The hallway light’s off now. Half an hour is all it should take. She’s not asleep yet, and while I can’t hear her, she can definitely hear me. Ten more minutes. Five. Okay, I should be good now. Backpack’s already packed and outside in the bush; she’d hear that zipper and come running so fast. Got my wallet, boots, phone… that should be- inhaler! Don’t forget the inhaler! Whew. Close one. Okay. Easy now. Turn, open enough to squeeze through but not let the hinges squeak. Walk on the balls of your feet, don’t slip! Steady. Skip the third stair, quiet now. Wait… Nothing. At least, I hope nothing.

Back door is safer. Over the gate, backpack first, through the neighbor’s yard, to the parking lot just beyond. I see him long before he sees me: Adam. He looks nervous; it’s cute. He hears me about half way across the lot and turns to me, smiling. Ugh, that smile. That smile. He says something, god knows what, and I roll my eyes, reaching up to tug on my right ear. He nods, reaching over and taking my hand, leading me off to a restaurant not too far away.

The lighting helps immensely as we start writing. The waitress says something. I start to write that I can’t hear her when she stops me; she can sign. We sign, she takes both my order and his, she leaves with a bright smile. I look back to Adam, also smiling. He’s not smiling. I write, asking him what’s wrong. He shakes his head. I hate when he’s like this. I smack my hand on the table; he jumps, scowling at me before a smile breaks across his face. I stand, moving around to his side of the booth, ushering him to scoot over before plopping myself down next to him.

I grab my pen and pad, placing it in front of us on the table before letting my head fall onto his shoulder. I feel him sigh deeply and take his hand in mine, giving it a firm squeeze. I feel him chuckle, squeezing back, and I smile. I pick up the pen and circle my question; he sighs again, but writes back this time.

‘I hate that I can’t communicate with you easier.’

I huff, grabbing the pen from him. ‘I told you before that I’d be fine with teaching you!’

‘You shouldn’t have to! I don’t want to be a burden!’

I grab the pen from him, scrawling his name, underlining the first letter before holding up a fist, thumb on the side.

‘A.’

He raises an eyebrow. I point to the A on the paper, then to my own hand. It takes him a minute, but he finally raises his own hand in the same gesture. I nod, underlining the D and moving my fingers to the correct position.

‘D.’

‘A.’

‘M.’ I underline his name, pointing to him. It’s slow, and I have to move his fingers a bit, but it’s relatively painless; thank god for small favors.

Our food comes, just dessert today, since we’ve both already had dinner. He insists on feeding me at one point, which ends up with us both laughing and almost choking on the food.

He walks me back to my house, the front this time, since he’s a chicken and doesn’t want to go through the neighbor’s yard. I start towards the door, but he grabs my wrist and spins me back into him. I raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles, that deep, rich rumble in his chest. I blush as he pulls me into a kiss. It’s not the first time, but it feels like it every time. Still just as perfect. I worry sometimes that he’ll get tired of the risks. Of the effort he has to put in. But when he kisses me like this? It feels like forever actually means something.