Through the kindness and lovely red that flows from him, I also sense a disappointment in himself. It’s a miniscule color shift but allows me to feel his words even if I can’t hear them. That reason alone is why I forgive him for teasing me along with Emilio, addressing me as some foreign royalty.
“It’s okay,” I sign for Emilio to interpret before using my voice. “Nice to meet you.”
His surprise and Emilio’s grin are well worth the effort it takes to create those simple words. Another soft tap on my hand turns my eyes to the latter’s lips. “Would it be alright for Imber to join us for dinner?”
I incline my head without hesitation. Even if there wasn’t this deep-rooted magnetism toward Imber, I would never deny Emilio any small pleasure in life. Their matching grins hit me in the hardest déjà vu I’ve ever had. Our surroundings were different, though. Less city and more forest.
There’s a small catch in my breath, and both their heads swivel in my direction. Imber takes a step toward us as Emilio wraps an arm around my shoulders. He hands my case over to Imber before using an index finger to lift my chin. “You alright, dragonfly?”
I snort softly and sign, “Fine. Just had a moment. Could’ve swore I’d seen the two of you like that before.”
Red floats around us, but I don’t look away from Emilio to read what Imber is saying. Emilio’s reply is more than enough answer. “Black cats and superstitions, old friend.”
Whatever Imber says has Emilio chuckling before politely sharing, “He has just reminded me that I, of all people, should be more mindful of such things considering I was the one cursed by an old hag.”
I have what feels like a hundred questions for them, but if we stand out here all evening, we won’t have time for dinner before our flight. As if reading my mind, Emilio ushers us forward between the brick walls toward the parking lot. He and Imber barely speak a few sentences before we make it to the car, and from the colors that are running together, I can tell it’s nothing more than polite and friendly conversation.
Emilio opens my door as Imber helps himself into the backseat. After I’m inside, I track his movement around the car, stopping quickly by the trunk to carefully set my instrument inside. His companion doesn’t speak, knowing it would be useless; however, that doesn’t stop me wishing he would. One meeting and already the red tendrils of his voice beckon to me like a beautiful siren. Flicking my eyes over to the rear-view mirror, I find his already there waiting for me. A smile tilts the corners of his lips up and brightens the smooth brown of his irises. Cheeks now flushed, I lean to the opposite side and turn to watch as Emilio climbs behind the wheel.
As soon as the car starts, we're bombarded with a flurry of color. Well, I am. They are able to hear the notes of the string quartet now flowing through the speakers.
Emilio reaches out to knock the level down a few notches, turning the colors a soft pastel palette. I am okay with either. The music is for my pre-performance warm up, so not all too necessary at the moment.
Another wave of red from the back followed by Emilio's blue says they're conversing again, and for the first time in a long time, I curse my disability. It should be easy enough to eavesdrop on their words if I could hear. Since I can't, my head shifting to read Emilio's lips would be obvious. Instead, I choose to face out my window and take in the sights of the city.
Tall buildings look close enough to brush each other were the wind to blow against them. People mill about on the tight streets, some huddled under thick coats while others are in such a rush that their lapels fly open around them. Most of those are the ones with phones glued to their ears not even realizing how lucky they are and taking such a small feat for granted.
Even after all these years, I still can't remember anything from before the accident that stole that luxury from me. There are times when I look at things or feel something brush against my skin that pushes and begs me to remember it, but nothing has been a solid trigger. Those pulses are stronger around Emilio a lot of times. Like back there with his friend. That déjà vu bell went off in my head at seeing them standing there together, but it instantly gave me a headache at the thought.
Emilio's face is the first one I can remember seeing when I woke up at the hospital. He'd been passing my room with a guitar strapped over his shoulder, headed for music therapy with the kids on the next floor. A quick locked gaze through the hospital window was all it took. After an hour or so doing what he was there to do, there he stood at the foot of my bed with his lips moving and no sound coming out. The left side of my body was severely bandaged, so I assumed the meds I was given for pain were playing tricks on me.
An expression of disappointment and despair flashed over his features when we both realized at the same time that I couldn't hear him.