by S. Nelson
Kena
The three men who had thankfully come to our aid wore their appearance of intimidation well. But I guessed at a gentleness underneath, a trait I was sure not many people bore witness to. I saw it in the way they’d tried to protect my sister and me, in the softness in their eyes when they reassured us that Marcus wouldn’t be a problem any longer.
I’d mistakenly gone on a date with Marcus Hill a few weeks back. He’d come into my family’s restaurant a few times and had always seemed nice, never giving me any reason not to trust him. I know it sounded weird since I didn’t know him, but I naively thought I could spot an asshole right out of the gate. As it turns out, some jerks conceal their assholishness during the initial encounters, sucking their victim in and revealing their true selves only when they deem it necessary. Such as when they’d had too much to drink. As was in my case.
He knew about my handicap, although if I referred to myself as impaired around my family they lovingly scolded me. Despite realizing I was different, he’d asked me out anyway, and after some persistence on his part, I’d agreed. But on one condition—that Braylen tagged along. I wanted her with me for two reasons. One, because I hadn’t been on a date since my senior year of high school, and two, so she could help communicate for me.
My sister and I met him at a bar he’d chosen, which was the first mistake, because all he did that evening was throw back shot after shot. When he’d become quite intoxicated, we told him we were leaving, which was when he became a little too handsy with me, completely ignoring the horrified look on my face. He ended up shoving my sister to the side when she grabbed his arm to let me go. When I turned hysterical with fear, I must have hit a nerve because he backed away and allowed us to walk out without further incident. I had no idea if it had dawned on him just how aggressive he’d become, or if he simply thought I wasn’t worth the effort after I refused his advances.
When Braylen had begged me to come out to the fight that evening, I had no idea Marcus was going to be there. He’d briefly mentioned being involved with fighting, but it was such a fleeting statement I never paid much attention to it. So imagine my surprise when I saw him saunter down the narrow walkway toward the ring. Because of where our seats had been, he hadn’t seen me. Until later. As soon as I saw him, I’d wanted to leave, but the other guy who had entered the ring after him kept me glued to my rickety chair.
An undeniable fierceness shrouded him, a potency which drew me in right away. A sensation I couldn’t comprehend, but I knew I had to stay until the end. Luckily, Marcus had lost, making the mystery fighter the victor. Or at least he was a mystery to me. To the fans shouting his name, he was obviously well-known.
Standing outside and finally breathing in some fresh air, I’d managed to calm down some, thankful these three men had come to our rescue. I had no idea how far Marcus would have taken it if we were left to deal with him all by ourselves. Not that I didn’t have faith that Braylen would have jumped on his back like an angry spider monkey if he refused to leave me alone, of course. She was fiercely protective of me. And I loved her all the more for it.
Jagger tentatively approached me, a curious look on his face while he attempted to converse with me. He’d seen my sister and I signing to each other so he knew there was something different about me, but I bet he had no idea what it really was.
“Is she all right?” he asked Braylen, turning his head toward her at the last minute. “She’s not hurt, is she?” He looked worried about me and I found it rather sweet. I didn’t know him, yet there was a strange pull between us. I felt it, and I noticed he did as well. His expression was one of a child looking at something wondrous for the first time, the innocent curiosity which came from being exposed to something unknown and . . . different.
Braylen smiled at Jagger then turned her attention toward me. Raising her hands, she signed, He’s quite the hottie, isn’t he? Look at those arms of his, and that butt. Wow! Did you see his butt, Kena? And what about his two buddies. Holy shit, woman. We couldn’t have been saved by hotter men.
I smiled, responding with, Jagger is hot, for sure. I hope none of them know what we’re saying. I glanced at Jagger and saw him intently watching the exchange between Braylen and me, waiting for my sister to confirm that I was indeed all right. Tell him I’m fine.
Do you want me to give him your number? she asked. I looked at her like she’d lost her mind. What? You can text, can’t you?
What I strangely felt toward Jagger was nothing I’d ever experienced before. Maybe it was simply hormones. Or maybe it was the knight in shining armor syndrome. Whatever the cause, I couldn’t deny I felt something toward the mysterious fighter. So I allowed myself a moment to consider Braylen’s question. But in the end I declined, not being in the right frame of mind to put myself out there.
Tapping my index and middle finger against my thumb, I signed, No. I saw the disappointment on her face right away, and I knew she wasn’t going to let me dismiss him that easily. I would have thought she’d be onboard with my refusal because of what had transpired with Marcus, but she still pushed me.
Why not? she asked. I really don’t think he’s anything like that asshat. Plus, you need to get out more. Stop hiding behind this bullshit, she signed, pointing to my throat. Live a little, and what better way to do that than with this fuckable man?
My eyes widened and she laughed. I dared to glance at the guy in question, and thank goodness he still had no idea what we were saying to each other.
After Braylen gave me a subtle glare, she turned toward Jagger and said, “Kena is fine. She was a little rattled, but she’s okay now. She also wants me to thank you and your friends”—she looked over at his buddies quick before locking eyes with Jagger again—“for helping us out. Kena is forever in your debt. And because of that, she wants me to give you her phone number.” I grabbed her arm to try and turn her toward me, but she wouldn’t budge. Instead she was smiling, extending her hand for his phone.
“How are we gonna talk on the phone?” Jagger asked slowly, as if my sister hadn’t realized this.
“You can text, can’t you?” Braylen retorted, smiling even wider.
The whole time they were conversing, I couldn’t stop the embarrassment from creeping up and stealing over my skin, my face no doubt bright red. Continuing to try and get my sister’s attention was futile; she was dead set on fixing me up with Jagger. After she’d finally put my number in his phone, he raised his head and pinned me with his entrancing amber-colored eyes. Biting down on his lower lip, he seemed to be struggling with something. Maybe he only took my number to be polite. Or maybe he wanted to speak to me. I had no idea, but I wasn’t complaining about having to look at him for a few more minutes.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” he suddenly blurted. My heart fell, rejected before he even got to know me. I should have felt nothing, since I was the one who had initially refused my sister’s persistence, but his dismissal hurt all the same. “I think she’s absolutely beautiful, and I would love to get to know her, but how the hell am I gonna talk to her?”
I wasn’t quite sure who exactly Jagger was talking to, because his eyes roamed from Braylen to his friends, only resting on me for a few seconds before looking at the ground. He seemed put out all of a sudden, as if it were a burden to be mixed up with someone like me.
It made me feel less than.
Inadequate.
Without thinking, I grabbed Braylen’s arm, and that time she gave me her attention. I signed furiously. You tell him not to bother with me then. Don’t call me. I’m not someone to be tolerated. To hell with him if he doesn’t want to get to know me.
Braylen looked at me strangely. “I’m sure that’s not what he meant, Kena.” She didn’t sign to me that time.
“What did she say?” Jagger asked, suddenly looking interested again.
“Nothing. Don’t pay attention to her. She’s just flustered. It’s been a long day.” I tried to turn Braylen toward me once more so I
could tell her something else, but she refused. “I’m not looking at you, little sis, so stop trying.” Stomping my foot like an errant child did nothing but make her laugh. “Not gonna work, so stop it,” she chided. Folding my arms over my chest, I blew a strand of hair out of my face before turning and walking away. If she wasn’t going to listen to me, I was done. My feelings had been hurt, and all I wanted to do was go home. Maybe soak in a hot bath before turning in for the night. The thing was . . . I knew Jagger would run on a constant loop in my head until I finally succumbed to sleep. Even while still being upset with him, as well as with my sister.
Maybe I’d taken what he’d said the wrong way. Or maybe I hadn’t. Either way, I was used to people ignoring me, never giving me the time of day because I was different.
I briskly walked away from the small group, but didn’t get very far before a firm yet gentle hand wrapped around my upper arm, stopping me.
When I turned my head, I saw Jagger staring at me like I was a piece of lost treasure. His eyes roamed my face, focusing a little too long on my lips before connecting with my eyes.
Everyone else stood back while we had our own private moment. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Kena. That wasn’t my intention at all. It’s just . . . I’m not sure how to talk to you. Look at me now. You can’t hear anything I’m saying and I have no idea how to tell you . . . well . . . anything. You’re so fucking beautiful that I’m losing all my sensibilities just being near you.” He stepped closer, his scent wafting around me and making me dizzy. In a good way. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you that I’d love nothing more than to kiss you, to feel the warmth of your mouth against mine. I have no idea why I’m saying this, except for that I guess I’m safe to do so because you can’t hear me. Which sucks, by the way.” The more he spoke, the more uncomfortable he appeared. “Listen to me ramble on. Sorry, I have no idea why I keep talking except that I have this overwhelming need to tell you that you do something to me. You make me feel . . . relevant. If that makes any sense at all, which it probably doesn’t.” His tongue snuck out and ran over his bottom lip, immediately drawing my attention to his delectable mouth.
As if a lightbulb had switched on inside his head, he suddenly asked, “Can you read lips?” Turning around to look for my sister, he yelled, “Can she read lips?”
“No, she never bothered to learn.” Jagger instantly relaxed, but it was short-lived. “But she can hear everything you’re saying.” Braylen strolled up behind Jagger, put her hand on his shoulder and leaned in close. “You see, Kena’s not deaf. She just can’t speak. Whatever you just told her is now ingrained in that brain of hers, so it better have been good.” My sister chuckled as she grabbed my hand and pulled me away. “Time to go now, boys. Thanks again for your assistance.” She looked back at Jagger. “You better text her. You’d be a fool not to.”
Daring to take a look back at the guy who just threw my world into chaos, I saw the wheels turning, watching him come to the realization that I’d heard him tell me he wanted to kiss me. That I made him feel relevant.
I had no doubt he would have never told me those things if he thought I could hear, but I loved that he’d bared a piece of himself. Even though he thought his words fell on deaf ears.
Every pun intended.
Before we slipped inside Braylen’s car I heard one of his friends say, “Looks like you’ll be learnin’ some sign language, my man.”
Kena
Why did you give him my number? I asked Braylen while she flitted around her room trying to get ready for work. It’d been two days since I’d met Jagger and still he hadn’t reached out. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care, that it was for the best, but I was disappointed. He’d been attracted to me; he’d said so. He told me he wanted to kiss me, so why the silence?
My sister ignored me, mumbling words every now and again. She drove me nuts refusing to answer. Before she became even more distracted, I grabbed her arm and spun her toward me, letting her know I wasn’t going to let up until she answered my question.
Sighing overdramatically, she tucked her hair behind her ear and stared at me for countless seconds before opening her mouth. “Because you need to get out, Kena. You need to stop shying away from people and put yourself out there more. Hiding at work and then back at home is not doing you any good.” Braylen only signed to me when we were in the company of others, and when she wanted to talk about them. Otherwise, she spoke to me like any other normal person, something I thoroughly appreciated.
I’m not hiding.
“You are. I love you, but you’re in denial, sis.” Throwing a pair of jeans on her bed, she brushed past me toward her closet to search for a shirt.
When she emerged, I signed more emphatically. I would have thought you wanted me to stay clear of all fighters, especially after what happened with Marcus. Shifting from one foot to the other, I patiently waited for the line of crap she was going to lay on me.
“You can’t group all of them together. Plus, I don’t know . . . ,” she stalled. “There’s something about Jagger I found calming. Weird choice of word for his type, but there it is. Plus, the way he was watching you when you weren’t paying attention was endearing.”
Endearing or stalker-ish? I smirked before she tossed a pillow at my head. Either way, I’m not getting mixed up with him. You say there’s something calming about him, but I detect there’s a very dangerous element surrounding him. What I’d really been referring to was him being hazardous to my heart.
“It’s up to you either way. I think you should give him a shot if he texts you, though. Take it slow. Give it time and get to know him. If you’re not interested, let it go. But if I’m right about him, and I really think I am, he could be good for you.” After Braylen finally decided on an outfit, skinny jeans and a red tank top, she threw on her sneakers and grabbed her smock. She was running late and would have to leave right away if she was going to make it to work on time. Thankfully, her best friend owned the hair salon, Transform, where she worked.
Sensing there was nothing left to say, I followed her toward the front door, walking past her while she locked up. Happy to head into work, I started my trusty Nissan and decided I would welcome the distraction of my job; otherwise, I’d overthink the entire situation involving Jagger.
Braylen and I hadn’t ventured far from the nest, renting a house ten minutes from my parents, eight minutes from the restaurant and five minutes from the salon.
I never had any big dreams of traveling around the world, or going away to school far from home. I was a homebody, attending a nearby college and earning my accounting degree, which enabled me to take care of the finances for my parents’ lucrative restaurant. They were doing so well there were plans to branch out a few towns over. They paid me a nice salary, so I couldn’t complain. Sure, I could have gotten a job at a large accounting firm, but because of my “challenge” I was simply more comfortable around my family.
In most cases, I coped rather well in life, but there were moments, like with the altercation with Marcus, where I found myself shutting down. I hated that I couldn’t scream at him to leave me alone, leaving my older sister to fight my battles for me yet again. She’d been the first one to stick up for me, defending me against the bullies at school. Little did she know, sometimes she did more harm than good. When she called out those little bastards, they teased me relentlessly whenever she wasn’t around. I never told her because I didn’t want to make her feel bad.
My parents wanted me to have as normal a childhood as possible, which was why they had enrolled me in public school. Sure I couldn’t talk, but I could hear just fine. I’d write down any questions I had for the teachers, and everything worked out fine until fifth grade, when the bullying just got worse. The kids called me a mute, which I was, but the way they said it made me feel like a freak, as if I had a choice in what had happened to me.
When I was an infant, I’d contracted a viral infection which had damaged the nerves in my
larynx. A freak thing. There was optimism that the damage wouldn’t be permanent, but as the years passed and I still wasn’t able to form a sound, the doctors said there was no more hope. Because of that, I’d never spoken a day in my life. In the past, I often wondered what my voice would have sounded like, fantasizing about all the things I would’ve loved to say to my family, and to the few friends I’d made growing up. To tell someone I loved them, for them to hear me say the words, was what I had dreamed about the most. But it would never happen, so I let those fantasies die long ago. No use dwelling on the impossible.
The bullying had gotten so bad that one day during sixth grade my parents found me bawling my eyes out, tucked into the far corner of my closet. After some prodding, I finally spilled the beans, signing so fast I was surprised they understood me at all. Finally deciding enough was enough, they’d moved me to a school for the deaf. At least there I’d be around kids who had to communicate the same way I did.
Signing was my main way of communicating, but for my family, since I could hear what they were saying, they’d simply spoken. Occasionally, there were times when they would talk, stop to sign, and then go back to talking.
Almost like speaking Spanglish, but for sign language.
Kena
Pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant, I noticed we were rather busy. Crowds sometimes gave me anxiety, so I was thankful there was a back entrance, something I used quite a bit. Walking down the short hallway toward my office, I heard my phone ding, alerting me to a text message. Rooting through my purse, I found the device buried at the bottom. I hurriedly swiped the screen, thinking it was Braylen switching plans for later, but to my astonishment the message was from an unknown number. All it said was Hello.
My heart thumped against my chest, my breathing suddenly coming in short spurts. Is this him?
Closing the door behind me, I walked across the room and sat behind the desk. My office was small but it did the trick, locking me away from everyone else. The walls were painted a neutral tan color, which I found oddly soothing. My desk was big enough to house a computer, phone and lamp. I often listened to music while I worked, so I had a docking station as well, which charged my phone while Pandora played.