Page 21 of Tameron

TAMERON

“You’re not Dayton,” I said to the guy who opened the door in what had to be the stupidest comment ever. Was he Dayton’s roommate? I vaguely recalled Nash mentioning a roommate.

‘Are you Tameron?’ he signed.

Oh, he was Deaf? ‘Yes.’

‘Come in.’ He signed something I couldn’t follow, then ‘Will be right back.’

I repeated the unknown sign. ‘Is that Dayton’s sign name?’

The man grinned as he stepped aside and let me pass him, then closed the door behind me. ‘Yes. I’m Dax.’ He fingerspelled his name. ‘I’m Dayton’s brother.’

Ah, that made sense. ‘Nice to meet you. You said Dayton would be back?’

‘He’s helping a neighbor move a washing machine.’

That sounded like him, all right. Rescuing kittens out of trees, running into burning buildings, helping people move heavy furniture—all in a day’s work for him. And on top of that, he was fluent in ASL as well. Was there anything the man couldn’t do?

‘What do you do?’ I asked him. We had just finished a unit on professions, so this was great practice. And Dax was nice about it, signing slowly and clearly so I had no issues following him.

‘Car mechanic. I own my own garage.’

My eyes widened. ‘True-Biz? I love tinkering with cars.’

‘You were Army?’

‘Yes. I worked with munitions. Ordnance specialist.’ I fingerspelled the last part because it wasn’t a common profession.

‘And now?’

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? I’d tried some odd jobs, but it wasn’t easy when you had as many limitations as I did. Between the dizziness, the hearing issues, the frequent medical appointments, and everything else, I was highly unreliable for any employer. I couldn’t blame anyone for not hiring me, but it left me adrift.

Also, if Bean, with his shitty memory, could find a job, why couldn’t I? The difference was that he’d made his hobby—cooking—into his job. I didn’t have hobbies. My recovery was all I had time for, especially emotionally, and when I wasn’t studying or taking some kind of class, I was watching TV and pretending I was fine, everything was fine. I’d become really good at that.

But that was way more than Dax wanted to know, so instead, I shrugged. ‘I take classes and focus on getting better. Still figuring out the rest.’

‘If you want to tinker with cars, you’re always welcome.’

Really? He’d offer me just like that? The man didn’t even know me, and I couldn’t imagine Dayton singing my praises to his brother. I’m sure when he told him I was coming, the words ‘dick’ and ‘asshole’ had been used. ‘Thank you. That’s very nice of you to offer.’

He shrugged. ‘No big deal. It’s hard to figure out what you want to do.’

‘You didn’t always want to be a mechanic?’

He waggled his hand. ‘I didn’t know if it was possible. I worked for a boss for a bit, but that didn’t go well. None of my coworkers signed, so communication was challenging.’

I didn’t spot hearing aids, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have them. ‘You have no residual hearing?’

‘A little, but mostly low tones. The problem was that they always had music on when we were working, which meant I couldn’t hear anything else. So I would take my hearing aids out, but then I couldn’t hear them when they called me, so they got annoyed.’

That was exactly what I feared about working anywhere. I had more residual hearing than Dax did, but for how long? The doctors had made clear that my hearing would only deteriorate over time—one of the reasons I’d gotten serious about learning ASL.

‘You own your own shop now?’

‘I do. I communicate with clients through text or email and put my hearing aids in when needed. But I have a lot of customers from the Deaf community who are all too happy to be able to communicate with their mechanic more easily.’

That was the alternative to a job in the hearing world. I could explore options within the Deaf community. But was my ASL good enough for that yet? I knew Dax was slowing down for me, and so did Dayton. Both could sign much faster than they did with me—and so would others. I’d have to really step up my game to be able to communicate.

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