After Yesterday – Chaper 1
Devin James pushed through the coffee shop door, his dog Curie perfectly at his side. He hadn’t been in here before, but the place came highly recommended by Ash.
That meant the coffee smelled just right, the sandwiches were great and the seating was outdoors under a pergola. It did not mean they would handle him well, but Devin was willing to try it. He wouldn’t get much of anywhere in life if he didn’t just jump in and try.
As he opened the door, all eyes turned and looked at him. With a guess, he glanced up and over his shoulder and spotted the little bell still swaying. Apparently, it made noise and he’d alerted the whole shop to his appearance.
They looked down at the dog but quickly spotted the bright yellow service vest and no one made any further issue. Devin headed toward the front counter and pulled one of the laminated menus from the holder. He motioned with a nod to the young woman behind the counter, patiently waiting to take his order. They weren’t very busy midafternoon—something that he’d aimed for because it made these first visits go smoother.
When he figured out what he wanted, Devin turned the menu around and pointed to the item, showing it to the woman.
Her mouth moved, and he watched her lips. She seemed to say, “Do you want home guilt?”
“Home guilt” was absolutely not what she was asking about. But that’s what his brain told him her lips said. Pointing to his ear, he then twisted his open hand back and forth and shook his head, indicating that he couldn’t hear her.
She held up one finger for him to wait a minute—a sign he was beyond familiar with. She said something too, probably “Hold on a minute,” but he couldn’t be sure, because she turned away as she was saying it.
She disappeared through the door behind the counter, as though something would magically appear by her leaving. Devin watched the empty space for a moment before looking to the two other aproned clerks at the other end of the bar. Neither of them looked up and he wasn’t willing to speak, not in front of people he didn’t know.
Then one of the baristas looked up at him with a smile, touched her ear and turned away. She was handling the drive through. At least no one had yelled overly-enunciated words at him—not what you do to a Deaf person.
With his phone in hand, Devin began tapping out his order. Whatever she needed to ask, she could message back when she returned. He was still typing when a hand waved in front of his face—arm extended, the feminine fingers were together, palm down, motioning in several short bursts. He felt his eyes widen.
That was someone who knew sign or at least knew how to get a Deaf person’s attention. Looking up with a smile, he watched her sign with long fingers in fluid motions. “What would you like to order?”
It was normal not to look at a signing person’s hand but at their face. The words came in the periphery. Right now, nothing came in the periphery.
He knew that face.
From where? Why did she look so familiar? Had she come to the Sanctuary? Had he seen her at the hospital? He couldn’t place it.
Blinking, Devin shook his head, then signed, “I’m sorry. Again, please?”
“You wanted to order the large Americano?” She was looking at him a little oddly, too, but it could be nothing.
Nodding, he tried to figure out where he knew her from. The signing population wasn’t that big—but it was still bigger than most gave it credit for. Sometimes he recognized a person and they were from TV. But no one on TV would be working behind the counter at this coffee shop. So that didn’t make sense.
“Do you want whole milk, skim milk, soy milk, or oat milk?”
Whole Milk! he thought. Not “home guilt.”
“Whole milk,” he signed back then ordered a sandwich to go with it. She finished the order, putting everything in. But then she tilted her head again, as if she recognized him from somewhere. It was the head tip that got him.
With his hand next to his face in an L, he pulled it wide for “Luisa.” His eyes had to be as wide as his grin. He hadn’t seen her since . . .
Her eyes grew big. Her mouth dropped open.
This was the girl who’d left school when they were in sixth grade, barely eleven years old. He’d showed up in third grade, the only Deaf kid in the public school. His interpreter had followed him everywhere and was the only person who could speak to him. Luisa had learned sign. She’d been the first student who could, or would, talk to him. They’d hit it off like a house on fire.
Then her cousin had learned some too. Gabi had never been as fluent as Luisa, but the three of them had hung out after school, played pranks, dressed in costumes as a unit for Halloween and everything in between.
Then one day, they were gone.
Rumors were that one of the girls had died. Mrs. Montalvo—Gabi’s mother, Luisa’s aunt—had simply picked up one or both girls and left. People said she wasn’t able to deal with the tragedy. No one had even told him goodbye.
Now he looked into her face, relief washing through him at having found her. How many years had it been?
She looked him up and down, surprise washing over her features, too, as her hand went to her shoulder in a D, asking if it was truly him. He watched as her mouth moved: Devin? Devin James?
She fingerspelled j-a-m-e-s and he almost flew over the counter in an effort to hug her but just managed to restrain himself. They’d barely been kids the last time he’d seen her. They were adults now. Still, his hands flew. “It’s amazing to see you! I heard rumors but . . .”
She held her hand out, stopping him. “I’m not Luisa.” She held her fingers in a G at her chin. “I’m Gabi.”
Devin stopped dead. The girls had always looked a lot alike, but shouldn’t he have recognized his best friend? She looked at him again. Her gaze pointed as she signed one more time, “Not Luisa, Gabi.”
