Page 88 of Interpreter

I’ve earned it.

Placing the shoes together on the floor where no one will stumble, I walk to Tim’s side and squeeze Oliver in a tight hug. I sign, reminding him to“Always be brave. Especially when you’re scared.”

He nods, and we both stare at Tim’s back.

He hasn’t moved from his position by the curtain. Tightness takes hold of my chest. Gah. I want to take him in my arms so bad. But I need to be brave for the both of us.

I place my hand on his shoulder, and he whips around to face me. I don’t sign this time. Instead, I speak. “Are you ready?”

He swallows thickly, expelling a deep breath.

Interpretation:Fuck no, but I’m not going to pussy out.

My smile is forced, but he can’t see it anyway since he bows his head, nearly resting it on the top of mine. We stay still, Oliver at our side, watching our every move, waiting to see what his mentor is going to do when suddenly his head pops up and he says very clearly and incredibly raspy, “Why are you so much shorter than usual?”

I can’t even take offense to his question. I am short, and without heels, I could be mistaken for one of the kids. Except for the boobs—nothing small about those babies. Wiggling my toes, I grin and slowly pull my dress up, watching as his nostrils flare and his throat bobs with an emotion that he only allows me to see when we’re alone.

“Where are your shoes?”

When he doesn’t meet my eyes, I clasp both sides of his face and lift his gaze to mine. “I wanted to hear it like you do.”

That strong jaw under my hand flinches as he tries to pull away, but I don’t let him.

“Will you let me listen with you?” I plead. “Let me do this with you, Timaeus.”

A sound plunks next to me, and Tim follows my gaze to below us where Oliver is stripping off his own shoes with fervor.

A deep and tortured sound rumbles through Tim’s chest, and I know he won’t fight us on this anymore. I pull his chin from the boy, who turned his world upside down, and beg for the last time, “Let us share this moment with you?”

Mahogany eyes, which are much prettier than mine, gloss over. He swallows and places a warm and patient kiss to my forehead and steps back. I’m not sure if that’s his consent or if he’s about to walk away, but when he bends down, grabbing Oliver by the shoulders and pulling him into a hug, I know.

He’s letting us in.

He’s letting us stand in this moment with him.

He’s letting ushear.

Someone yells backstage, breaking our moment, and I touch Tim’s shoulder to let him know that it’s time. Slowly he pulls away from Oliver, giving him a kiss on the top of his ruffled hair. He stares at me for a moment, making me a little uncomfortable. And then he bends down, unlacing the polished shoes, and places them beside the much smaller ones.

“I’m ready,” he whispers before wiping the rogue tear trailing down my cheek.

I can’t help it; I have to tell him. Well, I sign it. He needs to know he’s perfect. Deafness does not define him. In fact, it makes him even more incredible than he already is.

With a round of signs, my fingers move quickly in front of my chest.“You are an incredible man. I couldn’t be any prouder of you than I am right now.”

His mouth quirks like he’s about to tell me to hush, but I don’t care. He’s going to listen to me.

“She would be so proud of you.”

I bet she already was, but I think he needs to be reminded that she, especially, would be so proud in this moment.

Several slow swallows follow my statement before he finally responds with a simple chin tilt. It may not seem like much, but for Tim, it’s monumental. He just admitted that a) I was right, and b) his mother would, in fact, be very proud of the man she raised.

Ms. Peak approaches us and looks at us with ano bullshittype look. “Two minutes,” she tells us.

I look at Tim and purposely don’t sign. “Are you ready?”

He looks at Ms. Peak and then again at me and confirms, “I’m ready.”

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