Page 59 of Rocking Her Silence

I don’t know how long we stay just like that. He doesn’t tell me to stop crying, just holds me until my sobs turn into sniffles on their own, his arms gently circling me, his hands offering comfort.

When I’m all cried out, I pull back and look down at the front of his T-shirt –which is wet and ruined by mascara streaks.

God, I’m a big snotty mess now. That’s the last thing I need. Damn…

I must look a sight…

I sniffle, mouthing an apology to him, and he looks down at himself, smiles, then looks back up at me, pulls off his tee and offers it to me like a giant paper tissue, and gestures for me to use it to dry my face and blow my nose in it.

That’s the last thing I could have ever expected him to do and the sweetest, too.

I bring the soft, soggy material to my face and giggle into it. It still smells of Carson’s unique woodsy, citrusy scent despite my tears.

I just hide behind the crumpled cotton as long as I can, then look up at him.

He reaches out with one hand and touches my cheeks. His thumb rubs my skin just under my eye. He shows me that the pad is black with my runny mascara, then cleans it on his jeans like it's nothing. He taps away at his phone and then shows me the screen.

“Why don’t you go wash up, baby? You will feel better after you do that…”

I nod, let go of a shaky sigh and stand up, moving toward the powder room.

Carson also stands up, stops me, and then points in the direction of the master bathroom.

I blush. He wants me to use the bathroom he’s been using, not the little one set up for guests.

I don’t know why, but that makes me feel all warm inside.

I take way too long scrubbing my face clean of both tears and leftover makeup and trying to tame my wild waves into some sort ofnot-so-shabbymessy updo, twirling a lock of my own long hair around it to keep it together since I don’t have one of my scrunchies with me. Then I walk out of the bathroom and almost crash into a still-shirtless Carson.

He was practically waiting outside the door.

Sometimes, I feel like he can’t help being close to me, one way or another. Sometimes, I like how that idea makes me feel. Today is one of those days.

I try to push the tension out of the way, laughing.‘What are you doing out here, you crazy man?!’I mouth, loving the close way his beautiful eyes follow my lips.

Almost of their own volition, my hands make the two signs that always show up in my head when I think of him.‘Big.’‘Grumpy.’

I guess this is his definitive nickname, then.

Carson grins at me, unapologetic as always.‘I couldn’t stay away, Mia. You know I never can,’he says, his long, tapered fingers spelling fast in the air as if he's a maestro directing an invisible orchestra entirely set on making me lose my grip on what's left of my heart.

His words and the effort he’s putting into learning to communicate with me strike me far too close, far too deeply, and I look away from him, trying to compose myself.

‘How is it that you already can fingerspell so fast?’I ask after a while.

Carson pulls back his shoulders and throws his head back, fingers wiggling fast in two hovering patterns, one across his naked inked chest and one at his waist, his body moving as if following a beat.

I smile when I realize what he’s doing: playing an invisible electric guitar.

And his meaning dawns on me.

I’m guessing he’s saying that his fingers are nimble from being a musician. Bass, guitar, piano, he plays it all. I shouldn’t be surprised that he learned the 26 letters of the fingerspelled alphabet so quickly and that his‘fingering’can be this accurate and fast.

Still… I’m impressed.

'For most people reaching this level would take months and months, if not years, and you can do it in a matter of days?’ I ask, mouthing each word as I fingerspell, truly surprised at how quickly he’s mastering this.

He laughs. “That’s because I’m extremely motivated. Also, I’m awesome!” He declares, and then just because he is a show-off, he also fingerspells it.

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