Page 82 of A Good Book

“Who wants to have sex with a deaf guy who plays with Legos all day?”

I pointed to myself like “Me. Duh!”

Ben’s face screwed in disapproval. “Set your standards higher.”

What if I’m pregnant?

Lines formed along his forehead. “Unlikely. I pulled out.”

But not impossible.

Ben shook his head. “Take a test if you need peace of mind.”

I didn’t think I was pregnant, but I was upset that he wouldn’t even consider it. Didn’t he need peace of mind?

I signed, “I love you.”

He eyed me so I wrote:

I love you.

Then I made the sign again with my thumb, index, and pinky finger out. Mr. Grumpy didn’t make any effort to even try, so I grabbed his hand and bent his fingers to make the sign that was a combination of I, L, and Y.

Why say so many nice things to me when I let you touch my body, but afterward you act like a grump?

“Because you’re a branch, slowing my fall. But then it’s over, and gravity wins again. That’s why I want you to go back to school and forget about me. Don’t let me bring you down. Don’t let me break you.”

I heard a door shut downstairs.

Your parents are home. That was close. I should go. I need to wrap presents. Do you want me to take your gifts to my house and wrap them for you?

“Yes. Deaf people can’t wrap presents.”

I wadded up the paper and threw it at him, but not in a playful way. Then I stood and headed right to his door.

“Gabby!” He lunged for me, hooking his arm around my waist and pulling my back to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured in my ear. “I’m just …” He sighed. “Sorry.”

What was he sorry for? It felt as if he threw that word around like shoving all his Legos under the bed and calling his room clean. It wasn’t clean. And a generic sorry didn’t mean anything to me after what we did in his bed. Maybe sex wasn’t a big deal to him, but it was to me. I peeled his hands from my waist and headed downstairs.

“Hey, Gabby!” Carmen chirped as she and Tillie carried grocery bags toward the kitchen. “Did you two get all of your shopping done?”

“I think so.” I threaded my arms through my jacket.

She returned to the entry and untied her gray scarf. “Thanks for making him get out of the house. Did everything go okay at the mall?” She draped her scarf over a coat hook.

“Mm hmm.” I smiled as if he didn’t scare the life out of me.

“Well, we’ll probably see you at the Christmas pageant. But if not, have a Merry Christmas.”

“Thanks. I might come by on Christmas to give Ben his gift.”

“Oh,” she stepped closer and whispered, “what did you get him?”

“I bought him a journal and an old fountain pen. Since he won’t write back to me, I thought he could write down his feelings in a journal.”

“That would be nice. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

I was glad she felt so confident because I had no confidence since sex only kept his spirits up for ten seconds.

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