Page 47 of Quiet Beautiful Things

“Get off my back, little brother. I get enough of that from Mom.”

He starts talking business. That’s how I know he’s done with this conversation. Business is all he’s done since they died. That and whatever the hell he does up there in his cabin to keep himself busy.

We spend the next half-hour talking about the profit/loss statements Dad sent out last week.

After we hang up, I stare at the picture of Dallas and his family and think about his words.If you’ve got nothing, you have nothing to lose.

And they hit me square in the gut. Because in such a short period of time I’ve acquired so much that I can lose.

Chapter Sixteen

16

Ellie

“Maisy is really coming along,” Patricia Kasey signs. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“She’s a special girl,” I sign, looking at Maisy over Patricia’s shoulder as she plays kickball on the playground with the other kids.

She kicks the ball, jumps up and down, sees me, and runs over, arms stretched wide. I accept her hug, but at the same time, I can’t stop thinking about what Blake said the other night about waiting for her to want to hug him.

I turn to Patty. “Mind if I take her for the last thirty minutes? There’s something I’ve been wanting to work with her on.”

“Go ahead.”

“Come with me,” I sign to Maisy, delighted she now understands simple instructions.

My shirt is tugged from behind, and I spin around and look down to see little Bobby Miller. “It’s Maisy’s turn,” he signs. But instead of fingerspelling Maisy or pointing to her, he does a name sign.

My heart gets stuck in my throat. Being given a name sign by peers is somewhat of a rite of passage for the deaf. And even if Maisy doesn’t understand what a major milestone this is, I do. She’s a part of something much bigger than her small world now. My throat thickens as I bask in the triumphant moment.

“I need Maisy now,” I sign, using her newly minted name sign. “She’ll play again tomorrow.”

He nods and looks at her, waving goodbye.

Taking Maisy’s hand, I guide her to my office and ask her to sit down while I gather what I need. I have a large folder full of drawings Maisy and I have done that help us communicate. I quickly make a few others as well, realizing what my mistake might have been before when I tried to teach Maisy about ‘father.’

Sitting next to her, I spread out the drawings and flashcards. Like before, most of the pictures are of men with children or babies, and I take special care to make sure all of the children are girls. No need to confuse her further. Then there are the drawings of her with Blake. But what I add this time are pictures of men all by themselves. To simplify things and stick with what she already knows, I use the sign for ‘boy’ instead of ‘man.’

I point to each man in each picture and sign, “Boy.”

Then I point to the flashcard of a man holding a baby. I spread out my fingers, bring them to my forehead and tap my thumb twice against it. It’s the sign for dad, daddy, or father.

I point to the drawing of Blake and Maisy and sign, “Daddy.” I point to the other pictures of men with children and do the same. Then I motion for her to try.

She points to one of the pictures of a man with a child and does the sign for Daddy. But then she does it again when she points to the picture of the single man. I shake my head and go over the exercise again hoping that eventually she’ll understand that all men are boys but that only men with children are daddies.

She stomps her foot, something she does when she gets frustrated.

I label all the men in the pictures again as ‘boy.’ Then, again, I only point to the fathers and do the sign for Daddy. I pull out my phone and show her the picture I took of her and Blake at the winery the other day. I try not to think about how I’ve looked at this picture far more than I’d like to admit.

“Boy,” I sign, pointing to Blake. “Girl,” I sign, pointing to her in the picture. “Daddy,” I sign again at Blake.

I point to one of the single men. “Boy,” I sign. Then I shake my head. “Not Daddy.”

I again show her the flashcard of the man and baby and do the signs for boy, baby, and daddy. Then I go back to the single man, only doing the sign for boy.

I ask her to do it. She studies all the pictures. I’m fascinated at the way her nose crinkles when she’s thinking. It’s the same thing Blake does. Every day, I notice more similarities between them. The slopes of their noses. The shape of their fingers.

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