by Jaci Wheeler
“That means poor you,” I joke to keep things light and fun. A hysterical Presley is never good, but funny hysterical I’ll take over crazy hysterical any day. Randy picks up on the trying to keep it light theme and adds his own joke.
“Yep, that means you have to hand in your money at the door like a cult.” We joke all the way to her parents’ house, and by the time we reach our destination, we all are feeling relaxed and at ease…until the moment the driver pulls up to the monstrosity they call a house. I instantly feel inadequate. I look over at Randy to see if he is feeling the same, but blast that easy-going good nature of his, I can never tell. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other and just hops out of the limo.
“Nice digs,” he says to Pres in such a Randy-like manner that even she rolls her eyes.
We go through the security check point. That’s seriously how ridiculously big this place is, they have their own check point. The last time I went through a check point was to cross the freaking border.
“Hi Bernie. Merry Christmas.”
“Hi Miss Sinclair. Merry Christmas to you as well. It’s nice to have you back, you’ve been missed.” She gives him a sincere smile and then introduces Randy and I. I’m half expecting to be frisked down, but Bernie just nods.
“Looks like we are not in K A N S A S anymore, Dorothy,” Randy signs, or at least tries to, anyway. We make our way to the front door, where I expect Presley to let us in. She lets herself in at Randy’s house now, but she stops short and takes a deep breath, smiles over at me, then rings the doorbell and waits. A severe looking older woman answers the door and stops a beat, taking Randy and I in.
“Good afternoon, Miss Sinclair. Your mother will receive you in the sitting room. I trust your travels went well.”
“Yes, Sue, they did, thank you. My companions, Mr. Hawthorn and Mr. Donovan.” I look to Randy, who is frantically trying to interpret what is going on, but he gives up halfway through and signs, “Robot question M A I D. Robot answer P.” Whatever that means.
We follow the housekeeper into the monstrosity of a house and she takes our coats at the door. Presley has a fake smile plastered on her face, which is a travesty, because the real thing is breathtaking and game changing. We go down a long corridor that opens up into a grand sitting room. I look at Presley wide-eyed and she just shrugs.
“Family money.”
“Sure. Big deal not.” I grin, and for the first time since we entered she graces me with a genuine smile. The woman sitting on a couch that probably costs more than my car stands as soon as we enter, and I realize this must be her mother, even though I don’t see a resemblance there. The woman is tall and slender, light in all manners. Blue eyes, blonde hair, cream colored skin. She smiles in greeting, and now I take back my original thought. Presley’s fake smile was learned from this woman.
“Presley, dear, I’m so glad you made it home safe.” She doesn’t hug her, but touches her hands to her daughter’s briefly and lightly kisses both checks. She turns to us now and I can see the disdain as she takes in our appearance. I smile as genuinely as I can and reach out my hand. She grasps it lightly for a second, then immediately lets go to repeat with Randy.
“Your father was called in for an emergency and was flown to D.C., but he will return in time for dinner.” Presley is interpreting the best she can and I grasp most of it. What I don’t understand is the lack of feeling in the room. What I would think would be disappointment on Presley’s part for such a cold welcome isn’t even present. The door opens again and in walks a man in his mid-thirties. He has chestnut colored hair and the same eyes as Presley. The moment she feels his presents the ice thaws. She runs to the door and throws herself at him. He embraces her for a moment, then has her take a step back so he can look at her. Now this is how she should be greeted. I’m glad she has at least one member of the family smart enough to realize how precious she is.
“B, come.” She beckons and I walk over for introductions.
“Meet Robert, my brother.” She then turns and voices, but continues to sign for me. “This is Barrett Donovan and his uncle, Randy Hawthorn.”
“Nice to meet you.” Robert extends his hand and gives a warm handshake to both Randy and myself.
CHAPTER 29
Presley
I’m pretty sure my house is cloaked in disappointment. It’s all I felt while living there, and hasn’t faded a bit since I’ve been gone. My mother’s lackluster greeting wasn’t a surprise. It didn’t even hurt because it was expected. So was the absence of my father. What wasn’t expected was Robert’s presence here today. I didn’t think he’d show up until dinner, but he must have known how desperately I’d need him. I phoned him before we left, making sure he would try to make Barrett feel comfortable. I told him to speak as he normally would and to follow B’s lead. He is doing great and I let go the breath I’ve been holding since we walked in.
“My sister tells me you like cars.” Barrett gives my brother his attention, but watches me butcher the job of interpreter from the corner of his eye. You can tell it’s like second nature to him and he doesn’t even point out all my mistakes, which I’m grateful for.
“Yes. Nothing better drive fast in a classic.” My brother chuckles and fully agrees.
“Classic cars are a hobby of mine as well. I thought we might head over to my place and you can check some of them out before dinner.” He turns to my mother like this is last minute, and he is graciously getting her permission, even though everyone in the room knows otherwise. “That is, if you don’t mind me stealing your guests for a few hours, Mother.”
“Of course I mind, Robert, they just arrived a moment ago. There’s no sense in trying to stop it, you will just gang up on me like you did as children. Go play with your toys, but you are to be back at six sharp.” She gives the smile she saves especially for him and turns her head so he can place a kiss on her cheek. I don’t even bother following suit. We get to the foyer when I stop and whisper to my brother that we will meet him out front. I grab Barrett’s hand and sneak him into the kitchen, where I find the heart and soul of the house slaving away, as I knew she would be.
“Marcela,” I exclaim as I launch myself into her arms. She holds me like she’s missed me as much as I have her, and when I let go, she has tears in her eyes.
“Mija, look at how beautiful you are. I didn’t think it was even possible to get more beautiful, but here you are proving me wrong.” I pull Barrett close and introduce them, both in signing and voice again.
“Barrett, this is M A R C E L A, the woman who taught me everything I know in the kitchen.”
“An honor meet you, M A R C E L A. Thank you for your teaching.” He rubs his stomach, making us both laugh. Then he picks up her hand and kisses the back, earning an eyeroll from me and a swoon from her.
“If I were twenty years younger, you might have a fight on your hands for this one,” she says, going over to the counter and bagging up a dozen or so brownies and handing them to Barrett, earning a kiss the on the cheek.
“Come, B, we better go before I’m replaced.”
“Never,” Barrett says, until he takes a large bite of one of the brownies. “I take back. Ask M marry me. God, brownies amazing.” I smack him, but can’t help how much lighter I feel now. Maybe it’s a good thing that they came after all.
We spent the afternoon at my brother’s and had a great time. Robert and Barrett got along wonderfully and Randy and I mostly hung out in the house or walked the grounds. Robert’s house is modest compared to our parents’. He spends his money on his toys, as he calls them. I’m pretty sure his garages are bigger than the house. He took Barrett driving, which made me anxious since he just got the soft cast on, and I wasn’t sure he should be driving, but my brother said it was under “doctor’s orders.” B took this to mean it was fine, whereas I took it for the crock it was, since he’s a brain surgeon, not an orthopedic surgeon, but it made the two most important men in my life happy, so who am I to stand in the way.
&
nbsp; Robert pulled me inside while B took Randy for a quick spin.
“That man of yours sure can drive, Pres. I couldn’t believe it, and he doesn’t even have full range of motion in his right hand.”
“Yeah, I bet he was in heaven. Were you able to communicate all right?” I try not to show my concern, but of course my brother picks up on it.
“Nothing a little charades couldn’t solve. We speak the common language, Pres—cars.” I laugh and he brings me in for a hug. “I’m glad you made it, I didn’t think you would.”
“Well, you know Mom, wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Give her a break, huh? She misses you.” I cock my eyebrow at him, refusing to comment on that. “She does, Pres, you know she loves you in her own way. You just broke the mold and they didn’t know how to handle it. They’ll come around, I promise.”
“Well, I blame you for setting the bar so high! Why couldn’t you have been a race car driver or trust fund baby for life? Then music therapist would have looked worthy, but no. My overachieving brother had to be freaking McDreamy.”
“Oh, come on, kid, you know I’m better looking than him. Plus, what you do is worthy, Pres. They know that, it’ll just take a bit for the sting that you aren’t their little minion to wear off.” Isn’t that the truth if I ever heard it. “Plus, cheer up. Grandma Eva is coming for Christmas dinner. Once she heard you’d be back, she couldn’t wait. You can tag team Mom.” I laugh. After Robert, Grandma Eva is my second favorite of the family. She is my dad’s mother and she and my mother never see eye to eye. She’s the only grandparent who wasn’t a doctor and couldn’t care less to be so. I adore her, and the idea that I will now have two people on my side at dinner makes it easier to handle.
When the guys get back, B tries to give the keys back to my brother, but he shakes his head no. “Keep them while you’re here. I know what it’s like to be stranded in that house. This way you have a fast getaway car. Presley knows the code to the house if you guys need an escape.” B shakes his head and tries again to give them back, but I stop him. Lord knows I don’t want to be stranded in that house. We go ahead of my brother back to the house in his car so we have time to change. Heaven help the person late for a Sinclair dinner.
Barrett always looks good, but I’ve never see him so dressed up before. He looks stunning in his black suit and red shirt. I’m wearing a form-fitting red dress to match woven with gold thread, that only shows in the light. I knew my mother would love it, but it also makes me feel sexy, so that’s the main reason I bought it. Randy follows behind B looking rather dapper himself.
“Randy, may I compliment your ensemble this evening. The bow tie is most dapper.” He throws a wink over his shoulder and walks ahead, giving us a few moments alone. B just shakes his head at his uncle’s outfit. Randy chose a red shirt as well, but paired it with a gold and red bowtie and black vest. His long dark hair has been gelled back and pulled into a low ponytail. He offered to cut his hair, but I refused to let him. I think he looks amazing.
“Ready to D A Z Z L E?”
“Ready to eat,” B replies, and I chuckle. How he stays so skinny is beyond me, he eats non-stop. My mother’s table is over the top, as usual. The tablecloth is white with gold stitching. The plates and utensils are all gold, real gold too. And the red flowers are beautiful, but tall, which is exactly what I told her to stay away from. She did place me across from Barrett as asked, so I could let him know what was going on, but there is a high arrangement right in front of us, making signing impossible. Normally I’d let it go and sulk about not being heard, but something about having the guys with me emboldens me, and I walk right up to her and kiss her cheek.
“You’ve out done yourself again, Mother.” She preens at my compliment, but the smile is wiped clear off when I walk right over to the table and remove the tall centerpiece.
“Such a beautiful arrangement, I’m sure Marcela will love to have it brighten her kitchen.” I don’t spare my mother another glance as I march the flowers into the kitchen, but I hear her gasp and my grandmother’s hearty chuckle in my wake. Everyone is seated when I return and Barrett shoots me a warning look.
“Not have do that, P, fine me.”
“Yes, now fine you. Can see beautiful face me,” I add to lighten things up, which it does. Randy gives me an approving nod and my brother just shakes his head in humor.
“It’s rude to speak in a language not everyone can understand, sweetheart.” I glare at my mother. I can’t believe she’s doing this even after we talked about the fact that I’d have to interpret for B.
“It is, Mother, but B is very understanding, so until you learn to sign, he is fine with my interpreting for him.” I don’t skip a beat as I take a bite of potato.
“So, dear, tell us all about your lovely new college,” Grandma Eva asks expertly, changing the subject. Of course my father scoffs and my mother rolls her eyes, but I ignore them and focus on my grandma.
“I love it, Gran. It’s so different and I’ve made so many friends.” I both voice and sign to make sure Barrett isn’t left out entirely.
“You haven’t been shot yet, so I guess there’s that,” my mother rudely adds. I just give her a sickly-sweet smile.
“Very true, I’ve been lucky and gotten away with only being shivved,” I say happily as I take a bite. My brother was mid-bite and started choking. Barrett slams his back, smiling widely.
“Really, Presley? Must you be so crass? We raised you better than that. Those people are already starting to wear off on you.” My father speaks up for the first time since he snuck in.
“Those people? And what sort of people is that, Father?” I snap back. He starts to answer and then shoots a glance at Barrett and Randy, then thinks better of it.
“I’m happy to hear you have some good friends,” Gran picks up like nothing happened. “And how is your internship going? Do you like it?”
“Oh, I love it, Gran, it’s amazing! I never thought It would be so fun. It hardly feels like work.”
“That’s because it’s a music internship, how hard can it be?” my father jibes again. This one stings, though. My mother decides to pick up where he left off.
“Thirty-six hour shifts with no sleep, that’s real internship. Remember when you were doing your internship, Robert? I don’t think I even saw you for an entire year. Now that’s a grueling internship.” The tears well up in my eyes and I try to blink them back. My work is the one thing I’m truly passionate about, and they dismiss it like I’m working at a quickie mart.
“Well, I guess I’m extremely lucky to have found a job I’m passionate about that leaves me time for the people I care about,” I say, shooting a warm smile to the guys across from me. My mother drops her fork to her plate, creating a loud ping, and everyone but B looks her way.
“Honestly, Presley, are you seriously going to sit here acting like this move was a good thing? Give it up already. We brought you here so you would come clean about what a mistake this move was. Have you looked up the crime rate in that low bred town? Instead of coming to your senses and moving home, you bring home the help just to rub it in our face!” I can’t believe what she’s saying. First that she had an outburst at the dinner table, second did she really just refer to my boyfriend as ‘the help’?
“Excuse me?” I say, giving her a death stare. “The help? How dare you!”
“Oh, he can’t even hear me, calm down.”
And. I. Lose. It.
“I’ve never asked for your support or acceptance, I knew I wouldn’t get it. All that I ask is that you treat the people in my life with respect. If you can’t do that, you no longer have the right to remain in my life.”
“Presley!” my father snaps. I can’t stop the tears from coming, more out of sheer embarrassment than anything else. I look over to see B looking totally confused, and Randy trying to explain what he can. I stand, ready to call an end to this whole charade, when B stands as well and puts his hand out to stop me.
CHAPTER 30
Barrett
I absolutely hate groups. Even in a deaf crowd groups make me nervous, a few people at a time is where I do best. A hearing group while eating is torture for me. People pause, take a bite, talk, cover their mouth, talk. Eat and talk, look down and talk…you get the picture. Whoever decided that mealtimes are for polite conversation was obviously not deaf. Mealtimes for me are to eat, which is exactly what I do. As I look down to cut my meat, I miss so much of the conversation there is no figuring out what was said. However, reading body language and facial expressions tells me exactly what’s going on. Presley is being attacked. I nudge Randy with my arm.
“What happened?” Randy just nods his head sadly. And I sign it again. “Happened?”
“Parents not like S T O C K T O N. Think bad place, bad people…call us “T H E H E L P.” It stings. I’ve been called much worse, but of course I want her parents to accept me. I want them to see more than what everyone else sees, I want them to see what Presley sees. I move my hand, telling him to continue. “Think P job not M A T T E R. Want P move home.” That right there makes me snap. How can they think she doesn’t matter? Her job is what makes her, it’s who she is. I look over and watch my strong, amazing girl stand and wilt right before my eyes, and I’m on my feet before I even think this through.
“Voice please. P, voice.” She takes a deep breath, and I can tell this has her flustered. She’s never been an interpreter, and I’m asking a lot of her, but this needs to be said. I rarely curse my deafness. It’s who I am, and I try not to let it make me feel less. Sometimes however, I can’t help it. This is one of those times. There’s so much I wish I could say, do…but I can’t without the help of someone else. It’s terrifying to be at the mercy of others, but she’s worth it. I know she can see how hard it is for me to ask this of her because she straightens her spine and nods, at once ready to take on a responsibility she shouldn’t have to bear. As soon as my fingers move, she starts voicing. I keep my signing slow and precise, making it as easy on her as possible.