Page 14 of Quiet Beautiful Things

Everything makes sense now. Why she didn’t react to the car horn at the grocery store. Or to me shouting after her when I was jogging. But… how is this going to work? I don’t know ASL. Maisy doesn’t know ASL. And Dr. Stone is deaf. How will any of this work?

She gets a notepad from her bag, writes something down, and hands it to me.

My interpreter is running late. She should be here any minute.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Interpreter. At least that’s good. I give her a thumbs up and then grimace, feeling like an idiot. She’s a doctor, not a kid.

A woman runs up behind her, signing with her hands as she speaks. “Sorry. Sorry. My last appointment ran over.”

Dr. Stone sees me looking behind her and turns.

“Sorry, Dr. Stone,” the woman says and signs.

Dr. Stone signs something, then the other woman approaches me and holds out her hand. “I’m Hannah, Dr. Stone’s interpreter.”

I shake. “Blake Montana. Nice to meet you.”

Dr. Stone signs and Hannah starts speaking. “I’m Ellie Stone. I’ve been assigned as your daughter’s advocate.”

My daughter. It still doesn’t seem real.I have a daughter.

“It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for coming.”

“Please look at me when you speak, not my interpreter,” Hannah says for her.

“Right. Sorry.”

A pained cry behind me rips my attention from both of the women, and I spin around to see Maisy on the floor, holding her bare foot. Ah, shit, she stepped on a piece of glass. I stride over and try to pick her up. She’s all arms, thrashing at me and shoving me away while making high-pitched throaty noises.

“Maisy, I’m trying to help you!”

Dr. Stone appears beside me, gets down on her knees and signs to Maisy.

“She doesn’t know sign language,” I say to Hannah. “Tell her she doesn’t know ASL.”

“Youtell her,” Hannah says, stepping behind me so Dr. Stone can see her. “Speak to Dr. Stone, not to me.”

“Maisy doesn’t know sign language,” I say as I look directly at Dr. Stone.

Her eyes scold me, and I can already tell this woman is a force to be reckoned with.

“Can she read yet?” Hannah asks on her behalf.

I shake my head.

“Then how do you communicate?”

I raise my hands up. “Wedon’t. That’s why you’re here, right?”

I watch Dr. Stone’s face morph into a scowl as her eyes follow Hannah’s hands while she interprets my words.

She disappears into the kitchen then comes out with a wet paper towel, signing something along the way. “Band-Aids?” Hannah asks.

“I’ll get one.”

After I fetch my first aid kit, I stand by and watch Dr. Stone check Maisy’s foot, wipe away the blood, and put the bandage on. Then Maisy runs away, back to her room, and maybe even the closet.

Dr. Stone looks at the mess, which now includes droplets of Maisy’s blood. “I should call CPS,” Hannah interprets. “Look at this place. She’s living in filth.”

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