“So we can talk with our hands.” She wiggles hers. “Do you want to learn?”
He nods.
Veda has been practicing the letters since purchasing the book for this exact moment. She guides him through them, speaking the letters aloud as she adjusts his hands. Once they finish, they start again. This time, she spells a small word.
HandI.
Antaris mimics her, beaming when she moves his hands.Hi.
Communication in its purest form.
Antaris doesn’t realize anything is amiss until Veda picks up a basket of tangerines and walks to the greenhouse, not the school.
When he tugs anxiously at her hand, she stops and kneels in front of him. “I have a surprise for you. Come on. I want you to meet my friend.”
She expects to see Simran waiting to accompany Antaris on his playdate, but to her pleasant surprise, his grandmother is absent. Her replacement is only slightly more favorable, though she’d never admit it to anyone but herself. Dressed in all black, Hiram watches as they approach. Veda can’t say she hasn’t thought about him since their last interaction.
An excited giggle draws her attention. August is out of sight but approaching quickly, based on his volume and pounding footsteps. Antaris goes rigid, fidgeting with his knitted bow tie. Kneeling in front of him, Veda gently straightens it. “If it’s too much, just stand by me or your dad, okay?”
She notices Hiram tense slightly until Antaris nods, slipping a hand into hers and squeezing tight. Veda sees Hiram’s double take, butshe’s too busy calculating the chances of success versus failure to care. Knowing how August’s anxiety functions, this match may not go well. Children are unpredictable. Still, she has hope.
August is a tornado of energy barreling past the row of flowers. Peter follows, sunglasses on, carrying muddy shoes and followed closely by Gabriel. Only then does she realize August is in socks. How that happened is anyone’s guess.
Pleasantries are exchanged between the adults while the boys size each other up for the first time. Hiram moves to the other side of his son, sneaking glances at their joined hands. Antaris clings to Veda’s leg while August grins, flushed red. Veda dissects their contrasts: Antaris is neat and reserved; August is messy and eager. Their similarities shine, too, both waiting for the other to make the first move.
August takes initiative. “Can I call you Ant?”
Peter and Gabriel suppress their amusement with coughs. Antaris’s confusion smothers his father’s intrigue. Veda rests her hand on his shoulder to unfreeze him. “It’s a nickname.”
He considers this like one would a business deal, then nods.
August’s face lights, then immediately crumples. “I forgot I’m s’posed to sayhifirst.”
“It’s okay,” Veda reassures. “You did great! Right, Antaris?”
He nods and shyly waves, signing the letters Veda just taught him. From the corner of her eye, she sees Hiram’s shock.
August’s smile returns. “Can you teach me to talk with my hands, too?”
Antaris peers up at Veda. She can’t help thinking they’re cute, both hanging on her response. “Sure, we’ll try to work something out with your dad.”
August steps closer. “My dad says you don’t talk, but he says I talk enough for the both of us.”
Gabriel palms his forehead. “That’s not what I said.”
Peter’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.
August asks, “Can we go back with the chickens?”
Veda tilts her head, questioning, as Peter nods. “Of course.” Then, to Veda, he adds, “I brought the baby chickens today. The cat is tired after getting shots.”
“Yes, of course.”
Only then does Antaris let her hand go and follow August, Peter and Gabriel trailing after. In her bones, she knows it’s Hiram who slips quietly into step beside her. The natural way he raises her hackles should be studied. “Surprised to see you here.”
“You’ll be seeing me more often.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
