Surprisingly, Ryan picks up on it too.
As soon as the photographer gets his shot, Ryan crouches down on his haunches, making himself eye level with her.
He does the sign for “hello” with his hand touching his forehead and waving outward. He follows that up with a hand on his chest before the index and middle fingers on each hand cross over one another and tap twice, saying “my name.”
Then Ryan fingerspells his name. Slowly and cautiously.
Anyone in the Deaf community would pick up that he’s a beginner as he takes his time remembering each sign, but that’s not what matters.
The little girl’s face lights up as she watches him, catching on to how new he is when she slowly signs her name back.
Sarah.
He repeats her name with his fingers, also mouthing the word to confirm.
Her smile widens as she nods with so much excitement.
He points at himself again, followed by a motion that looks as if he were taking information from an open palm to his head, finished with the sign for “sign”—index fingers circling each other backward.
I am learning sign.
He mouths the words as well, but his sign was so clear that Sarah understands with no problem.
She grabs his hands, hopping around on her toes, unable to contain her joy, then gives him a double thumbs-up to tell him he’s doing a good job.
Ryan’s stunning smile beams, the two of them sharing a moment. I don’t know how much he’s communicated with a deaf person. I didn’t even know he was learning the language, but this moment is special for him, I can see it. The pride in his eyes, the joy radiating off him, successfully speaking to another with his hands.
“I didn’t know Ryan knew sign language,” Caroline says next to me.
“He doesn’t. He didn’t, I mean. I didn’t know he was learning.” My stare is locked on him. “I offered to teach him, but we hadn’t gotten around to starting yet.” I take a sharp inhale, attempting to compose myself. “My dad is deaf.”
“Oh, Indy.” She places her hand on top of mine, the both of us watching Ryan and Sarah. “That man loves you. That right there is quiet love.”
Refocusing, Sarah is partway into telling Ryan something as I rejoin their conversation. With her open number five hand, she signs at her chin then brings it up to her forehead. Ryan is confused, not yet understanding the signs for mom and dad, so she tugs at his sleeve and points to the sideline of the court where her parents stand, waving and so excited for their daughter.
“Excuse me.” I quickly stand from my seat, rushing off the court and to the bathroom before I start crying in front of eighteen thousand people and Ryan’s boss.
With my hands bracketed on the sink, I lose it. Tears stream down my face from the overwhelming knowledge that I’ve gone twenty-seven years without being loved the way Ryan Shay loves me. And now I have the privilege to be loved so selflessly, so attentively.
No one in my life has made an effort to communicate with my dad in his language. Not my life-long friends and not my boyfriend of six years. And in comes this man who I’ve only known for a few months, turning my life upside down and proving what it means to be loved.
He doesn’t need to say it and I don’t have to hear it. I already know. It happened so quietly, so effortlessly.
And he’s in there questioning whether I’m back with my ex. How could he ever imagine I’d want to be with someone else after I’ve spent months being loved the way he loves me?
I’ll take responsibility for that because even though I haven’t done anything to have him question my loyalty since things developed between us, I know Ryan is working with some major insecurities. Insecurities that, though I’ve experienced similar things, never impacted me quite the way they do him. And I need to be the one to reassure him, to remind him how wanted he is until he no longer has to question it.
Maybe words of affirmation are his love language. Maybe it’s quality time. I’m not sure, but I’m going to become fluent in them all until Ryan understands just how much I love him. How much I want him for his heart and not for his name.
Though, one day, I wouldn’t mind taking that too.
It isn’t until well into the first quarter, I’m able to compose myself enough to leave the bathroom. My eyes are so bloodshot and my skin so puffy, there’s no way to hide how hard I’ve been crying. My makeup is completely gone, but if I feel like it, I’ll redo it before my flight.
Ryan spots me as soon as I take a seat. His brows are creased, but his eyes are soft as the game buzzes around him. Sitting on the first chair after the coaching staff, he leans forward, knees to his elbows, mirroring the rest of the guys on the bench, but unlike them, he’s not watching the game unfold before him.
I offer him a slight smile to placate him.
“Are you okay?” he mouths from across the gym.
Nodding, I smile a bit more, holding myself back from screaming “I love you!” at the top of my lungs or even mouthing it back to him. I want to tell him when I’m standing directly in front of him. I want him to see it in my everyday actions. I want him to feel the intention behind the words.
Ryan bites his lower lip as if he wishes he could say more, but instead, he refocuses back on the game.
At halftime, I quickly leave for the airport, with the knowledge that the sooner I get back to Chicago, the sooner I can tell him.
32
RYAN
I’m a coward.
I’ve avoided Indy’s calls for days, unable to find the strength to answer, knowing there’s a chance she’s calling to tell me she’s back with her ex who doesn’t deserve to even stand in the same room as her.
But seeing her two nights ago, sitting courtside at my game was enough of a reminder that I need to grow a pair and make sure she knows. Even if she doesn’t want me, even if she decides to go back to the life she had before me, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself without telling her how important she is. Both to me and to the world.
Indy, the romantic.
She deserves the gesture. She deserves to be loved loudly. She deserves to be loved in any way she wants.
And if I can be conceited for a moment, she deserves to be loved by me.
I will put her first. I will give her the life she’s always dreamed of. I will make sure she knows how special she is, that she doesn’t need to put on the show for everyone else. I like her chaotic and emotional. I like her messy.
But of course, I haven’t had the courage to say those things, afraid that in response, she’ll tell me the one thing that will break me.
Were the tears she shed while rushing to the bathroom at my game due to guilt, knowing it’s going to hurt like hell when she ends things with me? The insecurities ramming into my chest want to scream at me that they were.
I should’ve stopped her from speaking to him. I should’ve reminded her that it took her absence from his life for him to understand what a gift he had, while it was her presence in mine that opened my eyes to everything I’ve ever wanted.
Indy left for her friends’ wedding yesterday after she landed back in Chicago a day before me. The rehearsal dinner was last night, and it’s not lost on me that I was too much of a coward to tell her how much she means to me before she spent an entire day with Alex.