The Silence Between Us

by Alison Gervais

  GO HOME, I signed to Beau, taking a step back. TIME FOR SLEEP.

  Beau did another one of those shrugs of his and signed, OK. YOU TEXT ME LATER?

  YES, I signed back. I TEXT YOU LATER.

  CHAPTER 22

  I did not text Beau later, purposefully ignoring all the messages he sent my way. I didn’t text anyone, save for the random ones to Nina and Melissa to let them know I was still alive.

  I spent Thanksgiving in the hospital with Connor, where cell phone reception was shoddy to begin with, but that wasn’t really the reason behind the radio silence on my end.

  I was afraid to talk to Beau again. The communication barrier between us, no matter how hard Beau was working to pick up sign language, was even more evident now than before. I would forever be thankful for Beau and what he did in the hospital that night, but it had been a struggle for both of us.

  And there were little things too, like his dad. Obviously, Beau was intimidated by his father, so I could only imagine what Dr. Watson thought of Beau skipping out in the middle of the night to come to my rescue at the hospital.

  There were serious differences in our two worlds. I didn’t know if he would think bridging that gap was worth it. I didn’t even know if I wanted to bridge that gap myself.

  So I chose to focus on homework and being with my family instead, responding to Melissa and Nina’s messages just enough to let it be known I was alive and—relatively—okay. Everything else could wait.

  Returning to school the Monday after Thanksgiving break came with a massive load of butterflies in my stomach I couldn’t get rid of. My palms were sweaty at the thought of walking into AP Statistics and seeing Beau for the first time since that night in the hospital. But I shoved back the apprehension I felt—pushing it to the place where I could now stow away my new fears about becoming a respiratory therapist.

  I kept the events of Thanksgiving break to myself, not filling Kathleen in on anything that happened, pretending like everything was normal. It felt a little like lying, telling Kathleen I was just fine, but as it was going to be my scripted response to anyone else that asked, I might as well get used to it.

  Most everyone was seated in AP Statistics when Kathleen and I entered the classroom. I took my regular seat in front of Beau like nothing had changed over break, pulling out my textbook and homework assignments.

  The tap on my shoulder came shortly before Mrs. Richardson began the day’s lesson.

  I felt something suspiciously like guilt when I turned around to look at Beau and saw the concern etched across his face. I’d ignored him all break when I knew he only wanted to see if I was doing all right.

  WHAT’S UP? I signed nervously.

  “. . . okay?” Beau said, and he leaned toward me, his hand outstretched as if to touch my hand. I might’ve wanted him to.

  FINE, I signed back quickly. SORRY. TIRED.

  Beau nodded, but it didn’t seem like he was buying my excuse. I suspected it wouldn’t be too long before he was asking me that question again.

  And it came when we were sitting across from each other at our normal table in the cafeteria at lunch, another simple, YOU OK?

  YES, FINE, I signed back for what seemed to be the thousandth time.

  Both Nina and Kathleen asked me the same thing.

  YOUR BROTHER? Beau signed to me next.

  I hesitantly signed, BETTER.

  That was the truth at least. Connor still needed more time before he would bounce back completely, and there was no question of his going back to school until next semester. A home health care provider would start coming over sometime this week to help out around the house. Mom was already investigating home school programs, but I wasn’t sure how well that was going to work out with how demanding her job could be. They moved her halfway across the country for a reason—and that meant more work than before.

  I was starting to think that if I got a job to help bring in some money maybe Mom might have less to worry about with everything else going on, that it wouldn’t matter so much if her paychecks were a little short because she left work early to come home every now and then. Thanks to the move, I wasn’t going to be taking Pratt’s graduation seminar class, part of which required students to build resumes and learn how to write cover letters, but I was thinking my guidance counselor Mrs. Stephens should probably be the first person to speak to about the whole process of finding a job.

  Under normal circumstances I would never think of abandoning Mom at home while Connor needed the extra care, but with the home health care provider coming she would be getting a little reprieve. There was temporary relief on the horizon, and I hoped I could improve that with a little extra income.

  GOOD, Beau signed with a nod. HAPPY.

  SAME, I replied.

  Nina chose to cut in at that moment, leaning toward us to say, “. . . everything okay?”

  “Fine,” I said immediately, and Beau gave a nod of agreement.

  I thought there might have been a suspicious gleam in Nina’s eyes, but she let it go with a shrug.

  “So . . . was thinking,” she said, resting her chin in her hands. “. . . some homework . . . for finals?”

  It was an automatic response to look at Beau when I did not understand what Nina was saying, and he already seemed prepared, signing, HOMEWORK AND STUDY FOR F-I-N-A-L-S.

  I felt myself release a sigh. The last thing I wanted to do was study. I would rather set up camp at the mailbox in thirty-degree weather to wait for any news from Cartwright or spend as much time as I could keeping Connor company.

  “Okay,” I said. “When and where?”

  We decided to start the studying after school at a local coffee shop. It was called The Steaming Bean, and according to Nina, it was a popular place come finals time for high school and college students. On the way over, Nina wound up in the backseat of Beau’s car with a stack of books in her lap from his traveling library.

  The place was empty for a Monday afternoon, so finding a table to unload our books and homework things wasn’t difficult. The atmosphere was calming, smelling of chocolate and espresso, and there was a cozy little fireplace tucked away in the corner. Beau took it upon himself to buy us all a round of peppermint mochas even though Nina and I insisted we could buy our own drinks, and then we got to work.

  First up was prepping for our Historical Literature class. Our teacher told us beforehand that our final was going to be an eight- to ten-page essay over the two major works we’d covered this semester—Beowulf and Canterbury Tales. I wasn’t much of a writer and would take numbers over words any day of the week, but it was impossible to miss the way Beau’s face lit up when we started talking about the essay.

  I sat back in my chair and sipped at my mocha as Beau launched into a longwinded critique of Beowulf. Before long he dragged Nina into it. Every so often I would see a flash of his dimples when he would smile at something Nina would say. He seemed genuinely enthusiastic about Beowulf, which I didn’t understand at all because it had been an immense struggle not to fall asleep during most of the lectures over that text.

  I gave a startled jerk when Nina waved a hand at me, signing, HEY, and I had to wonder how long I’d been spaced out, looking at Beau. I felt a little creepy.

  WHAT’S UP? I signed, setting my empty mocha cup down.

  YOU OK? Nina said, one eyebrow raised.

  “Fine,” I said, really wishing people would quit asking me that. “Just . . . thinking about the essay and all.”

  Beau grinned and gave me a dorky thumbs-up. “You’ll . . . fine,” he said. “Promise.”

  He signed, RESTROOM, to us and got to his feet, heading off to where the bathrooms were at the back of the coffee shop.

  He got two steps away before he was suddenly down on one knee. He probably would’ve fallen flat on his face if he hadn’t thrown out an arm to grab at the nearest table to keep himself upright.

  I rushed to his side without thinking, dropping to my knees in front of him. Nina wa
s there too, saying something, offering a hand to help Beau regain his balance.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” I said aloud, not thinking to sign.

  Beau waved away Nina’s hand and winced when he pushed up on the table and very carefully got to his feet. I could see his knees knocking as we both stood up.

  My hands hung in mid-air, not sure if I wanted to sign or say something to Beau. He was still clutching at the table, and his eyes were shut tight, lips a thin line.

  I felt helpless when I looked to Nina, and I was taken aback to see an expression of exasperation on her face instead of concern for Beau. It looked like she was annoyed with him.

  “Did . . . take . . . ?”

  The last word Nina said to Beau involved a lot of syllables, so there was no way was I going to be able to figure out what she was saying.

  Beau shook his head when he opened his eyes again, but there was an undeniably soft look on his face when he said, “Thanks for . . .” to Nina.

  She gave him a tiny smile while she rolled her eyes in response and nudged Beau with her shoulder.

  It wasn’t until Beau was off in the bathroom and Nina and I were sitting back down at our table that I realized the hot feeling working its way through me was jealousy. Beau never looked at me the way he’d just looked at Nina, but I had no idea why that should bother me.

  “What’s wrong with Beau?” I blurted out.

  Nina wiped her mouth with a napkin after taking a sip of her mocha before she answered my question. “Beau . . . okay,” she said. “He’s . . .”

  She put her hand up to her temple and made a flapping gesture, the sign for stubborn—also conveniently the sign for donkey.

  “Beau’s stubborn,” I said with a frown, and Nina nodded.

  What was that supposed to mean? What did Beau being stubborn have to do with anything?

  “What do you mean by that?” I said when a minute had passed, and Nina still hadn’t elaborated.

  HE SHOULD TELL YOU, was her careful reply in sign language.

  Well, that sure cleared things up.

  “And are you two . . . um . . .” I went sinking down in my chair, trying not to cover my face with my hands out of embarrassment. “I mean, you and Beau . . . ?”

  Nina arched one eyebrow as she reached for her mocha again, and she gave this kind of sly smile I’d never seen from her before. I had the feeling Nina knew exactly what was floating across my brain at the moment.

  “Me . . . Beau? No . . .” She shook her head. “We’re . . . friends. Nothing there . . .”

  PROMISE, she added in sign, and I believed her.

  Nina leaned forward with interest, a curious expression taking over her face. Instantly I dreaded what she was about to say.

  “Now you . . . Beau . . . ?”

  I was blissfully saved from answering by Beau’s return from the restroom. I gave him the once-over as inconspicuously as I could, and it was a relief he didn’t seem to be in as much pain as a few minutes ago. He had a look of discomfort as he sat down, stretching his right leg out in front of him at an awkward angle. Not so much a cool guy thing this time; he had to be in pain.

  That was the leg with the massive scar I’d seen briefly the day before midterms.

  YOU OK? I signed to Beau when he glanced up from his copy of Beowulf.

  He signed back, YES, way too quickly, but I wasn’t buying his answer.

  Promising myself I’d get to the bottom of this soon was a lot easier than everything else had felt lately.

  CHAPTER 23

  I sat on the floor behind the kitchen table with Connor, his face squished against the back door as he watched the snow falling outside. Really, he should’ve been resting after his breathing treatment, but the second I’d signed, SNOW, he’d looked like he was about to burst with excitement and he rolled off the couch with more energy than I expected from him.

  This wasn’t the first snowfall he’d ever seen, but this snow in Colorado looked a little different from snow in New Jersey. The porch light was on, illuminating the backyard in a gentle glow. The more snow that began to cover the ground, the more sparkles came dancing off the snow in the light.

  “Can . . . go outside?” Connor asked me, tapping a finger on the back door.

  “Not a chance,” I answered. “Let’s just enjoy it from here.”

  Connor’s face twisted down in a pout, but he was back to looking enchanted by the snow a few seconds later.

  I felt footsteps from where I sat on the floor by the back door and knew it could only be Mom coming toward us. When I moved myself around to get to my feet, she came walking into the kitchen with a couple grocery bags in both arms, and there was an unbelievably happy smile on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” I said suspiciously, grabbing two grocery bags from her. “Why do you look like that?”

  Mom couldn’t sign with the way her hands were occupied, so I leaned in to watch her say, “. . . have mail.”

  Mail?

  I hoped whatever was in the grocery bags I took from Mom wasn’t breakable because I dropped them and snatched at the pile of mail tucked up under her arm. I went straight for the largest envelope, tossing the rest of the mail on the nearby counter. I think I gave a sob when I saw Cartwright’s crest on the envelope, addressed to Maya N. Harris.

  “Open . . . !” Mom said, rocking back on her heels with her hands clasped before her after she set her grocery bags down.

  My fingers were trembling while I attempted to tear open the envelope as neatly as possible. Mom came closer to peer over my shoulder, and even Connor joined us as I carefully pulled out the first sheet of paper in the envelope. The words seemed to dance across the page, making it difficult to comprehend.

  A slow minute passed before the words fell into place.

  Mom gripped me by the shoulders, and when I finally looked up at her she had her eyebrows raised expectantly at me.

  I didn’t think I was capable of forming any words to speak, so I signed, YES.

  YES? Mom repeated, her eyebrows now disappearing up into her hair.

  YES!

  I couldn’t believe it. I could not believe it.

  I got into Cartwright.

  Kathleen stood there in the middle of Mrs. Richardson’s classroom reading and rereading my acceptance letter from Cartwright. Each time she got through it and went back to the beginning, her smile grew even bigger.

  When she carefully set my letter on my desk, she signed, CONGRATULATIONS! before pulling me in for a hug.

  WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL, Kathleen signed when she let me go.

  I probably signed, HAPPY, a few too many times, but I doubted she’d hold it against me.

  A FEW MONTHS, GRADUATION, AND COLLEGE! Kathleen signed with her brilliant smile.

  This time her enthusiasm was contagious. I couldn’t remember the last time I smiled so much.

  I looked around when Kathleen paused mid-sentence to sign HELLO to someone behind me. I wasn’t surprised it was Beau walking into class. I was surprised it was his name that came flying from my lips, and that my first reaction was to grab my acceptance letter and literally go running to him.

  “Beau!”

  I felt the ecstatic smile slip from my face when Beau stopped dead in his tracks, staring down at me with a mixture of confusion and surprise.

  SORRY, I immediately signed, now fully aware of the curious stares from our few classmates already seated.

  “No,” Beau said quickly, shaking his head. “I’ve never . . . say my name . . .”

  AGAIN? I signed in confusion.

  It took Beau a moment to sign, I NEVER HEAR YOU SAY MY NAME BEFORE. But he was smiling now instead of looking like a deer caught in the headlights. So, did that mean he was . . . happy too?

  Beau gestured to my acceptance letter clutched tight in my grasp, and I suddenly remembered what I’d gone running to him for in the first place.

  Wordlessly, I passed the letter over to Beau. If it was possible, he looked even more t
hrilled than Kathleen. I let out a yelp when he suddenly had his arms around me in a hug that was not totally unwelcome. A little alarming, sure, but once I hugged him back, I had no desire to let him go.

  I felt like dissolving into giggles instead of tears like the first time I’d hugged him while in the hospital. I was starting to feel a little lightheaded catching that scent of his—cinnamon spice.

  When the lights flashed to start class, Beau and I quickly took our seats, and I folded my acceptance letter and tucked it safely into my backpack. There was a tap on my shoulder when Mrs. Richardson was occupied with her computer, trying to pull up today’s notes on the projector.

  Beau signed, CONGRATULATIONS! when I twisted around in my seat to face him.

  THANK YOU! I signed back, trying to suppress more giggles. LETTER FROM Y-A-L-E? I signed to him next.

  Beau was even more anxious to get into his first-choice college than I was, so for his sake I sure hoped he’d gotten some similar mail.

  He made a sour face and shook his head, signing, NOT YET.

  SOON, I assured him, and reached over to give his hand a comforting squeeze.

  Beau smiled, and before I could get totally lost in his dimples, he nodded up at Mrs. Richardson. I quickly faced forward but couldn’t quite wipe the smile off my face.

  My excitement at my acceptance from Cartwright still hadn’t faded one bit by the time lunch rolled around. It turned into a struggle trying to communicate with Nina because I couldn’t choose between using my voice or signing and everything was coming out a jumbled mess. Kathleen had to step in to tell her the news before excusing herself to go to lunch off campus, and then I gave Nina my acceptance letter to read.

  CONGRATULATIONS! Nina signed, throwing an arm around my shoulders for a hug. WONDERFUL!