Presley

 

I’m trying to get some last minute studying in before Barrett gets here when Jodi comes storming in. I’m ready to scold her for scaring the life out of me yet again when I take in her stormy countenance. This isn’t her usual hello-world entrance. It’s more like I’m-going-to-rip-someone’s-head-off entrance.

“What’s wrong?”

“My professor kicked me out of class,” she answers as she angrily takes off her clothes, throwing them down and putting on her lounge clothes.

“He did what? Why?”

“You know that douche canoe in my class, Chris Walton?”

“The sexist one?”

“Yep, that’s him. So we got broken up into groups for this upcoming project we are working on. The goal is to take a building in Stockton that has been abandoned or otherwise falling down and to re-build and design. Well, of course I get Captain Douche Knuckle in my group, who is an absolute moron. He refused to listen to a thing I had to say. We decided on the homeless shelter on 13th and decided to give it an upgrade. He wanted a design to get as many bodies in there as possible. But I pointed out that getting more bodies wouldn’t help because that’s more cost in food, clothing, and upkeep. I suggested switching to solar, since it would cut down on month to month expenses, and then making a large garden in back so they can grow some of their own food, therefore they can do more for those they have there. Expanding only creates a bigger problem.”

“That sounds perfectly smart to me. Great idea.”

“Thank you. I thought so, as did the other two guys in our group…until Douche Wagon started spouting about me sitting there looking pretty and letting the big boys do the thinking. He will, and I quote, ‘let me pick the paint color.’ I couldn’t believe him. I have a higher grade in the freaking class than he does, so he has no room to tell me what to do, which is exactly what I told him.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah, he took it about as well as you’d think and told me there wasn’t room in our group for a, and I quote again, ‘Bra burning bimbo lib.’”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t, and I told him as much, which is when I got kicked out.”

“Your teacher kicked you out of class for standing up for yourself?” I ask, stunned. Although by the contrite look on Jodi’s face I can tell there must be more to it than that.

“Um, he didn’t mind the telling off as much as he did me taking off my bra and throwing it at the douche…” I’m guessing she ran out of words to go with douche.

“You threw your bra at him?”

“I sure did, but it was the fact that I lit it on fire before I threw it at him that got me kicked out of class.”

“Jodi! You didn’t!”

“You bet your booty I did. I earned my grades fair and square, not to mention having to put up with the snide comments from all the males with small man syndrome in that class. I deserve some damn respect!”

“And if you don’t get it, light them all on fire?” I ask, half laughing.

“Yes! Let those fools burn! Anyway, I have an appointment with the dean before I can go back to class, but I don’t even care!” She’s all fired up now, so I don’t dare laugh, but she informs me she is hitting Target with Zeek and off she flies. As soon as the door shuts, I burst into a fit of laughter. Life is so not boring here. I wonder how I ever managed life without Jodi in it. I get about another hour of studying in before there is a knock on my door. I jump up to open the door to the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen up close.

“Hey Handsome.” He doesn’t say anything but gathers me in his arms and backs me up against the wall, kissing me like he hasn’t seen me in a year.

“Miss me?”

“Always.” I back up, ushering him in so I can shut the door to the groans of the girls in the hall. “Show’s over, ladies,” I call out, then turn back to my guy.

“Hungry you? Snack, soda? What want you?” I ask, since he’s looking at me in a strange manner with his head slightly tilted.

“Why sign better you?”

“Don’t know.”

“Yes, know you. Sign bad, okay, good, perfect. I know good teacher me, but not teach you. Who teach you?” Dang! I was hoping he wouldn’t catch on. I sigh and toss him a soda, then open one myself before I take a seat on my bed. I take a sip then set it down.

“I ask D.H.H. teacher give lessons.”

“Why? If you want learn, I teach you.”

“Not want that.”

“Why?”

It’s really hard for me to put into words why I didn’t ask him. It’s not that I didn’t think he could teach me. It would have been easier I’m sure, but it was something I felt I had to do alone, and Janet was more than happy to help me.

“Don’t want communication with you become work. Not your responsibility. Want you to be you without have to be teacher me. How many time someone do something only for you? Never. I want learn for me, for job, many reason…also want one person in your life do something for you.”

He doesn’t say a word but picks up my right hand and kisses every single finger. Then he places that hand on his chest over his heart and does the same with my left hand. As usual, words aren’t needed with us. It’s weird, but I never thought words could ever be a hindrance, but with us they are. We sit there like that for a moment and then he smiles at me.

“Your teacher good. Become skilled ASL you.” Just as I am about to say something, he sends me a devilish smirk. “But better me. Thank you not enough say to you. Next time you need something, ask me please.” Then he kisses my forehead and leans back, ending the conversation, so I decide a subject change is in order.

“Remember tell you about paper write me for music class?” He nods and I grab my computer to show him a video. “I do paper about music group that make own music. No instruments.” I show him a picture of Pentatonix.

“How make music no instrument?” He looks perplexed, and I realize that nobody has taken the time to fully explain music to him.

“Hear you A C A P E L L A?” He shakes his head no. “Make sound of instruments with voice. One person make bass, drum, violin, all different. Some instrument, some voices.”

He looks completely surprised by this and then excited.

“Can show me?” he asks with so much hope that I would give anything to be able to beat box at the moment.

“Wish me. Can’t, but maybe…” I turn back to my computer and pull up one of Pentatonix’ videos.

“Okay, bad me.” He smiles like he has all the faith in the world in me. “Real bad me,” I say, just to drive the point home. I point to the screen.

“A V I. B A S S.” I then put his right hand lightly on my throat and his left on my upper chest. I then try to match Avi’s bass sound, which I’m failing at horribly, but Barrett gets the point. He smiles, nodding at me to continue. I then point to Kevin.

“K E V I N. Drum.” I try to do the drum, and even B can tell how horrible I am, because he laughs, but then nods to keep going. The cymbal is much easier since I can take his hand from my chest and put it in front of my mouth so he can feel the hiss of air that the cymbal sound makes.

He looks at me in awe and moves his hands for me to continue. I look back to the screen and point to the remaining three members.

“Voice. S C O T T,” I fingerspell, then take his hands and put them back on my throat and chest and sing a few bars, trying desperately to match pitch with Scott. This is where being able to sing while being a music major would really come in handy. I mean I can sing, Zeek makes it a much bigger deal than it is, but I’m so not theater worthy. “K I R S T I N. I point to her and then try and match her as well. Once I get to the last member, I sign, “M I T C H,” and point up and show there’s no way I’m hitting that. His eyes get big and he points to Mitch on the screen.

“Guy sing high?”

“Yes, voice amazing. Most amazing high voice for guy.” Then I point to Avi. “Most amazing low for guy. Group P E N T A T O N I X prove music made up many things. Don’t need instruments, music can be whatever we make.”

“Can sing P E N T A T O N I X for me?”

“Okay. Turn, face wall.” I turn him so that we are back to back and he can feel the vibrations go through me as I watch the screen. I have him reach around and place his hand on my throat. I sing one song, then another. We are so absorbed in the music I don’t even notice that my roommate is back until Zeek freaks me out of my musical trance.

“Um, if you are trying to bump uglies you are doing it wrong, it’s not that literal, Princess.” I feel my face turn a hundred shades of red and I thank God Barrett is facing the wall.

“Shut it, Zeek, I’m showing him music.” Barrett turns when he feels me speak, and he waves to my friends. I shoot them a look, reminding them to behave.

“Hi B. Whatcha doing?” I love that Jodi talks to him like normal and not to me to interpret. I quickly sign what she says and he signs back, looking at her, knowing I will voice for him.

“Presley teaching me music. Beautiful voice her.” I wince at his words and instantly see both of their mouths drop.

“Presley, you lied to a deaf man?” Zeek insists and I glare at him.

“I didn’t tell him it was beautiful, Zeek, he came up with that all on his own.”

“What?”

“I know you think sing me wonderful, but Zeek think voice me sound bad. When you say voice beautiful me, he think I lie to you because you deaf.” I’m so worried he’s going to take that wrong, but he throws his head back and laughs, then fist bumps Zeek.

“Come on, go dinner us.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the room. I can hear Jodi’s laughter all the way down the hall.