by Pat Simmons
The latches on the floodgate broke. Opening my mouth, I talked. And she did listen. She signed. I signed back. I shared my previous disastrous day. With her elbows resting on our parlor-style table, she positioned her chin on inter-locking fingers.
When she laughed at the bank teller’s stupidity, I laughed, shaking my head. Looking back, if I removed myself from the situation, it was comical.
CHAPTER 4
Mackenzie almost made me lose control—not self-control, but that of my beloved car as I steered into the church parking lot the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Mackenzie distracted me as she strutted—no, floated across the pavement. She was gloriously wrapped in a long, mustard-yellow wool coat, matching hat, one gold glove and a purple glove completed her ensemble. I didn’t know if the purple glove was a fashion statement, the newest trend, or a Michael Jackson “glove thing,” but whatever the reason, Mackenzie had my attention.
I tapped on my horn. Mackenzie didn’t stop to glance my way. Determined to make my presence known, I pressed harder. Mackenzie and several other churchgoers whirled around, covering their ears. Oops. Sometimes I don’t know my own strength. I shrugged my apologies, figuring I had gotten her attention.
Mackenzie halted. With her ears still covered, she smiled so wide, her eyes closed. I wished I could’ve heard the sound as her mouth moved with laughter. It didn’t matter. Her face told me the story. I couldn’t park fast enough. As a matter of fact, when my Cadillac began to roll, I realized I hadn’t shifted the gear into park. Finally, after locking my car, I took long strides until I came face-to-face with Mackenzie. Her jovial expression was not of ridicule, but of amusement. She was teasing me, and I laughed, too.
“Hi.”
Nodding, she curled her lips upward. “Good morning, and praise the Lord, Noel,” she signed.
“Praise Him,” I replied, wishing I could hear my voice. Was it loud, strained, and annoying, or deep and mesmerizing? I had stopped trying to impress women, but after that day in Starbucks, I wanted nothing more than to dazzle Mackenzie. The woman was refreshing. “Would you like an escort to the door?”
Without hesitation, she nodded, despite the fact that we were only a few feet from the entrance. Once inside, I followed her to our section. Selecting a pew closer to her chair, I knelt to pray. I got off my knees, removed my coat, and sat.
Casually, I searched for Mackenzie, who was disappeared into a group of parishioners, as Valerie appeared, strolling toward the group. With a catwalk strut, she carried an oversized Bible, which lay on top of a black leather coat tossed over her arm. She almost stumbled when she saw me again.
“Oh, you decided to come back,” she stated rather than questioned. She shook her head in disappointment, assuming I didn’t understand her. “I wish you had some brothers. Are they all deaf? What about any hearing cousins? You know a good Christian invites others to church.”
Frowning, I studied her features. What came across as anger or rudeness seemed like a mask for a glimpse of sadness. Valerie’s signing skills weren’t lacking, but I dismissed her hypocrisy with a shrug. Opening my Bible, I scanned the scriptures, anything about obtaining wisdom. No matter what, I wanted to walk faithfully with God, this time regardless of the obstacles. At least I was in the right place to ask for wisdom; too bad when the church doors open, the devil parades in, too, uninvited.
I smiled at Mackenzie’s return. Valerie was about to return my smile when she followed my eyes. She dismissed me when she realized Mackenzie held my fascination and appreciation.
She blocked Mackenzie’s path. “Mack, you think you can handle the interpretation today by yourself? I’ve invited a guest from my job, and I’d rather sit with him.”
Valerie didn’t wait for Mackenzie’s response as she sauntered away. Minutes later, Mackenzie settled in her seat. I sucked in air as she closed her eyes to pray. Opening them, her eyes sparkled before she met my stare. Mackenzie was tempting me with thoughts not appropriate for small children or while I was in church. How did she do it? She wasn’t overly made up, her clothes weren’t revealing, and she wasn’t even flirting. So why was I seduced? She hadn’t said anything overtly suggestive. She didn’t know the male in me could undress her with my eyes, but God was helping me control my carnal thoughts. I glanced at the bandstand as a diversion. The musicians lifted trumpets, saxophones, and trombones to their lips. When wood sticks smacked the drums, the air stirred, vibrating around me. My chest pounded as testimony.
Mackenzie coaxed the sound into my world. Her head bobbed to “The Blood Will Never Lose Its Power.” I didn’t know the song or melody, but the words told the story. Before long, I stopped watching her as I closed my eyes and thought about the words from the chorus, “…it reaches to the highest mountain…it flows to the lowest valleys…” Without opening my eyes, I stood and stretched my arms to God, swaying to the internal rhythm God gave me.
When the energy around me stilled, I opened my eyes. The praise and worship had segued into a scripture reading, yet numerous people continued their praise. It was something to be said about a church where praise was the norm, not an interruption. As I took my seat, Mackenzie instructed us to begin at James 1:17. As the minister read, Mackenzie focused on me when she signed verse nineteen, “Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath…” She smiled, adding, “Hear with your heart the voice of God.”
She emitted tenderness and understanding that reduced me to taffy—banana flavored. I hated banana, but that’s what she was doing to me, making me mushy. Mackenzie presented me with a repeat performance of her one-of-a-kind signing.
Captivated by the message and not by the woman, I leaned forward in my seat, mentally dissecting God’s message. Despite the gulps of information, I remained thirsty when the sermon ended. Pastor Coleman offered the altar call as the congregation stood.
The man of God pleaded for those who recognized themselves as sinners to repent, “Start over, renew your mind, and erase your debt. The way to God is an open door. Let God cleanse you with a simple wash. He doesn’t have to soak or scrub you. All you have to do is go down in water in Jesus’ Name. When you rise, you may look the same, but your life will be anything, but the same.” Pastor Coleman chuckled. “Who knows…?”
My mind drifted. Briefly, I thought about how God protected me from dangerous situations before my eyes and the dangers that I would never see. I reflected on His unbiased love and blessing for the thieves and the faithful.
Pastor Coleman wagged a finger in the air. “This day isn’t promised nor is this minute. Why do you remain rooted in your spot when you can come down and be washed? God is on stand-by. You don’t need an appointment. Come now. Don’t walk out of this place with a broken heart when God can mend it.”
After the last candidate was submerged in the baptism, the offering was received, and the pastor gave the benediction. Youngsters ran out of the pews as if it was recess. Women scurried to friends and their men stood around, waiting for them.
As the crowd thinned, I lingered for only one woman who was signing with a few Deaf members. Never far away, I had remained until I could say goodbye to Mackenzie. Judging from her subtle glances, she wasn’t going to let me leave yet. Relaxing in another pew, I crossed my right ankle over my left knee. Making myself comfortable, I flexed my muscles. With my thumb, I released the button on my jacket from its hole and stretched my arms across the back of the seat. Call me overconfident, but I wanted Mackenzie to feel my presence and come to me and minutes later, she did. What I didn’t expect was for her to get comfortable beside me.
“Do you want me to talk or sign?” Her smile beamed.
A choice; I liked a woman who wasn’t demanding. A hearing person preferred talking. A Deaf person insisted on signing, so Mackenzie caught me off guard. A few women had cursed me out for my silence. To my amusement, I was glad I was deaf. I had been called arrogant, conceited, and a jerk. Sometimes I could be arrogant or conceited, but never
disrespectful.
Living in two worlds wasn’t easy. Speaking versus signing was an issue that alienated the Deaf community. They demanded a distinction. Those Deaf—the ones born Deaf, not dumb—were proud, and wouldn’t dare learn to speak to appease the hearing community. The profoundly deaf—those who could hear sounds through hearing aids, implants, or other procedures, intermingled between speaking and signing.
Some considered me a traitor, since I was legally deaf and talked when I could’ve signed. I was classified as oral deaf and became a late deafened-adult when I became an adult. If this is confusing to a hearing person, imagine a teenager trying to understand it.
Mackenzie sat regally, awaiting my answer. Shifting in my seat, I relaxed my arm on the back of the pew. “Talk to me. I like to watch your lips.” I leaned closer. “Am I speaking too loud?”
Giving me the universal okay sign, she said, “You’re perfect.”
“Really?” I thought, as I planned to explore her answer later. “What’s so funny? Why are you smiling? Although, I think you’re more fascinating when you do.” Once again, I was flirting with Mackenzie in church, but she was ambushing me. Reaching out, her hands gently covered my ears. Her gesture shocked, surprised, and seduced me because I was becoming more attracted to her and I didn’t know anything about her except her name. She was a mystery that I would solve soon.
I gritted my teeth in temptation. Lord, You’re going to have to help me as far as Mackenzie is concerned, I petitioned God silently before I marveled at her touch. I was curious if she had planned to pray for a healing—something that hadn’t come yet or yank on my ears. She was taking a lot of liberty and I didn’t have any qualms about letting her. Anyway, I welcomed her communication even if it was foreign to me.
“If you could hear, you’d love the sound of your voice.”
I surprised myself when I thought, If I could hear, I would listen to her voice forever. If someone else had made that statement, I would’ve dismissed that person and viewed the comment as ridicule. That smile of hers snapped my wall of resistance like a toothpick. My finger worried my mustache as my nostrils flared. “Yeah?” I encouraged her flattery.
Her smile widened as she matched my stare. “Yeah.”
Embarrassed, Mackenzie quickly removed her incredibly soft hands, but the memory of her touch remained. I blocked out the activity swirling around us, ignoring parents grabbing toddlers or deacons gathering discarded items. Mackenzie’s undivided attention ignited an explosion of joy within me. I was fighting a losing battle to contain it.
An hour disappeared as splinters of sunlight peeped through large stain-glassed windows. We chatted until the last light fixtures flashed off. She was so easy to talk with. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a verbal conversation and enjoyed it so much. My parents and two brothers didn’t count.
“Noel, I can tell by your speech, you weren’t born deaf, right?” Mackenzie asked.
I nodded. She was perceptive. I wondered what else she would guess about me. It didn’t take long for her to answer my unasked question.
“Okay, that leaves you deaf or a late deafened-adult.”
“I’m impressed. You’ve been studying or something. I’m deaf with a small ‘d’ since I could hear up until my sixteenth birthday. The short story version is I was visiting two friends during the Fourth of July weekend. My two buddies and I were nosing around what we thought was an abandoned building. It happened to be an unsecured explosives building. When we snuck inside, so did a fire cracker with mission-like speed that set off a chain of blasts.
“Two of us escaped alive. My other friend didn’t.” I shifted in my seat. Mackenzie became a blur. I couldn’t say his name without recalling the times we shared. I took a deep breath and continued, “Keith was dead before the ambulance arrived. He had burns over eighty percent of his body. My chest took the bulk of the flames.” I patted my muscular chest as if to prove I had recovered. “Some sparks ate at the flesh on my back too.”
Her alluring eyes were filled with compassion. She nodded for me to continue. It was hypnotic observing her watching me. I rubbed my mustache before stroking my chin. I smiled to let her know I was all right.
“Three days later, lying in a hospital bed in excruciating pain, I freaked out when the doctors’ lips moved and I couldn’t hear a thing. My dad wrote a note telling me I’d never ever be able to hear again. That’s the short version.”
Mackenzie’s head tilted to side as she digested my words. Frowning, she leaned closer. “Give me the long version, Noel. Was that your journey toward salvation?” She touched my hand, prompting me. “When did you finally realize God was drawing you to salvation?”
My brows knitted this time. Since I wasn’t signing, I didn’t have to worry about holding eye contact. I scanned the sanctuary. It had been a long time since I had thought about the Dawsons, or given them credit for being witnesses for the Lord. I regained eye contact with Mackenzie. “For years, I believed that explosion was God’s payback for the stupid stuff I did behind my parents’ back, or my family’s slander of a neighbor. You know how you can make fun of things you don’t understand?”
Mackenzie’s eyes twinkled in understanding.
“Well, the Dawsons lived two doors down from us in the city. I have to admit, my brothers and I teased them because their family went to church every night. Seven-thirty on the dot, they loaded up the family car. I looked at it this way, why go to church when there were other things to do?”
Mackenzie didn’t interrupt. She neither agreed nor disagreed with my assessment, but her eyes reflected the gentleness in her heart. A slight smile confirmed she was listening. A quick wink said she understood.
Yes, she was flirting. God help me from this little temptress, I joked inwardly my degrading memories to return. “Then I remembered when I made fun of a boy in my kindergarten class who was deaf. I called him dumb, too. It wasn’t funny after all when I became the object of what I once mocked. I learned what it meant to face life-altering events, and why God sanctified people to weather the storms that were afar off.”
Watching me patiently, Mackenzie listened. The other day at Starbucks, she had me laughing at a bad situation. What would she say about the most devastating moment in my life?
Curiosity crept in so I continued, “We called ourselves the inquisitive trio. We explored what we called the forest, in the woods on the other side of a picnic area that was miles away from St. Louis. When we saw a warehouse that looked deserted, we decided to scope it out. We had just climbed inside an unlocked window when a firecracker flew over our heads. That’s when the popping started. We couldn’t get out fast enough.”
I bowed my head. I couldn’t finish because every time I thought about this part, I saw blood and two bodies. Not a good combination. I forgot Mackenzie was there until her fingers plied apart my hands which were locked in an involuntary clutch. She linked hers with mine. I looked up.
“You don’t have to finish, Noel.”
My lips curled. “Thank you.” I was about to change the subject when she stopped me with a stroke of her hand on my arm.
“But I would like you to.”
Throwing my head back, I have no idea why I started laughing as a tear leaked down my face. She joined me. Suddenly I stopped. “What’s so funny? I don’t even know why we’re laughing.”
Touching my face, she lifted my lone tear with her thumb. The look Mackenzie gave me hinted I should’ve known the reason. “Would you rather cry?”
“No,” I answered, wishing I could get inside her pretty little head.
“Noel, I’m sure after what you’ve endured, you know how much strength it took to recover. The joy of the Lord is our strength. ‘Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.’”
“You know, I wasn’t crying,” I clarified.
“Right,” Mackenzie said jokingly.
“What is it about you that I divulge things I usually shy away from discussing?”
She shrugged and delivered a killer grin.
I shook my head. If I weren’t sitting in church, I would’ve believed she had cast a spell on me. “I bet you could get my social security number out of me, couldn’t you?”
Teasing, she shoved out both hands flat, alternating them up and down, signing, “Maybe.”
Her confidence was an appealing asset. “Never mind your underhanded tactics,” I quipped, shifting in my seat. “The force of the explosion ignited a domino effect, spitting us through the air. Since Keith was the first one in, he was the last one out. He died almost instantly. Dre Smith lived, but stayed in the burn unit for six months. I was the lucky one, I guess. Besides some burnt patches on my body, I’d only lost my hearing.”
“So, did you get baptized after that?”
“You better believe it, Lady. I was the first to receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. Witnesses say they heard me speak in unknown tongues.” My fist touched my chest. “I couldn’t hear it, but I felt it throughout my body. God’s anointing power poured over me, controlling my mouth. I couldn’t stop, not even to shut it. My body felt limp before a surge of energy renewed my limbs. Yes, it was an unbelievable experience. End of long version.”
“God doesn’t discriminate who He saves.”
“I know. I’m hoping your church’s Deaf Ministry will help me grow stronger in the Lord. It’s definitely better than having church service at home. To be honest with you, prior to Thanksgiving, I hadn’t been inside a church in a long time.”
Mackenzie’s brows frowned in concern. “Why?”
“It’s not just businesses and employers that fail to embrace the Deaf. Churches, cultural events, and other functions also come up short. We can be isolated in the middle of a crowd. You know the saying, a five-hundred-pound gorilla in the room?”