Traveler by L.E. DeLano (book suggestions .txt) 📕

trying to talk you out of it, is there?” he asks.

“Nope.”

“Come on,” he sighs. “It’s nearly nine.”

I give him a nod. “Let’s do this.”

He grasps my hand and leads me up to my bedroom to stand in front of the mirror.

“Remember,” he says. “We’re in this together.”

“Together,” I repeat, and the word causes a spreading warmth within me. Whatever is waiting for me on the other side of the mirror, I can face it. We can face it.

Together.

34

Silent

We transfer through into her bathroom. I mean my bathroom. The first thing I notice is that it’s cold. The second thing hits me a moment later, and I stand frozen in the middle of the bathroom, my feet rooted to the floor in shock.

Finn grabs me by the arms, instantly sensing something is very wrong.

I have the memories now. I struggle to find my voice, but it’s not something this Jessa’s brain does easily.

“Finn.” My mouth struggles to make the words. “I’m deaf.”

He’s startled. I can see it on his face even though I can’t hear a word he’s saying as he replies to me. I make out my name as he says it, but that’s all. I nod my head and say it again.

“I’m deaf.”

It really is hard to speak, even though I know how to do it. This Jessa’s brain has no use for speech, so it’s like trying to use a door that’s rusted shut at the hinges. I shake my head at Finn, letting him know I don’t know what he’s saying.

And then he surprises me. Finn knows sign language. And apparently, so do I, because I understand perfectly what he’s trying to say to me.

You understand me? he signs.

Yes.

Smart Mario. The Traveler would never think to look here.

I would never think to come here.

Where are we?

I look around. In a bathroom.

I know. He rolls his eyes. Is that snow?

I look past him, out the window. Yes.

We make our way out into the bedroom and cautiously down the stairs. It’s odd, trying to be stealthy when you have nothing to judge by. No footsteps to tell you if you’re being too loud, no sounds from another room to tip you off—it’s kind of freaking me out.

Finn holds up a hand and signs, I hear Danny.

We turn off the staircase into a living room that’s a lot nicer than mine. The furniture is new and there is all sorts of fancy artwork on the walls. The room is lovely, but it looks like it’s being used as a toddler playground at the moment. There are toys scattered everywhere, and Danny sits in front of the TV, rocking.

I walk around between him and the TV and try to sign. We taught our Danny some sign language when he was younger and not as verbal. Maybe we did the same here.

He pushes me away angrily and goes back to rocking. And rocking. And rocking.

I say his name and he jumps back. I’ve scared him. He immediately starts crying, and according to Finn, he’s doing it loudly.

My mother comes tearing down the stairs, giving Finn a startled glance before wrapping her arms around Danny and rocking him back and forth to calm him. She signs over his shoulder at me.

What are you doing? Who is this?

I can tell from the way she’s gesturing that she’s angry.

This is Finn. I know him from a project through school.

You need to clear out! You know how Danny is around strangers.

I nod, pulling Finn along as we make our way through the house and out into the front yard.

He’s nonverbal, I explain. It must be so hard for him. He’s a lot more disabled here.

What project at school? Finn signs. In case she asks?

I attend an online school. Sometimes, we do group projects and have meetups. If she asks, say it’s science.

An online school? Over the computer? Not a classroom?

I nod. Is that where you learned sign language? School?

My mother was deaf. She taught me.

He pauses a moment, and his eyes show a flash of pain.

They killed her, along with my little brother. She didn’t hear them coming. I was gone, looking for food.

I’m sorry, I sign. I don’t know what else to say.

It was a long time ago, he signs back. As if that makes it better, somehow. Not as horrifying, somehow.

I slide my arms around him and hug him tight.

He slides his arms around me in return, and I can feel the solid strength of his heartbeat against my hand on his chest. It’s snowing and the falling flakes land on his hair and stick to his eyelashes, and he’s looking down at me and his eyes are shining.

And then I suddenly remember that I’ve got a boyfriend in this reality.

I’ve got a boyfriend named Ben.

35

The Getaway

I feel my phone vibrate, and the smile hits my lips before I can stop it. My hand reaches for the phone out of habit, and I feel warmth spread through me as I read the text message.

We’ve been here six days. Six days of trying to adjust to a world of strange feelings and an entirely different lifestyle.

Finn glances over at my phone as I stare at it.

You need to answer him, he signs.

I know, I sign back. Just give me a minute. I set the phone down on the couch next to me, and then I sigh and pick it up again.

This is so hard. Ben is texting me a few times a day, and I’m yearning to see him. The minute I feel my phone vibrate, I light up like a Christmas tree—until I remember that this isn’t me. Not really. I can’t play this part, even if I feel like I know the lines. So I’ve told him I have mononucleosis and he can’t see me in person for a few weeks because I’m contagious. It’s the best I can do to preserve their relationship and keep it from playing havoc with me and my feelings.

I look down at the