Something Fun

The murmurs of the crowd muddled and swirled with my whiskey as I sat on my stool. The summer air created a musk in the bar as people were crowded together sharing their drinks. I took the last sip from my glass and glanced around the bar before noticing that the bartender, Greg, was trying to ask me something. I spun on my barstool to face him, “I’m sorry, I’m deaf,” I signed to Greg.

He’s an older gentleman resembling a biker, his face carried gray overgrown chops and he always wore his leather vest with patches. I’ve been to this bar many times you’d think he’d remember one of the only deaf people who comes in. I pull out my phone and type, ‘whiskey on the rocks’, and slide it towards him. I see his face turn upwards, a chuckle, I assume and he takes my glass.

I fiddled with the napkin left behind trying not to rip it where the ring of condensation soaked in. My fiddling was interrupted when a glass slid my way bumping into my knuckles chilling them, I looked up and signed while mouthing, “Thank you,” then he slid a note my way. He wrote,

“I’m sorry I forgot you were deaf. How do you sign that in case I do it again.”

I looked up at him laughing, I always wondered what my laugh sounded like, to me it’s nothing but muffled noise. I pointed to “I’m sorry” and taught him the sign by rubbing my fist on my chest. He copied. I pointed to “I forgot” and motioned towards my head with my pointer finger teaching him. He copied. Then I signed “deaf” for him and he copied. I signed the whole sentence and giggled as he followed along.

After words his face broke out in laughter and he signed back to me, “Thank you” then left to go take care of another customer.

I grabbed my drink and faced the groups of people in the bar watching them all converse, their words sound like white noise to my ears, just constant incomprehensible sounds. I stared longingly at the girls twirling their hair flirting with boys, watching their faces explode in laughter at some corny pick up line the guy used.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to face Greg, I mouthed while signing “what?” and he pointed to my right. I turned and gasped when I saw the man sitting next to me, he was tall, wore black shorts, with a faded denim button up, and sandals. Looking like he just came in from the beach; he had the sleeves rolled up in the sexy way that men do. He had a scruffy face and dark curly hair with eyes of honey to match. I blushed when I realized I was staring for too long and giggled before cracking a small grin at him.

I watched his mouth move as he stuck his hand out for me to shake, I stared blankly and reached out to shake his hand. His grip was firm and his hands calloused, I pulled my hand away and saw his mouth move again. I gasped forgetting that he was expecting me to speak, I held up my finger and pulled my phone out. I typed out that I was deaf and showed him the screen he grinned to his ears and signed, “Nice to meet you, my name is Ryan, your name is what?”

So many emotions swelled in my chest, shock being the strongest, I’ve been coming to this bar for years and no one has ever come in who knew sign language. I was so consumed in my awe, he waved and signed, “you know ASL right?” I smiled bashfully and shook my hand yes, “my name is Willow. Nice to meet you too,” I signed back. I grab my drink and finish off my whiskey.

“You know ASL how?” I asked Ryan. He smiled and responded, “my sister is deaf. My whole family learned ASL.” Greg came over and waved to get my attention, lifting up my glass inquiring if I wanted a refill, I turned to Ryan, “have a drink with me?” he smiled, signing back, “I thought you’d never ask!” I turned to Greg and held up two fingers and mouthed, thank you, he saluted me and I busted up laughing.

I turned back to Ryan still giggling and he just stared at me with a feisty spark in his eye. I felt my stomach somersault being under his gaze and tuck my hair behind my ear.

I looked back up at him and he slowly cracked a smile, “what?” I ask him.

He smiles and starts to sign “your laugh it’s…” but I cut him off, “hideous?” my eyes widened in alarm and he pinched his fingers together hastily for no, “it’s beautiful,” he finished.

I felt warmth creep up onto my cheeks and luckily Greg came to save the day, sliding two whiskey on the rocks towards us and exchanged a few words with Ryan before Ryan started handing him his card.

“I can pay,” I reached for the card and he pushed my hand away smiling. He gave Gary the card and took a swig of his drink. I grabbed mine and swirled the whiskey around watching the ice swish in the drink.

I tipped it back and chugged it down, “wanna go do something fun?”

Ryan smiled and lifted his glass in salut before finishing his drink expertly, “I’ll follow you,” he signed. The wrinkles by his eyes crinkled as he smiled at me, standing up.

I grabbed my lavender knitted cardigan off the counter and slipped it on, we waved goodbye to Greg, and headed out the door. Ryan followed behind in pursuit, we entered the busy streets of L.A. and I led the way to my favorite place.

The sun shone bright as I led him a few blocks down, I stared mesmerized by the dainty flowers falling off the trees in the summer breeze.

I glanced around to see if Ryan is keeping up and I signed to him, “almost there,” Ryan signed back, “OK” and lengthened his strides to catch up with me. He was standing close enough for our shoulders to brush and I can feel his body warmth radiating from him. My heart quickened and my palms began to perspire.

We reached the building and walked up the red stairs leading to the wide double doors. “We’re here,” I smiled looking up at Ryan, locking eyes.

Ryan stepped closer till our chests were almost touching and I held my breath looking down. He reached out and delicately placed a finger under my chin lifting my head so our eyes could read each other once again.

“Let’s go inside?” I asked Ryan and took a step back so that I could stabilize my breathing.

With shaky hands I pushed in the code on the lock pad, slowly opening the door. The main entrance led you into the old showing room of an abandoned art exhibit where the walls were splashed in personality from all of the artists that come together raised with different backgrounds to make masterpieces. I led Ryan through a graffitied staircase to an office door painted with grassy hills sprinkled with marigolds. Placing my hand on the knob I looked at Ryan grinning. Swinging open the door revealed my magical escape from reality. The scent of incense wafted to our noses; canvases littered the room, leaned up on walls, stacked on the desk, and scattered on easels. The desk was filled with cups of overflowing paint brushes while art mediums were scattered all over the floor next to the desk.

“Welcome to my home away from home,” I smiled at Ryan, studying his face hoping that this was exciting enough for him.

“Most people come to Venice for the beaches, performances, and food. I came to Venice because it’s where artists can find their voice,” I explained to Ryan, as he walked around the room studying the pieces painted everywhere.

“These are impressive. You have quite the gift,” he turned, grabbing one of the canvases and holding it up.

I saunter over towards him gliding my hand along the painted wall, “I just put colors on objects. A toddler could do it,” I signed.

He gently placed the painting down and faced me with a mischievous look on his face, “well you are one talented toddler,” his mouth opened in what I assume is laughter. I stifled a laugh and slapped him on the chest, shocked at how hard it felt under his shirt.

My hand lingered for a second before I removed it to sign, “shut up.”

“I found a way to get on the roof. We can go up there, it’s untouched!”

He looked at me with that feisty look, eyes crinkled, “Fair warning, I’m no Picasso,” he joked.

"I’m not looking for Picasso, just a little adventure,” I winked at him and began stuffing acrylic paints into a box lying on the floor.

I pulled back the curtains revealing a giant window, “only office with a window,” I signed to Ryan before sliding the window open and climbing outside with my box.

There’s a ladder that leads all the way up to the roof. The former artist who used this room opened up her creativity by meditating in fresh air. I carefully climbed up the ladder rung by rung, hugging the box to my chest with my free hand. When I could reach the top I dropped the box down and finished climbing up the last few rungs. I lended a hand to help Ryan up and he grabbed it pulling himself onto the roof. The wind tousled his curls and he ran his hand through them attempting to tame the locks. I bit my lip while staring at him and blush when he noticed me. I quickly turned around and began pouring paint out onto a pallet.

After preparing a variety of colors I stood up and turned to hand Ryan a paintbrush and stopped in my tracks when I saw he’s unbuttoning his shirt.

“I don’t know what you are expecting, but we’re just painting,” I cross my arms and stare at him confused.

“I don’t want paint on my shirt,” I pursed my lips at his response.

That makes more sense, “well I’m embarrassed,” I let out an awkward laugh.

“More like full of yourself,” Ryan teased.

I groaned,“here’s your paint brush, stupid,” I threw the paint brush at him.

We began working together, moving in rhythm covering the roof in beautiful swirls of pinks, blues, oranges, and yellows. One of the struggles of being deaf is you can’t communicate when your hands are busy or the other person is looking away. Instead we just enjoyed each other's presence, swapping sideways glances and the occasional cheeky smile. My back was starting to hurt from being bent over painting so I stood up to stretch. Stretching my arms above my head Ryan surprised me when he threw his arms around my waist. He turned me to face the skyline that’s painted purple and pink, keeping a hand on my lower back.

The wind blew my hair tickling my face and I took a deep breath soaking in the sunset, “It’s beautiful,” I signed and smiled looking up at Ryan.

“This is nothing compared to you,” he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and delicately placed his hand on my cheek. We stared into each other's eyes and he pulled me closer to him before our lips met.