Page 6 of Love Language

Greg felt himself shiver. The stranger could have chosen dozens of signs to ask him to chat, but the one he’d used was literally making a grab for him, clutching him in his fists.

He liked the imagery.

He’d really missed ASL. It was such a visceral, visual language and he often felt like English was flat and one-dimensional in comparison. It felt like home.

He rose, abandoning his watery Sprite, and followed the stranger.

What’s your name? he finally asked.

The man led them to a couch-like seat, long enough for them to face each other but still sit fairly close.

I’m Marco. He fingerspelled his name and then gave his name sign, the letter M tapped twice over his heart. It was a name sign that seemed to convey both strength and feeling. It felt right for Marco.

I’m Greg. He replied, both fingerspelling and tapping a G to his shoulder.

Where’s your name sign from?

Greg shrugged. My parents. I’m a CODA.

I thought you might be. Are you part of the Deaf community here?

After that, the conversation flowed. Greg had to admit that he mostly signed only with his parents, and even then, not often because they lived far enough away that they mostly texted. Marco coaxed stories out of him about his childhood that he hadn’t told in years.

Then, Marco shared his own stories of growing up Deaf in a Spanish-speaking household and learning English and ASL at the same time. He’d just moved to the city and was starting to make friends while he continued building up his business in graphic design.

Greg admitted that he should really know something about graphic design—since part of his job was signing off on book covers for the books that he ushered through the publishing process—but he honestly felt better leaving it to the experts.

Marco asked if he liked to read, since he got to do it so much for his job. He had to sadly admit that he’d gotten into publishing because he loved to read, but now he mostly read emails and spot-checked final revisions.

The best he could do was pick up old galleys that were floating around the office and read them over the weekend. Sometimes he even read the books he was responsible for publishing.

It was a little sad, now that he’d thought of it, that he didn’t get to do as much of the thing that got him into the industry in the first place. But he liked his job. And, he thought with a pang, he’d had a lot more time to read in the past three years.

The conversation segued from there to their favorite books. Then TV. The news. Whatever came into their heads.

Marco turned out to be sarcastic and funny, knowledgeable and curious. Greg was enjoying their conversation in a way that he rarely did with anyone.

Marco gave him a warm smile. I’m happy to see you smiling again.

Greg blushed. He hadn’t realized that he was smiling, though of course he was. And the way Marco said it sounded almost like flirting.

This was the most connected he’d felt to someone in a long time. It had been easy to forget Marco’s age or even that they were at a BDSM club, but now he realized it again.

Which just made him remember why he’d been so miserable when Marco met him.

Hey, I didn’t mean to make you sad.

Now he was ruining everything. You’re not making me sad. I was just… remembering.

Do you want to tell me about it?

Greg closed his eyes. Since they were signing, it was a clear indication that he didn’t want to talk. He needed a moment to himself to think.

If anyone else had asked, he would have immediately said no. But with Marco, he felt safe and comfortable.

He felt like Marco could handle it, without judging or pitying him. And, as he’d been slowly realizing over the past few months, maybe it was time to talk about it. He was still grieving but it was… well, he wasn’t sure what it was.

He wasn’t sure whether talking about Richard would be keeping his memory alive or letting him go.