Page 45 of The Right Sign

The truth is there.

Right on her face.

I see it because I’m looking.

Because Iwantto know.

I want to knowher.

And I always get what I want.

Slowly, I wrap a hand around her wrist. Her skin is soft to the touch. Warm. Her pulse hammers against my fingertips.

Yaya pulls her arm away, but I’ve gotten what I came for.

Her cell phone is in my grip now.

You don’t have to use your voice.

Her eyes are wide. Gleaming with shock. Then her whole body starts to deflate.

I can’t stop watching her. She’s like an open book. My fingers itch to skim down the spine, inhaling the words, sliding my thumb under the slit of the pages. Turning. Turning. Turning.

But I never want to reach the end.

I can speak. If I have to.

Do you want to?

She looks away.

I type firmly.

You don’t have to. You don’t have to be anything other than what you are.

Her eyelashes flicker.

A beat passes as I think about how to ease her fear.

Jenny will interpret. I can handle everything else.

Yaya takes the phone from me.

Will your sister believe?

Of course she’ll believe…

Before I can finish, Yaya snatches the phone again.

Will she believe you’re in love with a deaf person?

I read the message and then look at her. Eyebrows slashed over light brown eyes. Fingers tightened into fists. Jaw so tense her profile looks carved from black diamonds.

The Yaya I remember from last night would have found a bat and beaten in my sister’s window to prove a point, not stand immobile in fear at the mere thought of this challenge.

She’s tightly-held anxiety. Stiff limbs. Shaken confidence.

Will she believe you’re in love with a deaf person?

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