Presley

 

I berate myself for my stupidity the entire way to Jodi’s house. I think about sticking around in case he needs me, and then realize how ridiculous I sound. He’s made it known that I’m not wanted or needed. God, I must look so pathetic and desperate to everyone. I tell Jodi I’m ready to go back to school and see if she wants to ride back with me. She decides to spend the weekend with her family, which I totally understand, so I haul my pathetic butt back to campus alone. I keep myself busy all day so I don’t think about anything else. I do my laundry, study a bit, and then decide to call it an early night. I get into my cozy pajamas and just crawl into bed when my phone lights up.

Barrett: Sorry rude today.

Presley: No worries, I know you have a lot to deal with right now. I wasn’t trying to intrude but I’m sorry if I did.

Barrett: U didn’t. I don’t know how feel about anything and not like Chris flirt with u.

That admission catches me by surprise and I read and re-read his text again.

Presley: Why not? He was just being friendly.

It takes him much longer than usual to respond since he is only working with one finger.

Barrett: Not just friendly. He tell me he like u and I take out on u. Sorry.

Well, what the heck am I supposed to say to that? I think back to the conversation Randy and I had this morning. I know now wouldn’t be a good time to start anything, so I don’t pry further even though I’d like to.

Presley: How are you doing tonight?

Barrett: Nights hard 4 me. 2 much time 2 think. Not enough distraction.

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself from typing.

Presley: Do you need a distraction?

Barrett: U offering?

Presley: Well, I did just get my comfy PJ’s and into my warm bed ;)

Barrett: My bed not cold

Presley: And...

Barrett: Randy buy ice cream

I can’t stop my smile because I’m the one that bought the ice cream, and I just so happened to get my favorite flavors.

Presley: Be right over.

Barrett: Better hurry. Hope I don’t eat all.

Presley: Don’t you dare. On my way…and I’m not changing.

Barrett: Good. CU soon. Drive safe.

Well, that was sweet. I make sure I do as I make my way over there, wondering the whole time what I’m getting myself into.

 

 

I don’t bother knocking once I get there, knowing Barrett can’t hear me, and not wanting to wake Randy if he’s asleep, so I try the door and find it unlocked. I let myself in and make my way quietly to Barrett’s room. I open his door and see him sitting up in bed eating right out of the container. He smiles up at me mid-bite.

“Can’t find bowl?” I ask, pointing to the container. He puts up both hands and gives me a what-do-you-think look.

“Hmm, yeah, I guess scooping would be hard.” I sit down next to him on the bed.

“Spoon?” I ask, looking around for another. He licks his clean and passes it to me. I fight my inner OCD by taking it from him and taking a bite. Although I’m pretty sure he doesn’t miss the fact that I don’t actually touch the spoon to my mouth and only eat the top of the ice cream on the spoon. He laughs and shakes his head at me, then grabs the spoon, making sure he licks the entire thing, and then passes it back. I cringe and he laughs again and picks up his phone.

Barrett: If sharing spoon grosses you out how you kiss guys?

I must turn a million shades of red, and when I don’t say anything, his eyes go round and he starts frantically typing again…one fingered, which looks pretty funny, I must say.

Barrett: You never kiss? Don’t believe that.

I’m seriously cursing my coloring right now because I can feel my ears heating up. I take the phone from his hand and type back, mostly just so I don’t have to look at him.

Presley: Yes, I’ve kissed guys before…but I might have been thinking about the germs at the time.

He finds this hilarious as he takes the phone back.

Barrett: Then you kiss wrong guys.

Looking back at him, I couldn’t agree more. I look around the room, trying to change the topic. It’s a pretty bare room, with only a small desk and one dresser.

“Room bare.” Barrett just nods sadly. “Talk to Dad you?” He shakes his head no but doesn’t respond. “Want me check Dad for you?” He blows out a sigh and shakes his head, then he stares at me for a moment, making me highly uncomfortable.

“What?”

He looks down at his hands with frustration. I know he wants to sign and I can’t imagine how frustrating it must be not able to be heard or express…anything. I pass him his phone, but he just looks at it and shakes his head. He signs with one finger what I take to mean texting takes too long.

“Voice,” I both sign and say. The look that crosses his face is pure pain and humiliation. “Judge you won’t. Promise.”

“Why you do that?” he finally voices.

“Why do I do what?”

“Take other people problems? Don’t have your own so you have look for them?” I’m not caught up by his words but in them. His voice is beautiful. Sure, it’s not perfect, but it isn’t bad at all. He has a deep, raspy voice. Almost soulful and it’s precise and thought out.

“Sure, have enough of my problems. I don’t know why I do it, to be honest. Maybe focusing on other people’s problems helps me forget my own.” Barrett smiles and I give him a confused look.

“When you talk sign gets all messed up again.”

“Talk sign same time hard, same speaking two languages same time.”

“It is speaking two languages at once. I’m amazed how interpreters can think in English, process in English, yet output in ASL. I wasn’t making fun of you, Pres, just an observation.” I smile wide and now it’s his turn to look confused.

“You call me Pres.”

“And?”

“It’s just you don’t seem like N I C K N A M E type of guy. Speaking of, what your name sign? I don’t know.” His face turns sad and I regret asking.

“It’s B over your heart. My mom gave it to me because she said that’s where I belong.” I place my hand on his and smile briefly.

“Your mom wonderful woman.” He nods once.

“What’s your name sign?”

“Oh!” My face lights up in excitement. “My D.H.H. class gave me. P going up and down my left arm for music. I’m music therapist. Perfect for me.”

“You seem happy talking about your job. You like it?”

“Love job. It’s…well, it’s me. I found perfect fit.”

“Music is your racing?”

“Exactly.” I yawn and Barrett takes the ice cream and gets up to put it away. I grab my purse and get ready to leave, but when he comes back in the room and sees me, he frowns.

“You not staying?”

This really shouldn’t become a habit, but I remember when my grandma died the last thing I ever wanted to be was alone with my thoughts. I used to sneak into my nanny’s room without my parents knowing for months until the nanny slipped and said something and my mom started locking me in at night.

He climbs back in bed and then holds the blanket back for me in invitation. I climb in and look over at him.

“Light on off which?”

“I want to ask you something but don’t want make you uncomfortable.”

Oh God, please don’t ask me for sex. I can’t deal with that right now. He isn’t going to ask for comfort sex, is he? Oh Lord, he is. How do you turn down a grieving brother? A hot, grieving brother at that?

“What?” I sign, not looking at him at all.

“Could you…I mean, would it be okay if you sang to me?” My head snaps up and I look at him. He’s looking down sheepishly, but he raises his eyes to meet mine.

“Why sing if can’t hear you?”

“I can a little…if you let me put my head on your chest.” I look at him skeptically and he is quick to follow up, “I swear it’s not a line. My mom used to sing to me that way, and it’s been a while, so I was just curious if it would work with you.”

“Light on off which?” I repeat.

“I prefer low light, always on.” He flips off the main switch and turns on the nightstand light, which isn’t more than an amber glow.

I roll to my back and he places his head on my shoulder. I think about what song to sing. It’s not like it’s really going to matter much to him, but I never make a song choice without thought. Music is the sound track of life to me, so I decide something a little sad and soulful is in order. I pick ‘Hallelujah’ by Jeff Buckley. Singing while flat on your back with a person on top of you is no easy feat. I guess it doesn’t really matter what the sound is like as long as the vibration is there, so with that in mind, I keep my tone low and raspy. Luckily, I tend to feel right at home singing alto, so this works out pretty nicely.

I start off soft and low, and let the music build. He is tentative in the beginning, who am I kidding, we both are. This should be seriously awkward. We hardly know each other and we’re entering major bubble territory…yet there’s also something very innocent and pure about it. I can tell when he starts to relax and is more comfortable. I’m really letting go as well now and just singing from my soul. He moves to where his head is fully on my upper chest, right below my throat. By the third verse I stop worrying about how weird this might be and the beauty of the situation full on hits me. I’m able to give this man something that he’s never been able to give himself. Sharing the joy of music isn’t only a passion for me, it’s a need, so we are just two souls fulfilling a great need in each other.

His tears are completely silent as they slowly hit my exposed skin and pool in the hollow of my throat. They spark my own tears. The idea that I can touch him so deeply this way, giving him nothing but my voice, touches me deeply. Without thinking, I bring his arms around me and place his hands flat against my back so he isn’t only getting the sound vibrations from my chest, but he can also feel them from behind. It has its desired effect when he sighs out against my neck. The song ends but neither one of us move. To be honest, I have no words. In this type of communication words are useless. I close my eyes and go right into ‘Brightest’ by Copeland. Somewhere around ‘As my guitar gently weeps’ by the Beatles, I drift off.