by Laura Brown
I stepped into the room and caught the television in the corner she stared at. I waved until her eyes met mine. I expected them to light up, look relieved, anything.
Nothing.
Instead she glanced behind me to Dev, giving him a look that said What are you doing here?
I intercepted. “What happened? Are you OK?”
“I fell.” She signed one-handed, not moving the one with the IV, white ID bracelet sliding down her arm.
“Are you OK?”
“I’m here. No.”
I’d been worried about her, and she barely gave me a few words. I wondered if somewhere beneath her cold exterior, she thought of Dad. I wondered if the hospital scared her or if she was ready to see him again.
The last thought scared me, felt too close to becoming real.
“Why here?” Mom signed.
“Tanya called, told me you were taken to a hospital. Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“You don’t care. Your new life is too important. You’re not here to help.”
“I’m sorry.”
Dev’s hand clasped my shoulder. I hadn’t been good enough to Mom since Dad died. Possibly ever. He was the nurturer, not her.
“She was worried about you. We had to track you down,” Dev signed.
Mom shifted, eyes to the television. “Doesn’t matter. I’m stuck here now. One more problem in this no-good life. Been this way since Dad died.”
The lighting of the hospital, the white walls and floors, the bustle of nurses in scrubs all brought back memories. Of me standing in the hall, trying to figure out what was going on, where my father was. I had studied the body language of the nurses, their lips moving, but couldn’t figure out a thing. Then Mom had collapsed, sobbing, and I knew whatever had happened was bad.
It had taken until Dev and his mom picked me up to understand how bad. I should have figured it out, after a half hour of watching Mom cry. But I had been stuck without communication, without my mother’s support.
She’d been this way since that day. Cold. Closed off. Unhelpful. She’d left me to raise myself. Sure, life had sent a ton of crap. But we didn’t band together to fight through it.
She gave up.
“It wasn’t Dad’s fault he had a heart attack.” I signed small. Because it was the truth. The debt he left the bar in, that was his fault. The attack was not. I wanted to tell Mom she wouldn’t die, not yet, not now after all this time. I feared she’d argue with me.
A small flame of emotion flared to Mom’s eyes; I should have known she didn’t need much incentive to argue. “Yes. It was. He carried all that stress, worked himself to the bone, piled on the debt that destroyed our lives.”
“He tried to save us.”
“He tried to save his bar. Not us. Never us. Always the bar. I hated that damn bar.”
“Of course you did. That’s why you got rid of it the first chance you had.”
Mom shifted, then winced in pain, and I felt bad. I shouldn’t be arguing with her. We could have this conversation another day, not today. “I did what I had to, to keep food on the table.”
I held myself back. Now was not the time to call her out on her depression and the meager meals it created. I needed to stop this fight, but I couldn’t, not yet. “I wanted your love, not food.”
Mom’s eyes traveled to Dev, and even with all the changes between us, my stomach clenched. “You always did get what you needed elsewhere.”
Dev was the one who told me Dad had died. His mom was writing and working on communication, but Dev heard it. My own mother couldn’t give me two signs to let me know why my world was falling apart. Although I guessed she had been the reason Gail and Dev had shown up in the first place.
“She’s your daughter. Did you ever think about that? She came here because she cares. I don’t know why you can’t express anything positive for her.”
I grabbed Dev’s arm and shook my head. Not the time. Not the place. Not when my head was buried in the past and I couldn’t find my way back up.
Mom looked at me, and I swore I saw remorse. Did she see the parallel? Did she feel the hurt? I’d leave her again, leave with Dev, stay with Dev, while she continued to shut me out. “Leave me alone.”
“The last time I left a parent in the hospital, one died.” I had to blink back tears.
So did Mom. “A broken hip won’t kill me.”
“You promise?”
Mom brushed me off. Couldn’t blame her. I wanted to fling myself at her, feel her arms around me. Dad’s death should have brought us closer. Instead, I couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged me.
Dev tugged on my hand, stepping toward the hall. Mom turned to the television. I willed her to look at me again, give me something, anything.
“If you don’t give up that bar dream, you’ll end up like him. And I can’t stand by while you destroy your life like he did.”
Dev squeezed my hand, but I pulled it free. “Dad’s the only parent I ever truly had. You don’t want me following in his footsteps? Give me someone else to look up to.”
Then I turned and hightailed it out of there. I made my way down the hall, past the double doors, and into the waiting room. My feet propelled me forward, into the icy spring air.
I stopped before I hit the street, breathing in, freezing my lungs. Dev wrapped me in his arms. No words necessary. I needed him. His strength, his warmth, his scent. Comfort. Anything to eradicate the chill left behind by Mom.
SOMETIME AROUND THE second exit on the highway, the overwhelming urge to be alone, to get away, hit me like a bug on the windshield. I instructed Dev to drop me off and go to work.
He shot me a look but signed nothing. I did my Connie impression, shutting others out, because like it or not, I did a few things the same as my mother.
I fought my battles alone.
He didn’t push, didn’t rock the boat of my fragile state. My breaking point was way too close for comfort. At the apartment, he idled in front of the building. I reached for the handle, but he touched my arm. I steadied my breathing and faced him.
“You going to be OK?”
I forced a smile. “Always.”
He didn’t sign anymore, and after a moment, I could no longer look at him. If I did, I’d collapse, or beg him to stay, or kiss him, and I needed to be alone.
He let me go. A part of me wanted to pound on him. But I recognized it was what I wanted, what I asked for. And whatever distance Dev granted, it came with a time limit.
I needed to get my shit together fast.
Unfortunately, wandering his apartment alone didn’t give me any clarity. I stood in his place, with his belongings, here because I accepted a handout. The story of my life, always needing something from someone. I had to turn my brain off and stop thinking for five fucking minutes.
I left for work early. Requiring something, anything, to do. The early departure meant I didn’t have to worry about seeing Dev at the apartment.
He’d find me soon, and then I’d have to deal with it all. As I considered the growing number of text messages from Dev that I was ignoring, everything felt like it was crowding in on me.
An hour into my shift, he arrived. I did my best rendition of our fifth-grade fight: I ignored him. It worked for ten minutes, until he snatched my wrist as I walked past. “Why are you upset with me?” His touch was no longer tentative.
I shrugged free. “I’m not. I want to be alone. Why can’t you understand that?” Then I hid behind my work, giving him a wide berth. Hoping he’d get frustrated enough to leave.
I should have known better. Devon Walker stuck to his principles the more frustrated he grew. Which meant that an hour later, I had a bigger section to avoid, as Nikki and Pete had arrived.
I couldn’t avoid my two friends. They didn’t know the shit that had gone down. I greeted them on the other side of the bar, needing as much distance as I could get.
“Your mom’s in the hospital?” Nikki signed as soon as I got close.
I dropped my board down and locked eyes with Dev. “You haven’t finished updating them? You brought them here; you deal with it.”
I went to hand my board to Len, but Dev reached over the bar and grabbed my arm. “Stop running from me.”
I faced Nikki. “Want a sleepover tonight?”
Dev dropped my arm, ran two hands through his hair. “You don’t need to play these games.”
“You don’t need to help me. Find someone who wants it. I’m on my own.”
Nikki banged on the counter. “Again. Yin. Yang. You two have never been alone.”
I shrugged it off and handed my board to Len. No smile from him—something was in the air, turning everyone to shit. I grabbed my marker, added a line to my list of orders. I can make these if you want a break.
He erased my words. Not your job.
It could be, if anyone had any faith in me. I stayed nearby as he completed my drinks, kept my eyes trained away from my friends. How had I not noticed how sloppy Len was until now? The mixes were off, the beer overfoamed. Not good, not good at all.
I wanted to talk with him, but he shoved my tray toward me. And I got it; I was the waitress, a kid playing bartender. Even if I could do a better job than him.
I delivered my drinks. The other tables didn’t need me, and I wasn’t ready to see my friends, so I escaped to the bathroom, a single-stall unisex room near the back office. I kicked at the door, not bothering to ensure it latched closed, and leaned over the sink, staring at myself. My smile was nonexistent. My eyes were devoid of spark. I looked as bad as Mom and Len.
The door opened, and through the mirror I saw Dev enter. I rolled my neck. “Bathroom means privacy.”
“Then you should have locked the door.” He came up behind me, for which I was grateful, as it felt a little less personal with us both facing the mirror. “Talk to me.”
I wanted to laugh but was too afraid it would turn into a cry. “What for? You were there. You know what happened.”
I kept my gaze on his chin; his blues held too much emotion for my present state. “And I know you’re acting too much like your mother right now.”
I spun around and pushed my hands against his chest. “What do you expect me to do? Pretend nothing happened? Discuss all the little details of how I feel?”
His hands balled into fists before he started signing. “And what do you expect me to do? Watch you in pain and do nothing? How can I help? Tell me what to do.” He flung his arms out wide, and for the first time, I saw it. My pain on him. It was there in the shine of his eyes, the stiffness of his jaw and shoulder. If I bled, he bled.
I always was alone until Dev got involved. And if I was honest, vice versa. Nikki’s yin-yang comment pinged back to mind. He was there when my dad died. I was there when his dog got hit by a car. I made him laugh after Tiffany Stone dumped him in eighth grade. He helped me study after bombing a history test.
And now I fought against that very same help. Double so for Dev, who had a life calling to butt into people’s lives and try to flip a magic switch. Only I had no switch to flip. My pain didn’t go away. It had grown roots to become a part of me.
My gaze traveled to his lips. There was one way to make him feel better. To make me feel better. I darted across the narrow space and kissed him. His soft lips turned a shitty day upside down. He pulled me close, and I shoved my hands in his hair. The day disappeared until only the two of us remained.
He backed me up until my ass hit the sink. I wrapped one leg around him, and his hands played with the strip of skin exposed between my short skirt and tank top. Our lips clung, tongues teased. Pressure built. I arched into him, connecting with a definite erection. This time we didn’t break apart. This time we melted further together.
The lights flashed, and we broke apart. I opened my eyes to a very amused Nikki and Pete. I quickly fixed my skirt as Dev dropped his head to my shoulder, laughing.
“That was hot,” Nikki signed, fanning herself. “You really don’t want to sleep over with me.”
I tried to get my head on straight. One minute we were fighting, the next, ready to devour each other. With the door unlocked.
Pete nudged Nikki as Dev picked his head up. “Told you they were hot.”
“No kidding. I thought we were going to need to hose them down.”
“You finished?” Dev asked.
“Depends. You done fighting?” Nikki’s retort had all three looking at me.
“For now.”
Dev arched an eyebrow, and I couldn’t help myself; I kissed his cheek.
Nikki turned to Pete. “Mark it down. Ways to make Jasmine feel better: kissing Devon.”
“I suspect that goes both ways.” Pete followed her into the hall.
Dev faced me. “You OK?”
I took a deep breath. My world still felt a little topsy-turvy, but one thing was certain. “I’m better.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Devon
ONE DOWNSIDE OF diffusing Jas’s anger: without it, her bravado faltered, leaving her exhausted. By the end of the night, she yawned and shifted on her feet. And still told me to go home as closing time approached.
“No. You’re too tired. I’ll drive you.”
She yawned. “I’m fine.”
I leaned on the bar and stared her down. Besides two others, I was the only one left. Nikki and Pete had gone home hours ago.
Len came over and picked up Jas’s board. He wrote a message, then plopped it in front of her before returning to his usual spot. The guy was not on his A-game, not even close.
Jas read the board, then sighed. “Fine. Drive me home.”
I glanced at the message Len left telling her to leave for the night. With the small crowd, he had this covered. Jas needed rest.
By the time I pulled up to my apartment complex, she leaned against the seat, fast asleep. The streetlight illuminated her face, her closed eyelids, and those lips I had robbed of lipstick earlier. I finally got the chance to open the car door for her. She didn’t budge, deep into slumberland.
I undid her belt and collected her into my arms. It took a little maneuvering to use my keys to get us into the apartment, but I managed.
I laid her down in my bed, and she curled right up like usual. I undid her boots and managed to slide her trench off. She’d want to wash up or change into pajamas. I didn’t dare change her myself; we weren’t at that point in our relationship yet.
Did I wake her or not?
I leaned over her, brushed her hair back, and shook her shoulder. She shifted and stayed asleep. I kissed her temple. “Sleep.” With the day she’d had, she deserved it.
After a trip to the bathroom, I changed into my pajamas and curled up behind her, wrapping us both in a blanket. The exhaustion of the day must have hit me as well, and I conked right out with her.
I WOKE FIRST. Not a surprise on Jas’s part, as her job had truly made her a night owl. It was a bit of a surprise on Blake’s part, until I recognized the second jacket hanging by our door—Shawn’s. I brewed a large enough pot of coffee for everyone, although who knew when the guys would be up and around.
As the brown liquid dripped into the pot, a light flashed. Our doorbell. I glanced at the time. It was too early for guests. It might have been an electrical interference, but even so, I checked the peephole.
Mom and Dad stood on the other side.
Not how I wanted to start my day. I pulled out my phone and warned Blake. Whatever his plans were on introducing Shawn, they were shot now. I opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
Mom patted my cheek. “That’s not how you welcome your parents.”
I rolled my eyes and stepped back. Dad signed nothing. Since our conversation at work about Jas, things had not been smooth between us.
Mom placed a bag from a local bagel place in the center of the kitchen table. I hoped she’d gotten a half dozen to accommodate the extra person. She brushed her hands on her jean-clad hips. “How’s Jasmine?
”
I turned to Dad, and he gave me a curt nod. Realization dawned, and a warmth encompassed my chest. They were here because of Jas. “She had a rough night but is sleeping now.”
Mom placed a hand on her heart. “That poor dear. I always worried about Connie after Eddie died. Jasmine put on too good of a front at school, never letting us know if we could help.” Mom was one of the Deaf teachers at the school Jas and I had gone to.
I shook my head and reached into the bagel bag. Jas and I knew getting her mom in trouble would be ten times worse on Jas. As long as she could crash with my family when needed, she’d be fine.
I pulled out an everything bagel and popped it in the toaster. My phone vibrated, and I checked the display.
Blake: They staying?
Me: They brought bagels. They’re here for Jas, but she’s still asleep.
Blake: Shit.
Me: You can’t hide Shawn forever.
Blake: Going to be obvious when he comes out of my room.
Me: Hide the hickeys.
Blake: Do Mom and Dad know you’re dating Jas now?
I put my phone away. Dad knew. It all depended on how much he’d told Mom.
Dad glanced around. “Where’s Blake?”
Sleeping. With his boyfriend. “Don’t know, haven’t seen him yet.” Best answer—the two could hide out in his room for hours if they wanted to.
. . . Or face the music. Blake dragged one hand through his bedhead hair. The other held Shawn’s. I needed to teach them the act of subtlety. “Good morning,” Blake signed. Then, without giving my parents a beat to be shocked, he continued. “This is my boyfriend, Shawn. He’s hearing but is learning ASL.”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. His sons were giving him a hell of a week. Mom beamed, eyes darting back and forth between the couple. In contrast to Dad, she was probably envisioning wedding invitations. “Nice to meet you.” She slowed down her signs so Shawn could follow and stuck a hand out to him.
Shawn shook it. “Nice to meet you too.” He shot Blake a look, clearly thinking things weren’t as bad as anticipated. But Blake held firm. Mom wasn’t the problem.