign, “She survived when I was away at Gallaudet all those years.”
“You were in college,” she signs. “That was different. This is you out in the real world. She’s worried about you. But don’t go feeling all special, she goes bat-shit crazy over me, too.”
Mom waves to get my attention. “Hey, you two. Stop talking about me. I know you are.”
Beth and I laugh. Mom hates it when we sign behind her back. When we were kids, we’d literally turn our backs and have ASL conversations with her in the room. She hated not being privy to what we were saying.
Welcome to my world, Mom.
Dad parks behind the restaurant and we make our way to the front. I stop and point left and sign, “The school is right down there.”
“We know where it is,” Mom says. “We toured it when you were younger.”
My jaw slackens. I had no idea. “You considered sending me here? To live?”
She shakes her head. “We considered moving here. Research told us this was one of the best Deaf schools in New York. But you were adamant about going to a hearing school, so we dropped the subject.”
“You would have moved.” I point to myself. “For me?”
Dad wraps an arm around my shoulder and signs with his free hand. “Of course we would have.”
We step inside and are escorted to the table. It’s dark, and when the hostess speaks, Beth interprets for me. My family has always been great about making sure I don’t miss out on conversations going on around me.
I watch the hostess, wondering if she’ll assume I’m not intelligent—a mistake many hearing people make—but she simply smiles politely and tells us the name of our waitress. Maybe with the school just around the corner, she’s used to deaf customers.
Once seated, I sign to my parents, “Thank you for not insisting I go there. It’s a great school. But allowing me to choose for myself is one of the reasons I love you guys so much.”
Mom reaches over and clasps my hands. She knows sometimes you don’t need to speak to get a point across.
Beth looks at me, walleyed. She’s the only person who knows what a hard time of it I had in school. But I was out to prove I could do whatever hearing students could—even if I went about it in the worst of ways.
I think my parents were the main reason I pursued my degree and this job. Giving me options and letting me participate in the decisions was paramount to my upbringing. I saw what happened to kids who were forced into environments they didn’t want to be in. It’s why I wanted to become an advocate for children who may not have been given the same opportunities I had.
After we order drinks, Beth asks, “How’s work going?”
“Good.” I find myself biting my lip and stop. “Really good.”
“Oh my God,” Beth says and signs. “You just blushed big time.”
I roll my eyes.
She stares me down. Her eyes go wide as she lowers her hands so Mom and Dad can’t see them and signs, “Are you fucking your boss?”
I’m pretty sure I guffaw audibly. I grab her hands so she can’t sign, and I shake my head aggressively.
Mom waves her hand and scolds us for having another private conversation. “If the two of you want to speak privately, go to the ladies’ room. It’s rude to do it right in front of us.”
She’s right. It is rude. It happens all the time when you’re deaf, people speaking right in front of you and not including you in the conversation.
“Beth asked if I was seeing my boss.” I turn to my sister. “My boss is the president of the school. And she’s a woman.”
Beth snickers.
Drinks are placed before us, as well as a mouth-watering loaf of bread.
Dad slices the bread and passes us each a piece.
“Have you seen the hot mystery guy again?” Beth signs after shoving an entire piece in her mouth as if she hasn’t eaten in days.
“What’s this about a mystery guy?” Mom asks.
Dad puts down his bread, becoming interested in the conversation.
“Ellie met some hot mysterious guy right after she moved in.”
“I didn’t meet him. Not back then anyway.”
“Wait, what?” Beth’s eyes go wide. “What do you mean not back then? Oh my God. Did you see him again? Are you dating? Ellie, what aren’t you telling me?”
“He—” I drop my hands before continuing. “Well, his daughter… is a client.”
Beth’s face morphs from surprise into utter fascination. “Hot mystery guy is a dad? Oh, please tell me he’s a single father.” She claps. “This story just got a whole lot better. Why didn’t you say anything?” Her face turns into a pout. “You always tell me everything.”
“Stop it,” I sign. “I just found out today. I was walking home from meeting the two of them when you picked me up.”
Beth shakes her head from side to side, her smile a mile wide. “Oh how I’d love to have been a fly on the wall when you two came face to face after having your encounter at the grocery store.”
“Mind filling us in?” Dad asks, his protective instincts kicking into high gear.
I’ve always been super close to my family. They’ve been with me through the ups and downs of being away at college. The successes and failures. They are my biggest supporters, cheerleaders, and advocates. Yes, they tend to be overprotective at times, but still, I couldn’t love them more.
I tell them what I told Beth about seeing Blake at the supermarket and having what I can only describe as an out-of-body experience when we looked at each other. And then how we were both surprised when I showed up at his door today. And how I accused him of being a terrible father.
Guilt sweeps through me once again when I think of how quickly I jumped to conclusions. Of all people, I should know better than to judge a book by its cover.
I leave out the part where he asked me out. I’m still not sure how I feel about it, so I don’t need them slinging opinions on the matter.
“His little girl,” I sign morosely. “She’s sad and sheltered and… completely amazing.” I have a hard time controlling my emotions as I think of her situation. “She’s exactly why I wanted to do this job. She’s the reason. She’s the one deaf child that every deaf educator dreams of making a difference for. I just never thought I’d find her so quickly.”
“It sounds like she’s lucky to have found you as well,” Dad signs. His proud smile overtakes his face. “Look at you already changing lives.”
“I don’t know about that. We’ve just met. There are mountains to climb with this one.”
“Just be careful.” Dad raises a brow in warning. “The job is new. You don’t need entanglements and complications.”
Mom swats his arm. “Says the doctor who fell in love with his patient.” She winks at me.
Dad’s body shakes with laughter, and he says something I don’t understand. I narrow my eyes at him so he signs, “Sorry,” then fingerspells the word ‘touché.’
“It was almost instantaneous,” Mom signs, “the connection I felt with your father. Even largely pregnant with you and scared I might lose you, it was there. We both felt it. We both tried to deny it. But I’m here to tell you, connections like that don’t come often. When the signs are clear”—she laughs—“no pun intended, you have to read them.”
Though the start of their relationship came with a lot of hurdles, my parents have the most loving relationship I’ve ever seen.
Warmth flows through me like a summer breeze. And I promise myself if Blake asks again, I might just consider it.