So the Heart Can Dance (A Hidden Beauty Novel Book 2)

by Mary Crawford

  Tara laughs at me as she signs, “Yes! You goofball. They’re more excited about having you here than me.”

  Just then, the students start filing off the bus and we have to start interpreting instructions and lining the students up appropriately. The barrage of questions is overwhelming. Tara handles it like a champ. She seems to thrive on the chaos. The more giggling kids surround her, the happier she seems. After the initial rush is over and we sort the kids into groups and add some dropped off by parents, we regroup. We board the buses and settle in for the last leg of the trip to Champoeg State Heritage Area.

  Tara and I end up in the middle of the bus, on opposite sides of the aisle. There’s a group of chatty kids around us with hands flying a million miles an hour. Much to my relief, my signing skills are rapidly coming back and I’m able to keep up. One girl with purple and blue hair nails me with a shrewd book and asks; “You know this is an arts camp, right? Why are you here?”

  Internally, I breathe a sigh of relief as I realize my credentials might actually be perfect. “Well, all told, I play about 13 instruments, I write songs, some people think I’m a pretty decent singer, and I’ve been deaf since I was a kid,” I respond dryly.

  Another girl with dreadlocks looks at me with wide eyes and signs excitedly, “OMG you’re Aidan O’Brien!” She even used my name sign. “Did you really leave because they were going to make fun of your deafness, or did you demand more money like they said in the tabloids?”

  I chuckle and sign back, “Yes, it really is me, and I really did leave because they were going to make it a pity party over my deafness and try to make my family look like evil monsters. They were going to make the whole story about my disability and none of it about my singing ability.”

  A boy with spiky blond hair signs, “That bites, man! I saw you, and you sounded tight.”

  “Do you have CI’s too?” I ask, pulling my hair back so that he can see mine.

  He nods as he turns his head so I can see his. He has hysterical covers on his that look like alien eyeballs. “I’ve had mine since I was 18 months old,” he voices and signs.

  “Cool customization. I didn’t get mine until I was almost 17,” I sign while I vocalize.

  “That’s weird, you don’t sound too deaf,” he observes.

  “I was hearing until I was eleven. Then I got meningitis. That might have something to do with it.”

  Another dark-haired girl with really dark brown eyes points to Tara and signs, “Is she in your band?”

  “No, she’s not in my band. In fact, I don’t even know if she likes to sing. I know she’s a phenomenal painter, but I’ll let her tell you what she thinks her artistic talents are.”

  If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the spot. Tara shoots me a laser death stare as she smiles at the kids and answers, “Actually, I do like to sing, but I’m nowhere near Aidan’s league, so I just keep it to myself. I do paint. Airbrushing is my favorite. If we have a chance this weekend, I might do a little bit of face-painting. I brought my supplies with me.” Tara stops and takes a deep shuddering breath before going on. After collecting herself, she signs with slightly trembling hands, “A long time ago, I used to dance professionally with Aidan’s brother. I had some stuff come up in my personal life and I stopped for a while. But I’ve recently started dancing again.”

  The girl with dark curly hair ducks her head for a moment before shyly signing, “I think I’ve seen your videos on YouTube. Did you dance with a guy named Rory? He doesn’t look very much like Aidan though. He has dark hair.”

  Tara grins affectionately at the shy young lady and replies, “I can’t believe those are still out there! I was an awkward young thing compared to all of his handsomeness, wasn’t I?”

  “No! I don’t think so at all,” the teenager protests. “I think you’re amazing. I want to be just like you. You dance with your heart. I swear, even your fingertips dance. My ballet teacher was completely impressed by you when I showed her the videos. She’s not even going to believe me when I tell her I've met you in person. After she saw the videos, she kept telling me to point my toes just like you. She said you have perfect form.”

  It’s fun to see Tara get the hero worship she should have been getting all along. She is at once completely embarrassed and totally flattered.

  “Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve trained that hard,” Tara demurs with self-deprecation. “You wouldn’t even recognize my dancing now.”

  I make a dramatic motion of stage whispering to the kids as I sign, “She’s still as awesome as she ever was.”

  Tara’s light laughter travels through the bus like raindrops on the tin roof as she jokes, “You do know that I’m an interpreter, and I can understand every word you’re saying?”

  The teenagers laugh at our good-natured banter. One of them pipes up, “I bet they dance wicked good together.”

  Tara raises an eyebrow at me and observes, “Well, it is true that he’s made some progress since he was a kindergartner.”

  The girl with purple and blue hair signs excitedly, “That’s rad that you guys have known each other so long. Do you think you guys will get married?”

  The look of surprise on Tara’s face is priceless. She thought we could play it cool and not let on we’re a couple. I argued that we probably couldn’t carry off that ruse, because teenagers are incredibly insightful and would eventually bust us. I didn’t expect them to do it quite so quickly, but still, I think it’s pretty funny. She told me to let her handle any questions about us. So I’m waiting to see how she handles it.

  Tara blushes clear to her hair roots as she tries to school her expression into a neutral façade. “Aidan and I have been friends for a really long time and we just started dating, so we really haven’t had time to talk about that,” she signs.

  The shy girl who wants to be a dancer regards her carefully and signs, “I don’t know if I believe that. You guys act like my oldest sister who’s been engaged since she was 17. She’s a sophomore in college now, and she is getting married this summer. I kind of thought you guys were already married.”

  “Totally!” Chimes in the guy with the dreadlocks. “You guys are dead ringers for my parents, and they’ve been married for 20 years. I figured you had a couple babies at home.”

  I wink at the kids and sign, “Maybe someday. But Tara is finishing up her college degree and I’ve got plans for my music career before I get too old.”

  I glance over at Tara and she looks ready to swallow her tongue or kill me, I’m not sure which. She signs quickly, “I’m not sure they need to know that level of personal detail.”

  “Oh relax,” I answer. “It’s not like they can’t tell by the way I look at you. I worship the ground you walk on. Besides, we’re going to make really adorable kids someday.”

  A collective sigh goes up from all the girls sitting around us. Tara just rolls her eyes and signs, “You’re incorrigible.” Laughter travels through the crowd around us.

  “I admit that,” I sign with a wide grin. “But you’re stuck with me, because I’m yours.”

  “Oh for Pete’s sake, don’t encourage him,” she cautions. “He’ll just get worse. We won’t be able to live with him by the end of the weekend. He’ll think he’s so funny, he’ll start telling himself jokes.” Now the laughter gets even louder.

  The head teacher on our bus takes notice of our ever-growing audience and announces, “Since Aidan is so popular, perhaps he would like to come to the front of the bus and lead the icebreaker exercises.”

  I shrug and sign while voicing, “Sure, I’ve got no problem with that. It sounds fun. I’ll send Tara to the back of the bus, so she can interpret from there, and everybody can see the instructions.” I’ve been to multiple music and band camps, so I’ve got countless camp games under my belt. I can do them in my sleep. First up are a series of games intended to help with memorization of names. The tricky part is to adjust them to an environment where we don’t have name tags and pens. Some
of them will be tricky to adapt to sign language. But I improvise, and they turn out to be fun. Next, I focus on games which help the teens find other kids with similar interests and personalities. This is not only loud and riotous, but also extremely entertaining. In the end, the kids are laughing and having a great time. Nearly everyone is signing and talking to someone else on the bus. So Tara and I figured that we have done our jobs for now and sat back down in our seats.

  The kid with spiky blond hair—who I’ve learned by now is Zach, turns to Tara and signs, “This is going to be totally cool. Usually, they assign us chaperones who know next to nothing about sign language and even less about the arts. You two are experts in both, and you’re not old as dirt.”

  I smirk as I sign and voice, “Don’t be too sure of that, I’m older than I look.”

  “Really? How old are you?” he signs quickly.

  “Old enough to know not to spill the beans, and old enough to tell you I wish I had taken the time to invest in college and not played the usual free spirited dude with the rebellious heart,” I sign.

  “Why didn’t you?” Zach asks, a curious expression on his face.

  “Because I was too busy being pissed off at the world to pay attention to the long-term plan, and I thought that I was too smart and talented to need an education,” I answer candidly.

  “You seem to be doing okay, I saw you on TV,” he argues, signing emphatically.

  “Okay is a relative term,” I reply. “The TV thing was a brand-new gig and it didn’t work out so well. I’ve essentially been a wedding singer for over a decade. One time, some of my former band mates took my whole catalog of songs because I didn’t know anything about copywriting my own material. It was decades of work. If I’d gone to college and taken some basic business courses, I could’ve protected myself. Ignorance got in the way of my career. The school of hard knocks is a good teacher, but getting a higher education is a shortcut around some of that stuff. I was also offered a shot at auditioning for Juilliard, but I was too proud to take it. You don’t know how much I wish I could go back and remake that decision.”

  Zach’s eyes widen as he processes what I just said. “Dude! You turned down an invitation to audition for Juilliard? Eff’n Juilliard! People train their whole lives to have a chance to go to Juilliard. That’s straight up crazy talk there. Pardon me for asking, but were you doing drugs?” he asks with astonishment.

  I laugh at his response. I can’t help myself. He’s not wrong. “You’re absolutely right, Zach. But we have to keep our language clean. This is a school function. But the answer is no. I don’t even have the excuse of being on drugs. I was just feeling sorry for myself. I thought maybe they were only giving me the chance to audition because I was deaf, and not because of the way I played the piano. In those days, I was still having difficulty adjusting to my cochlear implants. I was throwing a major tantrum against the whole world, and I hadn’t adjusted well enough to know how good or bad my playing might be. Several years later, after one of my concerts, I met a couple of faculty members that served on the admissions committee. They spent some time talking to me. Of course, I felt like a complete idiot when they told me that they didn’t even know I was deaf when they saw my demo tape and decided to invite me to audition. The moral of the story is, I blew a perfectly legit opportunity that could’ve changed my life, over a figment of my imagination.”

  Zach whistles softly under his breath. “Harsh.”

  I nod as I say, “Epically. If you see an adult who appears to have all their stuff together, don’t assume they had a totally smooth path to get there. They may have a story similar to mine. They might’ve taken a completely different path, if they could go back and do it again. It never hurts to ask. Sometimes people have really good advice to give and are willing to share their war stories.”

  “Cool!” Zach signs. “I know my dad played in a band in high school, because I saw the pictures and his yearbook. I’ve always been afraid to ask him why he doesn’t play because he never talks about it. I think he’s afraid to tell me about it because he thinks I won’t go to college if I pursue music. But I want to go to the Berkeley School of Music in California. I want to study composing. I think my parents believe I can’t be a musician because of my deafness. That’s why I was so excited to see you on that television show so I could show them that it was possible to be deaf and a successful musician at the same time.”

  My heart squeezes a little. I wonder if I made the wrong decision in leaving the show. I guess I didn’t realize that so many people were counting on me to succeed. “Zach, I shouldn’t give you the wrong impression. I didn’t need that television show to be successful. I’ve been fully booked almost every night of the week for several years now. If I wanted to play bigger venues, I probably could. I like to play weddings, birthday parties, renaissance fairs, and bat mitzvahs because I like to see people’s reaction to what I’m doing. The reason I still do things like wait tables and be a bouncer is because I’m saving to cut a professional quality demo tape. If I wasn’t doing that, I would still be able to comfortably pay my bills. I also like to travel around to go rock climbing in some pretty exotic places and that costs some bank.”

  Zack smirks at me as he says, “Plus you got a banging hot girlfriend. My brother says high maintenance girls like that cost some cheddar.”

  I have to disguise my disgust at his language and attitude as I quickly sign, “Check your attitude and have some respect buddy. You should never talk about women that way. Not that it’s any of your business, but Tara’s totally the opposite of high maintenance. But even if she was, it would be my pleasure to make her happy. Watch your language. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about women or girls as ‘banging hot.’ Are we clear?”

  Zach blushes and tucks his chin to his chest as he responds, “Crystal clear. I apologize.” He fidgets a little bit before he asks. “Still, don’t you think it’s unfair that guys have to pay for everything?”

  “It’s a sign of respect and a tradition,” I explain. “It makes girls feel honored and valued. After you’ve been in a relationship for a little while, you guys can decide between yourselves what makes sense for your relationship. I’ve found that most women don’t feel comfortable with guys paying for everything over the long-term and will offer to split the check or alternate paying for dates. Anyway, nobody makes you. It’s a choice. The main thing is not to start thinking she owes you anything.”

  A look of relief passes over Zach’s face as he signs, “My dad just got laid off and they cut my allowance way back. It takes me forever to save up for a date.”

  “What instrument do you play, Zach?” I ask. If I had to guess by looking at his hands, I’d say a string instrument, probably guitar because his fingers are heavily calloused.

  Zach sits up a little straighter and replies, “I can shred the electric guitar better than people twice my age.”

  “I used to give music lessons when I was a kid. It was a great way to pick up extra money. I had an unhealthy addiction to video games and collectibles. My parents refused to fund my hobbies, so I had to figure it out on my own. So I gave lessons to all of my friends and their friends. I was making some serious money. After I became deaf, I switched over to teaching songwriting.”

  Zach’s eyes light up as he excitedly signs, “Do you really think I could do that?”

  “If it doesn’t interfere with your school work and you have your parents permission, I don’t see any reason why not. I’d be happy to go over and talk to your parents about it, if you’d like me to,” I offer.

  Zach’s jaw drops open as he whispers, “Are you serious?”

  “Totally. Just let me know when and where,” I promise.

  “I’ll pay you for your time,” Zach insists.

  I shake my head as I decline, “That’s not necessary, Zach. I have a couple of weddings coming up, but we can schedule a time around those.”

  “Thanks, man, you don’t know how much this means to me,” Za
ch signs, looking close to tears.

  “Actually, I do have some idea,” I answer, feeling equally emotional. “At one point in my life a perfect stranger came along and it made all the difference in the world.”

  The buses pull into a rest stop and the students eagerly pile off. Tara and I bring up the rear of the line. The teacher standing outside the bus says, “Would you two mind monitoring the outside of the bathroom doors for a moment to make sure we don’t have any stragglers?”

  “Sure, we’d be happy to,” Tara answers immediately, signing and voicing simultaneously.

  For the first time in hours, we find ourselves alone on a bench a few feet from the bathroom doors. Tara turns to me and whispers in my ear, “I can’t tell you how much I love you right now. You are a phenomenal human being. You are a rock star on so many levels. What you’re doing for Zach is possibly going to mend his relationship with his parents and allow him to pursue his lifelong dream. It’s one of the most selfless things I’ve ever seen anyone do. It’s worth a ton of boyfriend points.”

  I have to work really hard to remember that there are about 75 impressionable young teenagers around us as a warm tingling sensation roars through my body like a forest fire.

  “Ah, Tara…are you trying to kill me here?” I ask with an anguished moan.

  Tara laughs lightly as she looks at me. “No, not intentionally, but you might want to put your backpack on your lap,” she cautions.

  “Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” I tease as I move my backpack.

  A student comes bounding up to Tara and signs rapidly, “I just asked Ms. Hamilton and she said were having a dance tomorrow night. Will you perform for us, Tara?”

  A second student immediately chimes in, “Yes! Please, please, please, please?”

  Well, their antics completely take me out of the mood, so the immediate crisis is over.

  Tara looks thoughtful as she responds, “I guess I could put together a short piece, but only if I have a dance troupe to back me up. Do you know of anybody that might be interested in learning a few dance moves? I can hold a dance class tomorrow, if you’ll round up a few students.”