Reflecting

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I'm just uploading this to see how it goes. Not sure how I feel about it, so if you read, let me know.

-FlyOn

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It was cool out, which was nice. It seemed like ages since it had been warm enough to be outdoors after dark. Winter, however, finally seemed to be retracting its cold fingers, drawing out of the water, the air, leaving only any icy reminder of what once was.

The air was as still as a dead man's heart. The lake underneath my dangling feet was gentle, and quiet. It's fishy smell wafted through up from its algae-layered surface. Far above, a full moon ghosted in and out of wispy clouds, the light of a long gone sun cascading off it's surface making the mountains in the distance look pale and ominous. Rays of ash-white light struck the water and created wavy reflections on my skin. I watched watery reflections each illuminated line gliding over my skin, silently dancing in a way that I had no way of predicting. My thoughts wandering as I flipped my hand over to better watch the reflections and see how they changed from one moment to the next.

With my hands out in front of me, my eyes never leaving the reflections, I said, "I want to ask her to marry me."

He had never been an easy person to surprise. As climatic news goes, this should have nailed him pretty hard. But, as usual, instead of looking shocked or patting me on the back in congratulations, he drew into himself, simply sitting there on the edge of the dock, his feet dangling alongside mine, his black rimmed glasses reflecting moonlight as he studied the water.

He was thinking, calculating. I imagined I could see the cogs meshing and turning in his brain as he analyzed my announcement, determining every outcome to every possible scenario. I knew not to rush him, though my head pulsed with impatience. He liked to think about things, I knew, and, as infuriating as I found it, he would give me an answer as soon as he was ready.

Finally, after staring into the reflection of the moon for an eternity, he put the tips of his index fingers together and twirled the right one in a tight circle. "When?'

"I don't know," I said, flicking four fingers away from my temple. "When I get the chance."

He was thinking again, creating a lull in our conversation long enough that I began to shift uncomfortably in my jacket.

Finally, "Have you talked to her parents?"

I shook my head.

"You should," he said, his right finger bobbing in a hook.

"I know...I feel awkward talking to them. Devi has to interpret everything I say. Her parents are not fluent..."

I saw his eyebrows furrow as moonlight refracted off the water and swayed over his pale skin. He felt my pain, but had the decency to refrain from telling me how sorry he was. I don't like being pitied.

"Are you saying you could use somebody to interpret for you?" he asked after a while.

I gave him an embarrassed look, inwardly relieved. "Would you mind?"

The left side of his mouth turned up in amusement and he shook his head. "No, I don't mind. I interpret for you all the time."

"But this is different...awkward. What if they say no?"

"Then they say no."

I shook my head. "I'm still nervous. Her parents are nice people, but I don't know what they think of the two of us dating."

"You'll be fine. I'll help you make the phone call later. You can ask to meet with them to talk about marry Devi." He paused, thinking again."What about our Mom and Dad? Have you told them already?" he asked, turning the palms of his hands out.

"No," I said sheepishly, my index and middle fingers snapping shut with my thumb.

I watched as his cheeks puffed up for an exasperated breath. "Mom is going to freak out."

I didn't say anything, butterflies forming in my stomach.

"You should tell them. When we go inside, we'll tell them together," he told me gently.

"Thanks, Gabe," I said, my mind thinking to fast. "What about you? Do you like Devi? Are you happy that I want to marry her?"

"Of course I like Devi!" he said, his motions becoming larger and more animated. "I introduced you to Devi. Remember?"

I remembered, of course. Nerves were eating away at the edges of my mind, though, and I asked, "Do you think she's right for me?"

"No one better," he replied earnestly.

"Do you think we'll be happy together? Forever?"

"Yes. I do."

"Do you think that we'll be able to make it together?" I asked. "We're both deaf, Gabe. What if-"

He stopped me by waving his hand dismissively and saying, "When has that ever stopped you from being happy before?"

I knew he was right. My deafness had never stopped me.  Not for a second. It was stupid to ask.

"Nervous," I said, emphasizing how much my hands shook.

He reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. Moonlight shone off his glasses as he looked me in the eye. "You'll be fine, Mike. Everyone will be excited. More than excited. They'll be..." he paused trying to think of an expressive enough sign. He closed he hands in fists one on top of the other, as if holding something very tightly to his chest, his shoulders came up, and his hands unfolded. "bursting with emotion."

My hand touching my chin and coming down, palm out, "Thanks."

"Congratulations," he said, and he slapped me on the back.

"Will you be my best man?" I asked.

He grinned and his shoulders shook as he laughed a laugh I couldn't hear, "She still has to say yes."

"But will you?"

"Yes, nimrod," he said. "I would be offended if I wasn't your best man."

 "Thanks," I repeated, smiling.

And moonlight refelcted off the lake, off Gabe's glasses, off our skin, and there wasn't a thing worth hearing that hadn't already been said.

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