“And Mick,” she says, and her hands slow, like she’s thinking about her words. “Did I tell you yet how proud I am of you for taking all this on?”
“You don’t need to tell me, Mom,” I say. “That’s not why I did it.”
“Why did you do it?” She tilts her head and stares at me.
“It was the right thing to do.”
“I remember when you and Patsy were small, and she used to visit and chase you and your brother through the house, pretending she understood what you both said in ASL.”
“She learned a lot that summer.”
“That was the year you refused to speak. Do you remember?”
I laugh. “I just wanted to be like the rest of you.”
People ask me all the time what it was like growing up with two deaf parents and a deaf brother. But it was just my life. I didn’t know any different. For a long time I thought everyone communicated with their hands, until I started kindergarten and realized that some kids weren’t deaf. I realized that I wasn’t deaf. That was a tough blow to take. I was suddenly different from the rest of my family, when I’d always thought I was the same.
“I love you, Mick,” she says.
“I love you too, Mom,” I reply.
“Text your aunt and get it all worked out, okay?”
“I will.”
She flashes an I love you sign at me, which is the general goodbye for a lot of deaf people, and then she’s gone.
I look up and find Wren standing in my doorway, and she looks so damn beautiful that I can’t stop staring at her.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
I nod. “My aunt wants me to deliver the children to her.”
Her face clouds. “When?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Oh,” Wren says quietly.
I explain the rest of the conversation to her. “So…it looks like I’m going to San Diego with the kids.”
“Should I start packing for them? I’ll need to say goodbye.”
“Just ask her already!” Emilio bellows from the hallway.
“Stop eavesdropping!” Wren calls back.
“It’s not eavesdropping if it’s your daughter! It’s a perk of being a dad!” I hear him stomp down the hallway, probably chasing one of the kids.
I should just go ahead and ask her. The worst that can happen is she says no. “Is there a chance that you might want to go with me?”
“Go where?” she asks absently, probably already packing and preparing for the kids’ departure in her mind.
“To San Diego. It’ll be a long drive. We can stop several times a day and we’ll take lots of movies and things to keep the kids occupied.”
She points toward her chest like I’ve lost my mind. “You want me to go with you to take the kids to their grandmother?”
“Never mind. It was a dumb idea.”