longer. He made a devious exit walking as near to her table as possible. As he made to pass them he saw a white jacket had slipped from the back of the girl’s chair and was trailing on the carpet.
He picked it up and leaning slightly toward her back intending to speak to her he caught the scent from her hair; a distinctive almond smell, faint, yet somehow beguiling. “Excuse me,” he began. No response so he continued.
“I think this must be yours.” Still nothing, was she ignoring him? He began to feel foolish and uncomfortable, standing there holding the scrap of white fabric.
One of the other women touched the girl on her arm and pointed up at Ryan.
She turned and looked up at him and then at her jacket. “Thank you,” her voice warm and clear. “I did not know you were there.”
The girl put out her hand to take her jacket at the same time placed her other hand near her head. Then she put two fingers against her ear and said, “I am deaf.”
Ryan was stunned she looked so normal. Immediately the deepest feeling of shame swept over him. How dare he even think such a thing?
Why would she not be normal? She was deaf, no big deal. He still held on to the jacket a tangible connection he didn’t want to break.
One of the older women spoke. “Would you like to join us for coffee?”
Ryan nodded; he knew the girl would understand the gesture. The urge to return to the office vanished. The woman spoke again. “I’m Margot we’ll get a chair for you. Come and sit next to me.”
Ryan would have preferred to sit next to the girl, the nearness of her sent his pulse racing and he could feel sweat breaking out on his palms, but this way, he reasoned, he would be able to see her face properly. He had already worked out that she was lip-reading, and it might make it easier for her.
He had also observed that she was not wearing an engagement ring or a wedding band.
Margot, who appeared to be the spokesperson for the group beckoned the waitress looking after their table and within seconds Ryan was seated between the two older women.
Margot spoke again. “Now tell us about yourself? You were so gallant to pick up Julia’s jacket.”
She patted him on the hand and leaned toward him. As she introduced the women at the table, all Ryan could think was that Julia’s name suited her, feminine, but unfussy.
Looking directly at Julia’s face he spoke, “Ryan Cameron and I work in an office a block from here.” Suzanne, the woman nearer to Julia’s age, was celebrating a recent engagement, and self-consciously did everything she could with her left hand. Julia caught his eye as they watched the display and exchanged a secret smile at the wearer’s behaviour.
“What do you do Julia?” As Ryan spoke to her he was very conscious of her eyes concentrating on his lips.
“I work with computers.”
Her voice and the words she chose were efficient, but not clipped, as if she chose to say only what was really important.
He was enchanted, and wished that they were at the table by themselves. There was so much he wanted to ask and tell her. The group chatted over their coffee, commiserating with each other about the commotion happening in the streets outside. The minutes quickly ticked past and Ryan was wondering how he could speak to Julia on a one to one basis. However, unexpectedly his problem was solved as Margot touched his arm, her body language obvious; subtly trying to get his attention.
“Ryan I am having a small dinner party next Saturday, would love you to come if you’re free?”
He hesitated not sure how to ask if Julia was also invited. Margot saw the hesitation and added. “Naturally if you have a wife or partner the invitation is open!”
Both older women tensed for his answer.
“I would love to go to your evening.” The next remark addressed completely in Julia’s direction.
“Are all you lovely ladies going to be there?”
Margot purred, “Yes we meet several times a year.” She produced a small card giving details of an address in a salubrious suburb in Sydney’s south.
Pleasantries were exchanged, the two older women dominating the conversation.
Julia said very little, seemingly content to watch the others. She was restful, that was the overwhelming feeling Ryan observed.
He finished his coffee and took his leave gazing into Julia’s smiling face.
His parting remark was addressed to the group. “I look forward to seeing you all again on Saturday.”
He left the restaurant, walking taller and feeling lighter, almost raising his hands above his head in a victory salute, “Yes, yes,” he muttered under his breath.
“Four more days until I see her again!”
The hubbub outside the restaurant once again assaulted his ears and for a moment the benefits of being deaf occurred to him. As he retraced his steps back to his office Ryan’s mind went back to his father, Charles Cameron.
Many years previously Charles had been a casualty in a mining disaster. The left side of his face was deeply scarred and he sustained a lasting legacy of permanent deafness. Ryan’s memory of him was of a tall quiet man who said very little. His father had not known the sign language of the deaf, and Ryan realised what a boon it could have become if Charles had studied it. He had observed the deaf woman’s composure, the way she blended her presence in with the others.
Ryan’s mother Delma had never reconciled herself to her husband’s injuries. She became impatient with him and threw herself into her social whirl excluding him entirely. Ryan had been six years old and spent as much time as he could with the remnants of the shattered man. Charles built a wonderful bond with his small son, read to him endlessly as Ryan curled up in bed next to his father listening to that deep resonating voice.
Delma, possessively jealous of the relationship between the two arranged for Ryan to be sent to boarding school. The boy became withdrawn by the prolonged absences from his father.
A letter from Charles arrived at the boy’s school several years later, informing Ryan that Charles had decided to live overseas. He had met a gentle caring woman, Liani, from the Philippines. He hoped that Ryan would visit them when the opportunity arose.
It was eight years before Ryan, at fourteen, was able to make his way to see his father and spend some time with him.
He met Liani for the first time and saw her wonderful capacity for compassion; her fortitude and her acceptance of life.
Ryan was surprised to find his father very frail; his lungs had been affected by the explosion.
But Liani kept Charles buoyant, her conversations were always positive. She constantly held his father’s hands, touched him, and stroked his face. Ryan had never experienced any such physical display of affection between his parents.
He returned to Sydney content that his father had found happiness at last. Ryan wrote regularly to Charles and noticed that his father’s
