A Quiet Kind of Thunder(41)

rhysespieces: well, communicating with BSL is so different from what hearing people are used to. it’s so visual, you have to be expressive. you know what i mean?

stefstef: yeah . . . but why would that be embarrassing?

rhysespieces: some people get self-conscious. i had a friend once say they felt like they were performing every time we were out together in public stefstef: a friend said that to you?

rhysespieces: he wasn’t trying to be mean. besides, i’m used to it. its just another thing that comes with being deaf in a hearing world. people take speech communication for granted and they think anyone who communicates differently is weird or different. some people don’t like having to face that stefstef: i don’t think of talking like that, though rhysespieces: but, stef, of couse you do – you spent most of your childhood trying to learn how to talk in public, didn’t you? because not talking somehow wasn’t acceptable to society?

stefstef: well . . .

stefstef: wow

rhysespieces: mind blown?

stefstef: yeah. i never though of it like that before rhysespieces: anyway, i just wanted to check. that it wasn’t a problem for you, i mean stefstef: it’s not. at all. i’m really sorry i made you think i might be ashamed. i’m really not. i promise rhysespieces: <3

stefstef: are we ok?

rhysespieces: of course

stefstef: are you upset with me?

rhysespieces: not even a tiny bit

stefstef: i’m still learning how to be a girlfriend rhysespieces: MY girlfriend. that’s what’s important to me ?

stefstef: xxxxx

rhysespieces: are you ok?

stefstef: yes. are you?

rhysespieces: yes xx

stefstef: xxx

Tuesday

rhysespieces: you looked extra pretty today ?

stefstef: ??

Wednesday

stefstef: Sally the puppy has been adopted!

rhysespieces: NOOOO!

rhysespieces: i didn’t even get to say goodbye ?

stefstef: oh, she’s not going yet. they don’t go till about 12 weeks.

rhysespieces: is the new owner nice? they better be nice stefstef: i don’t know, i didn’t meet them! Ivan just told me about it during my shift rhysespieces: i’m already bereft

stefstef: there’ll be other puppies!

rhysespieces: BEREFT.

stefstef: try harder to convince your mum. get a puppy of your own.

rhysespieces: i’ll try.

stefstef: i’m going to send you some pics of Rita from when she was a puppy rhysespieces: can you send some of you too?

stefstef: ?

Thursday

stefstef: do you have any plans tomorrow night?

rhysespieces: yes, I’d like to spend some time kissing my girlfriend stefstef: ??

rhysespieces: want to come over to mine?

stefstef: yes, but I can’t. my mum’s invited you over for dinner.

rhysespieces: ah! the mother!

stefstef: yeah . . .

rhysespieces: sure.

stefstef: she’ll be nice

rhysespieces: i know! i’m not worried.

stefstef: i am a bit.

rhysespieces: why? mothers love me. i’m adorable.

stefstef: you are adorable.

rhysespieces: you’ll see. i’ll make you proud.

stefstef: xxxxx

rhysespieces: xxxx

Rhys turns up at my mother’s house on Friday wearing a shirt and tie, which is the most perfect thing that has ever happened in my life, second to kissing him. He smiles a bashful, nervous little smile when I open the door.

‘Hi!’ I say, unable to stop the word spilling from my mouth. You look great.

He beams. It’s my brother’s tie. He takes hold of the tip and looks down at it, then back at me. Is it too much?

I shake my head, grinning. No way.

‘Hi!’ Bell comes steaming down the stairs wearing her favourite purple and silver fairy costume. ‘Hi!’ She launches herself at Rhys, waving her wand up to his face.

‘Belly,’ I say, reaching for her shoulders and pulling her gently back from him.

‘Hi!’ she shouts, spinning around and hugging me.

I pick her up, rolling my eyes and smiling at Rhys, who looks slightly alarmed. Come in, I say with one hand.

‘Hiiiiiiii!’ Bell chirrups insistently.

‘Hi,’ Rhys says obediently. He smiles at her. ‘I’m Rhys.’

‘Your voice is funny,’ Bell says.

‘Bell,’ I say disapprovingly, squeezing her hip. ‘Don’t be rude.’

‘My voice sounds different because I’m deaf,’ Rhys says to her.

‘Deaf?’ Bell repeats slowly, questioningly. I hear footsteps behind me and glance round to see Mum coming out of the kitchen.

‘That means I can’t hear like you can,’ Rhys explains, tapping his left ear and then hers. ‘My ears don’t work like yours.’

‘I hope you’re not being rude, Belly,’ Mum says, coming to my side and squeezing Bell’s cheek. She turns to Rhys and smiles. ‘Hello, Rhys. I’m Joanne.’

‘Hello,’ Rhys says robustly, sticking out his hand for Mum to shake. He’s a bit too robust, actually, and he kind of knocks into her hand in an unintentional one-sided fistbump and they both let out awkward little laughs.

‘He can’t hear,’ Bell reports, jumping down from my arms and standing beside Mum, swinging her arms from side to side. ‘His ears don’t work.’