Signs (10 page)

“Yeah. He, um, he was born with some problem in his inner ear, and whatever hearing he had just degenerated through his childhood. I’m learning some ASL so we can talk to each other.”

“I think that’s an excellent response to the situation,” Ilse said. “It’s going to be harder for the two of you to communicate, since you effectively speak different languages.”

“Yeah.”

“But if you need any help, Lauren, who works in my office, has a brother who’s deaf. She might be able to help you learn some ASL.”

“Really?” Luc had met Lauren before but hadn’t known about her brother.

Ilse nodded. “I’ll mention it to her if you like.”

Nodding, Luc fell silent and resumed picking at his nail polish. There was one thing left that was bugging him, and he wasn’t sure if this Band-Aid could be pulled off as quickly.

“How long have you known for?” Luc asked in a rush. He didn’t like the thought that people could see it. He spent enough time defending himself against calls of “fag” in the street because of how he looked. If it was that obvious he’d need to enroll in self-defense classes.

“I’ve wondered for a little while,” Ilse said calmly. “I think we all wondered when you started painting your nails and wearing the makeup.”

“But I spent ages telling you I wasn’t,” he protested.

“I know that. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it.”

“Jo will,” he said petulantly.

“Yeah,” Ilse said with a sigh. “Jo probably will.”

“He’s such a douche.”

“He’s your brother.”

“Doesn’t stop him being a douche.”

His sister didn’t say anything to that. Being older, she’d known Johannes as a boy, when he hadn’t been so indoctrinated into their father’s hateful ways. She remembered the young, fair-haired boy who was pretty and outgoing, and Luc thought Ilse hung on to that when Jo was being particularly idiotic. She knew another side to their brother Luc had never seen.

“Would it be okay if Caleb stayed over one weekend?”

Luc purposefully didn’t tell Ilse that he had once already. He wasn’t sure how that would go down. Plus it was her house, and even though he was eighteen, he felt it was only right to ask her permission.

“Are you having sex?” Her frankness was unnerving.

“No,” Luc said, because they weren’t. “Not yet.”

Ilse seemed to consider this and apparently found no problem.

“Okay,” she said with a shrug. “If you do have sex, be careful. Not just with your body but with your heart too.”

Luc rubbed his nose and tried to pretend he wasn’t having a sex talk with his older sister. Ilse might be more like a parent to him than a sibling, but it was still weird.

“Okay,” he mumbled.

Ilse handed him back the now empty coffee mug and made a shooing gesture. “Go on, you horrible child. Thank you for the coffee. You can now consider yourself out and proud. I won’t tell a soul—I’ll take it to the grave. Now scoot.”

Luc accepted the mug, then impulsively leaned over the desk and pressed a kiss to Ilse’s cheek.

“Thanks, Illy,” he said, using his childhood nickname for her. He didn’t bother waiting for a response, instead closing the door carefully behind himself and leaving her to her work.

Having his sister’s approval of his new relationship was one thing. There was no way Luc was ready to tell his mother yet, though, and hell would freeze over before he willingly came out to Johannes.

Jo was their dad’s favorite. There was no way of denying it or pretending it wasn’t true. Even their mother knew the longed-for son, her second child, was the only thing her husband had ever wanted. Ilse had grown up with the knowledge that she was a disappointment for being born the wrong gender, and it was hardly a secret that Frances had first thought that Luc was her menopause.

The privilege offered to Jo had never been available to Ilse or Luc. They were never given the chance to play golf with their father or go on business trips to Europe with him like Jo was. They were never invited to their father’s office for long conversations about the NFL draft like Jo was. If nothing else, Johannes’s acceptance to Florida State on a full football scholarship had cemented his place as René’s favorite child.

Of course this blatant favoritism laid the foundation for a lifetime of resentment and distrust between Jo and his siblings. He carried traces of his father’s racism, homophobia, and bigotry. He started to believe the hype, saw himself as genuinely a better child, a better heir to their father’s name and small fortune than Ilse and Luc. Not that he ever voiced those opinions, but his actions spoke plenty.

So unless there was a time when Luc was ready to introduce a partner to his whole extended family, Johannes wouldn’t know his younger brother was a flaming queer.

Luc went to school that day feeling lighter, like his burden had been shared. Not that Caleb was a burden, but it was undeniable that having someone else know about their relationship made it feel a little more real.

He sent tweets to Caleb a few times during the day, knowing that the last twenty minutes of Luc’s lunch period overlapped with the first twenty minutes of Caleb’s, so it was a good time to catch him for a quick conversation. No one at his lunch table needed to know why he was glued to his phone. They probably thought he was just playing Candy Crush.

They made a tentative agreement to catch up online later in the evening, and that thought fortified Luc, giving him strength to push through the afternoon’s calculus class. Caleb would be at his photography club for a few hours after school, so Luc would have a chance to get caught up on his homework.

9. MODIFICATIONS

T
HERE
WASN
’
T
always time in the evenings for long conversations, but Luc got used to building time into his day to talk with Caleb, even if it was only for a couple of minutes. A few times a week they threw caution, and homework, to the wind and turned on the webcams to be able to hold a proper conversation.

Luc found himself living for these moments. No matter what was going on in his head, or at school, or with his family, he had Caleb.

So, I got some good news today…. My doctor has suggested me for a trial of a new cochlear implant
, Caleb typed.

“A what?” Luc asked.

Over the webcam, Caleb laughed. Luc wasn’t sure if Caleb knew or not, but the microphone attached to his computer worked, and Luc put the sound up when they spoke online. It meant he could hear the clattering of the keys when Caleb typed, and on the rare instances when Caleb made any sort of sound, he could hear that too.

Since Luc was still learning ASL, Caleb typed his side of these webcam conversations when things got too complicated for Luc to be able to understand the signs. It took longer this way, but Luc was patient. Really, he was just pleased that Caleb was being so patient with
him
. He watched as Caleb sucked on his bottom lip as he typed.

Caleb: A C.I. It’s a little device that they attach to the inside of my ear, to the auditory nerve, that’ll do the work of the cochlea and send sound signals to my brain.

“So you’ll be able to hear again?”

Caleb: That’s the idea. It takes time, though. It doesn’t just happen overnight.

“Sure. Wow. That’s amazing.”

Caleb was beaming when he nodded.

Caleb: Yeah. My parents can’t afford to pay for me to have it done, and there’s a really long waiting list. But my doctor heard of this trial that one of the implant manufacturers is running for a new device, and he said that I’m “physically, a perfect candidate.”

That much I agree with
, Luc typed, accompanying his words with a cheeky grin over the camera. He hadn’t seen Caleb this bright and animated while talking about his deafness… ever.

Caleb: Haha. He means I’m young and fit and healthy.

“Yes, you are.”

Caleb: Stop it. It would mean I’d be able to hear you, Luc
.

“I know,” Luc said, smiling. “I really hope it works out.”

“
Me too
.” Caleb hesitated for a moment, then scratched his nose. “
Luc
?”

Caleb had created his own shorthand sign for Luc’s name. It saved him having to sign each letter every time. In his home sign, he had a shorthand version of his own name, one his mom had made up when he was still a kid. The “Luc” sign was made with the right hand, index finger and thumb extended to make an
L
shape. Then Caleb tucked the fingers in quickly to turn the
L
into a
C
. The first time he’d shown it to Luc, Luc had developed that ache in his chest again.

“
Yes
?” Luc signed back.

“
Can I ask you something
?”

“
Of course
.”

“
How did your dad die
?” Caleb asked.

Luc startled for a moment at the question, then forced himself to relax.

“Cancer,” he said carefully. “Throat cancer.”

“
Oh. I’m sorry
.”

Luc shook his head. “I’m not.”

“
You didn’t get along with him, did you
?”

“No.” Wasn’t that just the understatement of the year? “No. My dad didn’t understand me, or why I dress like this, or why I like the things I do… I was an inconvenience to him.”

Luc rolled his shoulders and tried not to let this be a big deal.

“
You don’t have to tell me
.”

“I know. I think I want to.”

“
Okay. I’m here
.”

Luc wasn’t even sure where he wanted to start. There was so much to tell. Trying to help Caleb understand the years of resentment that had built up between father and son was almost impossible. He didn’t want to get into the finer details of it all, how he’d been forced to listen to his dad call him a “fag” most days since he turned thirteen years old and it became increasingly obvious he was never going to be like his older brother. He didn’t know how to explain to Caleb, who had two parents who loved him, that his mother was an emotionally distant alcoholic who laughed off his father’s malicious needling as harmless teasing and told Luc to “man up” when he complained to her about it.

Only Ilse understood. Luc thought that she stepped into that parenting role when she saw just how bad a job his mother and father were doing of raising a kid that maybe wasn’t like other kids. Luc didn’t even need special treatment… he just wanted his parents to accept him.

“The worst part is,” Luc said slowly, wanting to turn away but knowing Caleb wouldn’t be able to understand if he did, “I’m not even sad he’s dead. And that probably makes me a really fucking horrible person.”

“
I don’t think so
.”

Luc laughed humorlessly. “My mom would think that way if she found out. When he died, all I could think was ‘thank God.’ Thank God I don’t have to put up with him anymore. Thank God I’ll never have to listen to him call me ‘fag’ again, or watch him look at me with disappointment when I turn up for dinner wearing eyeliner, or even have him blatantly ignore me in favor of talking to Johannes all the damn time.”

“
No one should be treated like that by their own parents, Luc
.”

“I don’t even care,” he said, shrugging it off like he always did. “I have Ilse.”

“
What about your mom
?”

“What about her? She spends her days getting drunk, but expensive drunk, which makes it socially acceptable. Of course no one at the cocktail bar at the Four Seasons knows she’s completely fucking broke, so she’s allowed to keep a tab open there on the understanding that it’ll get paid eventually. Most of the time, Ilse calls them at the end of the month and throws the dollars she earns working fourteen-hour days at the bill. I doubt my mom even notices that someone paid it for her.”

“
Luc
.”

“It’s okay,” Luc said, because he was used to saying it and because sometimes it really was okay. “Sometimes all you need in life is that one really bright thing, you know? A beautiful person who makes getting up in the morning totally worthwhile.”

Caleb smiled and touched his fingers to the screen. Luc did the same, as if they could reach through their computers and just feel the simple reassurance of skin next to skin.

“Caleb?”

“
Yeah
?”

“Do you want to spend spring break with me?”

Caleb laughed, delighted. “
Yes. Absolutely
.”

Luc leaned back and pressed his hand to his chest. Good. This was good.

H
IS
MOTHER
swept in, looking for all the world like she owned it. Once, she had.

No one needed to know that those crisply pressed slacks weren’t Ralph Lauren—they were from Gap. Or that her delicate blouse came from the sale rack in Bloomingdale’s, and it probably wasn’t a brand name at all.

These days, the pearls at her throat and ears were fake, only noticeable to those who were familiar with the real thing. Luc was. He’d grown up watching his mother carefully apply her designer makeup, spritz perfume at her throat from an antique French bottle. Luc was one of the few people who knew how far she’d fallen and how hard they’d all worked to crawl their way back up.

“Lucien,” she said, using Luc’s full name, as she liked to do.

There was just the faintest hint of German in her voice. He looked up from his laptop and smiled as she carefully brushed the flat of her hand over his hair.

“You look tired, sweetheart. How was your day?”

He nodded and set the laptop aside. If she wanted to talk with him, well, he’d talk.

“I didn’t sleep very well last night,” he said, neglecting to mention the hours he’d stayed awake trying to cram on his ASL studies.

His mom tutted and perched on the coffee table. “You need your rest if you are going to do well in school.”

Luc shrugged. “How about you?”

“Ach, you know how it is,” she said with a smile and a shrug. “Courting those who hate me, pretending to listen to those on death’s door.”