Presley
As soon as we return to my brother’s, I call for an Uber to come get us and take us to the airport. I know Robert would be fine with us staying here for the rest of the holiday, but when it boils down to it, he didn’t stick up for me, and that hurts. Even if he doesn’t feel the same as our parents, he should have had my back like I would have had his. Even if he hates confrontation, it isn’t enough.
We ride silently to the airport and I pay an exorbitant fee to take an earlier flight on Christmas, but I don’t even care. I just want to be as far away as possible. Randy offered to put us up in a hotel, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Part of me took a sick satisfaction in using my trust fund for this. After this trip, however, I refuse to touch it again. The one from my gran will be there if I absolutely need it, and that’s more than enough.
Once we board, I snuggle into Barrett and try to sleep. One of my favorite things about him is how well he reads me. He can tell I can’t process this right now and doesn’t push me. He absorbs my pain with his silence and I shut down until I can process everything at a later time. I’m proud of how we handled everything, and even though it was a bit of a disaster, I don’t regret going. I feel closer to Barrett than I did before, and at least now he knows where I came from.
Once we land, Randy offers for me to come back to his house for the break since everyone I know is home, but I just really don’t feel like being around anyone for a while, so I ask him to take me back to the dorms. Barrett tries to argue, but I tell him I really just want my bed tonight and I’ll text him in the morning. I didn’t know I was going to end up sleeping the day away, and by the time I wake up, it’s afternoon and I have several messages from him waiting for me. I take my phone off silent and read the ones I missed.
Barrett: Good morning, beautiful.
Barrett: U okay?
Barrett: Officially worried. Text me Plz.
Barrett: Pres plz text me. At your dorm.
I read the last again and feel horrible that I’ve worried him. I don’t even bother changing my P.J.s as I run out of my room and outside, where I find B pacing in front of my building. As soon as he sees me, he takes me into his arms. He then pushes back and looks me over.
“Wrong what?”
“Nothing wrong. Sorry me. Sleep long time. Wake up now.” He frowns at that and looks at me thoughtfully for a while, then brushes my bed head out of my face and sadly smiles down on me.
“Want me go, rest more you?”
“No. Stay please.” He kisses my forehead and follows me into my room. It’s like a ghost town around here, and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a bit creepy alone. He follows me into my room and slowly looks around, and then smiles at the bipolarness that is our room with all of Jodi’s color, drawings, and craziness hanging from the ceiling to my very tame, pretty bare side.
“Wow.”
“Yep, only word describe room.” I smile and think about how much I miss Jodi.
“Come, want hold you.” I can’t exactly say no to that, so I let him pull me to my bed and he just holds me. We don’t need sound, words, or conversation at all. It’s such a refreshing change. As much as I love my roommate, I feel like our relationship is surrounded by talking, joking, signing, movie watching…I don’t think we’ve ever just sat in silence and absorbed each other’s presence.
B is sitting up, resting his back on my wall, and I’m lying in between his legs with my head on his chest. He brings his arms around me and I think he’s going to hug me, but he starts signing instead.
“What one thing love, not music.” I think about this for a moment, but I have to turn so he can see my reply. He turns me back and points to the mirror on the wall. Oh duh, that makes it convenient, I guess.
“Fruit snacks.”
“Really?” He looks surprised. I know it’s not a super deep and thoughtful answer, but it’s the truth.
“Yes. Not allowed eat at home. Tried first time work. J A D E N give finish. Best food E V E R.” He chuckles and I can feel it vibrate all the way up my back. “I go Costco buy huge box eat all 2 days.” He laughs again and it brings me warmth.
“One thing love you, not cars.” Even though he isn’t moving much, I can feel him stiffen behind me. It’s like his body turned to stone.
“Football,” is all he signs, yet I know exactly that he means watching Codi play football. He surprises me when he starts signing again. “Dad love 49ers, watch all time. Only time let us watch TV with him. Codi start play, hope Dad come watch.”
“Didn’t?”
“Never.” This is going south quick, and usually I run from hard, awkward conversations, but for some reason I seem to savor them with Barrett. It doesn’t seem weird to discuss uncomfortable or hurtful topics with him. It seems to only connect us more, makes me feel closer to him, so I don’t change the subject like I usually would.
“One thing you hate?” he asks, and I have to think about this one longer. I could say lima beans, because really, doesn’t everyone hate those? But I don’t, he just opened up to me, so I think about it for a minute.
“E X P E C T A T I O N S.” He waits for me to explain. “Feel never live up. My parents, mine, professors, teachers…never ends.” He just rubs my back for a moment, giving me validation and not trying to talk me out of how I’m feeling. A lot of times I’ll tell someone I’m afraid I’m not good enough, or can’t do something, and the instant reaction is to say, “no, of course you are.” Or “don’t be silly…” But then it doesn’t make me feel like I’ve been heard. Barrett is really good about that. “One thing hate you?” He doesn’t even think about it.
“Letter S.” I’m shocked by his answer and I turn to face him so he can see my confusion, which makes him chuckle again.
“Why S?”
“S worst letter ABC’s,” he responds, like this should make total sense. Obviously it doesn’t, so I extend my hand, showing I need further explanation.
“Can’t S me.” Oh, why didn’t I think of that? Now that I think back to when he would voice for me, there were a few letters I could tell he struggled with. S was one of them.
“Most time people understand me can, but use S words…huge mess.”
“Why voice not you?”
“One reason yes. Hands broken me, can’t sign me, had use voice sometimes. Last doctor appointment my interp leave. Walk out me, forget make new appointment. Go back me, no interpreter. Phone dead.” I give him an understanding squeeze to his knee, because I know how hard that must have been for him to feel so worried that he couldn’t communicate, all his usual means were gone. “Tell lady need appointment.” He turns his body, showing me he is now the woman talking. “Okay, sir, when does Doctor want see you?” He shifts back, indicating he once again is talking. “Tuesday,” he voices, and I immediately can tell where the problem lies. Without the s it sounds very much like he is saying today. “Girl give me weird look and frowns. But Doctor just see you today.” He sighs and shifts again. “No, not today, tue-day.” It really does sound like he is saying today, but just spaced out like it is two words and not one when he is saying Tuesday.
“Anyway, on and on until almost tears me. Frustrated, mad her.”
“How did you figure it out?”
“She gave me a calendar and I point on desk calendar. Girl say, ooooh Tuesday, why didn’t you just say that?” He throws his hands up in the air with such dramatics that I can’t help but laugh. He gives me a mock stink eye and then signs again. “S stupid letter. TH can go hell too.” And I can’t stop the giggles.
He grabs my hand, kisses it, looks down, and frowns.
“Have…take color off?” It takes me a minute to figure out what that means, and then it hits me.
“Nail polish R E M O V E R?”
“Yes, have you?”
“Yeah…”
“Get please.”
I give him a look like he’s being weird, but I go to my closet and get out my container of nail stuff and hand it to him. He just pulls me back down on the bed and silently takes off the nude polish. He then surprises me even more when he takes out the hot pink polish and starts to paint my nails. He takes forever and makes several mistakes, but he goes around my nails after with the remover, leaving me with a brand-new manicure. He looks down, smiles, and kisses my palm.
“Better.”
“Not like N U D E?
“Color fine. Not like what color mean.”
“What?” The look on my face must be pure confusion with a bit of you’re-freaking-nuts thrown in, because he laughs and kisses my forehead.
“Can tell me what mood you always. How? Nail color.”
I give him my no-freaking-way look, and he smiles, holding up one hand. He then rummages through my container and comes out with my four most used polishes, holding up the black first.
“When feel R E B E L L I O U S you. F E I S T Y. A R T I S T I C. Always wear black. Only last few days, take off.” I think back to the last time I wore black and it was when Jodi and I painted the campus rocks with “Death to leaf blowers…beware.” And I smile and gesture to continue. He pulls out the red polish now, and holds it up, smiling.
“Red for when feel C O N F I D E N T or when need to fake it.” I’m about to argue, but he puts his hand up to stop me. “Wear it intern days, watch me race first time, when have school project.” Well, that stops what I was going to say because he’s absolutely right. He holds up the nude and frowns.
“When want feel respectable, polished, if sad. Think N U D E your C O U N T R Y C L U B color.” My frown matches his. He’s right. It’s the color I wore to see my parents, the one I wear for interviews or church. I’ve honestly never thought about it before. I always just like to change my polish often and for occasions, but he is freaking right on about all of them. He holds up the one he just used and smiles.
“Pink. Favorite me. Wear pink when happy you. Listen music, paint pink. Go theatre, go out me.” He adds a proud grin and I laugh.
“Can’t believe you watch color nails me.”
“Easy. See detail me. Watch hands all time. You change color so much make easy figure out.”
I learn over and kiss him softly.
“Thank you care enough notice.”
“Always. P? No more nude.”
“No more nude,” I repeat.