Love for a Deaf Rebel by Derrick King (recommended ebook reader .TXT) 📕

hands to stop myself from signing.

“Pearl wishes to be separated,” said Sheehan. “As you are both working, have no children, and have been married only two years, there is no alimony. You take back your premarital assets and divide any property acquired during the marriage.”

“I don’t want to be separated. I want Pearl to come home.”

Pearl was still for a moment. “No.”

“I love you. There is no need for you to run away.” I pulled my hands out from under my legs and held them out to her.

Pearl turned away from me. “You know why I can’t return.”

“No, I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Mr. King! The purpose of this meeting is to agree on a separation agreement. What you two do with it is not my concern. Pearl proposes that you keep the jeep, and she keeps the truck. The difference in value will be taken into account.”

“I need the truck! I have to carry feed and firewood, tons of it.”

“My client is willing to transfer the title to the house provided she receives half its equity. The question is: how much is an uncompleted house worth?”

“I updated our appraisal last month, for insurance. $118,000. Pearl knows that.”

“My client arranged her own appraisal: $112,000.”

I was astounded by how difficult Pearl, or perhaps her advisors, was making her own life. “I accept Pearl’s valuation.”

Pearl started to cry. “You know all about business, so I have to protect myself.”

“Let’s take the average. Finally, my client would like to split her legal fees and costs with you. She wants to remain friends.”

I threw my hands in the air and laughed.

Pearl had been avoiding the ferries I usually took, so I left work early to catch the ferry that she usually took. I found her sitting in the passenger lounge.

I sat down beside her and smiled. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Pearl did not smile.

Passengers glanced at us.

“You are beautiful, but you look exhausted.”

“You look tired, too.”

“There are things we should discuss. Will you come to the pub with me?”

Pearl shrugged. “OK.”

It was raining when the ferry docked. Pearl followed me to the pub, keeping her distance.

“What do you want to discuss?”

I took a bank draft from my pocket. “I cashed our time deposit. This is all of it—$3,000. Take it. You need it. Please initial the receipt.”

“Quinn told me not to sign anything.”

“Quinn? The fingerspelling lawyer who made our wills?”

“I changed lawyers. I don’t like Sheehan now.”

“Take the check. You need it because I must cancel our credit card.” I took my credit card from my wallet, broke it in half, and put the pieces on the table.

Pearl stared at me, eyes like plates. “You can’t do that!”

“Take the check. I love you, and you need it. I am trying to help you as much as I can, but I have to protect myself.”

“That’s awful! You are mean!” Pearl burst into tears.

I pushed the draft across the table. “Then take it without initialing the receipt. Fuck the lawyers.”

She pushed the draft back and stared at me with piercing eyes. “You told Laurent that I smoke marijuana and I need to see a doctor!”

“I only told him you need a doctor.”

“Now I see why you took my roach clip. You gave it to Laurent to prove I smoke marijuana!” Pearl shook her head violently, tears pouring down. “You told Laurent I need to see a psychiatrist.”

“It’s true. Did he talk to you about it?”

Pearl trembled like a boiler about to burst. “I know you told him because when I went downtown, all the policemen were staring at me!”

Pearl ran to the counter, threw some money down, and ran outside.

“Is something wrong with Pearl?” said the barmaid.

I nodded. “Things haven’t been right for a long time.”

Alan sat next to me on the ferry and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Rose invited Pearl for dinner. During dinner, we were stunned by the depth of her hostility toward you, and even Laurent. We told her it is inconceivable that you are dangerous and preposterous that Laurent is crooked. But nothing we said made any difference.”

“I hope that if she gets the right help, she’ll recover. But Pearl’s problem is that she won’t seek the right help, and she won’t trust anyone whom she hasn’t chosen herself, a Catch-22.”

“Did you know she moved out from Arlette’s?”

“Already? Why did she leave so soon?”

“They realized Pearl has a problem, a nervous breakdown, they think, and her husband refused to have anyone unstable around their kids.”

“Where did she go?”

“She’s renting a room in a bloke’s house. Rose worries he won’t be able to keep his hands off her, but we promised not to tell you where they are.”

“Don’t tell me. Hint.”

Alan looked out the window. “Such blue water today.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

Each month, a truckload of grain passed through the animals, and a truckload of firewood passed through the stove. By March, the feed and the firewood had run low. Pearl had taken the truck, so my father helped me to buy a cheap GMC pickup with a failing transmission. With Whisky in the back, I looked like a redneck.

On my way to the barn for chores, the cat blocked my path and meowed. She led me into the forest to a rotten log where four kittens were nestled inside, squeaking like mice. The cat curled up around them and purred like a motor, proud to show them to me. I picked up each kitten one by one, savoring the magic of a Bowen Island morning.

Leo came to visit while Maria was in Mexico. I picked him up from the ferry on a cold, clear day, walked him around the property and lake, and took him on a jeep tour of the fire roads up to the Mount Gardiner summit with its view of Point Grey. As we stopped beside the microwave station, Leo pulled a joint from his pocket and lit it. An eagle circled over us so closely that we could hear its feathers slicing through the air. I folded the windshield forward and started the jeep. We drove back to the house, enjoying the wind in our faces. We did the chores together and listened to music from the old times.

In the morning, I drove him to the ferry. Pearl walked off the ferry as he walked on. As she passed my jeep, she signed, “For years, I never saw Leo—now he comes! Why?” She didn’t pause for an answer.

I found Pearl’s first divorce documents in the kitchen; she had overlooked a drawer when she packed. I became curious about what Pearl’s mother had meant when she told mine, “Her first marriage ended the same way.” I still had our second TTY, so I could use it to talk to her first husband if I could reach him. I called his divorce lawyer, outlined our situation, and asked him for his former client’s telephone number.

He soon called me back and told me he had just called his number to get permission to give it to me, but his mother, who was hearing, had taken the call and said, “It is in the best interest of all parties if my son has no contact with Pearl whatsoever.”

I heard a truck coming up the driveway. Whisky didn’t bark, so it had to be Pearl. I opened the front door. Pearl climbed out of the truck, ignored Whisky, walked halfway to me, and stood in the rain.

“I need my old telephone. The telephone where I live doesn’t fit my TTY.”

“The old telephone was in my condo before you met me, but you can have it. Come in! I love you!”

“You lie!” Pearl burst into tears and ran back to the truck. “You are awful!”

The tires sprayed gravel as she drove away. I looked down the hill and watched her turn west, toward Bluewater.

At twilight, I put my old telephone in the GMC and drove to the Bluewater neighborhood. I cruised up and down the lanes in the mist in a truck Pearl wouldn’t recognize. Before long, I caught a glimpse of blue at the crest of a driveway. Pearl had parked the truck behind some trees but had not been able to hide it.

Pearl was looking out from the basement through a sliding glass door as I approached. I offered her the telephone. She took it, cringing, the way an abused dog recoils when touched.

I reached out to hug her, and she froze. She let me hug her, but she was limp.

I stepped back.

“Come home. I love you.”

“You know why I can’t do that.” She was trembling.

“I don’t know why. You are safer at home than you are here.”

“Go!” Pearl stepped back and locked the door.

Scapegoat kidded, and the sheep lambed. Alan and I disinfected, docked, disbudded, and castrated. A few days later, I arrived at the barn for morning chores to see Mothergoat standing with a leg sticking out of her vulva. I called Alan. He rushed over to help me try to save her life.

“Crikey!” exclaimed Alan. “She’s exhausted.”

We used Scapegoat’s kid as a model. Alan oriented the bleating kid behind Mothergoat until it matched the protruding leg. “I think we are looking at a foreleg.”

Alan wrapped a rope around Mothergoat’s neck, forelegs, and ribs to improvise a harness. I took off my coat, rolled up my sleeve, poured cooking oil on my arm, and slid it into her womb past the protruding leg. I reached in past my elbow, groping, trying to visualize what I was feeling. Mothergoat bawled and squirmed, and Alan struggled to hold her still.

“The pressure in here is unbelievable! If I stop pushing, my arm will pop out like a cork. I can’t figure out where the head is.”

“Hurry before she dies and we lose our jobs. My colleagues are beginning to think I’m eccentric.”

“Shit, I just poked out an eye!”

“A landmark! Good show! Carry on!”

“The mouth must be here somewhere. Ow! Teeth—I cut my finger! The tongue! … I’m pulling the mouth. Look!—her sides are widening. He’s turning around. Easy ….”

My arm slipped out, followed by the head of the dead kid. Mothergoat delivered the body onto the floor. I cut the umbilical cord and carried the corpse into the forest.

An old friend, Oona, came to visit. I picked her up at the ferry, treated her to lunch at the Snuggler, and took her on a tour in the jeep. I showed her the house, and we walked the trail to the lake. We skipped stones across the lake and watched the trout breaching.

When we walked back to the house, a car was parked in the driveway. I hadn’t locked the house. Pearl was standing in the kitchen with a real estate agent. Pearl glared at Oona; she had no idea who she was. Oona covered her face with her hands, embarrassed.

“Pearl asked me to look around,” the agent said.

“This house is not for sale,” I said without signing.

“What did you say?” signed Pearl.

“Nothing,” I signed.

Pearl stormed out with the agent.

I flew to Amsterdam for a three-week business trip. I left the farm under Alan’s care and left Whisky with my boss. Whisky jumped for joy when I picked him up after I returned.

“Whisky was a good experience for the kids,” my boss said, “but we’ve decided not to get a puppy.”

“I’ve accepted a transfer to Holland, a two-year contract. I’ll clear my head. My parents will rent my house.”

My boss smiled. “I knew. You impressed some people there.”

“I’ll start in November. That will give me time to complete the west wing, but I’ll need another loan.”

“I’ll authorize it. It will be good for you to leave. Pearl came for dinner last week. You should have seen the look on her face when Whisky greeted her! She spoke his name, the first time I’d heard her voice.”

“Good! Were you able to help her?”

“No. And because Whisky was here, I couldn’t avoid telling her you were away. She asked when you would return. I said you’d be back tomorrow, to avoid her taking advantage of your absence. She revealed nothing of how she feels or what her plans are. Before she left, she came to what was surely the purpose of her visit: she asked me how much money you could borrow! I said you are already borrowing the maximum.”

I began the countdown to my departure. I worked at my job, finished my MBA, and did what I could to finish