Page 22 of Unloved

“What if you and I go get it?” Arlo suggests.

“And leave Rhys here?”

“I don’t mind,” I answer, wanting these two to be alone more than I need to eat pizza or be third wheeling with strangers. “I can sit in there till you guys get back.”

“No.” Frankie shakes his head. He places his hand on the door handle and presses down to open it. “Let’s introduce you to everyone and then we can decide what we’re going to do about the pizza.”

Four pairs of eyes follow the three of us as we enter the room. If anyone is surprised by the stranger that is me, they don’t show it.

My eyes snag on the guy in the hospital bed, who I assume is Lennox, with his mussed-up light brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes. They’re sad chocolate-colored eyes.

Sad but beautiful, and staring right back at me.

Neither one of us looks away.

I don’t want to.

I don’t know what compels me to do it, or why I feel like I’m in the right place at the right time in my life, but I channel my little sister, pushing past the agony of missing her, and move my hands and fingers in a way I haven’t done in years. It isn’t completely accurate, and each completed sign feels a little rusty.

“I know none of you know how to sign, but I wanted to say I’d be happy to teach you all,” I say and sign at the same time.

Lennox’s gaze finally drops from mine and to his whiteboard as he scribbles on it. When he lifts it up, I’m surprised the question is for me.

Where and why did you learn how to sign?

8

LENNOX

Everyone’s eyes are trained on Rhys’s, including mine. He’s like a breath of fresh air that blew into the room at just the right time.

The night had already been shaping up to be the pick-me-up that I needed. I found myself smiling and laughing despite how heavy my earlier conversation with Frankie was.

It was the first time I was in a room with more than one or two other people since the accident, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t overwhelming. It was actually more than overwhelming; daunting was probably the word I would use. But for the first time in four years, every single member of my family was in the same room, and no matter what I was feeling internally, I didn’t want to be the one to ruin that.

I tried hard not to focus on the silence, and be proactive in working out the most efficient way to communicate with everyone without falling behind or feeling left out. It was a struggle, but I’m determined.

With each hour that passed, talking became my least favorite way to communicate, almost like my brain decided if I’m not using my ears, then I’m not using my mouth either. It was a strange connection that I’m sure could be medically explained, but for now I was doing whatever felt right and comfortable.

Texting was a godsend; all of us in a group chat that left nothing unsaid, and because of that, I felt as included as possible, but when I watched all of them conversing with one another, it fucked with my head a little, that I could remember the sound of their voices but I didn’t actually know what they were saying.

They tried to avoid talking in front of me, but I don’t want that. I don’t want them to change their whole lives and their habits for me.

I need to rewire my brain to trust that I don’t need to be part of every conversation and that every conversation doesn’t need to include me.

And then Rhys walked in.

Signing and talking, like it was literally no big deal.

He doesn’t share the awkwardness that everybody else does. He doesn’t share their concern or worry. And he isn’t too bothered about hurting my feelings, and I love it.

I love that, to him, I’m just Arlo’s deaf foster brother. With Rhys, it already seems that I don’t come with baggage. He takes me at face value and treats me and my limitations like everyone else in the room.

Remy and Clem take turns getting Rhys to show them how to sign the letters of their names and mine and Samuel’s name, and now I’m starting to worry he’ll feel like a circus monkey.

“Hey,” I say, using my voice for the first time tonight, feeling territorial and protective over a man I know nothing about. “Leave him alone. He isn’t here to perform for you.”

Clem and Remy both look at him apologetically before Clem grabs my whiteboard and quickly scribbles on it and shows it to me.

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