Part 13 (2/2)

I live with my mom, he said vaguely.

Where are you from?

My mom brought me here when I was five. I was born in M-e-x-i-c-o C-i-t-y.

You're an illegal?

He shrugged.

His signing wasn't that good. Adequate, but nothing more, as though he did not have many people to practice with.

Where did you learn to sign? I asked. I asked.

I taught myself with books. I used to have an American deaf friend. She taught me some things. But my signing is no good.

It's fine, I a.s.sured him. I a.s.sured him.

It's no good.

We understand perfectly.

You are nice.

Are you working?

I could not get a job this summer.

When he saw the look of questioning in my eyes, he added, Everyone went to Alabama except me and my mother. She stayed here with me. My father didn't want me to come. Everyone went to Alabama except me and my mother. She stayed here with me. My father didn't want me to come.

Didn't want you to go to Alabama? I asked, to clarify. I asked, to clarify.

Come here. America. I was deaf. He said I wouldn't be able to work. My mother said she wouldn't come unless he brought me.

I could sense the bitterness as he signed this information.

What's in Alabama? I asked. I asked.

Picking... food. He shrugged to indicate he didn't know the word he was looking for, which was probably ”cabbage” or ”cotton” and some such thing. There were also jobs that involved harvesting chickens and G.o.d knew what else. He shrugged to indicate he didn't know the word he was looking for, which was probably ”cabbage” or ”cotton” and some such thing. There were also jobs that involved harvesting chickens and G.o.d knew what else.

Can I use your bathroom? he asked suddenly. he asked suddenly.

I'll show you where it is, Noah signed, getting to his feet. Noah signed, getting to his feet.

When Noah came back, he signed, He's weird. He's weird.

He's hungry, I countered. I countered.

Do you like him?

I don't know him. I met him at the store.

He considered this thoughtfully.

I did did like him, on a purely physical level. There was a refres.h.i.+ng sweetness about him, a sort of painful honesty. Poverty had rubbed away some rough edges. like him, on a purely physical level. There was a refres.h.i.+ng sweetness about him, a sort of painful honesty. Poverty had rubbed away some rough edges.

He had a second, then a third helping, finis.h.i.+ng off the chicken and mashed potatoes, smiling sheepishly and apologetically as he did so. He had a long conversation with Noah about everything under the sun, and his manner was frank and easy, as though Noah were his little brother. Noah corrected his signing often, which Juan didn't seem to mind.

After dinner, Noah showed him how to play Xbox, which, to Noah's great astonishment, he'd never played before.

After Noah went to bed, Juan sat on my sofa and looked at me with eyes full of silent pleading, perhaps hoping to spend the night, perhaps wanting something more.

I have to work in the morning, I said. I said.

Can I stay here tonight?

I offered an apologetic smile. While the attraction between us was obvious to me, he had not mentioned it, had made no reference to it at all.

I'm a gay man, I signed. I signed.

I know.

He offered nothing further.

You can sleep on the couch, if you want to. I can get you a blanket and pillow.

I want to sleep with you.

I don't know....

Please?

He looked at me with anxious, hungry eyes. He needed some loving on, and he'd decided that I was the one to do it.

I don't really know you, I said. I said.

Please?

You want to have s.e.x?

He nodded.

I'm sorry, I said. I said.

His face fell.

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