Same, But Different: A Semper Fi Short Story

In which we meet the rest of the Denerals...

There’s chaos around the house when I walk in, and nothing feels more welcoming than being tackle-hugged by a much taller Willa in the doorway.

“Peter-bread!” She clings to my neck, feet dangling off the ground as I hug her back. For a minute I can imagine she’s seven again, instead of twelve, until the strain on my shoulders catches up and I’m forced to set her down.

“Dang, Wills.” I tweak one of her blond braids, surprised just how much she looks like Chaya despite the lack of any blood relation. “You’re tall now.”

“Yep.” She puts her hands on her hips. “And you’re old.”

“Ouch. I’m not that much older than Chaya was when she took you in.”

“Yeah but you got stubble and it looks weird.”

I rub my jaw, wincing at the scratchiness. “Well it’s kinda hard to find time to shave when you’re backpacking through the desert by horse.”

“Did you really come all this way just by horse?”

I look away from Willa to smile at Chaya as she walks in from the kitchen, rubbing her hands off on a dish towel. The woman who took me in over a decade ago is a little older, a little more shapely than when I saw her in person last— but she’s still the same Chaya Deneral, Arena legend and now, mother.

And the closest thing to family I have.

“Hi, Chaya.” I wrap her in a hug, surprised by the emotion suddenly knotting in my chest. Seeing her brings up a thousand memories, most important of them being how she helped me with my memory ability.

The very thing that let me get the career I have today.

“Ayyy,” she hugs me back. “You smell like a foot and you’re hot and sweaty but I could not care less. I missed you.”

“Thaannks.” I laugh, pulling back. “I need to get a shower but I wanted to see you all first. Where’s Reed?”

“Wrangling kiddos while I make dinner. Miles cannot be left for a hot minute— boy thinks everything is meant to be chewed.” She crossed her arms. “Now, did you really take a horse all the way here from New Mexico?”

I snort. “There might have been a little hyperbole.”

“Mhm.” She flicks the towel at me. “Grab your stuff and go take a shower.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She glares. “Are you trying to make me feel old?”

I just smirk.

***

Willa was right— I do look old with stubble. Thankfully, that problem is easily fixed with a razor and an eight minute shower.

When I come back out, there’s something— more, someone— sitting calmly in the hallway with a picture book in their lap. The little girl isn’t more than four, with black pulled into two short pigtails, and when she looks up at me, there’s a pair of sage green eyes a shade I’ve only seen on one other person.

And this face is one I’ve only seen on video calls.

I crouch down to her height, sitting against the wall.

She jolts at my presence, eyes wide, before recognition shades her expression and she grins at me, waving.

My hands are clumsy and unpracticed, but I do manage to sign I’m your family in a way that Lilly can understand, because she hugs my neck, signing back what I think means I love you, which just makes me smile more.

Why Lilly was born clinically deaf, no one knows. According to the tests and Chaya and Reed’s observations, she can hear and differentiate basic vibrations and deep sounds, but has no ability to understand the meaning of words and language. She can hear Reed’s tone, and probably mine, but most of Chaya’s natural voice she might never be able to hear.

“Lilly?” Reed comes around the corner, and Lilly bolts up from the floor to cling to his leg. He strokes her hair, smiling at me. “I see you’ve met Lilly.”

“How much sign language does she know?” I ask. Lilly’s head whips toward me, wonder and excitement giving her eyes an almost jade color.

So she can hear my tone.

“Enough to avoid most meltdowns.” He taps her head to get her attention, points to me, and signs what I think is my name. She turns to me, mimicking most of the signs, and points at me. I nod, and she runs over, now hugging my leg.

“She likes you.” Reed grins. “She’s normally shy.”

“I think she likes my voice.” I glance down. “Are we friends?” I try to sign friends.

She nods and holds out her arms. I pick her up and she leans against my shoulder, patting my neck.

“What is she doing?” I ask, and she giggles, humming to herself.

Reed laughs. “I think she likes the vibration of your voice.”

“Probably because I have a funny accent.” I glance down at her, trying to put more emphasis on the faint Mexican influence that hasn’t left my voice despite my aversion to Spanish. “Is that it? You like my accent?”

She cackles, leaning against my chest and humming in a near-perfect mimic of one of the medium keys in my tone.

Well, that’s it. I’ve got a new best friend.

“Chaya sent me to tell you that dinner is ready.” Reed shoves his hands into his pockets. “To be honest, I was hoping for a view of that beard Willa was ranting about but I see I’m too late.”

I snicker. “Glad no one got pictures.”