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E-U-I-A-L. That wasn’t correct. She giggled, and Eric could feel his heart beating in his throat. That was the first time he had heard her giggle. The sound was soft and delicate, but it seemed to echo through the quiet library. Her giggle was thunderous, though silent. It was monumental, though mundane. That was the first time he had ever heard her giggle, and he was desperate to hear it again.
He grinned, and she nodded at him as encouragement to continue practicing. He was making a fool of himself, but she seemed to think his struggle to learn was funny. She seemed to find his effort charming even. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have agreed to help him. As he positioned his hands to try again, he stole quick glances at her face. Her eyes fixed on his hands as he created simple letters. His spelling was poor at best, but at least his form was correct. He paused momentarily and watched her eyes scan over his hands, trying to pinpoint a spot where she’d intervene next. She was beautiful, but not because her red hair fell perfectly around her shoulders or because her blue eyes sparkled ever so slightly in the dim light of the library. She was beautiful because she cared. She cared enough to help Eric learn a new skill. People were always the most beautiful when they cared.
A-U-I-E-L. Better. Only one letter was out of place, and she stopped Eric exactly when he made his mistake. She placed her hand gently over his and then promptly gestured to herself. Eric watched her hands as she showed him once more exactly how to position his fingers. If his fingers weren’t exact, he would never spell her name, and he wanted so desperately to spell her name. It was a simple gesture, one that most would overlook. Still, being able to sign her name was the first step to having natural conversations with her. He wanted to talk to her without passing an old notebook back and forth or wildly gesticulating to get his point across. Besides, she deserved to have somebody to talk to. Not being able to communicate with anybody must have been lonely.
However, Eric was getting tired of this repetition. Maybe he’d give up and practice on his own back at his room. He raised his eyes from his fingers to her face. She chewed on her bottom lip as she watched his fingers and shook her head in frustration. He couldn’t stop now. He glanced again at the torn corner of notebook paper on the table in front of him. Ariel. Her name was Ariel. All her had to do was position his fingers properly.
He signed the letters carefully. He signed an A, not an E. He was sure that it was an A because his thumb sat next to his index finger rather than splayed across it. A smile pulled at the corners of her lips. He signed an R, not a U. Finally, he processed that his index finger needed to cross over his middle finger instead of holding the two of them up. She glanced up to meet his eyes briefly before returning them to his fingers. He signed an I, a letter he knew rather well. It was the only sign that used the pinky finger alone without moving. However, if he did move, he’d be signing a J. He was almost there. Next came an E, not an A. That was a mistake that he did not intend to make again. Finally, he finished with an L, the letter he already knew from when he was a child, learning which way was left and which way was right.
A-R-I-E-L. That was correct. Eric looked to Ariel for approval. She nodded her head vigorously, a large grin playing on her face. “Ariel,” Eric whispered, “All right.” Ariel couldn’t seem to contain her excitement for Eric’s accomplishment. She clapped her hands together and nodded her head. She was proud of him, and Eric was proud of himself. Eric considered reaching for the notebook they had between them, a written record of their conversations, but he held himself back. Instead, he held his hand to his mouth, palm facing in, and he pushed his hand out toward her. Thanks. That much, Eric could say without help.
Ariel gave a slight sigh, and she started signing complex sentences that Eric couldn’t quite understand. Still, he watched her closely, picking up on certain words at times and then no words at all. Eric’s mentor was getting carried away, and she stopped trying to communicate with him when she noticed his blank stare. Ariel grabbed the notebook between them, and she threw her hair over her shoulder as she wrote. “You did well,” she wrote, “I’m really proud of you, Eric. Nobody’s ever done this for me before. It means a lot. Anything specific you want to learn next?” She slid the notebook back toward her friend.
Eric picked up the notebook and read. She was proud of him. This was an opportunity to do something bold. The dim lighting and the silence of the library made for a perfect atmosphere. Eric wasn’t one to take risks. No, he preferred to be safe and live peacefully, but this was the moment to take a risk.
Eric looked up at Ariel and released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He gestured toward himself to get her attention. She locked eyes with him, a gentle smile playing on her lips. He had her fell attention, and there was no backing out. He signed her name, a typical way to start a conversation. Then, he implemented the knowledge he’d learned on his own. He signed a phrase that neither of them had expected to see so quickly. Both of their faces flushed. Can I kiss you?
Ariel bit her bottom lip, and she searched Eric’s eyes, trying to figure out if he was kissing or not. When she concluded that he was serious, she raised she fist and moved it up and down. Yes.