Page 22 of Signed for You

I hear footsteps plodding steadily up the stairs. Liam. The house is large enough to have privacy but not so large that you can’t hear everything going on within it. Such as the steps that have stopped outside of my bedroom door.

Two soft knocks on my door stop my thoughts.

“Come in,” I say.

I pull the covers over me, covering the vest top I have on. It’s just typical that someone wants to come into my room the one night I don’t have my fluffies on to cover me up.

My lights aren’t on, only the fairy lights above me, which allows me to see Liam as he enters. It’s still dark, but the small light that is in the room illuminates him.

He’s changed in so many ways and yet also not changed at all.

It could just be my adult perception of him that’s changed, maybe it's not him at all, just the way I see him now in comparison to the way I saw him ten years ago.

He stops in the doorway. Uncertain. Probably just drunk and unable to see in the dark.

“Are you alright?” I wonder, shifting in the bed so that my legs are crossed beneath me, in case he decides to sit on the end of the bed.

He notices that I’ve made space for him and does just that. The bed shifts under his weight, though not so much that it makes any noise, although it does jolt me slightly.

“I’m a little drunk, my girl,” he tells me, “but I wanted to talk to you.”

“Is something wrong?” I wonder aloud.

“No, no,” he rushes out, “nothing's wrong, we just didn’t get to talk earlier.” His accent seems stronger, certain letters being accentuated more. I suppose that’s the drink too.

“I know, I don’t know what came over me.” I laugh nervously, finding myself shifting again, unsure of what to say.

Things never used to be awkward between us. I wonder if he feels awkward too. If maybe I’m so different from the child that he used to know that he doesn’t know how to form a new relationship with me now that I’m not sat on his lap with him reading me a book.

“I read,” I say, looking up at him now, holding up the book in my hands to show him “I think that’s on you,” I tell him. “Reading to me constantly as a kid has me now obsessed with reading.”.

I notice a smile form on his lips, only a small one, but I notice it all the same.

“Your dad says you’re a bookworm through and through.”

I wait.

“Do you know why people read?” he asks me.

“To escape for a little while, to relax, to see a new world, a new perspective, a new life to live in for those few minutes that the words are in your head creating the perfect story,” I tell him with a smile.

“What are you escaping?” he asks me.

I feel my brows furrowing. I wonder if Dad has told him about everything that has been going on here recently. I know he keeps him updated on most things but he probably didn’t want to bog him down with everything else immediately so I decide to do the same.

“I’m not escaping anything,” I lie. “Books just give me time to breathe.”

He’s looking directly at me. He looks unsure. Unbelieving. What does he think I need to run away from? What has Dad told him?

“Yeah, yeah you’re right,” he says, shaking his head as if doing so will help with clearing his thoughts.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask again. He seems so lost. I’m not sure that’s the right word but it’s the first one that comes to mind when I look at him. Lost.

“I’m fine, better than fine.” He takes a deep breath, “I’m home again,” he says, with more conviction and certainty in his voice this time round.

“You should get to sleep,” he tells me as he lifts himself from the bed and walks back the way he came.

I don’t say anything.

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