He nods. "That was my thought, too, but I didn't want to put more and have you not be a fan."
"It's really good otherwise." I then lift the brush to my hair and start to detangle the ends.
His gaze follows the motion, before he turns away from me and back to the stove, where he has gravy simmering, and the potatoes boiling away. I wouldn't know how to make any of this on my own, so I'm glad he's here, otherwise, I would've cooked a simple chicken breast and paired it with some instant ramen for my dinner.
I go back to the bed and finish combing my hair out, until it's long and soft, falling to the tops of my breasts. I've noticed over the last week or so that it's been getting healthier. I don't know if it's from the exercise I've been doing almost daily to his requirements or the fact that I'm eating slightly better and more than I was before, but all of me feels healthier than I did.
Not for a single second two weeks ago did I think that I would be healthier for staying in a bunker until my fake death could be played out, but I do. My gaze goes back to him. It's all because of him. He took a chance on me when he could've just handed me his gun and let me do his job when he didn't seem to be able to do it. I guess I should be thankful that he didn't see me as a bad person. I got out of Harold's circle so that I wouldn't become the evil that was forced onto me.
I watch as Tom Hanks slowly falls for Meg, but soon realizes there's nothing he can do about it. The damage is done, and she hates him even though she's in love with the version of him she's been writing all this time. I sigh. There's just something so romantic about writing letters to someone, even if it was through email. It was like getting those letters every day gave them something to look forward to in their otherwise stalled lives of being with people who didn't fit them but they felt as if they should love them.
"What is it?"
I blink as I look over at Porter, he watches me from the half counter that separates the living space from the kitchen and the back of the bunker. He seems to be waiting on things to cook but hasn't come over to sit with me.
I shake my head. "Oh, nothing. I just really like this film and how they communicate with each other, but she doesn't know it's him. Well, I guess he doesn't know yet that it's her either, but he's about to." I turn my gaze back onto the screen as he enters the coffee shop, where she's waiting for him to come, only she doesn't know it's him she's waiting for and rejects him without even realizing it.
"I've never actually seen this film. I remember when it came out, but none of my girl cousins forced us to watch it during the sleepovers that would happen at our house, so I never saw it. They were more into Pretty in Pink and movies of that nature."
He leans onto the counter, and I want to tell him he can come over here, but he looks comfortable lounging from there and watching the TV.
I wait for him to glance at me again and sign, "I saw it once before this, but it's always stuck with me. I've wanted to see it again. Thank you. This and the candies were an amazing gift. I wish there was something I could give you in return for all your kindness in helping me. You didn't have to do any of it."
He shakes his head and clears his throat. "You don't have to worry about giving me anything. Keeping you alive so that you can live the rest of your life how you want to, will be payment enough."
My heart hammers. I want nothing more than to get up and kiss him, but I know I'll be rejected. He's helping me probably because he sees me as a kid or something. He wouldn't appreciate me kissing him. I'd almost kissed him chastely on the lips before but chickened out, going for his cheek instead. It had been a safe bet. There are so many things I want to say to him, but none of the words will make it to my fingertips.
I still wonder where he learned ASL. He seems to know it well, or he's been brushing up while he's out there doing his own thing. Would it be too forward for me to ask now? We haven't known each other long, but I do feel like I've gotten to know some of his personality while we've had time together here. Plus his personality is all over this place. "Where did you learn ASL? Your brother didn't know it, so it doesn't seem like a family thing." I ask as he looks back at me.
A small smile tugs at his lips. "My first serious girlfriend was deaf. At first, I learned some of it so I could ask her out. Then we dated for three years and I learned more through her."
The thudding of my heart gets harder. I hadn't even thought about the fact that he might have someone he's seeing now, but if that were the case wouldn't he be with them and not me? Not wanting to be around family is one thing, but I think if he had someone special in his life he would want to spend time with them.
"What happened? You guys didn't last? Three years is a long time to date someone."
He shakes his head. "She was a year older than me and graduated before I was supposed to. We tried to make things work for a while, but she eventually found a deaf man and fell for him, and though I was pissed I knew I had to let her go so she would be happy."
"That was kind of you. Being mute, not a lot of kids wanted to be my friend. I had a few that were willing to learn ASL so I could have someone to talk to. I never got to try dating in high school, and now I would have no idea how to find someone. I'm twenty-one, well twenty-two after tomorrow. I've lived a lot of life, but none of it has helped me with learning how to navigate a love life." I try not to focus on the fact he said she was older than him. It just confirms more that I have no shot in hell that he'll ever want me.
His gaze turns to the wine glass in front of him and he clears his throat. "You just have to try putting yourself out there. Maybe there's an ASL group you can join or something once you're free to do so." His knuckles turn white as he grips his glass. He then looks at me. "You don't have to tell me, but were you born mute?"
I nod. "If I try to talk it causes me pain. I can do it, but it's hard. My vocal cords are tight. My parents tried a ton of speech therapy, but it never helped. It just made me unhappy. I wanted to be able to talk, but it wasn't in the cards for me. I hate the way my voice sounds. I try not to use it when possible."
A timer goes off and he turns and grabs the potatoes to drain them before he moves them to a glass pan and spreads them out. He glances at me. "What happened to you, should've never happened to you. They preyed on you because they knew you wouldn't be able to alert people to the fact something bad was going on. I'm sorry."
He's not wrong. Harold always picked girls with something wrong with them. I wasn't the only mute girl he picked up, but he didn't care if we couldn't talk, he would force us to use our garbled voices to give him one-word responses. I haven't spoken since I got away from him.
When he looks at me I sign, "It's not your fault monsters like him exist in the world. You didn't help them take me, nor did you take part in anything that happened to me, so you don't have to apologize."
He sets the empty pot on the counter and walks around it and into the room. "I know, but it fills me with such a rage. I've taken care of The Bet."
My body shudders involuntarily at the nickname. Harold haunts my dreams the most, but that man takes a close second. All of the people I was exposed to during that time were sick fuckers. But The Bet? He definitely gunned for first place.
The tears cloud my vision as I try to force them back. I don't like thinking about him, but I have to know. "Did you make him suffer or was it quick?"
He shifts on his feet and doesn't look at me. "I made sure he went out in the most pain possible. He also confessed to all of his crimes, and I made sure he didn't forget about you. They're all going to pay, that list you gave me. Bancrofts take out human garbage and it doesn't get much worse than people like him."
I can't help it, this will be my second hug of the night, but I need to show him how thankful I am to know that the bastard is dead and that he suffered. That's the only way he could've gone and have it feel like justice. Getting up from the bed, I go to him and pull him into another hug. For once in my life, I wish I could speak so that he could hear the gratitude in my voice. He's done so much for me and there's no way I could ever repay him.
