Page 8 of Our Sadie

But I get it. I do.

“She around?”

He dons this carefully upbeat expression before turning and gesturing to someone offscreen in American Sign Language. He also speaks out loud. “Hey, Paisley, guess who wants to talk to you?”

There’s the sound of someone crashing toward him like a herd of buffaloes, even though she only weighs about a buck ten, if that. And then the young woman who is my sister appears, behaving like the eight-year-old she tests as rather than the eighteen-year-old she literally is.

“How’s my Princessa?” I ask signing and speaking out loud, too. Sometimes, I’ll mouth the words if I feel like we need privacy. When she was first admitted to the home, I did that a lot. Mostly to make certain she was being treated right.

She shoves Ripley front and center, blocking out half of her face. “I lost him. I cried so hard, Dommy.”

She’s signing with only one hand so many of those signs don’t make sense. Luckily, she can still speak like she used to, though regulating her volume can be tricky.

“I’m so sorry. Georgie said you’re better now, though.”

“Yeah,” she says, but her eyes are still a bit puffy. This tugs at me. It tugs at me fucking hard.

I wave at her until she’s looking straight at me again. “Wanna play pop-pop?”

This is her name for our game of popping in close to the monitor then away from it, not mine. But I don’t care what she calls it. If we make this game a regular tradition, she’s much more likely to not object to me not being there later.

It’s something I’ve learned since she got sick. She needs two things: something that’ll keep her interest and something that’s routine. So, I duck in and out of the frame for her, before having my face fill the screen again.

She squeals, her cheeks raising in glee as she follows suit. Thank everything holy.

We play for a while, then just to get another giggle out of her, I put a peppermint lifesaver on the tip of my tongue and poke it out at her. This is a tradition we’ve had for a long time now. Though she calls them innertubes rather than what they actually are. The instant she sees that little white ring, she squeals in delight again, even though I can’t offer her one in person.

At least I’m still able to lift her spirits. With that knowledge under my belt, I’m able to sign off without feeling like total shit for abandoning her.

“Gotta go, Princessa. But I’ll be back tomorrow.” That’s something else I’ve promised myself. When home, I’ll drop in about every forty-eight hours unless something’s wrong. For now, though, I’m making this a daily visit. Even if it is a virtual one.

“Love you, Dommy.”

“Love you more.”

I peer around my room, impressed by all the luxury. The bed’s made up with these super high-quality linens, and the pillows are the fluffiest I’ve ever seen. The curtains are thick and the door solid wood. It’s just high-end all the way around.

I never dreamed I’d visit New Hampshire of all places, but since I’m here, I’m damn sure throwing everything I’ve got into this. I’m not one to half-ass anything and that goes double for now. If I’m in, I’m all in.

Unless something happens with Paisley.

Then, all bets are off. But I have to admit that currently, my sister seems fine, so I’ll concentrate on giving Sadie such a fabulous time that I become her permanent guy back in Boston.

I just need these three months to speed on by.

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