Page 29 of Signed With Love

I grab his hand and walk inside. I can share this memory with him. I want him to know some part of my sister, even if it’s just her favorite pizza.

We grab our seats, and when the waitress approaches, she recognizes me right away. After jotting a quick note, she slides the ticket book to me and hands me her pen. She nods hello to Jamison but doesn’t attempt conversation. I read her note—it’s simple and sweet, welcoming me back. I order a pineapple pizza and diet soda, then slip the book to Jamison to see if he has anything to add himself. He passes it back and signs thank you to the waitress. I do the same before she walks away.

She’s hearing, I tell Jamison.

He shrugs, then sends me a smile. Thank you for dinner.

Maddie and I ate here all the time.

Jamison grabs my hand and squeezes; I know he understands. The waitress returns a moment later with our drinks, and I ask if she has a paper and pen by pretending to hold a pen and writing on my hand. She nods, then steps away to grab us some paper.

You come here often? he asks.

Yes. I like the conversation. Jamison’s eyes focus on my hands, but he must not know the conversation sign. My dad has taught him so much for basic conversation, but the language is so extensive that we often have to fingerspell words that are tough.

I cup my hands into Cs and turn them so my palms are forward. I move my hands up and down in opposite directions, then fingerspell, Conversation. His fingerspelling is really good, but I do have to keep my movements slow and precise. I also have to make sure to not combine signs, which I do with others in the deaf community.

I enjoy the conversation too, Jamison agrees, then smiles that charming smile he’s got. He makes everything else fade away with those looks. I’m pretty sure I could watch them all morning and night. When the sun comes up until it fades in the west. But I don’t share my secret desires with him yet. I’ll get there.

I catch the shadow out of my peripheral and turn to find the waitress has returned with paper and a pen. I thank her and turn back to my date.

My heart flutters just to think of him that way.

I write down the story I want him to know. He leans in close, and that scent of nature and metal or oil that seems to cling to him is there. It’s a heady mix for me, especially when there’s an underlying scent that’s entirely Jamison too. I try to focus on the white piece of paper that’s flooded in the yellow light from above.

We lost Maddie last summer. She had been shopping, and the store was robbed at gunpoint. There was a mother shopping with her daughter. My sister stepped in front of a child to save them. My sister thought only of the little girl at that moment. I hate her for it as much as I love her more for it. That little girl has a life now because of my sister’s sacrifice. But I don’t have her anymore. I sat in that hospital room, but she never woke up.

The tear slips free as I drop the pen.

Jamison’s lips are pressed against the side of my head. He slid into the booth beside me after reading what I wrote. He’s holding me, sharing his strength as I share my sister with him. He releases his hold and grabs the pen. His rough script that I’ve come to need starts to fill in more of the paper.

Chapter Fourteen

Jamison

She was very brave, and I wish I could have known her. I lost someone I love, so I know “sorry” isn’t enough. My mother was sent on a rescue mission to the Copper Valley during the winter four years ago. You remember how bad it got that year? She didn’t take the warning to not take off from Cordova. She should have stayed up there rather than rushing home. Her plane went down, and she wasn’t responding. I rushed out, but by the time I got there, it was too late. She saved a man and got him to a safe place, but then she got stupid and rushed out of town before she should have.

The waitress comes to drop off the pizza by the time I finish writing. Claire’s arm has wrapped around mine, and she presses into my side deep enough that there isn’t any space to separate us. It’s the only reason I was okay writing my heart out on that piece of paper.

Claire reluctantly lets go of my arm and grabs a slice of pizza for me, then a slice for herself. She takes a bite, wipes the grease away from her fingers, and grabs the pen again.

Thank you for sharing her story with me. Isn’t that the place where your father’s from? Maybe it’s full of bad memories and she just wanted to get home to you? But I don’t remember Alaska that year because Maddie had us in the lower forty-eight.

I start reading. The pizza pauses midway to my mouth. Isn’t that where your father’s from catches me off guard, but so does the way she says her sister had them in the lower forty-eight. Not that she wanted to be there.

I grab the pen.

I don’t know my father or where he’s from. Did you not want to leave Alaska?

Claire’s face morphs in confusion. I never told her about my father, so I don’t even know why she’d make the assumption. I don’t know enough about him to share. Her hand forms a fist and makes circles on her chest to apologize.

I’m okay, I tell her.

Claire nods. She finishes her bite and picks the pen up. I’d probably never leave Alaska if I had the choice. If anything, her statement confuses me more.

You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to go, I write back, sliding the paper a bit so it’s easier to read.

She shakes her head, then takes a sip of her drink. It’s like I’m missing something but haven’t the slightest idea what.

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