A sound left his mouth, that almost sounded like a gasp. But the look in his eyes was pure anger and confusion. I could see that he thought I was lying. The more I looked into his eyes, I could see something that pulled at my heart. It was a feeling that was familiar and yet it almost hurt to think about it. Was it supposed to feel like this? Like something was caressing my heart and stabbing it at the same time.
My eyes diverted to anyplace other than his. I found that after awhile it was hard to look into those emerald gems. I couldn't keep standing there and look at him. Not without losing a piece of myself to his gaze. And so I turned my head and looked at the chair I had just vacated.
I could feel his body heat quickly leaving and a part of me missed it. A flash of a boy smiling at me caught my attention. And as I looked at him I could see some of the similarities. But that was impossible. So instead I turned and opened the door to leave.
Turning me around he looked at me and asked, "You don't remember me?"
The expression on his face told me that this was something he had never expected. And if I was correct I could see a look of pain or hurt in his expression. A lump formed in my throat and I found that it was harder to answer him. After a few seconds, I shook my head no and waited for him to say something.
"How's that possible? We were--"
"What?" I asked looking at him expectantly.
He paused for a second and looked down before turning his attention back to me, "Friends."
A part of me was wishing he would say something else. Something that would explain this new feeling I was experiencing. "Oh."
"Yeah." Then he looked at me and asked, "Would you rather I signed. I can see you squinting."
I laughed a little to myself. He was right. I still hadn't fully gotten used to reading lips. Although I could watch his mouth move forever. The way it turned up to one side more than the other when he smirked. It was all I could do to not kiss them. Then I remembered that I was supposed to hate him. He had been an ass to me. So why did I suddenly find myself drawn to him.
"No. I'm just gonna leave."
"No."
"What?"
Probably thinking that I didn't understand he signed, "No."
"I understood you. But why can't I leave. A minute ago you didn't want me here," I signed back.
"I thought you were trying to pretend you didn't know me Izzie. Part of me still thinks that."
Feeling my anger slowly building again I looked him in the eyes and signed, "Fuck you."
Then I turned around and opened the door and walked out hoping that I slammed it. Walking as calmly as I could I made it to the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby. I was almost free when I saw a hand stop the doors from closing. When I saw who it was I pushed my anger back down and turned away from him.
When I felt his hand on my shoulder I looked up at him and could see the anger I was trying so hard to keep at bay. "Damn it Izzie. Will you stop running from me."
"I'm not running," I signed.
"The hell you aren't. You did it five years ago. And you're doing it now."
Sighing I looked into his eyes and began to sign slowly. "I don't remember anything from five years ago. Except--I doesn't matter what I remember. I know what I don't remember and what I don't remember is you."
My heart jumped to my throat as I watched him walk closer to me. When my back hit the wall, I realized that I had nowhere else to go. His hand reached up and touched a strand of hair that had fallen out of place, tucking it behind my ear. I couldn't help but bite my lip at the feel of his skin against mine. He must have noticed because his tongue flicked over his own. And then they were kissing me.
I pushed against his chest at first, but as it became more demanding I found that I didn't want him to stop. As my arm snaked around his neck I heard him groan and lean into me. My eyes widened when I felt the evidence of his arousal pressed against me.
"Whoa...I'll take the stairs."
His head popped up at the sound of someone's voice. When I looked up I finally realized that we were at the lobby. And that I had just kissed a complete stranger. The only thing was he didn't feel like a stranger. Kissing him felt like going home. And that was something I couldn't allow to happen. Looking up at him I pushed him aside and as fast as I could walked out of the lobby and straight to me car. Leaving him alone to wonder what had just happened.
****
Opening the door to the apartment I was greeted with the same silence I was accustomed to. Nothing new there.
But what was new was the smell that met me as I walked in. Putting my briefcase down, I walked towards the kitchen and was surprised when I saw Stephen leaning over the stove looking into one of the pots.
He must have heard my footsteps because he turned around with a sauce spoon in his hand. The smile that crossed his face told me that he was happy to meet me. But that smile quickly faded and he walked over to me and gave me a hug. It wasn't until then that I realized I had begun to cry. The tears ran down my cheeks and I didn't know why. I hadn't cried in three years. Not since my mom.
Finally breaking away from his hold, I wiped my eyes and looked over his shoulder. Remembering that he didn't know how to sign I yelled in his ear, "Where's Thomas."
I could see him cringe at the volume of my voice before he pointed towards the room down the hall. I smiled apologetically and made my way towards his room. Not even bothering to knock I opened the door and found him singing into a hairbrush. I stopped and watched him dance to whatever song was probably playing.
When he turned around I cupped my hand over my mouth and watched as his eyes narrowed. "Are you laughing at me," he signed.
"Hell yes," I signed back.
Looking at me a little closer he frowned and asked, "Have you been crying?"
I shrugged my shoulder and sat down on his bed. I didn't want to rehash the recent events. Especially how I had just cried on his new boyfriend. No, I would just sit here and let the agony and pain wash over me slowly. I'd let them drown my sorrow and hopefully take my heart with it.
When I felt his hands on my face I looked up and smiled. But it was clear that I had been crying and was about to start again.
"What happened," he asked as I watched his mouth closely.
"Job interview," I signed.
Slapping his forehead he looked down at me, "Didn't get it?"
"Never got to the interview portion."
He frowned again at me and before he could ask the question I began to explain. "The guy from last night was my interviewer."
I watched as his body stiffened and wished I hadn't divulged that bit of information.
"What did he do to you?" he signed to me furiously.
"Nothing. I mean he yelled and accused me of knowing him. Then...he kissed me."
"What!" Thomas turned his head and stared at the source of the outburst. I followed his league and saw how angry he looked. "He kissed you! I told him to stay away from you!"
"Interview," I saw Thomas say.
"So! That doesn't mean kiss her. It means hire her. Maybe get to know her."
Raising my hand I looked at Thomas and asked him, "What is he talking about?"
He shrugged and we both looked at him waiting for an answer. When he didn't say anything, Thomas stood and walked towards him. They had what looked like a heated conversation and then they both looked at me.
"What?"
"He wanted to know where you lived and Stephen told him to leave you alone. He's obsessed with you."
"He said he knows me," I signed to them both.
Stephen looked to Thomas for a translation and all he got was a strange look. Then he asked me the million dollar question.
"Does he?"
****
Michael looked down at the photos he kept beside his bed. The one he had in his hand was of him and Isabelle before his father died. She had made him go to this cheesy photo booth. Almost all of the pictures were of them being silly and putting rabbit ears on each other. All of them except one. In that one it had him staring at her while she smiled for the camera.
And now she was saying she didn't remember him. How was any of that possible. They had known each other since they were kids. There was no way she could ever forget him. Deciding to call the only other person who knew them both, he reached in his suit jacket and retrieved his phone. He really hoped the phone number hadn't changed.
Pressing send he waited for someone to pick up the phone. When they did he was shocked to hear the voice of a man. Maybe she had gotten a boyfriend. Or married. Clearing his throat he smiled and asked, "May I speak to Mrs. Jones."
There was a long pause before the man on the other end asked, "The woman that used to live here?"
"Used to?"
He could hear him clear his voice, "Yeah. Nice black lady right. Deaf?"
"Yeah. Did she move or something?" I asked hoping he knew where I could find her.
"Are you family?"
"Something like that," I sighed getting tired of the twenty questions.
"Oh. I'm sorry sir," he said in low tone. "But she died...about three years ago."
A gasp left him as he listened to what the man said. "Died--what do you mean died."
"It was in all of the papers. Her and her daughter were in a real bad accident. The daughter lost what was left of her hearing and the mom was in a coma. She had a stroke about three years ago and suffered brain damage. Her daughter used to come all the time. She kept saying she was the only memory she had left."
There was silence again. Only this time he could hear his heart beating in his chest and the sound of his breath trying to slow down from the haggard sound it was making.
"You okay?" the man on the other end of the phone asked.
"Um...thanks," he told him before hanging up. "Fuck!" he screamed before he felt the tears streaming down his face. "Fuck."
****
The following week the only thing Michael thought about was all the time he had lost. All the things he had said to her before she left. And now he couldn't even apologized to her. Not really. She was telling the truth about not remembering. And worst of all the only person she had left was gone. The only person he had left...gone. Fuck. He had been thinking and saying that word a lot lately.
He had to find her. He had to make sure she knew who he was. Maybe it had been a mistake all those years to do what he did. But at the time he was hurting. He needed someone to blame other than himself and she was the closest. Of course she would block him out of her memories. He had told her she was dead to him. And now technically...part of her was.
It was decided. He was going to find her and make her remember him. If it was the last thing he did.
****
It had been a week since I had seen him and yet he filled my every thought. I wanted so badly to see him again, but part of me knew that was a bad idea. I couldn't risk his anger or the way he looked at me. As if he could see through me and directly to my soul. I walked around the grocery store in a daze until I hit something hard and fell flat on my ass.
Looking up I saw the shocked expression of one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen. He was absolutely breathtaking and he was saying something to me.
"What?"
"Sorry. I'm so sorry."
My eyes darted to his hand and hesitantly took it. When he helped me up I brushed off my butt and looked up at him to see that he was still talking. Holding my hand up I looked around him and found a piece of paper. Making a scribbly motion his eyes widened and he looked into his jacket for a second before he found a pen.
Taking it from his hand I wrote him a note and handed it to him. I looked at him expectantly and saw his mouth form a smile. He wrote something as well and handed it back to me.
On the piece of paper below the words 'I'm deaf', were the words...'Oh, okay.'
His hazel eyes stared at me before he grabbed the piece of paper and wrote something else on it. Looking down I smiled and looked up at him before shaking my head.
Why not?
Smiling I wrote, 'I don't date strangers.'
'I'm not a stranger. I almost killed you. See. Not a stranger.'
I laughed again when I saw him pleading with his hands. He had spelled out the word please. 'It's all I know,' he laughed after he handed me the paper back.
Fine.
He pumped his fist as if to say he was victorious and did a little dance in the aisle. I laughed and began to walk away from him before I felt his hand on my arm. Looking at me he grabbed the paper and wrote, 'What's your name.'
Isabelle.
I'm Aidan. Meet me at God's Ground if you don't feel comfortable giving me your address.
And with that he wrote down his number and turned around to walk away from me. Damn, he had an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. His brown hair was cut short and his skin was an olive tone. I smiled as I walked away and went back to my shopping. Tonight was going to be fantastic.
****
I dressed with tonight in mind. God's Ground was a new restaurant a few blocks from where I lived. He must live closer than I realized. When I arrived, he was already waiting for me. As I walked up to him he greeted me by signing hello. I smiled realizing that he had learned something just for me. Shortly after I had gotten home I text him and let him know that I could read lips. He seemed a little relieved, but the fact that he took the time to learn a few words warmed my heart.
We were seated close to a window, and shortly after ordered drinks. There was a comfortable silence before he looked at me and half signed half spoke his first question of the night.
"Have you been deaf all your life?"
I shook my head and held up four fingers. "Wow. Why haven't you tried surgery to fix it. Or hearing aids. They have so much new technology out."
"And how would you know that," I wrote on the paper he had brought with him.
Smiling at me he wrote down, "Because I'm a doctor."
My smile faltered a little before I looked at him and realized he was serious. "I've never worked with anyone who was deaf, but I do have a colleague who specializes in hearing loss and he's had very big breakthroughs in this type of thing," he wrote.
When I didn't look at him, I saw his hand pick up the pen again and tap it against what he had written.
"What do you have to lose?"
Looking up at him I smiled a little before I spoke for the first time since I had met him. "What indeed."
No comments:
Post a Comment