A/N: Somebody asked me if I had personal experience with this. I don't, really. When I was in high school, I had a deaf friend. His interpreter fascinated me. She told us stories about interpreting when Bill Clinton and Al Gore, the president and vice president at the time, had visited the area. Had I not been in a downward spiral of suicidal depression, I might have ended up as a sign language interpreter. But the thought stayed with me. I've read many non-fiction books on the subject. If you follow me on FB, I often share videos of interpreters, because it fascinates me how things like music and comedy need to be translated so precisely and creatively. I wrote an ofic book with a mute MC revolving around sign language.
As always, so many thanks to MyOnlyHeroin who lends me her own experience and expertise so I can be as authentic as possible to the reality of the Deaf and hard of hearing.
"Get the digits. Isn't that Dating 101?" Edward paced in the parking lot, running his hand through his hair. He scowled again, realizing he was making a mess of himself. His cheeks were probably red and raw from the bite of the evening air. The winter weather left his skin pale white and ice cold. By now, his hair had to be a disaster area.
But all of that was a moot point. He'd made this date impulsively, and since he hadn't thought to get her number to text her, he was going to have to live with the consequences.
A glance at his phone told him he was out of time. He was either going to stand her up or he was going to have to bite the bullet. With a sigh, Edward headed into the mall to swallow what little was left of his pride.
Santa's Village was located in the middle of the mall. Before, it had been crowded—a long line of happy children and tired parents, elves dotted here and there managing the crowd and ushering the kiddos onto Santa's lap. Now, there was a sign on the gate. Santa had important business to conduct in the North Pole and would be back tomorrow. He smiled, thinking again about the genuine pleasure on Hadley's little face when she figured out Santa could talk to her.
A touch to his shoulder had Edward whirling around. Bella stood there, free now of the makeup that had made her cheeks red. Her face still sparkled here and there. Edward knew from experience just how difficult it was to escape glitter. He had to smile. He'd watched too many cartoons. He'd seen this scene. The main character spun around and there she was: the girl who sparkled on the screen and all the commotion around them stopped, the world went silent.
She smiled back at him, and he wondered what she was thinking, how he looked to her. Maybe some stray glitter had found its way to his rosy red cheeks.
He sighed. "Hello," he signed.
Her grin got brighter. She signed hello back.
Edward pressed his lips together. Sign language was a lot about expression. It was a language that required the whole body to express tone and intent. He didn't think he needed to try to paint his expression with regret. He hesitated a moment, unsure about what he was going to do for any number of reasons.
He'd learned some new signs while he waited for her to get off work. He launched into the monologue he'd prepared, grimacing because he knew his signs were clumsy at best.
The truth of the matter was he was broke. That's how he lived his life, it seemed—on the razor's edge of disaster. He'd always had just enough. This week, just enough had included Christmas gifts for his family and his baby. There was none left over for a proper date.
He was almost done explaining this when Bella put her hands over his. He realized he'd broken eye contact at some point—a definite no no.
When he looked up, he saw her smile was gentle. His stomach twisted. He didn't want her pity. She signed something, and he furrowed his brow. She grinned. "You've been practicing," she said.
He sighed and nodded. "Seemed like the least I could do."
"It was a good try, but no dice."
"What?" Confused as he was, he couldn't help his smile. Her grin had turned mischievous.
"You're not getting out of our date." She tilted her head. "I'll get this one."
He frowned. "I asked. I should—"
She took his hand. "Don't overthink it. I'm broke too. We'll make it work. Besides, it means you'll work harder to earn a second date." She winked.
Charmed as he was, he also wanted to argue. This couldn't be right. But the lights overhead caught the glitter on her cheeks, and he couldn't do anything but agree.
"Look." She pointed with her chin. "A walk by the starlight."
He glanced up to find this section of the mall was indeed decorated with ornate stars made of twinkle lights. Bella gave his hand a light tug.
They didn't stroll far. Like most malls, this one had places for tired shoppers, or the people they dragged along, to sit and relax. In this particular mid-spot, there were a couple of couches but also two rows of massage chairs facing each other. Bella picked up the pace, pulling him with her toward the chairs. She took him by the arms and, much to his amusement, manhandled him down into one. "It's been a long day," she said as she fed quarters into his chair.
Done with that, she took the chair across from him, settling in for her own massage. She waved cheerily at him but didn't say anything. With the mild chaos all around them, they couldn't have had a decent conversation even if she could hear.
Edward pressed his lips together, noting the way she was watching him. This would be the small talk, getting-to-know you portion of the date under any other circumstance. He thought she might be teasing him because she had the advantage here. If they tried to talk over the hullabaloo, she could read his lips while he'd likely be stuck yelling, "what?" over and over again.
Or was this a challenge?
Either way, Edward wasn't about to waste the time he had. His rudimentary sign could go far in this situation. "How old you?"
Her eyes lit up with delight. She flashed a sign. Edward blinked and felt like a tool. He'd been expecting her to hold up two fingers and then whatever the second digit was. Of course each number had its own sign.
Bella caught on quickly. She tried again, this time using the symbols Edward had expected. "2-4. You?"
"2-7." He paused, then made his brow furrow with a questioning look. "Sign?"
"2-7. Twenty-seven," she signed and mouthed the words. "Twenty-four me."
He dutifully repeated both signs several times over, committing them to memory. Then, putting aside his self-consciousness, he pressed on. "School you?"
The massage had long run out of their chairs by the time they'd collected a fair amount of information about each other. Bella was a grad student studying child psychology—providers who could sign were few and far between. Her favorite color was brown, and she liked apples. If she was exasperated at his four-year-old vocabulary, she didn't show it. She was animated, a smile ever playing on her lips.
Apropos of nothing, Bella hopped up. She took his hand and pulled him to his feet. Again, they didn't go far. They only went to one of the kiosks that lined the walkway of the mall. Bella grabbed one of the brightly colored balls and squeezed it with a gleeful look on her face.
"Ew," Edward said, but he laughed. The ball had turned into a mass of green, pustule-like smaller balls, looking like it was all about to pop and ooze putrid liquid all over the place.
Before the attendant could come make his sales pitch, Bella pulled Edward away. They walked hand-in-hand for a small distance before Bella picked up the leash of a toy dog that really walked and barked. She pretended to walk it, shuffling forward one inch at a time as though it was the way she always moved.
"I wanted one of these so badly when I was little," she said as she put the dog back.
By then, Edward had caught on to the game they were playing. He pulled them over to a hat kiosk. They spent several minutes trying to find the most ridiculous hats possible. Edward put on an outrageously tall Cat in the Hat hat, and Bella put on a Santa hat complete with beard.
"Looks better on you than your dad," Edward teased.
He snatched a top hat from a display of bizarre hats. He stepped toward the kiosk next to it and waved his hands as though he were a magician, magically moving the colorful kaleidoscope wind spinners.
"Magic," Bella said. She brought her hands up, fingers held together and then spread them quickly apart as though in a poof of smoke. "Magic."
"Magic," he repeated, looking into her eyes. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pleased when her cheeks flushed pink. With his free hand, he transferred the top hat from his head to hers, and adjusted the brim so it was tilted on her head.
After they returned the hat to its place, they walked on. Bella told him a hilarious story of her first grade class, most of them Deaf or hard of hearing, found out together the hard way that their farts made noise on the way out. He told her that when he was five, he used to go to the park with his mother because they loved the chipmunks.
"Mom got in a little trouble when other parents and their kids were nearby. See, I was pronouncing it shitmunks." He leaned in closer to be sure she heard the nuance.
She giggled. The sound triggered another memory, and he told her another story from his childhood. He and his sister liked to share a bed for a brief time when they were both young so they could whisper at night after lights out. He had the clear memory of lying under the blankets, both of them whispering swear words and giggling their fool heads off at their own naughtiness.
"Did you learn how to swear in sign?" Bella asked.
"What?" He had no idea why the question caught him off guard.
"That's the first thing whenever you learn a new language, right? You learn to swear."
"I learn sign language to teach my four-year-old." He smirked.
She tilted her head, giving him an admonishing look. "Why should Hadley miss out on learning the dirty words just because she can't hear and doesn't have an older sister?" She wagged her eyebrows so he knew she was kidding. "But if you're going to hang out with me, you should know I swear a lot."
"That's not very elf-like behavior."
She quirked an eyebrow at him and signed something.
"What was that?" he asked, thinking he'd recognized the word 'eat.'
"Eat a dick," she said cheerfully, a touch too loud.
Edward looked around, suddenly knowing how his mom must have felt at the playground all those years ago. He had to laugh though. "Eat a dick," he signed back at her, feeling just as hilariously naughty as he had when he was a small child.
"Not on the first date," Bella said out loud, her smile innocent.
Edward choked on air. "I didn't...I mean…" He huffed as she laughed. "Mean," he signed. "Rude."
She led him to the Mrs. Fields, bought them a bag of nibblers—bite-sized cookies—and two glasses of milk. They sat at a small table in front of the shop, and she taught him how to sign bad words. Bullshit was by far his favorite—making the horns of a bull with one hand while flexing the fingers of your other hand near your elbow to indicate the shit coming out.
"Remember your face. Expressions are how we tell tone. Expression is how we know if you're kidding or you're really mad. And emphasis." She signed, "bullshit," again but so emphatically that her hands slapped skin audibly.
And that was how Edward, a grown man, found himself swearing furiously with his hands, cackling as he and Bella made increasingly emphatic faces and gestures at each other.
"How does it work for deaf kids?" Edward asked as they moved on. "You wouldn't wash your mouth out with soap. Would you just have to wash your hands?"
"Dunno. My dad thinks it's dumb to call some words bad when they're not slurs."
"Good point."
Bella stopped and looked at him. "We're here."
Edward realized then they'd made it to the center of the mall. They were now looking down three stories at the ice rink with a tall, grand Christmas tree at its center. His grin fell. "Ice skating?"
"Have you ever been?"
"Uh...no."
Her whole face lit up. "Even better."
He sighed. He looked a mess. He was broke, and now she wanted him to make a fool of himself.
She sobered and clasped his hand in both of hers, looking right into his eyes. "Don't be afraid. I won't let you fall."
Looking at her slight form, he wondered what the hell she thought she was going to do about it if he did fall. But there was no way he was going to deny her the pleasure.
Some minutes later, he found himself inching onto the ice. Bella was in front of him, inching backward with her hands bracing him at the elbow. "You got this. You're okay," she murmured almost under her breath.
Edward huffed. His heart was pounding out of control, spiking when his feet slid forward a fraction of an inch more than he'd intended. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see people were casting bemused looks their way, but he couldn't really care. He tried to reach for the rail, but Bella held him fast.
"I got you," she said, looking up from his feet into his eyes.
"Yeah." He was breathless, but somehow her words soothed him.
Since she was watching his feet and the rink was noisy, Bella didn't talk as they skated ever so slightly forward. He began singing quietly under his breath—a nervous tick.
She'd told him before they started to resist watching his feet, so he was concentrating on a point somewhere on the second floor as he tried to find his center of balance. He was startled when Bella spoke. "Are they playing Christmas carols?"
Edward looked at her to find she was watching his lips again even as she kept them moving: him forward and her backward, the show off. "Uh, yes. Of course."
"You're singing Do You Hear What I Hear." She grinned. "My favorite."
"Why?"
He almost didn't notice that her careful strides backward got ever so slightly longer. Her eyes were still steady on him as she spoke. "When I was in third grade, my class learned that song." Her grin stretched ear to ear. "When we got to the line, 'do you hear what I hear,' everyone cracked up. Because we didn't. We didn't hear what our teacher did."
"Ah, I see what you did there. Clever kids." He chuckled, touched by the story. How great it must have been for her to grow up with kids who shared her reality. And he couldn't help but feel special that she was sharing that with him.
"We were very puny." Bella skated backward deliberately now, bringing him with her. He clutched at her. She let go of one of his hands and moved so she was skating next to him instead of in front of him. She pulled them to the edge of the skaters moving round and round the Christmas tree.
Another minute went by, and Edward relaxed. He tried an experimental slide and glanced at Bella. She pumped her fist in the air as though he were a skating champion instead of a skating newbie. He pushed himself to go just a little faster.
"Gotta crawl before you walk," she called. They were still joined at the hand, but he'd pulled ahead of her now.
"I didn't crawl. I skipped straight to walking," he said.
When she didn't answer, he realized his mistake. He was faced away from her. He tried to slow down and turn toward her, forgetting that he didn't really know how to stop. He slid out of control. She lunged for him, only managing to get herself caught in his downward spiral. They ended up on their asses in a heap, both laughing.
He sat up first and offered his hand. She took it, and when he pulled her into a sitting position, he found she was so close to him. His head swam. Her face was positioned just right—her chin tilted up, her eyes bright. She was so beautiful.
Before he could overthink what he was doing and where he was, Edward tilted his head down. He heard the quick intake of her breath, and then her lips were on his. The ice was cold, chilling him to the bone, but her lips moving with his charged the air. He was warm. All the way down to the marrow of his bones, he was on fire.
And damn if it wasn't the sweetest burn.
A/N: One more chappy after this. But in case I don't get to it on time for it to be a Christmas present, Happy Holidays to you and yours.