N/A: Heavily based on the Sam/Monica relationship from the australian film "The Little Death", but you don't have to watch it to understand this. The BSL (which stands for British Sign Language) is capitalized and James is deaf. I put it under mature since there is explicit conversation about sex.
If anyone would be interested in rekindling the mood from the original film, I wrote the last bit of this listening to the track Light by Sleeping At Last.
I was seven when I met Severus Snape. He was a little boy: unfit clothes, slick hair and dark eyes. My sister Petunia and I played a lot outside the house in Cokesworth, where we lived, and we saw him looking our way for over a month before Tuney got tired of calling him over from afar and went up to him to ask why he was "staring at us like a weirdo". By the way he pointed to his ear in sheer panic, it finally connected to us that he couldn't listen at all.
We brought the subject to our parents right after that. I had never known someone who could not listen, and neither did Tuney, so mum and dad introduced us briefly to the BSL, the language deaf people used in Britain, and to the whole concept of deafness. It gave me a lot to think about.
That deaf boy did, too. It should be so lonely to live in a neighbourhood of hearing people.
After that day, I always made the effort to keep him company whenever I was playing outside the house, even if he never answered to my incessant rambling. I tried to learn sign language on my own, but I still wasn't so efficient in writing, so I had to ask my parents, who worked all day, or Tuney, who wouldn't help at all, to assist me. It would've been a lost cause if Severus himself hadn't been so insistent in his teaching.
It took months for the two of us to have real conversations. It was by then that I discovered his parents fought a lot because of his deafness and that he'd been even lonelier than I'd first thought. I was his only friend, the only person he would talk to for days.
We became best mates. My parents adored him, although Tuney never let go of her weariness, and he became a permanent fixture in our house for years, teaching all of us to communicate his way. He'd taught himself sign language, since both his parents could hear and didn't make much of an effort to speak to him whatsoever. It made me so sad to think about that, so I tried to give him a home away from his parents and the bullying he suffered at school.
For years, I could.
Our friendship ended when we were 15. Severus started to be less and less around. Although I had been his only friend for such a long time, he would constantly disappear from my life for weeks and then suddenly show up at my doorstep. He didn't admit it, but he would come back different, much more judgemental and impatient with my occasional slips (it wasn't easy to keep my sign language perfected when he was away, because I didn't know anyone else I could practice it with).
He started to hang around a lot of older people from the small deaf community in our town, but I was never invited to come with. Never one to be the image of subtlety, I asked him what the problem was, since I could communicate with his deaf friends just as well as I did with him. He would evade at first, but I pestered him so much about it that one day he let it slip that they didn't approve friendships with hearing people like me.
I didn't mind much, although it was a bit disheartening. What had worried me about his sudden disappearance was that Severus was involving himself with the wrong crowd, which was absolutely not the case. It didn't matter if I was his friend only for the weekends.
But then, one day I was buying ice-cream with one of my closest friends, Mary MacDonald, and I left her outside of the shop messaging the bloke she fancied while I payed (it was my turn, since she had bought us milkshakes the week before). When I was approaching her so we could leave, I saw that she was staring in confusion at Severus and one of his mates. They were signaling loathsome, offensive things at her. She couldn't comprehend any of them, of course, but I could. It was horrifying to find out that the sweet boy from my childhood, after being through so much discrimination himself, could do something that vicious to someone else.
I told them off. Snape looked so bloody guilty. Mary told me she was only trying to say hello, since she recognised Snape from around my house, and tried to roughly use the sign language she'd learned from me.
I never told her what they said and I never will.
Although I had asked Severus to bugger off, he approached me after that. I sent him away once it was clear he wasn't making amends for noticing he had been a bigot to Mary, but only because he didn't want to lose me. I knew hearing people could be very insensitive. I had seen rudeness, ignorance and indifference directed at Severus. He had known a lot of suffering during his life, that was not lost on me, but I expected that it would not rub off on him. Unfortunately, that's exactly what happened. Since I wasn't willing to be anyone's exception, and once he didn't have it in himself to respect other people even though he had known nothing but discrimination for years, I ended our friendship.
I spent the next few years missing Severus and only signaling for my computer while I watched videos to increase my vocabulary. That wonderful and rich way of communicating just became a major part of my routine again once I (and Mary) moved to London to go to university. I found a video relay company on the newspaper that was hiring interpreters and I immediately seeked them out. Although the last impression I had made of Snape's character hadn't been the best one, our former friendship was something that I would always be grateful for.
Once I was hired, I immediately noticed how the London deaf community was more accepting of outsiders than the one back in Cokeworth. They were a tight, small group of people, yes, and the fact that most people never even gave them a thought or a bit of consideration was enough to explain this wariness towards us hearing people. Even if the ones who Skyped us only needed the company for things like setting up appointments or making complaints of services, they were all very gentle.
Working at the company was wonderful. It made me feel accomplished to know I was genuinely exercising something that was so dear to me while helping people (even though often it wasn't anything life-changing). Even better, it had the added bonus of helping me pay my many London bills. My parents did try to help me, but the city was not cheap and we never had that much money.
I was working there for six months from Monday to Friday and hadn't had any remarkable encounters so far.
It was around 23 pm on a Friday when exceptionality found me.
In my downtime at the company, I used to write my papers and revise my lectures from uni, but since the term had only begun and I had the whole weekend ahead of me, I chose to distract myself. I chattered with my colleague and friend Marlene for a while, but then she went to get some coffee and I started to write down some chores that needed to be done over the weekend. Petunia was coming to spend a few days with me and the apartment I shared with Mary and Emmeline currently resembled the inside of a laundry bag. My room itself looked a bit like the aftermath of the apocalypse. My dear pristine, meticular sister would never approve of that.
Tuney and I had a close, wonderful relationship through our whole childhood and teenage years, nevermind my friendship with Severus, but I didn't see much of her anymore since she had married the most boring, conceited, ignorant prat I had ever met. Who, by the way, I had very much not invited. Mum gave me a bit of a telling, but I thought it necessary to enunciate clearly that it was a sisters-only event.
I was already dividing the chores between Emmeline, Mary and me when the Skype ringtone called me to attention. I looked up and clicked to accept the video conference.
On the next second there was a young lad with round glasses perched on top of his nose and a discernible air of good-humour right before my eyes. I composed myself rapidly, trying not to stare at the startling jet-black hair on his head. The advanced technology of a comb was certainly not a possession of his.
HELLO. WELCOME TO SIGN VIDEO, I signed, mouthing the words. WHAT'S YOUR NAME?
HELLO. IT'S J-A-M-E-S, he signed. YOURS?
L-I-L-Y. WHAT NUMBER WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO CONNECT YOU WITH?
He gazed at me over his lenses, taking a moment to answer. He spelt the numbers slowly, as if to make sure I would get them all. I wrote them down.
I held a closed hand for him to wait and dialed the numbers.
IT'S RINGING, I let him know. He nodded.
The answer was practically immediate.
"Hello, this is London Horny Girls sex line, how can we help you?"
I blinked.
"I beg your pardon, I didn't catch that."
"This is London Horny Girls sex line, can we help you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry for the trouble", I said, "I must have dialed the wrong number."
"Which number did you call?"
I told her the numbers given to me.
"Oh, no, that's us", the attendant said.
I looked at James. That twitch on the corner of his mouth could very well be amusement.
"Can I put you on hold for one second?", I asked.
She grunted her agreement.
I THINK I DIALED THE WRONG NUMBER, I warned James.
His eyebrows moved in a way that made me suspect in passing of a joke, but then his face turned politely curious.
I DON'T THINK SO, he said.
IT'S AN ADULT LINE, I signaled.
I'M AN ADULT, he pointed out, cheekily.
I shook my head, still trying to explain the issue.
IT'S AN ADULT SEX LINE.
He smiled then, the politeness giving place to complacency.
I KNOW, he signed, causing my eyes to probably snap out of their sockets and fall on the desk.
Oh.
He showed two thumbs up, signaling it was all good.
I pressed my lips together, shocked. There was no company policy for a situation like that. There wasn't even anyone I could ask for help around, although I could see Marlene through the kitchen window laughing at something on her phone. The only other person there was another light-haired interpreter that I had never seen before, and he was at his own station a good five meters away from me.
I gazed at James again. Perhaps it was a prank dial and he would hang up before I had to say anything.
But really, it was my job to help him. I had to do it either way.
I exhaled slowly.
"Alright", I said into the headset, my voice scratchy. I cleared my throat. "I'm Lily and I'm speaking on behalf of…"
"We don't have all night to wait for you, darling", the woman cut me off. "Tell me which girl you want to talk to so I can put you through."
"Just a second", I squeaked.
WHO DO YOU WANT TO TALK TO?, I asked James.
He pointed to his fingers, asking what the options were.
"What are the options?"
The lady on the line sighed heavily. I was mentally rolling my eyes at her annoyance - she certainly wasn't the only one who would rather be doing something else.
Then she started to list the most horrifying options I'd ever heard, which included, but was not limited to, a very considerable amount of synonyms for both breasts and butts, a lot of unimaginable prefixes for penetration (some I didn't even reckon physically possible) and endless possibilities for sexual partners with very specific features.
I blinked, hoping my face didn't reveal much. There was no blooming way I was going to translate all that to James.
"Hold on, please", I said.
She sighed deeply again.
THEY HAVE MEN AND WOMEN, I signed, deciding to be keep it simple and the least traumatizing possible.
WHAT?, James appeared incredulous. THAT'S ALL?
I shrugged.
LONDON HORNY GIRLS HAVE MEN?, he looked completely baffled.
I shrugged again.
THEY ARE VERY INCLUSIVE, I remarked.
NOTHING MORE SPECIFIC?
I shook my head no. His face turned desolate.
I thought about pointing out the sex line he had chosen was rubbish, but then he would probably suggest calling another one and I wasn't going to let that happen.
WOMEN, he disappointedly signed.
"A woman", I said into the mic.
"How elaborate", the sex line lady mocked. "Do you rather blonde, brunette, ginger, asian, black, tranny, dominatrix..."
"Any of them is fine, really", I said, hurriedly.
The line was cut abruptly and then started to ring again.
I let James know it was connecting.
He untidied his hair even more while we waited. His (lovely) eyes danced on my screen. I tried to stare at his shoulder to avoid the inevitable awkwardness.
"Hello", a practiced sensual voice said into my ear in a low tone. "This is Sabrina and I'm here to set your fantasies on fire."
I grimaced, closing my eyes. There wasn't a single thing I could've possibly done to deserve that, not even telling Vernon that he was a colossal prick right to his face, or helping Mary to secretly throw Emmeline's incenses away at least once a month, or glaring at that lady that shoved me out of the tube earlier on the day.
I opened my lids. James had reached for a red-and-gold football keychain and was throwing it around easily while still looking at me. I ignored him and his throwing and catching skills so I could concentrate on Sabrina.
"Hello", I said. "I'm Lily from SignVideo and I'm-"
"Oooh, Lily", she moaned instantly, making me blush furiously. I sent an alarmed look James' way and his crooked smile made another appearance. "It's been quite a while since I last talked to another girl, but I'm just so bloody horny. What can I do for you?"
WHAT IS SHE SAYING?, he asked.
"Oh no, that's not...", I trailed off, lifting my hand and signaling 'wait' to James. "I'm working as a translator for a deaf man right now, and he's the one that would like to communicate with you."
"What?", Sabrina asked in disbelief.
"A deaf man would like to speak to you", I repeated. "Not physically speak, of course, since he's deaf, but to… Well, enjoy your services all the same. I'll act as a translator for the lot of you and I'll sign everything you say to him and tell you what he's signing back."
"Oh really?"
"Really", I said. "I work for a video relay company called SignVideo."
"Do you?", she asked, sounding wary. "Let me google it."
"Sure", I agreed. "Be my guest."
I looked at James, who still seemed very amused and kept throwing his keychain around. I was trying to keep my eyes elsewhere because, as if it wasn't embarrassing enough to be doing what I was doing, his eyes made me feel exposed. I looked at myself on the tiny square on my screen and I could see very clearly my cheeks trying greatly to look like two tomatoes. I knew things could not be more mortifying when my hair wasn't the reddest thing on me.
I shook my head, concentrating. James asked me what was going on.
HER NAME IS S-A-B-R-I-N-A, I signed. SHE'S ON G-O-O-G-L-E BECAUSE SHE THINKS I'M LYING ABOUT YOU.
He snorted and gave an irregular (and cute) laugh.
"Okay, I found your company on google", Sabrina told me, interrupting our parallel conversation. "So can you see him?"
"Yes. And I'll translate everything you say to him."
"Can you see me?"
"Mmm, no", I imagined Sabrina looking around her house for cameras. I tried to control my urge to snicker. "We're on a regular phone call. I can't see you."
James put the keychain away and raised his eyebrows at me, possibly impatient.
"Okay, got it", she said. "What's his name?"
"It's James."
"How old is he?"
HOW OLD ARE YOU?
I'M 21, he said. YOU?
ME TOO, I signed instinctively, before remembering there was someone else in the conversation. DO YOU MEAN S-A-B-R-I-N-A?
NO.
WHAT IF SHE'S 60?, I joked.
I CAN'T SEE HER, he pointed out.
SO WHAT'S THE POINT IN THIS?, I asked.
He smiled cryptically.
"He's 21 years old", I said, as a barrier to the other conversation, taking my eyes off of him.
"The delay is bloody awful", Sabrina complained.
"Sorry, but I have to translate to him and then get back to you, of course there will be-"
"What does he look like?", she interrupted quite rudely.
I appraised him subtly. He was very attractive, I could admit as much.
"Quite handsome."
"What do you mean by handsome?", she asked, the breathy quality her voice had taken before long gone.
"Good-looking?", I said hopefully. "Can't we start this already?"
"How good-looking?", Sabrina pressed on.
I sighed.
HOLD ON, I signed to James, just so he would look at something else, but his eyes didn't move from me.
"Handsome", I repeated. "As in crazy hair, long nose, cocky smile. Charming."
Although there shouldn't be any charm left after asking shamelessly for phone sex. I somehow wanted him to have the exact same opportunities as every other bloke to be disgusting to girls over the phone, but I also wanted him to not be that kind of guy. It was really sad that he was so cute.
"I wasn't asking about his face, Lily", she remarked.
"Oh", I said, blinking. "I don't- He's... fit. Seems tall."
"Is that really the best you can do?"
The best I would do.
"Yes."
"Fine, then. Ask him what's he doing up so late."
WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THIS LATE?, I asked James.
I WAS WORKING, he told me, shrugging. YOU?
"Working", I told her. "You?"
"Waiting for you to call", she said, once again seductively.
I passed the message along to James.
His crooked smile was really enticing.
YOU WON'T HAVE TO WAIT ANYMORE, he said.
"You won't have to wait anymore", I told her.
"I'm so glad", she kept going. "Ask him if he wants to lick me all over with his thick tongue."
I got flustered.
"It would be easier if you spoke to me as if I was him", I suggested.
DO YOU WANT TO LICK ME?, I signed, wishing to crawl under the table and not look at James' face ever again.
He signaled the positive with a thumb, smiling so big I feared his cheeks would fall off. I looked at the desk so he wouldn't see me rolling my eyes for both his astonishing eloquence and his effortless composure. It wasn't fair he could be so unconcerned when I was radiating embarrassment.
"Yes", I answered her out loud.
"So come and shag me", she said, her seducing tone coming back full force.
COME GET ME, I signed, biting my lips to stop myself from laughing of Sabrina's sexy voice.
WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?, James asked, catching up quickly on the benefits of speaking to Sabrina directly instead of acknowledging me.
"What you're wearing, Sabrina?"
"Knickers and no bra."
KNICKERS, I translated. NO BRA.
HOW BIG ARE YOUR TITS?
"Can you tell me your bra size?", I asked, hoping I could get away with being technical so Sabrina wouldn't start some nonsense about how enormous her breasts were.
NO, James stopped me immediately. I blinked in puzzlement. DON'T SAY THAT.
"I can tell you're editing", she said at the same time. "He would never ask my bra size."
"Hang on a minute, please, Sabrina."
She grunted.
WHAT?, I asked, confused.
I DIDN'T ASK HER BRA SIZE, James informed me, serious. I ASKED HOW BIG HER TITS ARE.
I furrowed my lips, trying to remember whether I had signaled that specific question to him or not.
I ASKED HOW BIG HER TITS ARE, I said.
NO, he signed emphatically. YOU DIDN'T.
Ugh.
I'M SORRY, I said, once it was clear he was very sure about my lying. I touched my palms to my chest to truly convey the emotion, while still completely missing how he could've possibly caught my editing his words.
IT'S FINE, he assured me. I'M FORGIVING YOU BECAUSE YOU SAID I'M HANDSOME.
My breath shortened.
CAN YOU LIP-READ?, I asked.
Oh bloody fucking hell.
YES, he smiled.
"Oh that's just great", I whispered. "Okay, Sabrina? How big are your breasts?"
"Massive", she answered, immediately, but her voice was more of a monotone now. I felt bad for having bored her so quickly. "The biggest tits you've ever seen. It's so huge your hands could very well be entering bloody Narnia when you put it between them."
I widened my eyes at the reference, wondering whether I was the first one to hear it. I doubted men wanted to hear about Narnia when they were trying to have fun.
But then again, how big was Narnia, really?
"Are you saying he has small hands?", I asked, turning my face away from him so he couldn't read my lips. "Because I can assure you that's not the truth."
"Of course not!", she said, sounding terribly offended. "I'm saying even his manly hands are nothing close to how enormous my tits are."
I frowned, not really sure if she had made it any better.
"Can you be more specific about those then? I don't know what to sign. Narnia is not an easy concept."
James smiled a bit then, looking strangely entertained.
"Are you or are you not a translator for deaf people?", she snapped. "Just make the biggest tits within' your arms' reach and be done with it. Ask him what he's wearing."
HUGE TITS, I signed to James, forcefully, quite hurt by the rudeness. WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?
BOXER SHORTS.
"Just shorts", I said.
"Is he?"
"Not really", I confessed. "He's wearing a superhero jumper."
DON'T SAY THAT, James signed frenetically.
"Tell him to take it all off."
"Hold on one more second, please, Sabrina."
"Yeah", she sighed.
WHAT?, I asked.
DON'T SAY THAT!, he said, exasperated, widening his eyes.
WHAT?, I was still lost.
THAT I'M WEARING A JUMPER, he insisted, his forehead creased in distress.
WHY NOT?
BECAUSE IT KILLS THE MOOD!
I snorted, staring at him incredulously.
WHAT?, he signed.
I KILL THE MOOD, I pointed out.
He seemed to think it over. I waited quite-not-so-patiently while his smile grew on his face.
I DON'T THINK SO, he remarked.
I widened my eyes, panicked that he could be using me as the visual for things I had not signed up for.
IF I SEE ANY SUSPICIOUS MOVEMENT FROM YOU, I'M HANGING UP, I told him, seriously.
His face completely closed off.
"H'llo? Ask him to take it all off already, I don't have all day", Sabrina said.
TAKE IT ALL OFF, I translated.
James looked awfully mad.
TELL HER I DID THAT ALREADY, he asked, his movements punctuated by impatience. I'M NOT A PERVERT, L-I-L-Y.
I stared. He seemed completely offended.
THEN WHY DID YOU ASK FOR PHONE SEX?, I had to ask.
He stared at me fixedly. I waited for an explanation.
"Am I going to hang in here forever?"
"No, I'm sorry, Sabrina", I said, taking my eyes off of James. "He's properly supposedly naked. Go on, please."
"Ask him if he's hard", she said..
"Do you mean-"
"Yes, dear! I'm asking if his dick is hard, who do you think you're speaking to?"
IS YOUR DICK HARD?, I asked, resentfully.
He shook his head no. I felt a tad guilty.
TELL HER I'M HARD, he asked, hurriedly. LET'S MOVE THIS ALONG.
"He's hard", I said.
"Ask him if he wants me to suck his hot pulsing dick."
"Can't we just assume he is going to say yes?"
"Ask him."
I sighed.
DO YOU WANT ME TO SUCK YOUR DICK?, I asked, shamefully blushing.
YES, he confirmed, his self-assured body language returning. His shiny eyes went back to being thoroughly amused behind his lenses.
"Surprisingly, he said yes."
"Great", she said. "Then tell him I'm spitting on his dick so his enormous length gets slippery enough for me to swallow it at once."
I stopped, blushing to the very roots of my hair. Not that I was some kind of prude or anything, but that conversation was getting way too explicit for me, especially considering how I wasn't being a PART of any of it.
I looked at James, who I could've even fancied a bit in any other situation, and then I looked at the headset's mic. Then I made my decision.
I'M NOT COMFORTABLE DOING THIS, I informed James. I'LL DIRECT YOU TO SOMEONE ELSE.
WHAT?, he asked, his hazel eyes widening.
I CAN'T DO THIS, I repeated myself. I'M SORRY.
He sighed, which I assumed was an agreement, no matter how hesitant.
YOU'LL DO BETTER WITH SOMEONE ELSE, I promised.
"Sabrina, we're having technical problems, can I put you on hold again?"
"Sure, why the fuck not? It's not like I have been here for ages or anything."
"Sorry", I said.
BYE, JAMES, I signed to him.
I'M SORRY, he signed.
I nodded to assure him it was no problem, before clicking to redirect the call to one of my colleagues.
Well. That had gone smoothly.
It was only then, when I could no longer see James' face on my screen, that I became aware of my surroundings. Marlene was on her computer listening to her music (probably one of her indie bands) quite enthusiastically. There was no call on hold for her, so James had been redirected to the other employee.
I let my incredulity for what had happened engulf me for a bit, but then I let it go. I could admit it had been interesting, although I never thought I would use the erotic signs Marlene (who was very good at telling all kinds of indiscrete jokes) had taught me.
Next to five minutes passed. I doodled a lot. I couldn't help but wonder how the whole affair was working between James, Sabrina and the other interpreter. I chuckled imagining James' possible embarrassment in front of another man.
I looked up, then, curious as what my colleague reaction to James would be. I expected him to be noticeably uncomfortable, very stiff on his seat, but instead his shoulders were shaking from laughing. I squinted my eyes. What could James have possibly said to him?
I took off my headset.
"Marlene", I said.
She kept dancing.
"Marlene", I called again, louder.
She didn't answer. I ripped a piece of my chore list and threw it at her.
She looked around, confused, stopping when our eyes met.
WHO IS THAT?, I signed, so she wouldn't have to take off her headset, pointing to the bloke laughing. I could only see his profile from where I was seated.
L-U-P-I-N, she answered. HE'S NICE.
IS HE NEW?, I asked, mouthing the words at the same time.
She nodded.
HE GOT HERE YESTERDAY. WE SHOULD ASK HIM TO GO OUT TO DRINK WITH US TOMORROW, she signed, reminding me of our agreement to meet outside of work.
Well, nice bloke or not, what Marlene had said didn't remedy my curiosity in the least. I nodded, agreeing to her suggestion, before letting her get back to her music. I stared at Lupin's head, trying to guess what was happening.
The Skype ringtone woke me up from my revery. I accepted it mechanically, putting the headset on again before looking up.
It was James.
L-I-L-Y, he signed, looking relieved. HELP ME.
WHAT?, I asked, looking at Lupin. He looked over at me as well, still grinning, but when our eyes met he grimaced in sympathy. Why would he send James back to me?
I moved my gaze to James.
IT NEEDS TO BE YOU, he signed, approaching the camera. The convincing effect of him increased at an embarrassing pace once his face and eyes (I was right, they were completely lovely) got closer.
THERE'S ANOTHER GIRL HERE, IF THAT'S THE PROBLEM, I suggested.
IT WON'T WORK WITH ANYONE ELSE, he insisted. PLEASE, L-I-L-Y.
I sighed deeply, but if there was no other way, I'd do it.
WAIT, I signaled.
"Sabrina?", I called out loud.
"Oh, Lily, thank God!", she cried. "I need to go to the loo."
"Oh", I made a face to James, who still looked apologetic. "Why didn't you?"
"Because I didn't know if the other bloke on the phone was a perv and would ask to hear it", she whispered, like 'the other bloke' was going to listen to that as well. "Which is fine when it's my customer, but if he wants to hear my piss, he will need to phone me himself, not exploit dear James' time."
"That's completely reasonable", I said, shivering at the mere notion. "Go to the loo, then. We'll be waiting."
"No, you keep going", she said. "I'm sucking him off right now, okay? Talk to him."
"No, no, no, no", I said, turning my face so he wouldn't see my lips. A door slammed on the other side of the line.
WHAT?, James asked.
I smiled, pretending Sabrina was still on the line. I pressed the headset to my ears.
YOUR DICK IS GOOD, I informed him, slowly.
I KNOW, James promptly replied.
"He's aware", I said out loud, so he would think Sabrina was still there.
SHE SAYS SHE CHANGED HER MIND, I signed, shrugging at him. IT'S NOT ALL THAT GOOD.
He narrowed his eyes.
SHE DID NOT, he replied.
SHE DID, I insisted.
YOU'RE LYING, he accused.
"Sabrina, didn't you say James' dick wasn't all that good?", I said, talking into the mic. I raised my eyebrows at an inexistent reply. I raised my brows as if to say 'I told you so'.
SHE'S NOT THERE, he pointed out.
SHE IS!, I said, not wanting to get caught lying again. I'M LISTENING TO HER.
BULLSHIT, James signaled forcefully. SHE WENT TO THE LOO.
I looked at him horrified. He got closer to the camera, pointing to his eyes and then to his smiling mouth, reinforcing his lip-reading skills. Even though I was feeling embarrassed for being caught red handed again, I had to grin at the whole picture. Handsome indeed.
CAN YOU UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING I SAY?, I asked.
He shook his head no.
Then he proceeded to explain that he could understand some words from every sentence. Usually the ones in which my mouth had to take a very clear shape. Like in handsome. Or loo. Or James.
EVERYTHING IMPORTANT, he signaled amusedly.
I rolled my eyes.
DON'T DO THAT, PRETTY EYES.
WHAT?, I asked. He rolled his eyes in a rather exaggerated manner, mimicking me. NOT THAT. WHAT WAS THE BIT ABOUT THE EYES?
He lifted his eyebrows, messing up his hair again.
IT'S A SIGN NAME FOR YOU, he said. He repeated the sign.
I stared, rendered speechless. Not many callers asked for my sign name, since we usually had such brief encounters, and James was definitely the only one who had come up with anything new. Snape used to call me by the literal lily sign, and I was very fond of it, but the new one was just as lovely.
THANK YOU, I signed, wholeheartedly, knowing how important sign names were for the deaf community. WHAT'S YOURS?
He evaluated me before doing his particular signature, which was, surprisingly, and if I wasn't horribly mistaken, a deer.
I repeated the sign and he grinned.
IS IT A D-E-E-R? I had to ask.
S-T-A-G, he spelled.
WHY?
LONG STORY.
"I'm back!", Sabrina announced, right on cue. "Thank you so much for the help, Lily. So where are we?"
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to remember what we were talking about before she had left me.
"Hmm, not much has changed", I said after a few seconds of complete blankness.
"He's quite slow, isn't he?", she asked conversationally.
"I reckon it's very dignified that he's taking his time", I said diplomatically.
"Then he should be glad he's not on my line of work", she replied, jokingly. "Most of the time, it's not dignified at all to take your time."
"I'll take your word for it, Sabrina", I laughed.
WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?, James asked.
SHE IS SAYING YOU ARE SLOW, I replied mockingly.
He scowled.
I'M NOT SLOW! I'M GOING TO FUCK HER REALLY HARD.
I pressed my lips together to keep myself from sniggering because of his wounded expression.
"He's going to fuck you hard now, Sabrina", I told her.
"Is he? Tell him I've been wet in anticipation for a long time."
SHE'S WET, I resumed. WAITING FOR YOU.
James stared and then chuckled.
THIS ISN'T WORKING AT ALL, he signed.
Sabrina started to moan in my ear.
YOU'RE FUCKING HER HARD NOW, I told him. SHE'S MOANING. JUST SO YOU KNOW.
He gave me a crooked smile.
I'M GOOD AT FUCKING, he informed me, eyes shining behind his glasses.
I stared back at him.
I DON'T THINK SO.
WHAT? WHY?, he asked, obviously surprised.
YOU HAVE TO START SLOW, I signaled. AND THEN BUILD UP TO HARD.
He stopped moving around in his chair. The corners of his mouth turned up.
GOOD TO KNOW, he signed.
"He's into it, right, Lily?", Sabrina said, stopping her meowing a tad to speak.
"Definitely", I said.
"Isn't he saying anything?", Sabrina asked, out of breath from moaning so loudly for so long. "Tell him his dick is the biggest I've ever had."
I passed the message along quickly.
I KNOW, James raised his eyebrows once in insolence.
"He's too turned on to be communicative, I think", I lied, leaving James' arrogance out of the conversation.
"Well, ask him if he wants to shag me from behind as well", she suggested, surprisingly yawning. "Let's spice things up."
I wrinkled my nose.
"Are you sure?", I asked.
"It usually gets them to finish their business fast", she answered. "I'm knackered, I had a very very long day, so if we can speed this along..."
"Alright", I agreed, before noticing what had ticked me about her sentence. "What did you mean by shag you 'as well'?"
"At the same time."
"But how would he do that?", I asked, already terrified of the answer to come. "He only has one penis."
Sabrina howled.
I winced at the sharp sound, fearful of the explanation to come. It took a while for her to speak again.
"There are so many ways, darling", she told me, once she had calmed down. "Ask him, he will know what I'm talking about."
JAMES, I said, using his funny sign name. SHE WANTS YOU TO FUCK HER FROM BEHIND. AT THE SAME TIME YOU FUCK HER FROM THE FRONT.
James frowned, looking rather intrigued. He seemed to think hard about it.
I HAVE ONE PENIS, he signed confusedly.
I stilled. I looked at him expecting some cheeky remark or an explanation for him to do exactly what Sabrina was asking, but none came. He kept looking at me utterly puzzled, like I would be able to make sense of the mess of bums and breasts and vaginas and penises and Sabrinas and a phone sex call with no masturbation or two-sided hearing.
Then it occurred to me that James' non-existent second penis existed in the exact same conversation as Sabrina's bigger-than-bloody-Narnia boobs.
I cracked up.
I can't say how long I was laughing after that, but it was a rather long time. Both James and Sabrina kept asking me what was wrong, Sabrina way more forcefully than James, but I couldn't breathe, let alone communicate in any language.
I calmed down after a few minutes and tried to muffle my laugh on my hand. James had stopped trying to get my attention and was just gazing at me, probably asking why he had had the terrible idea of spending his money by phoning us and how it was possible for someone's face to be that blotchy and flustered. Sabrina was cursing on my and ear defiantly, as if she had concluded it was in reality a prank call.
"It's a joke, isn't it?", she squealed. "It's a fucking joke!"
"No, no, no", I replied, between not-at-all dignified giggles. "I'm so sorry. It's not a prank."
"Then why are you laughing, Lily? Was it something I said? James has a problem with arses?"
Another fit of laughter hit me.
HANG UP, James signed, grinning.
WHAT?
HANG UP, he asked again.
I blinked. His request sobered me up.
YEAH?, I had to make sure.
James promptly raised a hand to sign yes, still grinning.
"Sabrina, I'm so sorry", I said, warmly, getting back to our conversation. "For everything. It's just... I had never done this before and it's completely mental."
"Oh", she said. "Yeah, I guess you would think so. It's just been so long since I found all of that funny that I thought..."
"I can imagine", I said. "Thank you for the laugh, anyway. And for the patience."
"Oh, no, thank to both of you", she replied immediately. "I'm sorry for being so rude, I thought you were pranking me. It's refreshing not to have a sixty year old breathing on my ear for a change."
"I'm glad we could give you a break", I said. "James is asking me to hang up, alright?"
"What? Did he come?"
"No", I confessed. "I reckon I did an awful job of translating everything."
"Poor bloke", she sighed. "Well, I'll let you go then."
"Alright. Goodbye, Sabrina."
"Wait!", she screamed suddenly. "Do you make good money there?"
The question surprised me.
"It's alright", I confirmed.
"This will sound so weird", Sabrina said, hesitatingly. "But could you help me to become an interpreter for deaf people as well? I can't stand my job anymore. I don't think there is a perv on the whole UK I don't know on a first name basis."
"Oh", I remarked, clever as ever, absorbing the request. "Sure! Do you know sign language?"
"I know some things", she confirmed. "Like sunrise."
I hummed, thinking about it. She sounded all right.
"Sabrina, give me your number and I'll call you, yeah? I can teach you. Even if you can't work here, since we just hired someone new, there may be other opportunities for you."
"Cheers, Lily!", she cried. "Thank you so much, you have no idea how much you're helping me. Just call me Dorcas, alright? Sabrina is a name I made up so the weirdos couldn't track me down."
I laughed, agreeing to call her by her actual name. I wrote down her number, right down to the eighth point of my list (which was "take all the knickers from the bathroom"), and hung up assuring her I would actually truly - yes, I promise - phone her.
WHAT WAS THAT?, James asked.
SHE WANTS ANOTHER JOB, I said. I'LL HELP.
His mouth stayed open a while.
THAT'S INSANE, he signed finally.
I KNOW, I said, shaking my head in complete incredulity. THE WHOLE NIGHT WAS MIND BLOWING.
YEAH, he agreed.
We stared at each other. I felt suddenly uncomfortable.
THANK YOU, he said, heartly.
NO, I erased his thank you with a hand. THANK YOU. THAT WAS THE FUNNIEST CALL I'VE EVER HAD.
He nodded, the corner of his eyes crinkling from smiling.
DO YOU NEED HELP WITH SOMETHING ELSE?, I said, after a few more seconds of staring, already regretful for having to end the conversation if he answered no.
DO YOU HAVE ANOTHER CALL?, he asked.
I shook my head no.
THEN DON'T GO, he suggested, leaning closer to the camera.
I looked around. Marlene was taking a nap on her own desk and that Lupin bloke was signaling to his computer. We were the last three people there at that time of the night.
I turned back to James. No one was going to interrupt us any time soon.
ALRIGHT, I answered. He beamed.
IT WAS A JOKE, he signed immediately. I WANTED TO PRANK R-E-M-U-S.
WHO?
R-E-M-U-S, he repeated himself. He kept looking at me in expectation. HE WORKS THERE.
My eyes moved to my unknown colleague.
L-U-P-I-N?
He signed yes.
HE'S MY MATE, he answered. I KNEW HE WOULD BE WORKING, SO I CALLED HIM.
WHY DIDN'T YOU ASK FOR HIM?, I asked.
YOU ANSWERED, he signed.
I blinked, expecting for some kind of clarification.
YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL, he signed with a casual shrug. R-E-M-U-S IS NOT.
The impact the compliment could have had was softened by that last bit about Remus, so I accordingly laughed. As it resonated inside of me (regardless of any joke), my belly did a rather forceful lurch.
I THINK L-U-P-I-N IS HANDSOME, I said, mostly to get a rise out of him.
YOU THINK I'M FIT, he remarked, cheekily, not bothered in the least. AND I KNOW WHAT YOU LIKE.
I narrowed my eyes, but the grin I was wearing refused to leave my lips.
WHAT?
TO START SLOW, he signed. THEN BUILD UP TO HARD.
I got red on the face, so I looked somewhere else to hide it. James laughed.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THIS LATE?, I asked, once I got my face under control. BESIDES FLIRTING.
He grinned toothily.
AM I FLIRTING?, he asked. I HADN'T NOTICED.
I sent him a sharp look. His uneven laugh made another appearance and I felt my own eyes softening.
I COULDN'T SLEEP, he answered.
WHY?
THE NEIGHBORS ARE HAVING A PARTY, he signed, matching his signs with a grimace. THE FLOOR IS VIBRATING TOO MUCH.
I'M SORRY, I said.
NOT YOUR PARTY, he pointed out.
I felt sorry anyway.
I GOT BORED AND DECIDED TO PESTER R-E-M-U-S, he added.
BORED?, I asked.
I WAS WRITING AN ESSAY FOR U-N-I, he signed. SINCE I COULDN'T SLEEP.
WHAT ABOUT?
ART, he answered.
REALLY?, I inquired.
He nodded, smiling, and signaled for me to wait. He looked around his own room, leaving the camera frame. He came back a few seconds later with an impressive drawing of an outstanding castle that could've been easily on a medieval setting, or perhaps on a fairytale. The whole drawing was enormous and still apparently incomplete.
YOU DREW THAT?, I asked amazed.
YES, he signed, nodding, half of his face covered by the frame.
YOU?, I signed, suspicious. YOU DID NOT.
I DID, he said, leaving the paint on the desk so he could sign freely.
YOU DID NOT, I doubted.
He furrowed his eyebrows at me.
I'LL PROVE IT, he said, before reaching out for something.
He showed me a pencil and a notebook that he put down on his desk, before looking up at me.
WHAT?, I signed.
STAY STILL.
I followed his instruction to the best of my capacity, but it was unthinkable not to fidget while he stared at me like that. I wondered how much I was inadvertently baring of myself to him and what he would be seeking that could be worthy of his art. So I fussed over my desk, feeling quite nervous and weird.
Whilst I didn't do as he asked, James didn't complain. He kept drawing and I kept looking, not even attempting to avoid the strong pull of his eyes or the way he hadn't stopped smiling since I had hung up the phone.
He wasn't a classic beauty, not at all, not with his too long nose and his too thin lips and the craziest, unruliest hair I had ever seen. But he was so handsome. Somehow the encounter of all his unbalanced proportions, the round glasses and the angular jaw, the slender fingers and the broad shoulders, created a fetching picture.
But what was really striking about him went beyond his good-looks.
What I had gathered was this: James was amusing and easy-going and cheeky and inappropriate and mindless of his own limitations, but most of all he was terribly captivating.
Sign language translated much more in terms of people's essence than speech ever could. It attuned us to the body, not to the words. To the crude, truthful reactions, not to the edited sayings.
Many of James' physical reactions offered bits of his personality that I wouldn't know about a hearing person on a first encounter.
His occasional grin took over his whole face, but his trademark crooked smile only reached one side of his lips. He hadn't been fazed at all by an explicit conversation about sex with a virtual stranger, but it had troubled him deeply when said stranger doubted his good intentions. He approached the mess of his hair by adopting it and making it worse instead of attempting to tame it, and whenever he felt nervous or insecure he messed it up even more… Maybe the act calmed him down, reminding himself of his own choice for nonconformity.
I knew his deafness didn't trouble him because there was no wariness in his eyes. Whilst a lot of deaf people did not trust hearing people easily, James had been at ease during the entirety of our interaction. It suggested that he probably hadn't ever known discrimination or struggle. Perhaps he had never been taught to see his deafness as a disability whatsoever (which would explain his unbreakable boldness that tip-toed the line between confidence and arrogance). That perspective warmed my heart and I silently thanked his family and his friends for that, for letting him retain his different view of the world without feeling inadequate for it. It would've been such a loss if he had seen me as a threat or as someone that would judge him - we probably wouldn't have been where we were, staring stupidly at each other, if he did doubt me.
While I analysed him, James drew me.
It took some time for him to finish his drawing, but the wait was worth it. He raised the notebook to the camera. In his drawing, my eyes were huge and bright and my ponytail cascaded along one of my shoulders. There were freckles scattered around my face and I was beaming. I had my headset on.
I gazed at the screen, and through James' art I looked amused and kind and fond. It was an incomplete sketch, yes, but it held so much promise of talent and of personal style.
He hold it up for a few seconds, touching his nose to the top of the notebook, before he winked at me. He added something to the drawing and then showed the new addition to me, his mouth turned up in malice.
It was a speech balloon. He filled it with the words "is your dick hard?".
I burst out laughing, leaning my elbows on my desk and hiding the heat on my cheeks behind my hands. I looked at him through the gaps between my fingers, watching as he took off his glasses, laughing as well, and cleaned them on his jumper.
YOU'RE VERY TALENTED, I signed.
He kept looking at me, his movements slow and his lips pressed together, none of his self-assurance or his cheekiness showing on his face.
LILY, he said, using the sign name he had come up with, all seriousness. WRITE DOWN ANOTHER NUMBER, ALRIGHT?
I nodded.
I did.