Signs (11 page)

“They don’t hate you, Mom.”

She laughed brightly. “Oh, they do, sweet boy. But that’s okay. I’ve had plenty of time to get over it, as you like to say.”

“So, did any good come out of it?” Luc asked, tucking his bare feet up underneath himself on the sofa.

“Maybe. One of them offered me a job within a family business.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s for an antiques store on the Upper East Side. Apparently my knowledge of fine jewelry has been noted.”

“Are you going to take it?”

His mom smiled and nodded. “We have negotiated three mornings a week, to begin with. On a very handsome salary.”

“That’s good. Congratulations,” Luc said. He wouldn’t go to her, offer hugs or kisses or any physical displays of affection. His mother had discouraged that since he was a little boy, not wanting dirty hands on her immaculately cared for clothes. A nod of thanks, a kiss on the cheek in greeting, these things were acceptable.

“We will stay with Ilse for now,” his mom said.

“Yeah. I like it here.”

“Me too,” she said with a little conspiratorial smile. “But it is unfair to impose for too long or overstay our welcome.” She stood then, and brushed invisible wrinkles from her pants. Luc pulled the laptop back toward him but touched his mom’s wrist when she stepped away.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

He smiled, hoping that was enough. She chuckled lightly, cupped his cheek briefly in her hand, then disappeared to ask Ilse about ordering dinner. Frances would never cook. They’d had help before, but not now. That’s what his mother had called them—the help. Not maids and cooks and cleaners, but those who would aid her in doing what a lady of her standing shouldn’t be expected to do for herself.

There was no doubt that they’d never be best friends, Luc and his mother. But she’d never once judged or complained when he’d grown his hair out and dyed it black, or when he started painting his nails and wearing makeup. Her acceptance came in the form of still insisting that he join her for lunch in a prissy restaurant, even when he was wearing jeans and battered Chucks and his Motorhead T-shirt.

There had never been a shortage of stuff for the kids at school to make fun of. His mother wasn’t young and trendy. She’d been in her forties when she had her youngest child, making her the same age as some of his peers’ grandparents. And she was German-Dutch, which some assholes thought meant “Nazi.” And because she was a first generation immigrant, coming to New York to live with an aunt when she was in her early twenties, she still had an accent—albeit one she worked hard to disguise.

His family wasn’t the same as everyone else. He got a hybrid French and German name, same as his siblings, and used to wish he had just been named Brad or Alex or Josh so there was one less thing for the bullies to pick on.

That was
before
he started dressing differently.

These days he rarely got picked on. Going to a school in the middle of Manhattan was surely a blessing. Unlike his old private school, people here were a lot more laid back. There were kids at this school who had gay parents, or had parents who worked in art or music or theater. There was less judgment.

Left on his own again, Luc pulled his laptop out and opened it, pulled up his Tumblr page and scrolled until he found one of Caleb’s posts. Frowning, he started to read.

C
ALEB
SAT
down at his computer and pulled up his blog, fingers itching to write something, to get all of this nervous energy out of his system. He had never been much of a writer, but there was something in the air tonight—the thrumming electricity of an approaching storm. Caleb cracked his fingers and started to type.

Tuesday:

Things around me continue to change, and, as always, I feel like I’m running in place to try and catch up. People in my class are talking about college, making preparations to move away. I’m not ready for that yet. I don’t know what the future holds for me, and it’s terrifying at times.

I’ve only ever lived here, with my parents, so how am I supposed to move into a dorm? It takes a while for people to understand me. What about parties? Will I ever make friends? This is supposed to be the most exciting time in my life. I’m literally on the edge of one of the biggest changes that happen in our teenage years. It’s the time when we’re supposed to grow up.

I’m ready to be an adult, and I want to go to college. The details, though? Those scare the crap out of me.

I am sick and tired of my disability being somehow integral to my person. I know my abilities far outweigh the one ability I’m missing. It’s one ability! One sense. One thing that nearly everyone else has.

I am not mentally deficient. I am not retarded. I am not suffering from a “learning disability.” I am a straight-A student who is consistently in the top 10 percent of my class. But in at least four of my classes, probably five, my teacher won’t call on me to answer a question or solve a problem. Not ever. I am excluded from the “class participation” part of the grade, even though I could probably do it if they gave me a chance. It’s easier to exclude me, though, than to actually figure out a way to involve me.

I am more than my disability. So why is it when I’m in line at the movie theater and the guy serving popcorn catches sight of my hearing aids he suddenly needs to disappear out back, leaving someone else to deal with me? Why is it that people think they need to speak slowly, to point things out, to write things down to make sure I get it? Why is it that I’m constantly treated like a social outcast?

The biggest lie is that my inability to hear your words means I am unable to understand what you mean. When my school counselor asks “What do you want for your future?” she means “Who would want to marry you?” She means “How will you raise children?” She means “How will your children learn how to be normal, when you’re not?”

I want to answer and tell her I want to wake up one morning with my husband’s head on my chest and be able to hold him and listen to our kids playing downstairs, hear the birds outside our window. That’s it. That’s all I want. And I think I know who I want that man to be, but shit, I’m only eighteen. Maybe that doesn’t matter yet.

Because I’m deaf the message that’s sent to me is that I’m somehow damaged, that disabled people don’t have the same happy, contented lives as able-bodied people. It’s been implied by my own
teachers
that I’m incapable of raising children who can hear because I can’t. Like somehow the ability to hear is linked to my ability to love? They don’t even know I’m gay. There’s no way in hell I’d tell them.

All I know is, when I look into the future I want the same thing as so many other people all over the world. I want a husband and a couple of kids. Is that so much to ask?

He sat back in his chair, heart pounding, angry tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Without thinking or reading back over what he’d written he pressed the Publish button and sent his rant out for the whole world to read, if they wanted to.

It felt like only moments later that a chat window pinged up in the corner of his screen. Luc. Of course.

Luc: You okay?

Ignore me
, Caleb typed before Luc could get any further.
Just a bad day.

Luc: Want to talk about it
?

Caleb paused for a moment and realized it was the offer that made all the difference. He pulled up his webcam and connected to a video-chat window. It was something of a shock and a novelty to realize there was someone on the other end of these posts. There was someone reading and caring, and he didn’t have to go through it all on his own. That in itself was almost enough.

With a smile, Caleb waved hello.

10. OUT PT2

T
HERE
WAS
only one problem with spending spring break with Luc. Caleb knew he needed to tell his parents about Luc, especially if he was planning to spend a whole week in New York. He spoke to Marshall at the Deaf Youth group again, who calmed Caleb’s nerves and told him that honesty was always the best policy. Since Marshall had known Caleb’s mom and dad for years, Caleb thought he probably couldn’t go wrong following the man’s advice.

He barely touched his dinner, prompting his mom to ask repeatedly if he was okay. In the end Caleb set his silverware down carefully—very carefully—and rubbed his palms on his thighs to dry the sweat that had gathered there.

“
Can I tell you something
?” Caleb asked.

“Sure,” his dad said. His face was etched with worry. “Anything, Caleb, you know that.”

Caleb nodded. “
Okay. I sort of have a boyfriend
.”

He watched his parents’ reactions, looking for signs of horror or disgust. He saw none. A little shock maybe, but it didn’t seem like they were freaking out.

“
Sort of
?” his mom repeated.

“
Okay. I have a boyfriend. His name is Luc, and he’s from New York
.”

She nodded. “
How did you meet him? When you were there with the Deaf Youth group
?”

Caleb felt his face heat but nodded. It wasn’t quite a lie—he
had
met Luc when he was in New York.

“
He’s asked me if I want to go to New York for spring break
.”

That immediately changed the tone of the conversation. His mom suddenly had an “Oh, hell no” expression on her face, and his dad’s eyebrows were raised all the way up.

“I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea, Caleb,” his dad said.

“
Why not? He’s the same age as me. He lives with his mom and sister
.”

“Maybe I could call the mother,” Caleb’s mom said to his dad. Caleb managed to read her lips. She didn’t sign her words; they weren’t meant for him.

“
No
,” Caleb signed. Then again, when they didn’t notice him the first time. “
No. Please, Mom. I’m not some little kid. I’m eighteen
.”

She balked at that, as she did every time Caleb reminded her that he was, legally, an adult. Because of his disability, or maybe because he was her only child, his mom didn’t like to think Caleb was able to make decisions for himself.

“I think it’s reasonable that I would like to know where you’re staying,” she started, signing as she spoke, until Caleb’s dad put his hand on her arm and squeezed it lightly.

“You can go,” his dad said.

Caleb watched as his parents exchanged angry looks and hissed words that Caleb couldn’t catch.

“Please keep in contact, text us or video call, but if you want to go and stay with your boyfriend, that’s okay.”

Caleb could tell from the pointed looks his parents were sharing that this would be discussed, in great detail, between the two of them over the next month until the end of the semester. His dad wouldn’t go back on his word now that he’d given it, and there may be yet more conditions put on him.

Grateful, Caleb nodded. “
Thank you
,” he signed.

N
OW
THAT
Caleb was out to his parents, he expected his request to spend another weekend with Luc before his vacation to not be a problem. It turned out his mother was having more of a problem with the “relationship” thing than she was with the “gay” thing.

In some ways, Caleb could sort of understand her mini panic. He’d never really shown an interest in anyone before, male or female, so to learn that he’d jumped straight into having a boyfriend was something of a shock to her.

He was quizzed repeatedly on how he communicated with Luc. How they got around the city. Who Luc lived with. What Luc’s parents’ professions were. It was the communication issue that became a sticker, though, as his mom repeated her questions on how they managed to
talk
.

“
Luc is learning ASL
,” Caleb said over and over. “
He’s picking it up really quickly. And if he doesn’t know the signs, he writes it down. We’re good, Mom. I promise
.”

She didn’t stop worrying, though, and when Caleb announced he was going to see Luc that weekend, his mom freaked out again. He left his dad to deal with her and went up to his room to pack his overnight bag. Fortunately his mom was working a late shift, so she couldn’t take him to pick up the bus. His dad had that honor.

“Be safe,” his dad said as Caleb leaned back in his seat and took the lecture he knew was coming. “Don’t get into a cab without Luc. Please text your mother at least once so she knows you’re safe.”

“
I will
.”

“Have fun,” he added.

Caleb smiled and nodded, then waved to his dad before heading for the big Peter Pan bus. He’d already booked his tickets and put his hearing aids in. The bus was cool, air conditioned, and Caleb found his seat and leaned back. In four hours he’d be with Luc again.

L
IKE
BEFORE
,
Luc met Caleb at Port Authority and launched himself into Caleb’s arms as soon as they were close enough. Caleb laughed and held on tight, his arms securely wrapped around Luc’s waist. For a few moments Caleb just hugged Luc close, needing this, the smell and feel and weight of his boyfriend in his arms.

“Hi,” Luc said when Caleb set him down again.

“
Hi
.” Caleb leaned in and kissed him softly, a brush of lips over the corner of Luc’s mouth.

“
I want to take you to a club
,” Luc signed. “
A rock club
.”

Caleb gave him a look which clearly said
Are you high
? Luc suppressed a giggle and grabbed hold of Caleb’s belt loops, pulling him closer and demanding another kiss. Caleb didn’t mind at all.

“
Why
?” Caleb asked when they pulled apart.