Then she signed, “Come in, you foolish girl.
I’m only joking.”
Patricia looked up.
Evelyn gestured toward the chair beside her.
“Sit down.
It’s been eleven years.
We have a lot to talk about.”
I stepped aside.
Patricia walked in and sat beside her mother.
I went into the kitchen.
I didn’t need to supervise their conversation.
It belonged to them.
We still have a photograph from Evelyn’s birthday party hanging on our wall.
It shows the two of us at the front of the white tent, both signing.
Beside it is a photograph of my parents in their kitchen.
Dad is making one of his ridiculous expressions.
Mom is signing something back, laughing.
I look at those pictures often.
I think about the first night at Patricia’s table, when she passed me the potatoes and insulted me with her other hand.
And I think about Grandma Evelyn sitting at the far end of that same table, waiting for someone to speak to her.
I went into that family hoping they’d accept me.
Instead, I found someone who had been waiting eleven years to be included.
One evening, I came home from school with a little glitter still caught in my hair.
Ben was in the living room, signing something to Evelyn.
He got a word wrong.
She corrected him.
He tried again.
Then they both laughed.
I stood in the doorway for a moment before joining them.
My parents would have loved seeing that.
Especially Mom.
I could almost picture her giving me that familiar look from across the room, waiting to see what I’d do next.
I walked over to Evelyn, sat beside her, and lifted my hands.
“What did I miss?”
She smiled and began telling me.
THE END.
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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or places is coincidental.