Page 26 of The Sound Of Us

Chapter 12

Axel

It’s almost like a salute, what Ben does. His right hand touching his forehead and then moving outward.

Eli Saxon repeats the sign. When the fuck did Ben learn sign language? We’re only starting classes at the library next week. And how did he miss such an important detail when he gossiped all the juicy details about it to me a few weeks ago?

But Ben’s newly acquired skill isn’t important right now. From where I’m standing, almost behind the JamieReadsRomance FIVE STAR READS, I’m able to study the new customer without feeling like a psychotic creep, since I’ve already ogled him half naked while he packed his pantry inside his house and possibly before that when Pepper ran off and claimed him as her own, and maybe even at his welcome party at the library.

Now that I’m able to look at him in the light of day without him looking back at me, the most striking thing about him is that he looks like a soldier. A very pretty soldier.

Tall—six-two would be my assumption—straight backed, squared-out shoulders. Short, neat hairstyle, keeping his straight black hair away from his face. And his face—he turns at just the right angle for one second. It’s all the time I need to devour every inch of his face and burn the image deep inside my psyche.

Elegant is the only way I can describe his face. A straight nose reddened at the tip from the cold. Square chin. I manage to catch a glimpse of his light eyes before he turns back to Ben, who’s now talking.

“What can I help you with?” Ben asks.

Eli Saxon curls his fingers and thumb, then makes various signs.

Ben laughs nervously and shakes his head, showing he doesn’t understand. The man drops his hand and smiles.

If, at the end of my life, whether it be a month, a year or eighty years from now, I were to think about a moment my world stood still, I’d think about this moment. The moment a stranger parted his lips, tinged pink with lip balm, and smiled at my best friend. A smile that made the room brighter and warmer. One that reached inside some unknown part of me and shook me alive. Like all this time, these last twenty-eight years of my existence, I’d been asleep. Or dead. And now—

My stack of Garry Michael books slips from my hands, landing with a loud thump. I scramble to pick them up, cursing internally for the noise, only to realize that the noise wouldn’t make a difference.

The man takes his phone out of his pocket, types and turns his screen to Ben.

Ben nods and smiles just as the door tinkles with a second customer. Ben steers the man in my direction.

“This is our store assistant, Axel.” Ben points to me. Then, to me, while still facing the customer, he says, “Ax, this is Eli Saxon. Please assist him. He’s looking for cookbooks. Aisle seven.”

Every feeling crashing through me is foreign. This impossible thump of my heart. The lack of cohesive thought, like when you’ve had too much to drink and the world suddenly begins to move in slow motion and words are an illusion. The sudden dryness of my throat when he turns his eyes on me.

I get to look at his beautiful eyes again. The color of a tidal pool on a bright day: light, glass-like almost. His lips shine with pink prettiness as they lift upward. And within a space of two minutes, this stranger’s smile takes my breath away once again.

He lifts his hand in a wave. I’m not sure what to do so I mimic his action, hoping it means the regular hello that it means to audibly enabled people.

He turns his phone screen to me where it says cookbooks.

As if being shaken awake from some strange dream, I set my stack of books on the JamieReadsRomance FIVE STAR READS table and stupidly move my hand in a come action. I hope he’ll know what it means, but just in case, I stand there until he takes a step toward me. Then I turn and walk down aisle five and left toward aisle seven, turning back every other second to make sure he’s following me.

I know deaf people are capable of manoeuvring the world with ease, but to be faced with someone who can’t hear you and whose language you don’t understand makes me nervous. Like I’ll mess it up somehow. I may have googled a few things about it over the weekend.

I stop at the cookbooks section and turn around. Palms sweaty and lost for how to communicate with him, I point to the shelves. He lifts his hand, places his fingers to his chin, and then tips his hand toward me. I fidget, my fingers playing with the hem of my jersey, and smile awkwardly. What does that mean? It could mean you’re an idiot and I wouldn’t know the difference.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth and glance around like a nervous wreck before returning to his smiling face, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s a playful smile. He types on his phone and turns the screen to me. “That means thank you,” he says.

I offer him a smile that says I’m sorry I’m so stupid in any language, in exchange for another of his cheeky grins.

“What kind of cookbooks are you looking for?” I ask slowly, making sure my words are perfectly pronounced. I may have spoken louder than necessary, which doesn’t make any sense.

He holds both his hands up, palms in a fist with his pinkies sticking out, and then he makes circles with both hands in front of him.

I blink. His smile widens and I swear to God he’s playing with me. It’s just the way his eyes twinkle. Reaching forward, he grabs both my hands, closes my fists and pulls out my pinkies. Then, he moves my hands in circles like he did a second ago.

I have no idea what it means, but my ignorance is second to the baseline instinct to continue touching him like this. It strikes me like a lightning bolt. Two things send real electrical charges through my body. The first, the feel of this man’s big hands engulfing my fists. Warm and hard. But also soft in the way he handles my hands. The second thing is the absence of something important: my wedding ring. I hadn’t realized I’d left it at home today.

Both send my mind reeling in opposite directions. Stunned by my response to his touch, I keep my hands up, frozen in the way he left them. He shows me his phone screen. “Pasta.”

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