Sign Me Up by Dulcie Dameron
Parker
into the breakroom right away. She seemed a little tense when I offered to help her set out the refreshments for Miss Fowler’s class. I’m hoping she didn’t notice the way my eyes zeroed in on her lips when she wasn’t speaking…I’d like to think I’m more discreet than that, but maybe I’m not.
Instead of overanalyzing the interaction, I focus on getting some actual work done for a few minutes before I head into the breakroom to steal a cookie for myself.
Jamie and Gladys stand at the counter, passing out cups of juice and napkin-wrapped cookies. I hang back along the wall, watching Jamie smile at each kid that approaches her. Something about the way she genuinely seems to enjoy listening to them has me imagining her as a mom someday.
We’ve never really talked about our futures or if we want families, so I don’t know if that’s something she even wants, but it’s hard not imagine the two of us raising a family together when all I want is to be with her for the rest of my life.
I know I’ve got to take it slow, though. I’d probably freak her way out if I said such a thing to her right now—she doesn’t even know how deep my feelings go. But hopefully, soon, she will.
When the last kid goes through the line to grab a cookie, I saunter toward her. My turn, I sign with what probably looks like a stupid grin. I can’t quite rein it in after the turn my thoughts took while watching her with the kids.
She hands me a cookie with an almost shy smile. A tinge of pink blooms in her cheeks, but there’s no time for me to wonder why when Gladys shoves a cup of juice in my hands, her bright coral lips curled upward. Ever since the pumpkin patch fiasco, my elderly co-worker seems to have taken quite the liking to me. Whenever I meet her gaze, she usually sends me a wink or a wave, which is more than she used to give me.
As I turn and take in the room full of little kids, some are seated at the break tables, while others have congregated in clusters around the space. One little boy in particular catches my eye. He’s got glasses and dark brown hair, and something about the way he looks over his shoulder piques my curiosity.
He turns toward the wall and crouches directly in front of an electrical outlet. I take a bite of my cookie and step forward, trying not to make it obvious that I’m onto him. I don’t know if he means to cause mischief, but I know what kinds of things I got into when I was a little kid out for trouble. But before I can even register what he’s about to do, the glint of a small, metal object in his hands is the last thing I see before he shoves it toward the outlet and all the lights flicker and go out.
I can’t hear the screams and shouts coming from the little kids surrounding me, but their faces say it all. Most have mouths open, panic radiating from their expressions, while some cover their ears, and others laugh with abandon.
I head toward the little boy who probably gave himself the shock of a lifetime to find him laid out on his back, staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling. I bend down and gently pull him up to a seated position.
Checking the outlet, I’m not surprised to see a paperclip still shoved inside.
You OK?I sign to the boy. He barely acknowledges my presence, just stares down at his blackened fingers with a horrified expression. There’s a strong probability he’s not going to understand anything I sign to him, so I carefully lift him to his feet and steer him toward Jamie.
The room is dim, but light streams in from the windows, making it easy to navigate through the frantic children. Jamie stands with arms outstretched in front of a group of three little girls, and it appears she’s trying to get them to calm down, while Miss Fowler does the same with a cluster of kids at the opposite end of the room. Gladys is chomping on a cookie beside the counter like chaos isn’t ensuing around her.
I found the culprit, I sign when we reach Jamie. Her round-eyed gaze drops to the boy’s hands. Clearly horrified, she takes the boy by the shoulders and directs him to Miss Fowler.
Stefan and a few of our other co-workers choose that moment to charge into the room, but our boss’s mouth is moving too fast for me to catch what he’s saying. All I know is that his reddened face and puffed out cheeks make him look like a cherry tomato about to burst.
After depositing the boy with Miss Fowler where Eric steps in to help check the boy for injuries, Jamie heads toward our boss and describes what happened. She points to me, then the boy I caught trying to electrocute himself, as well as the outlet across the room.
Stefan places his hands on his hips with a furious gleam in his eyes. He says something that makes her face instantly fall. I start their way, intent on explaining that Jamie had nothing to do with this disaster, but Stefan stalks off before I can reach them.
When I tentatively place an arm around Jamie’s shoulder, she immediately turns into me. I draw her away from the center of the room and bend down so I’m at eye level in front of her.
What did he say?I sign.
Her glassy eyes and trembling lower lip nearly break my heart. “That this was a lawsuit waiting to happen. He said it was a good thought, wanting to give the kids refreshments, but that I should’ve been keeping a better eye on them.”
That’s ridiculous, I respond, anger multiplying inside me at a rapid pace. You weren’t responsible.
She shrugs one shoulder and looks back at the class. Miss Fowler has calmed the kids down, and they now sit with their legs crisscrossed in the center of the breakroom, holding hands and rocking back and forth. Their mouths move in-sync which has me convinced they’re singing “Kumbaya.”
When my gaze moves back to Jamie, she’s swiping at tears and her chest rises and falls too rapidly, like she can’t catch her breath. I gently take her hand and lead her out of the break room and down the hall. When we get to the storage closet, I lead her inside and close the door behind us, flicking on the light so she can see me.
Tears stain her reddened cheeks and she’s squeezing her sides as she heaves in what looks like tight breath after tight breath. I skim my hands down her arms and meet her eyes, trying to get her to focus on me. Her eyes dart back and forth across my face, her rising panic clear. I’m not an expert by any means, but if I had to guess, she’s spiraling into an anxiety attack.
I make what I hope are shooshing noises and skate my hands up and down her arms in slow, soothing strokes, only removing them to sign, Look at me. Focus on my eyes.
She does as I command with a shaky nod, and seems to breathe in deep through her nose, then out through her mouth. Over and over she does this until her chest begins to rise and fall in a more natural rhythm.
I cup her face and wipe away her few remaining tears with my thumbs. She looks so defeated, so dejected, as she raises her hands and signs, I guess I can kiss the exclusive interview goodbye.
I shake my head with more force than necessary. No, I sign back. It was an accident. There’s still plenty of time to get on Stefan’s good side. She doesn’t look like she believes me, but she doesn’t have to. All she needs is to be confident in her own abilities. You’ve got this. Don’t doubt yourself.
I brush some hair away from her face to see a whisper of a smile curl the edges of her pink lips. Unable to resist, I poke a finger into her right dimple.
That’s more like it, I sign.A full smile blooms on her face then, and I can tell she’s giggling. Much better than seeing her upset and anxious.
Before we leave the room, I pull Jamie in for a long, lingering hug. Her body instantly relaxes against mine and I tighten my hold, unable to stop myself from taking an inhale of her fruity-smelling shampoo and running my hand down her silky-soft hair.
When we make it back to the break room, Miss Fowler approaches with a sheepish smile. She and Jamie face each other, so I step back and let them talk. I hope the woman is apologizing for her little student with the death wish, not that she could have foreseen the incident happening either.
Don’t get me wrong, I know what it’s like to a be a precocious kid, but letting Jamie take the rap for something she had no control over has me running my hands through my hair repeatedly to try and calm down.
While Miss Fowler walks her class out of the breakroom, Jamie offers them a small wave, her smile wobbly. Again, I step behind her and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She leans into me, probably still somewhat rattled.
I wish I could whisper words of reassurance in her ear. Tell her she was doing a good thing by trying to entertain the kids with cookies—even Stefan thought so at first. Accidents happen, that’s just life. And she wasn’t the only adult in the room.
When an idea hits, I spin Jamie to face me. I’m going to talk to Stefan. I saw the kid first. Tried to stop him but wasn’t fast enough.
She gives me a sad smile. “I doubt anyone could’ve stopped him. Kids are fast.”
I give her shoulders a reassuring squeeze before heading toward Stefan’s office. If I can make this right for her and somehow improve the way Stefan sees her, I’ll sit in his office all day without an ASL interpreter and write out her defense until my hand cramps.
I never got the chance to speak with Stefan after the lights out incident because he personally went to the school and met with the principal and the child’s parents. He must have been really worried about covering all his bases.
I did, however, leave a note on his desk explaining what I saw happen and vouching for Jamie. I’m not sure how much good it’ll do since he was pretty perturbed when he stormed out, but it’s worth a shot to save Jamie from having this interview stolen out from under her on a technicality.
Since all the power went out on the entire floor, me and all my co-workers essentially dismissed ourselves from work. If Stefan wanted us to stay and twiddle our thumbs while he sucked up to the parents of the kid who caused mayhem in the office today, well…he’s bound to be disappointed.
I’m tossing the last of the food from the thawing fridge into the trashcan before it stinks up the entire office when Jamie walks in and gets my attention with a wave. “Want to grab an early dinner?”
Do I ever, I think to myself when she bites her bottom lip, awaiting my response. But I already have plans. I bring my hands up to sign, Can’t tonight. I’m sorry. Family dinner.
Her expression instantly collapses, and I want to kick myself. Then another idea springs to mind. You could come with me, I sign. If you want.
She tucks her hair behind her ears and lifts one shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t want to crash your family dinner. Especially since I might be depressing company tonight.”
You’re never depressing, I reply. Don’t let what Stefan said ruin your night.
A small smile forms at the edge of her mouth and she shifts on her feet. “Okay. If you really want me to come, I will.”
I nod, then rub my hand in a circular motion on my chest in the sign for please. Relief washes over her features. Like always, we exit work together and she tells me she’s going to go home and change before she comes over to my parent’s house at five p.m.
I go home too, but don’t even bother to change my clothes as I sit down and type out a scene for my fantasy novel while I’ve got some time to spare. Twenty minutes before five, I text Jamie the address, hop in my truck, and head to my parents’.
I’ve never had the opportunity to introduce Jamie to anyone in my family other than Dane, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t mentioned Jamie to my mom. We’re a tight-knit family for the most part, and though I don’t tell my parents every detail about my life, they know the big stuff. And Jamie is big stuff.
But my mom can be overprotective, especially with me after the bullying I experienced as a child, and maybe that’s why I haven’t gone out of my way to introduce her to Jamie. She’s this feisty little woman who hails from Romania and loves her family fiercely. And to outsiders, she can be intimidating. On the flip side, she can also be over-the-top embarrassing when it comes to girls her boys are interested in.
I shove the thoughts aside as I pull into my parents’ driveway fifteen minutes later. Their older one-story home sits on a quiet, tree-lined street in the suburbs of Treemont. We moved here as a family right before my freshman year of high school after Dad retired from the military. I guess you could say my brothers and I were military brats growing up, never really settling into one place. But since we moved to Ohio to be closer to Dad’s family, I’ve never felt more at home.
It's a rainy day and the chill in the air whips through my jacket as I hurry up to the front door. I don’t knock when I enter my parents’ house, just lumber through the door and kick off my shoes. Before I even make it to the kitchen where my mom is probably hard at work, she comes barreling into the foyer with her tiny arms outstretched.
“Draga mea,” she says with a toothy smile just before wrapping me up in a hug. Of course, I can’t hear the things she’s murmuring against my chest, but I feel the rumble of her voice ricocheting through me. It’s always the usual, though.
It’s so good to see you, baby boy. Why don’t you text me? Where’s your brother?
I pull away and she frowns. “Where’s your brother?” Guess I jumped the gun on that one.
Through sign, I tell her he’s probably still at the gym. He doesn’t have to go back into work for a few more days, and while he’s home, he practically lives at the gym down the street from our apartment. I say he’s just there to pick up girls, but he claims he’s actually working out. I guess his abundance of muscles proves he’s at least half-right.
“Fine, okay. Logan and your father are in the den,” she says as well as signs, then heads to the kitchen where something I know will be delicious is cooking. The savory smell makes my mouth water.
Before she can scurry away, I grab her wrist. She stops and faces me. I invited someone to dinner tonight, I tell her. Hope that’s okay.
Her dark brows pull together. “Who?”
My friend Jamie. From the office.
Her eyebrows raise to her dark curly bangs as a smirk starts on her lips. “I see,” she says with a slow nod. “Well, that’s wonderful.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It’s not what you’re thinking, Mom. Don’t get any ideas. We’re just friends. Though I desperately wish we were more. But I’m not about to confess that right now. She’ll probably embarrass me enough as it is. Or worse, make Jamie and me perform some kind of old gypsy betrothal ceremony her ancestors used to take part in.
You honestly can never tell with her.
She shakes her head and lifts both hands in the air. “What ideas? I’m just happy to see my baby boy make a friend. A girl friend. A girl who is a friend.” Her eyes brighten even as she shrugs and saunters away with too much pep in her step.
Second-guessing my split decision to invite Jamie over, I fight the sudden urge to text her and beg her not to come. Maybe I can fake an illness. But that wouldn’t be fair to her; we’ve already made plans. She just doesn’t know the wildcard awaiting her that is Alexandra Kent.
Where exactly does my loud, flamboyant mom fall into the plan to make Jamie fall in love with me? I swipe my hands down my face and groan.
This whole thing was a mistake.
I’ll just have to be a buffer between the two of them. Maybe I can enlist my oldest brother to help. He’s introverted and quiet, kind of like Jamie, but more extreme. If I can sway him to my side, together we can force Mom to be on her best behavior.
I step into the den where Logan and Dad watch a college football game with the subtitles on. They’re always on, thanks to me. But no one around here complains; everyone’s used to it by now.
Their eyes swing to me when I take a seat on the couch catty-corner to their matching recliners. Dad signs a Hey, son. Good to see you, while my oldest brother lifts his chin in a nod with a single wave. Logan’s not much for words and keeps to himself mostly, the total opposite of Dane, our mom, and me.
I lean forward and tap Logan’s leg, getting his attention again. When he tears his gaze away from the game, I sign, My friend Jamie is coming over tonight. Can you help me make sure Mom doesn’t overwhelm her?
His lips tip up just the slightest bit as he responds with his hands. “You afraid Mom will try that betrothal ceremony act she did on me that time I brought my high school girlfriend over?”
I curl my pointer fingers and bring my wrists together to sign, Exactly.
His shoulders shake on a chuckle before he faces the TV again, signing, “Can’t make any promises.”
I sigh and lean back. So much for asking for his help.
Dad waves to get my attention. “What’s all this about a friend?”
I let my head fall back against the couch cushions. Just my friend from work, Dad. She’s coming over for dinner. That’s all.
Dad dips his chin once, eyeing Logan and then me. “Think your mom will try that ceremony—”
I don’t even wait for him to finish before I jump to my feet, watching Mom rush past the den toward the front door. Either Dane or Jamie has arrived, and if it’s the latter, I need to intercept her before my overbearing mom does.