Chapter II: The Brown-Haired Boy

Jaci pulled the overstuffed suitcase from the bed of the silver Chevy truck and dropped it onto the ground. She rolled her stiff shoulder, feeling it pop. She massaged the muscles, still stiff and sour from the accident.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” her dad asked, getting out of the truck. Walking around to the back, he picked her suitcase up from the ground and made his way to the front porch of the old ranch house.

She nodded, making and “Mhmm” sound.

He looked back at her. “If you don’t like it here…”

“I’ve always liked it here,” she signed. He watched her move her hands - the only way she knew how to speak these days.

He turned around and Jaci thought she saw a tear slid from the corner of his eye. She wanted to hug him and tell him it was fine but she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

The old Jaci would have hugged him. She would have comforted him. She would have talked.

She gritted her teeth for a second before following him up the porch steps.

“Pa and MeMa will take care of you,” her father said, setting the suitcase down. Turning to her, he said. “They told me they wouldn’t be home till later but that there’s a key under the mat.”

“Aren’t you going to stay?” she asked, giving him a questioning look.

He shook his head. “No… we don’t really get along well these days.”

Her shoulders drooped. Great, so I’m going to be in the middle of a life long grudge.

“Don’t worry,” her father quickly said. “They love you and have always wanted you to come and spend a summer.”

She nodded and took the handle of her suitcase from her father.

“I’m going then,” he said, turning around. He took a few steps before turning around. “I love you, sweety.”

She didn’t nod or sign but rather turned her back on him, pushing her suitcase closer to the door. She heard him sigh and finish his descent from the front porch. A few moments later, she heard the slam of the pickup door and the rev of the engine.

The sound of tires on the gravel made her want to look back and wave but she controlled herself. If he really did love her as he said, he wouldn’t be abandoning her in the middle of nowhere South Carolina.

She bent down and picked up the corner of the rug, grabbing the shiny silver key. She turned it over in her hand a couple of times, thinking.

Her father hadn’t been able to cope with her accident. Her mom had left the small family just days before the accident and during Jaci’s recovery time, she never showed up once. The rumor was she packed her bags and moved the whole way across the United States to get away from them.

Jaci didn’t know why her mother left. She only knew the aftermath. Her father had changed. He didn’t smile as much as he used to. He didn’t talk to her as much as he once did. The one thing that really bugged Jaci was that he never once came in to say goodnight after the whole ordeal.

She snapped herself back to reality and stuck the key in the lock, turning it to the left to unlock it. Trying the handle, she found it was still locked. Once more, she turned the key the entire way to the left but the door still wouldn’t open.

“The lock is backward. You have to turn it to the right,” a voice said from behind her.

She jumped, making a small sound which could be translated as a scream.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice had a hint of a southern accent, something she found quite odd. For someone who was living so far into the deep South, they didn’t have the type of accent she expected them too.

Turning, she saw a boy around her age, light brown hair brushed out of his face. He smiled a grin that seemed to take over his whole face, his eyes lighting up as he did. His soft brown eyes seemed to dance in the midday sunlight.

She waved, her way of saying hi. Then, she signed, It’s fine, you didn’t scare me.

He looked at her hands and then up at her face. “Are you deaf?”

She shook her head.

“Oh,” he looked down at his feet.

She cleared her throat to get his attention. When she had it, she tapped her throat and shook her head.

“Oh, you can’t speak!” he said, understanding. Realizing he sounded a little too excited, he quickly apologized. ’Oh, um, sorry that came out wrong.”

She smiled shrugging. Body language was the best way to communicate with someone who doesn’t know sign language and that was her only tool right now with this young boy.

She wanted to ask him a question so she pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her notepad.

Who are you? She typed, handing it over to him.

“Oh, I’m just a friend of MeMa’s,” he answered, smiling again. “I was supposed to swing by and get some eggs for my mom but it looks like they ain’t here right now.”

No, they’re in town. She typed out.

He nodded. “Makes sense. MeMa normally goes shopping in the early mornings on Friday but I guess she got a late start today.”

Jaci eyed him, surprised at how much he spoke. He added little bits of information that others wouldn’t find important. He also seemed rather happy and lighthearted when communicating with her, something she rarely ever saw with others. When she’d hand a notepad or phone to someone else with her questions or thoughts written on them, they often felt the need to write out their answer and then say it. Other times, they would seem rather bland while talking, unintentionally talking slowly like she was stupid or something.

She smiled. So you know MeMa well?

“I’m like her grandson,” he answered. “She’s known me since I was a little boy! Probably before I was born even.”

Ah, I see.

“Yeah, she sure is nice,” he sighed. “Can I ask you what you’re doing here?”

I’m her granddaughter. I’m spending the summer with them. She answered.

“Oh, MeMa’s been talkin’ up a storm about you! She was so excited about you coming down that she even started brushing up on her sign language. I didn’t understand why but I get it now,” he answered.

Jaci smiled wider. He was nice. He didn’t feel awkward talking about her muteness. He just went with the flow. And he had his own sort of flow. He was easy going with a contagious smile.

She nodded. I guess I’ll see you around then?

“Ah, probably,” he nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Maybe we can hang out tomorrow? I can show you around, introduce you to some people, etcetera, etcetera.”

Jaci nodded. Sure.

He turned with a smile and walked down the porch steps, not looking back to see if she got in the house or not. Something about that made Jaci happy. He wasn’t like her father, feeling the need to turn around and say goodbye. Or like her mother who disappeared without a trace.

She turned the key to the right, her smile widening as it opened. He was right. Pulling her suitcase in after her, she shut the door, not bothering to lock it. Pa and Mema would probably be back any minute anyways.

She left her suitcase in the foyer next to the door and wandered around the house, looking at all the ancient pictures, the fragile antigues, and the well worn paino in the corner of the living room.

She slid onto the bench and let her fingers slide across the keys. It’d been forever since she’d played. Over a year. Yet her fingers still itched to play. They were dancing over the keys, the fingerings to the peices memorized.

The livingroom was gone and she was sitting on the vast stage, lights blinding her. She looked down at the paino, her heart rate picking up. She tapped a single note, the sound resounding through the empty room. The sound gave her confidence and she picked up, her fingers never missing a beat. Her body swayed with the music, the gently music that used to fill her with joy and a sense of belonging.

She stopped suddenly, a knock from the doorway startling her back to the tiny livingroom surrounded by spotless porcelians.

“That was pretty sweetie,” MeMa said, setting her purse down on the couch. “Where were you just now?”

Never never land. She signed.

MeMa sighed. “Why’d you give it up?”

Jaci looked down at her feet and then back at the paino.

It wasn’t for me.

MeMa laughed. “Could have fooled me.”

Before Jaci could respond, she was pulled into a bear hug.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you,” she sighed. “It’s been to long.”

Last time you saw me I could still speak. Jaci signed once she was loosed from the hug.

The older lady sighed. “That doesn’t change who you are or what’s in your heart.” She tapped her on the sternum. “That will never change.”

Jaci wanted to retreat to some place quite so she could be alone with her thoughts and the many emotions that were flying around inside her head.

A boy stopped by. He said he was here to get eggs for his Mom. She said.

“Oh, that’s Thomas,” she answered. “A sweetheart.”

Jaci smiled. He’s nice.

“You talked to him?” she seemed a little surprised.

The younger girl nodded. Yeah, I wrote on the notepad in my phone and he replied.

MeMa smiled. “He has a younger brother Mike who is mute like you. He gets a lot of teasing because of it but he’s still a sharp young man.”

That’s why he wasn’t awkward while talking to me. Jaci thought. To Mema, she signed, He didn’t know sign language though.

“His brother is just now in first grade and hasn’t really attempted to learn sign language. He’s the type of boy who keeps to himself. He has a type of personalized sign language with his family and friends,” MeMa answered. “Mike’s a nice kid. He has a lot of potential.”

Jaci manuevered around MeMa who went to reposition a few ceramics and made her way to the kitchen where Pa was putting a pot on the stove.

“Hey Pumpkin,” he smiled. “I would have come to say hi earlier but I knew you’d be hungry.”

Jaci nodded, quickly giving him a hug. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and typed on the notepad.

Anything I can help with? She asked.

He smiled fondly. “Yes, could you wash the lettuce?” He nodded at the freshly picked head of lettuce sitting on the counter by the sink.

She nodded and got to work, peeling off the leaves and washing them before tearing them up and dropping them into the three bowls. She opened the fridge door and snagged a pepper, tomatoe, and some cheese.

Cutting board? She asked.

“Bottom drawer by the fridge,” he answered, not looking up from his noodles.

Jaci nodded again, her way of thanking him but realized he couldn’t see her. She ignored the feeling to type it out and show it to him and set to work cutting the pepper and tomatoe into little peices.

When she was done, she dropped them onto the salad and then set to work on slicing the cheese. It was in a rectangular block so she cut it into thin slices and then diced it into small squares, the knife hitting the cutting board in a steady rthyme.

She stopped for a moment and looked up at the setting sun. The moon would be up soon and she wanted to be out there to say hello.

The Moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to. -Carl Sandburg