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“Good morning Pretty Lady” Kurt signed as he slipped in next to Mercedes at lunch.
“Liar!” She teased. “I’m not pretty.”
“Hey, you’re deaf, not blind!” Kurt teased back. “Now eat. We have a history test next period.”
They ate in companionable silence for a while. Kurt was her best friend; sometimes he seemed like her only friend. They had met in middle school choir, and gotten closer in high school glee club, but then near the end of their sophomore year Mercedes had gotten sick. She had been sick for two and a half months, and when she finally recovered she had been devastated to learn that her hearing loss was almost complete, and the prognosis was that it would never come back.
Kurt had made the change easily enough. He had learned sign language as a child because his mother was deaf. He was the first to assure Mercedes that she would be ok, and then he had spent hour after hour, day after day, helping Mercedes learn sign.
She had learned quickly, and her parents as well, but no one else seemed to think it was very important. She could still speak clearly enough (after all, fifteen years of talking doesn’t just disappear overnight), but she couldn’t match pitches so she couldn’t sing anymore. And since she couldn’t hear then anyone who didn’t know sign language had to make do with writing notes. The people who had been her friends were awkward or uncomfortable around her at first, but then they soon tired of having to write every word they wanted to say, and within a few months most of them had just stopped hanging out with her.
Kurt was the only one who stayed.
It was about halfway through Mercedes’ junior year that she first noticed the lanky blond guy staring at her. People stared at her a lot--and whispered about her too she was sure--but she never got used to it. Mercedes had already been used to standing out as a racial minority, but now she was also the only deaf student, and being unique in a small town high school always attracted attention. Unfortunately for Mercedes, the attention she got now was not the kind she had once hoped for when she dreamed of becoming a professional singer.
But this guy, he wasn’t looking at her the same way other people looked at her. The first time she caught him staring he had hurriedly turned away. But then she caught him again, and again. One day he smiled, and she couldn’t help but smile back.
The next day he approached, and he spoke to her, and for a moment Mercedes hated her life again.
“I don’t hear,” she explained, gesturing to clarify.
The tall boy’s mouth formed into an O shape and he looked around for a moment, before sliding his backpack off his shoulder and pulling out a notebook and pencil.
I’m Sam
“Mercedes,” she said softly, and a little surprised that he hadn’t just walked away.
Sam pursed his lips for a moment, and then hunched over the notebook and started writing. After a few minutes of intense scribbling he turned the notebook around and pushed it toward her.
I moved here from Kentucky. I like comic books, watching movies, playing guitar, and lasagna. And I know you have seen me staring. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but you’re beautiful and I couldn’t help myself. I want to get to know you.
Mercedes looked up from the notebook to find Sam staring dreamily at her.
Over the next few weeks Sam and Mercedes hung out almost every day. At first their conversations were a little limited--on account of Sam having to write out whatever he wanted to say--but he got faster, and they learned to communicate some things without words.
On the day Sam kissed Mercedes the first time, they barely used words at all.
And so it went until spring: Mercedes spent time with Kurt signing, watching romantic comedies, eating food that went straight to their hips, and talking about boys. She spent time with Sam playing board games, watching superhero movies, going out to dinner, and making out. She was getting better at reading lips, and he was getting faster at writing, and it seemed to be working well enough. Sometimes Mercedes missed the way her life had been before, but she had to admit that it was pretty good right now.
“You promised to come to Glee with me today.”
Mercedes turned away from Kurt in frustration. Yes, she had promised, but now that the time had come she didn’t want to do it. A year ago glee had been her favorite part of the day, but now… Now she didn’t sing anymore. Kurt had told her they were doing a special performance this week, and that she had to come. But all of these other people--these people who she had thought were her best friends--all of them had basically deserted her when she left the choir. Why should she go watch them do what she missed so much, when they didn’t even miss her.
A hand squeezed on her shoulder, and she knew Kurt wasn’t giving up so easily. She didn’t look at him, but she held a hand out his way and let her fingers flick out “ok.” She didn’t have to be looking at him to know that he was grinning.
Mercedes settled into the darkness of the auditorium as she watched the glee club file onto the stage. There were several new faces there since last year, including Sam. (He had told her that he had joined, but she had never come to a performance. Why should she?)
Kurt was grinning like he had the world’s best secret and was about to explode. As everyone else lined up on the risers, he stood at the front and spoke and signed.
“Mercedes Jones, we are preparing this for our next competition, but we dedicate it to you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and blew a kiss to her before stepping onto the risers with everyone else. “Love you.”
She knew the music must be starting now because the musicians were moving, and she was asking herself again why she had come when she saw the whole choir lift their hands and begin signing the words of Imagine .
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one
As they finished the song, tears were rolling down Mercedes’ cheeks. Sam stepped forward from the group.
“Three months ago I met you,” he signed, and Mercedes’ jaw dropped. Sam had not learned more than a few words of sign...had he? “This beautiful girl who said beautiful things but could not hear what I said in return. So I found someone who could teach me how to speak her language.” He glanced over at Kurt, who was beaming.
“He helped us prepare this song, and he has been helping me learn to sign.”
“Sam!” she exclaimed, and he just grinned bigger as he stepped off the stage and walked toward where she was, still signing.
“I made him teach me, because I have something to tell you and I wanted to tell you instead of just writing it.” Sam was right in front of her now. “Mercedes, I love you.”