I chuckled. “I’ll have you know that hedoescome up with creative ideas, however fleeting they may be.”
Mr. Ribeiro laughed, but stopped when we heard footsteps. He turned and looked behind him – at the stairs that led to the bedrooms – and then shifted on his feet before smiling an open smile at the person walking down them.
He said something in Portuguese, his voice soft and loving, and as the person – thewoman– came to stand next to him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and faced me.
“Myles, this is my granddaughter, Carina.” He then looked at her. “Carina, this is Myles. He’s here to fix our fucked-up kitchen and give you your in-home library.”
Carina chuckled, and so did I.
The early morning light hit her features as she gazed up at me and grinned, gave me a side-salute, flattened one hand, palm up, slid the other one over it once, and made the #1 gesture with both forefingers before touching the left fist to the right.
I stood there like an idiot, looking at her, and then realized that she was using Sign. Dumbfounded, I glanced at her short dark hair, bright sable eyes, arched cheeks, rich golden skin, and still-grinning lips. She was wearing a lime-colored puff blouse and an emerald-green skirt with a cherry branch on each side. There was a thin black strap on her right shoulder, which was attached to a small black purse. She blinked at me, and I just…couldn’t take my eyes off her.
A gush of ice-cold wind hit me in the back, and I shivered a little under its force.
“She says it’s nice to meet you,” Mr. Ribeiro finally translated Carina’s gestures.
I licked my cold lips and took half a step forward. “Yeah.” I swallowed and smiled at Carina. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you as well.” I extended a hand, and she shook it briefly before letting it go.
Maybe it was because I’d never met someone like her in my life so far, or maybe it was my inability to act rationally in that moment, but God, I…I couldn’t stop looking at her.
I just… Fuck, whycouldn’tI stop looking at her?
2.Good Fucking Morning
He was staring at me, but not in a way that made me uncomfortable.
Most strangers, when they meet me, have the exact same reaction: drooped eyebrows, a persistent frown; sympathetic gazes, words of pity on their mouths.
I guess itisrare to meet a person who is a mute – a selective mute, in my case – especially when it’s something one doesn’t exactly expect while going about their day-to-day life.
I chose this for myself at a very young age, and it’s now become a vital part of my life. Part ofme. Ichosesilence for myself, and I did it because I knew it was the only thing that could save me. It’s my comfort and source of confidence, and I’m so damn proud of who I am today.
I hugged myself and stepped back whenAvôinvited Myles into the house.
I wasn’t always like this – unable and unwilling to speak, I mean. I do remember reciting nursery rhymes and Christmas carols with mymãeandpaiat the age of five. But things changed a year later. Broke. Tarnished.
Faded.
And with them, so did my drive for a lot of things. I lost so much at the age of six, and every time I think about that Tuesdayafternoon of March 2000, about what happened that day, I find it hard to see, breathe, or even remember who I am. I shut down completely, in a way, and I knowAvôfeels the same; goes through the reflection of thoughts and memories that I, too, go through. But he never really shows any of it to anyone. He’s good at masking himself with neutrality and humor, but I know he hurts, too.
More than me, if I were being honest.
I swallowed and briefly touched his left shoulder, and when he faced me, I smiled and pointed a thumb behind me, indicating that I was leaving, and then signed,Shop.
Avôtilted his head to the side. “Você não quer ficar? Afinal, é um pouco cedo para abrir a loja,” he said. Do you not want to stay? It is, after all, a bit early to be opening shop.
I shook my head, and he raised a brow in return.
“Você tem certeza, pequena?” he asked. Are you sure, little one?
I smiled and rose on my tiptoes so that I could give him a quick peck on his cheek. When I stepped back, I placed my left index finger against my lips, and then quickly moved it forward a few inches in a sign to say,Sure.
He sighed, but nodded and pressed a kiss on my hairline. “Ok, então. Eu te amo. Fique segura, e me ligue quando chegar no do Açaí.” Okay, then. I love you. Stay safe on the way, and call me once you’ve reacheddoAçaí.
ViladoAçaíwas our Açaí shop, where we not only sold Açaí in its true form, but also with desserts, baked goods, and, of course, ice cream. Ours was the only Açaí shop in Chicago, and being that it was both uniqueandwildly popular among Chicagoans, the crowd we saw daily was crazy. In agoodway, obviously.
Because Myles would most definitely be working at the house for weeks,Avôand I had decided to take turns in going to theshop each day. One of us had to stay back, after all, in case Myles needed anything, or wanted our consent over something.
