Signs Of Love

My mom came to pick me up from school since you can’t very well stay at school after puking. I was glad to finally get out of the school, but it sucked my mom would be having to work the time lost picking me up. Being a nurse definitely had its perks but with being a single mother, it caused for a lot of overtime spent at the hospital.

The rest of my day was quiet, filled up with video games and reading the book Twilight that I’d checked out from the library. It was pretty uneventful, but it felt great to just be able to chill.
Mom returned home around 8, beat and hungry. She brought home roast beef sandwiches. They were delicious. Thank goodness I was able to keep it down.

By the next morning, Mom had already gone off to work and it was just me in the house. After going to school yesterday and having the time I did, I didn’t feel like going back. So I stayed home for the day, going back to chill mode. I soon got the voicemail that I wasn’t in school and deleted it as soon as it showed up. It was really all too easy.

I grabbed my laptop and started up MyNet.com which I logged into and stared at all the comments and messages I’d had since I’d been away.

“Where’ve you been, man?” and “Hey, I went by your house and some old people live there!” were the most common messages left. They were dated back about a year ago. I missed my old friends but I wouldn’t let them see me like this. Without a voice to communicate.

I remembered the pain and suffering I’d gone through when the doctor told my family and I that I would never be able to talk again. The doctor was thankful that was all that couldn’t be recovered. I was a chopped up mess back then.

With much help from the hospital, I picked up sign more easily than most. I hated that it would be the only way I could communicate besides writing things down, which would take way too much time. The language gripped me. This would be my language. It was its own dialect, and it was mine. I’d never known anyone else who signed.

My mom and family had a little more trouble, but were able to catch on a little more with time, it was like playing charades. You would play something out and they would have to guess until they got it right. But, it was no game. It was real life, and I was reminded by that with the depression that loomed over me since it all began.

There was a knock at the door. It made me jump but I went to go look at who it could be. Another knock. It wasn’t like I could say, I’m coming. When I looked through the peep hole the face registered and I opened the door.

‘Hey,’ I signed to the boy in front of me.

“Hey, um…sorry for just dropping by, some of the kids from the bus told me where you lived I just wanted to drop of your homework. You still sick?” I didn’t want the homework but I took it anyway and set it down on the bench by the door.

I shook my head, trying to keep it as simple as possible. He stayed at the door.

“Nice place,” he said.

‘Thanks.’ Surely he would know that it’s what I’d say to a compliment.

“Are you going to school tomorrow?”

I shrugged. The cold came back suddenly and I saw the piercing blue eyes 20 feet behind the kid. I tried to not look, but it haunted me. ‘Bye.’ I signed to the guy.

“Oh, I’m Aaron, by the way.”

I signed my name, knowing he would never be able to understand me. I slowly shut the door, not wanting to scare him with a sudden slam. I ran upstairs, locked the door to my room and watched him walk away. Or should I rephrase, both of them?