The Skin Gods Read Online Free Page B

covered,” she signed.
     
     
As they signed, Byrne could see people watching them. This was nothing new. He used to get upset about it, but had long since given that up. People were curious. A year earlier, he and Colleen had been in Fairmount Park when a teenaged boy who had been trying to impress Colleen on his skateboard had hopped a rail and wiped out big time, crashing to the ground right near Colleen’s feet.
     
     
As he picked himself up, he tried to make light of it. Right in front of him, Colleen had looked at Byrne and signed: What an asshole.
     
     
The kid smiled, thinking he had scored a point.
     
     
There were advantages to being deaf, and Colleen Byrne knew them all.
     
     
As the businesspeople began to reluctantly make their way back to their offices, the crowd thinned a little. Byrne and Colleen watched a brindle-and-white Jack Russell terrier try to climb a nearby tree, harassing a squirrel vibrating on the first branch.
     
     
Byrne watched his daughter watching the dog. His heart wanted to burst. She was so calm, so even. She was becoming a woman right before his eyes and he was scared to death that she would feel he had no part in it. It had been a long time since they lived together as a family, and Byrne felt that his influence— that part of him that was still positive— was waning.
     
     
Colleen looked at her watch, frowned. “I’ve got to get going,” she signed.
     
     
Byrne nodded. The great and terrible irony of getting older was that time went way too fast.
     
     
Colleen took their trash over to a nearby trash can. Byrne noticed that every breathing male within eyeshot watched her. He wasn’t handling this well.
     
     
“Are you going to be okay?” she signed.
     
     
“I’m fine,” Byrne lied. “See you over the weekend?”
     
     
Colleen nodded. “I love you.”
     
     
“I love you, too, baby.”
     
     
She hugged him again, kissed him on the top of his head. He watched her walk into the crowd, into the rush of the noontime city.
     
     
In an instant she was gone.
     
     
    * * *
HE LOOKED LOST.
     
     
He sat at the bus stop, reading The American Sign Language Handshape Dictionary, a very important reference book for anyone learning to speak American Sign Language. He was attempting to balance the book on his knees while at the same time trying to fingerspell words with his right hand. From where Colleen stood, it appeared that he was speaking in a language either long dead or not yet invented. It certainly wasn’t ASL.
     
     
She had never seen him at the stop before. He was nice looking, older— the whole world was older— but he had a friendly face. And he looked pretty cute fumbling his way through the book. He glanced up, saw her watching him. She signed: “Hello.”
     
     
He smiled, a little self-consciously, but was clearly excited to find someone who spoke the language he was trying to learn. “Am . . . I . . . that . . . bad?” he signed, tentatively.
     
     
She wanted to be nice. She wanted to be encouraging. Unfortunately, her face told the truth before her hands could form the lie. “Yes, you are,” she signed.
     
     
He watched her hands, confused. She pointed to her face. He looked up. She rather dramatically nodded her head. He blushed. She laughed. He joined in.
     
     
“You’ve really got to understand the five parameters first,” she signed, slowly, referring to the five basic strictures of ASL, that being handshape, orientation, location, movement, and nonmanual signals. More confusion.
     
     
She took the book from him and flipped to the front. She pointed out some of the basics.
     
     
He skimmed the section, nodding. He glanced up, formed a hand, roughly, into: “Thanks.” Then added: “If you ever want to teach, I’ll be your first pupil.”
     
     
She smiled and said: “You’re very welcome.”
     
     
A minute later, she got on the bus. He did not. Apparently he was waiting for another