"You're not deaf," I said. "You can hear just fine."
He remained still for a minute, but then he stuck his axe in the stump, walked past me and looked back in the same way he had done the first time, gesturing to me to follow him. I did.
He walked through the door of his house and again emerged with the same pad and pen in his hands.
After a minute, he held the pad up:
I DIDN'T TELL YOU I WAS DEAF.
I paused. "No, you didn't," I said softly. "But you can't speak?"
He looked at me and then brought the pad up and wrote for half a minute and then turned it toward me:
I CAN SPEAK. I JUST LIKE TO SHOW OFF MY NICE PENMANSHIP.
I stared at the words, digesting them, furrowing my brow and then looked up at his face. "Is that you being funny?" I asked, still frowning.
He raised his brows.
"Right," I said, tilting my head. "Well, you might want to work on that."
We stood there staring at each other for a few seconds, when he sighed heavily, brought the pad of paper up again and wrote:
IS THERE SOMETHING ELSE YOU WANT?
I looked up at him. "I know sign language," I said. "I could teach you. I mean, you wouldn't get to show off your penmanship, haha, but it's a quicker way to communicate." I smiled, hopeful, trying to make him smile too. Did he smile? Was he even capable?
He stared at me for several beats before he placed the pad and pen down gently on the ground next to him, straightened up, brought his hands up and signed, I already know sign language.
I startled slightly, and a lump came to my throat. No one had signed to me for over six months and it brought my dad, the feel of my dad's presence, front and center.
"Oh," I breathed out, using my voice because Phoebe was in my arms. "Right. You must have talked to your uncle that way."
He frowned, probably wondering how I knew about his uncle at all, but he didn't ask. Finally, he signed, No.
I blinked at him, and after a minute cleared my throat. "No?" I asked.
No, he repeated.
Silence again.
I exhaled. "Well, I know it sounds kind of stupid, but I thought maybe we could be… friends." I shrugged, letting out an uncomfortable laugh.
Archer narrowed his eyes again but just looked at me, not even writing anything down.
I looked between him and the pad, but when it became clear that he wasn't going to "say" anything, I whispered, "Everyone needs friends." Everyone needs friends? Really, Bree? Good grief, you sound pathetic.
He kept looking at me.
I sighed, feeling embarrassed again, but also disappointed. "Okay, well suit yourself, I guess. I'll just go now." Truly, why was I disappointed? Travis had been right–this guy just didn’t respond to niceties.
He stared at me unmoving, his deep, whiskey-colored eyes flaring as I began to back away. I wanted to move all that shaggy hair out of his face and get rid of the facial hair so I could really see what he looked like. He really did seem to have a nice face under all the shaggy scruff.
I sighed heavily. "Okay. Well, then, I guess I'll be on my way…" Just shut up already, Bree and GO. Clearly this person wants nothing to do with you.
I felt his eyes following me as I turned and walked up the driveway and out his gate, this time shutting it firmly behind me. I leaned against it for a minute, scratching absently under Phoebe's chin, wondering what was wrong with me. What had been the point of all that? Why hadn't I just gotten my damn dog and left?
"Damn dog," I said to Phoebe, scratching her more. She licked at my face, ruffing lightly. I laughed and kissed her back.
As I got on my bike and started riding away, I heard the chopping begin again.
CHAPTER 6
Archer – 7 years old, May
Where was I?
I felt like I was swimming upwards in the pool at the YMCA, the top of the water miles and miles away. Noises started up in my ears and there was a pain in my neck, almost like a really bad sore throat that was both on the inside and the outside. I tried to remember how I'd gotten hurt, but only shadows moved around my head. I pushed them away.
Where was I?
Mama? I wanted my mama.
I felt the tears, hot and heavy, leak out of my closed eyes, down my cheeks. I tried not to cry. Strong men shouldn't cry. Strong men should protect others, like my uncle Connor. Only he had cried. He had cried so hard, yelling up at the sky and falling to his knees right there on the pavement.
Oh no. Oh no. Don't think about that.
I tried to move my body, but it felt like someone had tied weights to my arms and legs, even my fingers and toes. I thought I might be moving just a little, but I wasn't sure.
I heard a woman's voice say, "Shhh, he's waking up. Let him do it slowly. Let him do it himself."
Mama, mama. Please be here too. Please be okay. Please don't be lying on the side of the road.
More warm tears slipped out of my eyes.
My entire body suddenly felt like hot pins and needles were being stuck in my skin. I tried to yell for help but I didn't even think I parted my lips. Oh God, the pain seemed to be waking up everywhere, like a monster coming alive in the dark under my bed.
After a few minutes of just breathing, just coming closer and closer to what I could feel was the surface, I opened my eyelids, squinting because there was a bright light right above me.
"Turn down the light, Meredith," I heard to my left.
I opened my eyes again, letting them get used to the light and saw an older nurse with short, blond hair looking down at me.
I opened my lips. "Mama" I tried to say, but nothing came out.
"Shhh," the nurse said, "don't try to talk, honey. You were in an accident. You're in the hospital, Archer, and we're taking real good care of you, okay? My name is Jenny and that's Meredith." She smiled sadly and pointed to a younger nurse behind her, checking something on the machine next to my bed.
I nodded my head. Where was my mama? More tears fell down my cheeks.
"Okay, good boy," Jenny said. "Your uncle Nathan is right outside. Let me go get him. He'll be real happy you're awake."
I lay there staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes before the door opened and shut and Uncle Nate was looking down into my face.
"Welcome back, little soldier," he said. His eyes had red all around them and he looked like he hadn't showered in a while. But Uncle Nate always looked a little weird in some way or another. Some days he had his shirt inside out, others he was wearing two different shoes. I thought it was funny. He told me that it was because his brain was so busy working on more important stuff, he didn't have time to think about whether his clothes were put on right. I thought that was a good answer. Plus, he slipped me good stuff like candy and ten-dollar bills. He told me to start a stash somewhere no one could find my money. He said I'd thank him later and gave me a wink like I'd know what "later" was when it came.
I opened my mouth again, but Jenny and Uncle Nate both shook their heads and Jenny reached for something on the table next to her. She turned around with a pad and a pencil and handed it to me.
I took it from her and brought it up, writing one word:
MAMA?
Jenny's eyes moved away from that word and Uncle Nate looked down at his feet. Right in that moment, the whole accident came screaming back into my brain–pictures and words pounding through my mind so that I slammed my head back on the pillow and clamped my teeth together.
I opened my mouth and screamed and screamed and screamed, but the room remained silent.