Page 24 of Unloved

There’s a pull, something tugging me to him. I can’t understand it or explain it, but I recognize it. It’s the same way I felt when I met Samuel.

At ease.

Familiar.

Unanticipated.

“So, your sister is deaf?” I ask, interested in more than the sliver of information he provided everyone when I asked him earlier how he knew sign language.

He doesn’t seem perturbed by my questioning nor does he clam up like I expect. My legs are crossed on the bed, with Samuel up on the bed next to me and Rhys in a chair on the other side.

Rhys picks his cell up off the mattress and his fingers work across the screen. When he hands it to me, I notice the contact entry with my name on it and my number underneath. He has it from the group chat Frankie created, and from the thumbs up he’s throwing my way, I assume he’s checking if he’s assigned the number correctly. He asks Samuel the same thing, and seconds later, it’s a group chat created for just the three of us.

Forgetting to do it earlier, I now save Rhys’s number into my phone and patiently wait for his message to show up.

He raises the speaker of the cell near his mouth and begins talking into it, I shift my gaze to watch Samuel’s facial expressions as he takes in the information that hasn’t yet reached me.

I thought it would be something that would bother me, but I’m so stupidly in love with Samuel that an excuse to stare at him is more like a prize than a problem.

Whatever Rhys is saying has a small, sad smile appearing on his face. I read the words on the screen, trying and hoping that they’ll connect the dots.

Rhys: My sister’s name is Kayla and she was born deaf. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me. She was an oops baby; my parents had her when I was seventeen. Let me tell you, we were all surprised by the news. My parents were so proactive when they found out and encouraged the three of us to learn how to sign together. By the time Kayla was about six months old, we knew enough to teach her the basics, and it all truly just blossomed from there. Eventually, signing became the primary way of communicating whenever Kayla was in the room.

I’m sure that if I could hear his voice, I would hear the inflection that told anyone listening just how much he loves his sister, but the anguish on his face indicates there is much more to the story.

Me: How old is she now?

Rhys: I’m twenty-seven and she recently turned ten.

Me: She must love having you as an older brother.

When he doesn’t respond, and I can see the rise and fall of his shoulders, I know I’ve unintentionally hit a sore spot.

As if reading my mind, a message comes through from Samuel.

Samuel: Rhys, are you okay?

Instead of answering the question, Rhys pushes his chair back, away from the bed. He doesn’t bring the phone to his mouth this time, keeping his head down and choosing just to text.

Rhys: I want to be upfront with you both.

Rhys: I’m in recovery. That’s how I know Arlo.

I raise my eyes to meet his, and his gaze darts between mine and Samuel’s. Almost like he’s waiting for a reaction.

“Are you expecting us to throw you out of the room or light you on fire?” I ask half-jokingly.

A text comes through

Rhys: No. *eye roll emoji*

I look down at my screen and then at Rhys, who is staring at his cell but not typing. I catch Samuel’s attention, silently asking,what do we do next?

He shrugs, and we both patiently wait for Rhys to decide if he wants to continue the conversation, but when he doesn’t show signs of it, an unexpected pit of dread sits in the bottom of my stomach, worried that the night is coming to an end.

I can’t explain my interest in Rhys or the ease he has brought me in such a short amount of time, but I don’t want this to be the first and last time I feel this way.

Grasping on to the only thing I think of, I anxiously send the next text.

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