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CHAPTER NINE

TAMERON

What in the name of Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all his carpenter friends had come over me, offering to be Dayton’s wingman? It must’ve been temporary insanity. What else could explain why I had made that impulsive decision?

Sure, after he’d helped me with my ASL assignment, I’d come to the conclusion that maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

That maybe I’d been wrong about him and his motives and that he truly wanted to be friends with me.

Though why he’d made such an effort with a prickly cactus like me was a mystery, but that was his problem.

He’d plain worn me down with kindness, and while that was incredibly annoying to admit, it had been effective.

Meeting his brother hadn’t hurt either. Dax had been so nice and supportive with his offer that I could come to the shop anytime and tinker with cars.

I had to admit it was tempting. The lack of direction and purpose in my life was starting to bother me.

This could be a good distraction, and since Dax was Deaf, it would also be excellent practice for me.

Hmm, maybe I should ask Nash what he thought. As much as I liked riding his ass about kinda being the Daddy for all of us, the truth was that I valued his opinion more than anyone else’s.

Or…

I hit the FaceTime button before I could talk myself out of it. The house was quiet, so communicating shouldn’t be an issue. “Tameron!” my mom said, joy in her voice. “It’s so lovely to hear from you, honey.”

She put her phone on the little tripod, then looked over her shoulder. I could see the logo of their plumbing business behind her on the wall. “Harold! Tameron is calling.”

“Are you still at work?”

“We were about to leave,” she said, ensuring her face was turned toward the camera.

She was better at that than my dad, who tended to forget when he got excited about something.

I didn’t always have the heart to interrupt him, so every now and then, I missed parts of what he was saying.

Frustrating but minor in the bigger scheme of annoyances in my life.

My dad sat next to my mom, and she adjusted the camera so it captured both of them. “Hey, kiddo,” my father said. “How have you been?”

I wiggled my hand. “Same old, same old. Not much changes in my life. Still primarily focused on learning ASL.”

“We’re learning too,” my mom said.

I blinked. What? I must’ve misheard them. “Sorry, what was that?”

“We’re taking an ASL course for beginners,” Mom said. “Look, I can finger-spell my name.” She painstakingly slowly fingerspelled Margaret and tears formed in my eyes. “And I’ve learned the signs for ‘mom,’ ‘dad,’ and ‘son.’”

Her movements were slow and awkward, but she did the signs correctly, and holy shit, my parents were learning ASL. “That’s…” My voice croaked.

“Honey, are you okay?” Mom asked.

I nodded, barely able to see through my tears. “It means a lot that you’re learning ASL.”

My father cleared his throat. “We should’ve started sooner. We’ve been…waiting, I suppose. Waiting and hoping for you to get better.”

“It’s not gonna get better, Dad. It’s only gonna get worse.”

“Yeah, we realize that now. It took us a while to accept it. It was such a hard blow for us that I can’t even imagine what it must’ve been like for you.”

I wiped my eyes, not even caring that they could see me cry. “It’s okay, Dad.”

“No, it’s not. Your mom and I have been talking about it a lot lately. About how we’ve been so focused on what we lost—your hearing—that we forgot to celebrate what we still had. You’re still here with us, and that’s what matters most.”

Mom nodded emphatically. “We’re so proud of you, honey. The way you’ve handled everything… You’re so much stronger than we ever gave you credit for.”

Damn, now I was really crying. “I don’t feel strong most days.”

“But you are,” Dad insisted. “You keep going, keep trying.”

“And you’re making new friends,” Mom added. “Like that firefighter you mentioned last time. Nash’s friend.”

Heat crept into my cheeks. Had I mentioned Dayton? “Dayton? He’s…he’s actually my yoga teacher now.”

“Is he the one who’s fluent in ASL?” Dad asked.

I nodded. “He’s what’s called a CODA, Child of Deaf Adults. Both his parents are Deaf, and so are his brother and sister. He’s the only hearing one in his family, actually.”

I’d known this all along, but for some reason, saying it aloud made me realize how hard that must’ve been for him. He’d been the odd one out, the one who was different. Like me.

“So you practice ASL with him?” Mom asked.

“I do. He helped me with an assignment the other day, giving me feedback on a talk I had to do. It was super helpful.”

“We’d love to practice with you sometime,” Mom said. “Once we’re better at it, I mean. Right now, we’re still terrible.”

“You’re not terrible. You’re learning. That’s what matters.” I swallowed hard. “Actually, I wanted to ask you guys something.”

“Anything, honey.”

“Dayton’s brother owns a garage and offered to let me tinker with cars some time.

Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, I am getting pretty bored, and I have no idea what I could do for a job, you know?

My ASL isn’t good enough to work in the Deaf community, but I can’t always get by with my hearing aids either. ”

Dad’s whole face lit up. “You mean like we used to do with the Chevy?”

“Yeah, exactly like that.”

Dad’s smile widened. “That would be wonderful. You loved doing that, and you were good at it.”

“I was?”

“Of course you were. Your brain has always worked that way. You understand how things fit together, how they work. It’s why you were so good at your job in the Army.”

That was true. I’d had a knack for figuring out how something worked or how to fix what was broken.

The way my brain processed information made it easy for me to understand how different components worked together.

It was why I’d been so good at what I did…

until I wasn’t anymore. Now, I was the broken thing, except I couldn’t fix myself.

“Do you think I could make a career out of it?” I asked hesitantly.

“Why not?” Mom said. “Your dad did pretty well with his plumbing business.”

“That’s different. He owns his own business.”

“So could you one day,” Dad said. “But start small. See if you even enjoy it first. Take Dayton’s brother up on his offer.”

“Dax,” I said. “His name is Dax.”

Mom’s face softened. “You sound like you’ve found some good people there.”

“I have.” My voice cracked a little. “I really have.”

“Then trust them,” Dad said. “Trust yourself too. You’ve always had good instincts.”

Had I? Because my instincts about Dayton had been way off. I’d been so determined to dislike him that I’d missed what a genuinely nice guy he was. Hell, I was going to be his wingman tonight at a gay club. Talk about a one-eighty.

“Thanks, guys. For everything. For learning ASL, for supporting me…”

“We love you, honey,” Mom said. “We always will.”

After saying goodbye, I sat there for a while, staring at my blank phone screen. My parents were learning ASL. They were actually making an effort. And they thought I was strong.

Maybe I was. Maybe all this time, I’d been stronger than I’d given myself credit for.

My phone buzzed with a text from Dayton.

Still up for tonight? No pressure if you’ve changed your mind.

Nope, I’m in. What time?

Can you be here at nine? Club doesn’t get busy till ten anyway.

Sounds good.

That meant I could at least watch part of tonight’s movie for our weekly Friday movie night.

That had become a thing when we’d discovered Bean had grown up in a conservative religious home and hadn’t been allowed to watch TV or movies.

Or listen to anything but religious music, for that matter.

The kid had a massive deficit in his pop culture knowledge, so we’d taken it upon ourselves to educate him.

And since Bean needed a lot of sleep and was usually in bed by nine, we always started right after dinner.

Our movie night group had grown, now including Heath and Jarek, Creek’s and Bean’s boyfriends, respectively.

They were both good guys, but even if I hadn’t clicked with them, it would’ve been hard to resent them since they took great care of Creek and Bean.

Jarek especially was so good with Bean, who could barely remember his own name on bad days.

Jarek had endless patience with him. I loved seeing them both so happy, even if it stung a little.

Thank god Nash was still single, or I’d feel like a total loser.

It had been Nash’s night to cook, but he’d opted for Chinese takeout instead, which was rare for him.

He looked tired, a little pale. Maybe he’d had a rough call at work?

He didn’t talk much about what he saw on the job, but it wasn’t always pretty, I reckoned.

Even rarer was that he allowed us to eat in front of the TV so we could start the movie.

With my plate piled high with orange chicken, kung pao, steamed edamame, and a big scoop of brown rice, I settled in one of the reading chairs.

Tonight’s choice was The Mummy , courtesy of Heath. “It’s a classic,” he insisted. “Required watching for every bisexual man. And if you’re not gay or bi or pan already, you will be after watching this.”

I snorted. “I highly doubt that. I’m quite secure in my straightness, thank you very much.”

Nash shared a look with Heath that I couldn’t quite interpret, but whatever. Maybe I had imagined it.

The movie was surprisingly entertaining, and I could see why it was considered a classic. The special effects were a bit dated, but the story was solid and the humor on point.