Capable

LaVieEnRose

I somehow woke up at six, even though Justin, crappy lungs and all, had slept down here with me and blown me into a coma five hours before, disentangled myself carefully from his octopus limbs, and changed into my running clothes and went out. My last few days my runs had been disappointing, and I couldn't put my finger on why. I just felt sluggish, and my times had been slow, so I ended up staying out for an hour and a half trying to basically pound the energy back into me. I limped my way back through the basement entrance after a disappointing eleven-and-a-half miles and got straight into the shower to rinse off the sweat and the pollen and this fucking exhaustion, and by the time I got out Justin was gone. I got dressed and headed upstairs, where he was stretched out on the couch with a book and the TV on, and I kissed him and bumped my nose against his and then went to the kitchen and squeezed my wet hair out on Brian. He reached up and tackled me into a weak headlock without looking up from the paper.

“How'd you sleep?” I asked him.

Good. It's weird how you miss the wheezing. Not weird how you don't miss being kicked in the leg. You?

Great. Your husband gives a mean blow job.

He set the newspaper down. From his first one, too. I didn't even teach him. It's like he was born with it. I always forget Brian was Justin's first everything.

He's a demon.

Probably. Oh, by the way?

“Hmm?”

Today's the day, he said, as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

“Today is not the day.”

He sipped casually from his mug. Oh, but it is.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

He shook his head. Today.

“Maybe next week. Or never!”

He pointed to his lips; he always lets me know when he wants me to lipread. It's nice. “Today. Today today today.” He waved his hand for Justin's attention when he wandered in with his nose still stuck in his book. He and I went to the bookstore yesterday and he picked up some more of these mystery novels he's obsessed with, and they are seriously impossible to rip him away from. Justin. Justin. Justin.

Justin waved his hand back, still reading.

No, you have to—hi. Hello there. Good morning.

What? Justin said.

Today's the day.

Justin brightened up. Oh, it is?

It is.

Yay. Okay. Soon? I'm going to the studio later.

Yeah, like an hour. Eat something.

He wandered over to the stove and opened the cabinet and pulled out a pan, but he knocked the whole stack under it loose either because his hand shook or he's just generally clumsy as hell, and as he turned away from the cabinet a ton of pans fell out and crashed onto the stove and the floor. Brian and I both jumped about a foot—I'm pretty hard of hearing, but that was loud—but Justin didn't even notice.

God, he's just...so Deaf, Brian said, and I laughed. Brian took Justin by the arm and turned him around.

Oh, wow, Justin said. Sorry. He got down on the floor and picked the pans up, and Brian put his hands under his elbows when he was done and lifted him up to his feet, since that kind of maneuvering is pretty hard for him.

You want eggs? Justin asked me.

I kissed him. Yeah.

Don't put any fucking spinach in mine, Brian said.

Oh you're getting spinach. You haven't had a vegetable in two days.

You know, I did live before you were around forcing your health shit down my throat.

Barely, Justin said, and Brian gnashed his teeth and smacked his ass, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head.

How about we just eat eggs and then that's it for the day? I said. Justin can take a nap! You love naps.

You're going to be great, Justin said.

Easy for you to say, I grumbled, and went and slumped in a chair at the kitchen table while Justin cooked.

You know, most children are very excited about learning to drive, Brian said.

Oh, bite me.

He laughed. It'll be fun.

It'll be something, all right.

**

So Brian drove us deeper into the suburbs until we found a big, largely empty parking lot, then got out and the two of us switched places. Justin was sprawled out in the backseat, working on the forms for...some kind of homeowner's insurance thing, I think? I don't know. I can barely read regular English, let alone that legal shit. I didn't get anything at the book store.

Why are there three pedals? I said. There's supposed to be two.

It's a manual, so you have the clutch, too, Brian said patiently. That's the one on the left.

Justin said something out loud—I could hear his voice, but facing away from him I had no chance of making out the words—and Brian waved his hand to shut him up.

What did he say? I said.

That we should have rented an automatic. And he's full of shit. Once you learn to drive a manual, you can drive an automatic in your sleep. And since we don't have an automatic car, seems more useful for you to learn to drive this one.

“Or you could sell this one,” I said. “Get an automatic. This one looks pretty old.”

I'm not getting a fucking automatic. I already live in a house. Next stop after an automatic is capped teeth and a beer belly. Can you hear his breathing?

No.

Brian turned around halfway. Where is your inhaler?

I don't need it yet, Justin said.

Brian rolled his eyes and turned back to me. Your left foot works the clutch, right foot for the other two. Go ahead and press down on the clutch.

“Is the car going to move?”

It's...not even on. Jesus Christ.

There was some kind of noise behind me, and I said, “What was that?”

Nothing. He coughed.

“He's laughing at me!”

Yeah. Try to just be grateful he's alive. That's what I do when he's annoying as shit.

Justin tugged Brian's sleeve and said, What's my social security number? and Brian signed it over his shoulder as he watched me.

I pressed down on the clutch and cranked the key when Brian nodded. “Oh God oh God oh God.”

The parking brake is on. You're fine.

“Okay. Yeah.”

And now we're going to take off the parking brake.

“Brian...”

You have to learn to drive. What if I'm out of town and Justin starts foaming at the mouth or whatever?

I'd call an ambulance.

You're Deaf.

You make a strong point.

So first you check to make sure the gear shift is in neutral.

Is it in neutral?

It's in neutral. Now we're going to release the parking brake...good. Press down on the brake. No, that one stays on the clutch. Other foot. You're going to want to look straight ahead now...how deaf are you, can you hear me if I talk to you?

“I'll hear that you're talking, but I won't get the words if I'm not looking at you.”

Your aids are all the way up?

“Yeah, this is good as it gets.”

Why didn't your parents get you a cochlear, anyway? he said. They seem like the cochlear type.

“Money. And they didn't love the idea of killing the hearing I do have to get the implant. Said it would make me too dependent on it.”

That's incredibly depressing, Brian said.

“Yeah.”

Did you want one?

“Yeah.”

Do you still?

“Sometimes. This is a weird time to be having this conversation.” It also was weird to be speaking out loud so much in front of Justin, but he wasn't paying any attention to us anyway. He was deeply involved in filling out those forms, his left hand around his right wrist to keep it steady. He uses adaptations when he signs to work with his hand that people have to get accustomed to when they first meet him. He always switches to his left hand for number, because those need fine motor skills, and sometimes for fingerspelling. He does some signs with his right hand in a loose fist instead of the handshape they're supposed to have. It's really not hard to understand at all, once you're used to it.

The truth is he signs better than I do, and his English is...I mean, you can't compare my English to his.

So yeah, his hand doesn't work and that sucks, but if I'd had language growing up I would have known how to fill out those forms, you know?

I would know how to drive.

My parents told me it wasn't safe, I said quickly. That what if I didn't hear sirens.

Safest place in the world you can be is right here with me and Justin, he said, casually, like it was nothing. They make wider rearview mirrors for Deaf drivers, we'll get you one. Let's move into first gear.

I took a deep breath and shifted the way Brian told me.

Now you're going to ease up on the brake pedal, Brian said. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. And now start to let go of the clutch...nice and slow.

I saw Justin look up from his paperwork in the rearview mirror. Hey, we're moving!

Brian was turned in his seat to face me. Once you're off the brake, move your foot to the accelerator and start pressing down. Gentle.

We surged forwards. “Oh God.”

Okay, more gently than that. Just use your big toe.

Fuck, we were really moving now. I tried to slow my breathing down. “Did you teach Justin to drive?”

No, he knew before I met him.

“Can he drive stick?” I said.

If Brian could tell I was just trying to distract myself a little, he let me get away with it. Yeah, he learned on a manual when he was fifteen. He spent that summer with his uncle and he taught him. Doing okay?

I nodded. “I need to turn, right?”

Yeah, if you don't want to drive into the store. Start that now. Ease off the accelerator, take it slow. You've got room.

I started turning. I could hear Justin making some kind of noise behind me. “Did he say something?”

Just coughing. He's okay.

“He's driven this car?”

Yeah, back before the seizures got bad. He used to like driving.

“That was before he lost his hearing, right?”

Neurological changes with his disease, yeah. They pulled his license about a year later. This is helping? Talking about Justin.

“Yeah.”

Okay. This is a good turn. How was your run today?

“Good.” I shook my head. “Not good. I was slow.”

Faster than me, I'm sure. He turned around in his seat and had a short conversation with Justin that I couldn't see without taking my eyes of the road, which was not happening.

I said, “Brian, what's he doing?”

Brian turned back around. Wheezing.

“We should go home.”

He'd wheeze there too. Look at that! You turned. Let's build your speed back up.

I pressed on the accelerator—gently—and managed not to jump when the the car sped up. Brian took a bottle of water out of the glove compartment and passed it back to Justin.

“Distract me,” I said.

You're not supposed to be distracted while you're driving.

“I'm going too fast.”

He looked at the speedometer. You're going fifteen.

“Yeah, every hour.”

He sighed. Disney.

“Disney. Yeah. It's coming up.”

It is.

“Is he going to be ready?”

He just needs to sit in a chair and look pretty. And I think we're off the hook for pushing him, because Gus is weirdly excited about it.

“You're supposed to be making me less nervous.”

What do you think he's going to do, push him into a lake full of alligators? He watched Justin say something and then batted him away.

“I mean now, sort of,” I said. “But no, just..I haven't met Gus.” I turned again and built my speed back up.

Good, very good. Gus is thirteen. He's sweet. Pretty non-scary.

“What am I supposed to tell him I am?”

He looked at me like I was an idiot. Unless they've come up with some new term for it, I'm thinking...Justin's boyfriend?

“He's a kid!”

I'm not saying give him a fucking diagram of your preferred sex positions, but he's a teenager, not a puritan, and he's not exactly unfamiliar with non-traditional families. He'll be fine. Okay, you're watching that meter?

“Um...should I be?”

Yeah. When you get to 3000 you're going to shift into second gear.

“I'm going to what?”

I'll show you, he said, then rolled his eyes.

“What?”

He's running his mouth about what RPM he thinks he should be in before you shift. You're supposed to be doing our fucking insurance forms and you haven't driven a car in ten years because your brain doesn't work. Veto.

“Brian...”

You're fine. The car might jerk a little. Just keep doing what you're doing. You're going to press down on the clutch and...right to here? Okay?

I took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Now.

The car definitely jerked and it was definitely somewhat terrifying, but then we didn't die.

“Like changing gears on a bike, I said.

Exactly. Well done. Do a few laps and then we'll go over parking.

We practiced parking for a while, which I liked a lot more than driving because it involved going very slowly, but eventually Brian said Justin's eyes looked too bad and we needed to go home. I don't know what happened there, but he'd been really conscious of Justin's allergies lately, and he was sort of openly concerned about it in this way that was very...not Brian. Not that Brian's not usually concerned about Justin; of course he is. But it's usually a lot more shielded, I think because that's how he keeps Justin from getting panicky, but with this it was almost like he was making an effort to let Justin know he was worried. So...not weird for your normal person, probably, but weird for Brian.

Brian drove us back to the house, and I turned around in the passenger sat and talked to Justin on the way back. His eyes did look pretty awful, and he was sneezing a lot. I can never hear him wheezing—it's too soft and high-pitched—but I can tell when he's having trouble by the way he scratches his chest with his thumb, like he's trying to unlock it.

Brian kissed each of Justin's cheeks when we got inside and nudged him towards the shower. I went into the kitchen to get a snack, and Brian drifted in after me, half-heartedly straightening up the kitchen like he always does when he wants to eat but he's being a queen about calories. He'd end up eating half a box of cookies as soon as my back was turned.

He seems sad lately, I said.

Yeah. He hasn't felt even somewhat decent in a while. It's wearing on him. He just needs a good day. He gets a good day, he remembers good days are possible, he keeps going. Needs one fucking good day.

“Maybe in Disney.”

Maybe.

“You think he's up for it?”

Brian leaned against the counter. Yeah. It's going to take adapting, but I don't think anything he needs is going to be insurmountable. There will be half a million of us there. There will be someone who doesn't mind going back to the hotel and sleeping midday. Lord knows that sounds good to me.

And that's...you know. That's Brian. That right there, the shrug, the nonchalance, the complete lack of bullshit, the way he somehow manages to say in the same breath that Justin absolutely needs help and that it's not a big deal. That's Brian.

Why are you looking at me like that? he said.

I'm just thinking how nice it was of you to force me to learn to drive.

He laughed a little and rolled his eyes.

You want me to be able to do everything, I said. It's nice.

You think I did this for you? he said, without missing a beat. No. I'm sick of having to drive him everywhere. Brian, take me to the studio, I got new paints. Brian, take me to the store, we're out of avocado. Brian, take me to the hospital, I'm dying. Enough already. You take half of it.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He wrinkled his nose at me.

“I love you,” I said. “You have to hear it sometimes.”

God, spend an hour with a guy and he's head over heels. Remind me to tell Lindsay I haven't lost my touch.

“You are so full of shit,” I said.

He pushed himself off the counter and pecked my cheek. Every minute of every day. I'm gonna go rinse him off. You're okay?

“Yeah, I'm good.”

A little pale.

“I just need a nap.”

Okay. He studied me. You did good today.

I felt like I grew an inch right then. “Yeah?”

Yeah, you didn't kill anyone. That's always a good sign for your first lesson.

I laughed and let him go, but right as I was about to head downstairs I saw him wave out of the corner of my eye. “Yeah?”

He was leaning in the doorway. You can, you know? he said. Do anything.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think maybe I can.”