My hand knocked furiously on the door.
I didn't care if it was nearly midnight. I'd texted but that wasn't enough, it wasn't enough to express myself. How long had i felt this way? It dawned on me that I could've been suppressing this for years without even knowing about it. Years. Years that I'd let slide by.
My watch read 12:03.
I was using the knocker on the door that connected to an app that vibrated when someone knocked. It was basically an asset for deaf people.
12:04
I texted too, just to tell him to open the door. There was so much I had to tell him, so much I had to ask, and so many feelings that I wondered if he felt too. Everything in my entire life and pointed to Marco - how could I have not seen it?
He was the one who was always there for me. He got me out of my room when the Jasper case got too hard to bear. When Chris left home early and we never heard from him again, Marco was there. My heat was beating so quickly in my chest, I thought it might explode. Somehow though, it got worse when I stopped knocking.
"Marco..." I breathed. My hand slowly came to a stop as I realized how stupid this was. 12:06.
There was no way he was awake. And there was no way that he'd feel the same way. Slowly, I turned my back to the door and started down the steps. Every few seconds I would glance behind me, looking at the door. 12:07. He lived sort of far away now and I'd driven a long time to get there. It all felt futile now.
Maybe Blaire was wrong. Maybe I took her advice too quickly.
Memories flooded my mind. For once, they weren't of horrible incidents in my life that centered around toxic people. It was blissful as I recalled that they revolved around Marco.
"Hurry up!" He cried, tugging on my shirt.
Sixth grade. School performance of Beauty and the Beast. We of course, were not in it. But we went to see it. It was the first time my parents let me go somewhere without them. Marco and I had ridden our bikes there.
"I am hurrying!" I replied in sign and scooted into a seat next to him as the fake red drapes pulled apart to reveal the young prince character.
Marco and I exchanged glances.
We didn't understand a word they said; they were way too far away. But we'd spent the last few days reading the script in advance, so we'd know what was going on and clap when we were supposed to.
"I can hardly see." I signed in annoyance. I wanted to see the beast turn into the prince at the end and Belle kiss him. High schoolers played the main roles of course.
Marco had grabbed me and set me on his knees, like a dad would to his kid.
It wasn't a romantic gesture, not that we knew of at the time.
My eyes were wide as I saw the mask be ripped from the Beast's face and revealed a handsome young high schooler playing the prince. Belle looked so happy. Marco and I looked at each other as the two actors grabbed hands and said their lines. We'd memorized them.
"Is it really you?" I mouthed.
Marco smiled like it said in the script. "My eyes glance this way and that, for I know not if you know me as I am. But I tell you dear beauty that I love you now, as I did a thousand agonies ago."
"My prince." I finished the line.
I ran a hand through my hair, flabbergasted I remembered every detail so sharply. High school, freshman year came to mind. We were both really nervous, but I had Marco by my side and I was confident in that he'd always be there for me. At the time, I had Blaire problems like crazy, and he knew about them all.
My short cropped hair was swaying in the autumn breeze like I remembered it had every year of school. I wrung my hands out, nervously biting the inside of my cheek. Marco came next to me, and gently massaged my shoulders.
"We'll be okay." He assured me.
I rested my chin on his hand and sighed. "I know."
"High school should be fun!" He signed with fake enthusiasm. Monotone expression flooded his face. "Like prison."
I laughed. "Uh huh. Definitely."
"Abira?' he asked. "Let's go in together, okay? I'll walk you to class."
I wasn't opposed. Marco and I walked into the halls, other freshman nervously trying to fit in, awkwardly confident sophomores, cocky juniors, and melancholy seniors around us. Large groups of people scared me. I felt his hand warmly grasp mine, and it made me look up at him. He was looking straight ahead like holding my hand was no big deal. Only to me, it meant the world.
He was my pillar, my wall of protection. I tugged on his hand and thanked him.
His smile made me feel bubbly and giddy. "Together." He replied.
It feels crazy that I'm deaf and not blind. A few years later and he and I were broken people. I remembers the first time he came to me for help when his mom's boyfriend beat him.
"Oh my God," I said to myself.
His eye was swollen and his lip was cut, I only imagined the rest of him looked similar. He'd texted me in the middle of the night to meet him at the little park in between our houses. He was sitting on the swings, looking horrible.
"Marco! What happened?" I signed frantically, kneeling in front of him.
Tears stained his face. "I'm ... Okay ... Really." He signed slowly.
I shook my head. "You're always so strong for me. Tonight, I'm strong for both of us." I had told him with my voice, which was very rare. We both knew I didn't like to talk.
Taking his arm over my shoulders, I'd lead him to my house and inside. My parents were away on business, Chris was at his girlfriend's house (I'm sure Mom and Dad didn't know about that) and Stacy didn't mind if I had friends over.
Dragging him to my room, I set him on my bed and darted in and out, bringing ice packs and water bottles. He graciously used them all. After a few minutes, I'd gotten him to tell me about it.
He winced as I rubbed his back in an effort to comfort him. "Marco? Where else did he hit you?"
"Everywhere."
I shuddered. "Show me."
"What? No."
"Marco, I need to see. It could be bad."
"I don't want to scare you," he admitted.
"Oh, Marco," I started to cry. "You not showing me scares me more than you relying on yourself."
I helped him out of his shirt and I grimaced. His back was purple and grey, my bedside lamp the only light during the nighttime. Slowly, I made sure everything was cleaned and taken care of. I helped him lay down and I put blankets over him. He laid on his side because his back hurt so bad.
I clambered on top of the covers. He offered to sleep on the floor and I denied, saying I'd just sleep on top of the covers with a spare blanket from the living room.
He winced every time he took a breath in and it pained me. I got underneath the covers as well and placed my hand gently on the side of his face, rubbing my thumb along the ridges of his cheekbone.
Marco took my hand into his and rubbed my hand gently with his thumb.
That's where it started. The famous hand rubs.
My hand drifted to his shoulders and I slowly rubbed, trying to ease the pain. He eventually drifted to sleep and I watched him to make sure he was okay.
Heh. We eventually got used to the routine, him getting hurt defending his mother and only trusting me to know.
. "No. You, yourself. You always look beautiful. Every day, Abira." He leaned onto the wheel and closed his eyes. I tapped his shoulder, wondering if he was okay. "Thanks, Marco. But you alright?" I saw a small tear leak from one of his eyes. "I just wish I could actually have you hear me say that, and I hear you talk back to me." Sometimes us being deaf really got to him, and I never know what to say. He wishes so bad that if he could hear one sound, it'd be my voice. "I think that sometimes too, Marco." I signed and he shook his head. "I don't think it's the same, but thanks for always listening." He wiped the single tear away, returned to his upright position. Before he could fully lean back into his seat, I grabbed his hand in mine. We just sat there for a second, staring until he finally sat up and leaned closer to me, placing his hand atop mine. Soon, he pulled me into a real hug. Both of his arms wrapped around me tightly, and he pulled me over to his seat.
I sat in his lap and we both sat there, silently letting tears fall. In each others arms were where we both felt safest, just being able to have somebody understand what the other is going through. His arms held me in his lap, my legs draped over the side of his, my arms holding around his neck. I felt him lean his head onto my shoulder, and slowly he rocked me until the tears stopped.
Marco and me. Who knew.