Chapter Sixteen
“Maisy is really coming along,” Patricia Kasey signs. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
“She’s a special girl,” I sign, looking at Maisy over Patricia’s shoulder as she plays kickball on the playground with the other kids.
She kicks the ball, jumps up and down, sees me, and runs over, arms stretched wide. I accept her hug, but at the same time, I can’t stop thinking about what Blake said the other night about waiting for her to want to hug him.
I turn to Patty. “Mind if I take her for the last thirty minutes? There’s something I’ve been wanting to work with her on.”
“Go ahead.”
“Come with me,” I sign to Maisy, delighted she now understands simple instructions.
My shirt is tugged from behind, and I spin around and look down to see little Bobby Miller. “It’s Maisy’s turn,” he signs. But instead of fingerspelling Maisy or pointing to her, he does a name sign.
My heart gets stuck in my throat. Being given a name sign by peers is somewhat of a rite of passage for the deaf. And even if Maisy doesn’t understand what a major milestone this is, I do. She’s a part of something much bigger than her small world now. My throat thickens as I bask in the triumphant moment.
“I need Maisy now,” I sign, using her newly minted name sign. “She’ll play again tomorrow.”
He nods and looks at her, waving goodbye.
Taking Maisy’s hand, I guide her to my office and ask her to sit down while I gather what I need. I have a large folder full of drawings Maisy and I have done that help us communicate. I quickly make a few others as well, realizing what my mistake might have been before when I tried to teach Maisy about ‘father.’
Sitting next to her, I spread out the drawings and flashcards. Like before, most of the pictures are of men with children or babies, and I take special care to make sure all of the children are girls. No need to confuse her further. Then there are the drawings of her with Blake. But what I add this time are pictures of men all by themselves. To simplify things and stick with what she already knows, I use the sign for ‘boy’ instead of ‘man.’
I point to each man in each picture and sign, “Boy.”
Then I point to the flashcard of a man holding a baby. I spread out my fingers, bring them to my forehead and tap my thumb twice against it. It’s the sign for dad, daddy, or father.
I point to the drawing of Blake and Maisy and sign, “Daddy.” I point to the other pictures of men with children and do the same. Then I motion for her to try.
She points to one of the pictures of a man with a child and does the sign for Daddy. But then she does it again when she points to the picture of the single man. I shake my head and go over the exercise again hoping that eventually she’ll understand that all men are boys but that only men with children are daddies.
She stomps her foot, something she does when she gets frustrated.
I label all the men in the pictures again as ‘boy.’ Then, again, I only point to the fathers and do the sign for Daddy. I pull out my phone and show her the picture I took of her and Blake at the winery the other day. I try not to think about how I’ve looked at this picture far more than I’d like to admit.
“Boy,” I sign, pointing to Blake. “Girl,” I sign, pointing to her in the picture. “Daddy,” I sign again at Blake.
I point to one of the single men. “Boy,” I sign. Then I shake my head. “Not Daddy.”
I again show her the flashcard of the man and baby and do the signs for boy, baby, and daddy. Then I go back to the single man, only doing the sign for boy.
I ask her to do it. She studies all the pictures. I’m fascinated at the way her nose crinkles when she’s thinking. It’s the same thing Blake does. Every day, I notice more similarities between them. The slopes of their noses. The shape of their fingers.
It’s hard not to think about Blake. I thought about him all weekend. Maybe I even missed him. I was surprised when he didn’t kiss me Friday night. I know I told him not to walk me to the door, but part of me wanted him to. Then again, if this is just some kind of fling, he wouldn’t do that. But if it’s a fling, wouldn’t he have tried to sleep with me?
I had a video call with Beth later that night. She knew about the date. She also knows about his reputation. She told me to go for it anyway. After all, I’m not one for relationships and she knows it. She asked how bad could it be—having a few romps with the hot single dad.
Maybe all he wants is a friends-with-benefits kind of thing, although we’ve yet to ‘benefit.’ I mean, this is Blake Montana. Everyone knows his reputation precedes him. Oddly, I’m beginning to be okay with it. I’m just starting my career. I have enough to focus on without having to coddle a relationship—one with a hearing man no less. Yes, I’m perfectly fine with Blake and I being a pleasant distraction from other things in life.
I shake off the thoughts racing in my head when Maisy starts signing. She points to all the men, doing the sign for ‘boy.’ She studies the drawings and flashcards. She looks at the picture on my phone. She points to the man holding the baby. “Daddy,” she signs.
I nod.
She points to the drawing of her and Blake. “Daddy.”
“Yes,” I sign, hope growing in my chest.
She points to the drawing of a man with a child. “Daddy.”
“Good,” I sign. I point to the single man.
She looks between all of them then signs, “Boy.”
I do jazz hands.
She smiles.
Does she get it? I still don’t know. She could have no idea what it all means, only that those are the signs I wanted her to repeat for each picture. But it’s these baby steps that will eventually lead to big strides.
The Pre-K dismissal light flashes in the corner of my office and I motion to it. She understands that means it’s time to go home.
I walk Maisy out, searching for Blake. He still parks and comes inside to collect her every day. I adore how protective he is of her.
Maisy spots him and stops. She points to him and signs, “Daddy.”
Emotions flow through me as I lock eyes with Blake, his shocked and impassioned expression confirming he saw her sign. He races over, and for a moment, his arms open. But then they fall to his sides as he lowers to his knees in front of her.
Hug him, I implore in my thoughts.
But it doesn’t happen. She does, however, see our excited reaction and do the sign again.
Blake looks up at me. “Did she just call me… Daddy?”
I nod and smile, my heart growing larger on the spot.
Maisy turns and points to another man collecting his child. “Daddy,” she signs.
As Blake’s expression deflates, I quickly retrieve my phone.
Me: It’s okay. She’s learned today that all men are boys but that only men with children are fathers.
“Ellie.” He hesitates. “Does she know I’m her father?”
I shrug. Because I don’t know. All I can do is hope. “Baby steps,” I sign.
He nods sadly, stands, and takes her hand. “See you at four.”
I watch them leave, sad for the man who desperately wants his daughter to know who he is. I find myself disappointed that he doesn’t turn and give me one last look like he usually does.
When they’re both completely out of sight, I go back to my office, scolding myself for being so selfish.