Authors: J.P. Barnaby
Aaron (11 page)
dealing with deaf children. But somehow, between the three of them, they managed. That was years ago, however, while he still held his father’s complete focus. As he got older and became more self-sufficient, his father sank deeper into a depression that imploded with his forced retirement.
I think there is a menu on the desk
, his father signed after setting his book on the couch next to him. It showed just how far their relationship had deteriorated in the last few years that they were both sitting in the house reading, in different rooms, with absolutely no communication between them. He walked over to the desk and rummaged through the drawers until he found a file of menus. It reminded him of how organized his father used to be. From the top drawer, he pulled out a pad of paper and pen.
After scanning the menu, he wrote his order on the pad and handed it to his father. Just one more thing his father had to do for him. One day soon, restaurants would start taking advantage of online ordering, and he couldn’t wait. They already used online ordering for their groceries because neither of them wanted the bother of going to the grocery store. After a cursory look through the menu, his father picked up his cell phone from the couch arm and called in their order. While Spencer couldn’t hear what he said, he could read his father’s lips and discern the weary sound of his voice from the way his body sagged on the couch.
They said about twenty minutes
, he signed after tossing the phone back onto the couch. His father looked older than Spencer had ever seen him. Bags hung low beneath his eyes, which had once been bright and full of life. Growing up, his father had always been there for him, looking out for him, teaching him how to negotiate the hearing world, but lately, he watched as his greatest ally slipped farther and farther away.
Yes. I got my books yesterday. I even started reading them
, Spencer answered with a tentative smile. For the first time in his life, he felt unbalanced in their relationship. They’d always been a team before—just
the two of them against the world, but all that had changed recently, and Spencer didn’t know how to get it back. His father picked up the discarded book and opened it back to his page.
“My. College. Career. Started. With. A. Bang. The. Other. Day.,” he told his father in a desperate attempt to keep his attention. He’d wanted to talk to him about it when he got home, but his dad had been in no shape for a conversation. They hadn’t really talked in weeks, and Spencer missed their easy way with each other. His friends in high school fought constantly with their parents, but he and his father rarely argued. Lately, his dad had been locked away in his office or his bedroom while the empties piled up in the garbage.
His father’s signing was clipped and halfhearted, almost like he couldn’t stand another complication right then.
I tapped a boy on the shoulder to ask him for directions, and he freaked out.
Even just the memory of it bothered Spencer.
Freaked out how? He did not hurt you?
His father’s eyes took a quick inventory of Spencer, who smiled ruefully and dropped into the big leather office chair. Whenever he sat here, in his father’s chair, he felt like a little kid at the adult table.
No, he did not hurt me. He fell down with his hands over his head and begged me not to touch him. It scared me at first, but then I felt sad for him.
The boy’s scarred face haunted him. He couldn’t imagine what had happened to force such a reaction from a simple touch, but he knew what it was like to be afraid and in pain. He knew what it was to be alone.
Sounds like he had a flashback or a reaction to some kind of trauma. What happened to him?
His father sat up straighter on the couch, his interest obviously engaged. As a clinical psychologist, someone having an episode in the middle of the quad would be of interest.
A woman, I think it was his mom, came and helped him. I would not have left him alone. It was really awful. I had no idea what to do. Guess that is why I did not go into psychology,
Spencer reasoned with a shrug. His insides felt like ice as he thought about how scared the boy had looked.
Seeing someone in pain is not something you ever get used to. At least, I never did.Spencer’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Looking away from his father, he checked the display and saw that someone had rung the doorbell. It didn’t seem like twenty minutes, but Spencer had no idea what time his father had called. He took the money that his father held out and went downstairs to pay the delivery man.
They sat in silence at the dining room table and ate mediocre Chinese food, his father’s attention lost amid soy sauce and fortune cookies.
Later, as he stared at the ceiling and tried to find sleep within its textured surface, his nerves were out of control. In high school, he had spent most of his time dodging bullies who loved to slam him into lockers, trip him in the cafeteria, or spit disgusting projectiles at him. His heart thudded in his chest as he wondered if college could be the same, or his career after college. Would he always have to fight so hard just to be like everyone else?
His father would still be in bed when he left. It was his first day of college, and his father would miss it to nurse his hangover. The pain crept slowly toward his temples, threatening to block out the sun with its intensity. His stomach lurched with the pain, and he kicked back the blanket. The floor was cold under his feet as he moved quietly into the bathroom. The migraine meds sat in the medicine cabinet as they always did, but he resented having to take them right then. They made him feel slow and sluggish, not the best choice for his first day. Without them, however, the stabbing pain behind his eyes would only get worse.
His throat closed up around the pill even as the water from the tap washed it down. Shutting his eyes against the throbbing in his head, he wet a washrag and pressed the cool cloth to his forehead. The last thing he needed right then was to be incapacitated by a headache. Crawling back into bed, he decided to wait fifteen minutes, until the meds kicked in, before attempting to shower. Spencer reset his alarm and closed his eyes behind the cool press of fabric.
Please, just let it go away.
The screaming pain had dulled into an incessant throb by the time the alarm went off under his pillow. Tight muscles in his shoulders cramped as he rolled to his side and checked the time on his phone. Spencer needed to be in the shower right then in order to make it to school in time to meet his interpreter. It took all his strength to make it into the bathroom and even more to turn on the shower. Rubbing shampoo into his scalp felt far better than the needle jabbed behind his eye.
By the time he was dressed, Spencer had just enough time for a quick bowl of cereal in the kitchen before he had to leave. The smell of pancakes and sausage made his mouth water as he came down the stairs. He stared, open-mouthed, as his father stood in the kitchen making breakfast for them both. His father turned, plate in hand, and smiled when he saw Spencer in the doorway. He set the plate on the table.
I could not send you off to your first day in college without a good breakfast
, he signed and turned to walk back to the stove. Spencer stood frozen in the doorway another moment longer. His father had been so considerate. Pulling the milk from the refrigerator, Spencer poured two glasses without being asked and sat down at the table with a warm glow in his stomach.
I am taking Psychology this semester
, Spencer signed after they were both sitting at the table with piles of pancakes and heaps of sausage stacked on their plates. It was one of the breakfasts he’d always loved growing up. Anything in the world could be cured with either pancakes or ice cream—even college jitters.
At least I will be good for something
, his father replied with a shrug and dumped syrup over his fluffy, buttered pancakes. Spencer hated the depression and sadness he saw in his father’s eyes.
“You. Are. Good. For. Lots. Of. Other. Things. Too.. You. Could. Still. Practice. If. You. Wanted. To.,” Spencer reasoned, but his dad just nodded once without comment. They lost the moment to awkward silence.
