Page 20 of Your Love

The coffee table is a chaotic scene, littered with empty snack wrappers and discarded drinks. Kerri has propped her feet up on my lap, and I massage them as we watch “The Lost Boys.”

“This movie is incredible,” she exclaims

.“It was filmed in Santa Cruz. I’ve always wanted to visit,” I reply.

Kerri’s voice is wistful as she gazes at the television screen. The vampires have woken up for the night and are flying over the coastline. “The beaches in California look so beautiful,” she sighs. “Promise me we’ll go someday.”

“Pinky swear,” I say with a grin, and she eagerly reaches out to grip my finger with her own.

“Pinky swear,” she echoes, a smile spreading across her face.

“So, can I bring Paisley over soon?” I ask.

“Absolutely!” Kerri exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “Maybe she can come over on Friday?”

“Friday sounds good,” I reply. Then, because I feel like we need to make sure we’re on the same page, I tell her, “You might have noticed, but my sister doesn’t talk.”

She sits up straighter, her gaze locking onto mine. “I did notice she was quiet at the farmers market, but I had no idea she never speaks.”

“She used to,” I tell her, my voice tinged with sadness. “But it’s been years now.”

Her gaze is curious and compassionate as she asks, “Does she use sign language? I learned sign language.” The line of her mouth softens into a gentle smile.

“You know sign language?” I ask in surprise. Kerri shrugs, her fingers already starting to move in fluid gestures. Her strawberry blonde hair falls across her face, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she communicates with her hands.

“I learned it at my last school,” she explains. “It was an elective option, and I thought it would be interesting and useful.”

This girl never ceases to amaze me. “Yeah,” I say, “We can sign, but we’ve been discouraged from using it too much because the doctors don’t want her to rely on it.”

Her eyebrows knit together, creating deep furrows on her forehead as she struggles to understand.

Okay, here we go. I swallow hard before I begin.

“She has the ability to speak, but she chooses not to.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” Kerri asks gently.

Looking into her bright blue eyes, so full of understanding and compassion, I can feel my walls crumbling. My usual instinct to shut people out and change the subject disappears in her presence. For the first time in a long time, I want to let someone in.

“It was a family trip to Wisconsin about eight years ago,” I begin. “We were all out on the frozen lake, skating and having fun. Paisley was off to the side, pretending to be a figure skater, twirling and singing at the top of her lungs.” I take a shaky breath. “And then, she wasn’t there anymore. Just...gone.”

Kerri’s breath catches in her throat as her hands shoot up to cover her gaping mouth. Tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“I didn’t realize at first. She was singing, and then it got quiet. So damn quiet. I knew something was wrong. And then, I heard her screaming. She was screaming my name.” I shake my head at the memory and work to calm the panic rising within me. “I skated as fast as I could, cutting through the ice, skating hard, so hard, I didn’t notice the ice cracking everywhere. I was about to reach her when the ice broke beneath me.”

“Landry,” she whispers.

I trudge on, my mind drifting back to a moment I try to forget. The memory is vivid, like a movie playing in my head. I can see myself falling into the dark water.

“The pain was unbearable, like being strangled by a thousand icy fingers. But it wasn’t a deterrent. If anything, the pain pushed me further. My only focus was getting Paisley out of there. It was nearly impossible to see anything. Somehow, I managed to swim down and pull her up by her jacket. I must have been working on adrenaline because I managed to lift her out of the water to where my dad and some others were waiting. It took them a little longer to get to me, but they got me out, as well. Other than mild hypothermia, a broken wrist, and some bumps and bruises, I was fine.”

Kerri’s voice is soft and caring as she places a comforting hand on my arm. “And what about Paisley?” she asks, her eyes full with concern.

“Pais also had hypothermia. She had broken ribs from CPR. But the doctors were concerned about the amount of time she was without oxygen, so they ran all kinds of tests. They reassured us that everything looked fine, but when she regained consciousness, her voice was silent, as if it had been taken away by the icy water.”

Kerri tilted her head, questioning, “Why won’t she speak?”

“Now see, that’s the puzzle. Even with a very minor brain injury, she should be able to talk. She can make sounds, so her vocal cords work fine, and she understands everything you say to her.”