Jay's Inn

Our vacation started badly, but ‘we drove the camper van to Swindon’ would be bad anyway. It’s not a place people go to, it’s a place people are from because they head anywhere else. But Dad wanted to see his childhood home and we hadn’t done a proper family vacation since Loch Ness when gran was swimming in the Loch and tourists thought she was Nessie. I don’t think gran has worn a swim suit since, but grandpa says the real reason she doesn’t anymore is health and safety.

Anyway, we drove and Dad got lost. We expected that; we didn’t expect the Satnav to just stop working as if fed up with his attempts to find roads. Dad once managed to lose a river. We’re still not sure how. But we went off the beaten path and ended up at Jay’s Inn. It didn’t show up on Yelp, or even google maps when Audrey checked it. She likes reviewing things. She says it’s the only power we have until we’re eighteen and can smash the system. But she always says that.

I asked what we’d smash the system with and she didn’t speak to me for two days. Unfortunately, those two days weren’t during this trip. See, Jay’s Inn was a small, dodgy two-storey affair and the flats looked about the size of my bedroom. The rooms were cheap and clean, and Dad got three. Mom and him, me, Audrey. Though ‘me’ tended to include Dad as well once he started snoring.

Everything got weird pretty fast. The owner was a kid, about my age at the time. I’ve never know a thirteen year old to run an inn. Mom and Dad didn’t mention it. I pressed Dad on it the second night. He said “He’s not thirteen,” and there was this look in Dad’s eyes. Dad sells insurance for Hildago Holdings and it’s mostly pretty boring but sometimes he mentions friends he had, or people he knew, and he gets this look. Audrey calls it the thousand-yard stare. He’s still Dad, but you know he’s not going to say anything more about it.

The meals were epic. There were four other families, but no one else like me so I just talked with Mom, Dad and Audrey. I’m used to that; I’ve have texted some of the other kids but cell phone service wasn’t good in the area. And the owner, Jay. He came out, visited rooms, talked to people. He was nice, with a smile that just felt nice, if that makes sense? He said hi to everyone, and signed it to me when he spoke. I’m good enough at lip-reading that most people might not know I’m deaf; he’d figured it out without asking us, and talked to me the same as anyone else.

I still figured it was weird that he was twelve, but not as weird as everything else. Because that night Dad came into my room to sleep. I felt him get into the bed, and me made a point of touching me and making sure I knew he was there. I can’t hear Dad snore of course, but some nights the vibrations ignore me. That night there weren’t any, and Dad got out of bed once and paced the room and then walked out into the hallway. Dad isn’t a pacer, which I figured meant there had been a fight with mom.

I don’t know why I followed him. Even if he and Mom had a fight in the hallway, it’s not like I’d catch most of it. But Dad had been quiet all through dinner, watching Jay, and I followed him into the restaurant. It was closed, with the bar set up and empty except for Dad. And Jay, who was cleaning mugs. Jay nodded to Dad, saw me and nodded to me too.

Which is when things got weird. If Jay had signed to me, Dad would have known I was there. He didn’t, and Dad didn’t sign, but somehow I knew what they were saying. It’s never happened since. I’ve never been able to explain it to anyone. I couldn’t hear them; I don’t know what they sound like when talking, but somehow it was as if they signed right in front of me even though neither was facing me. I shouted a bit, and I’m sure Jay noticed but Dad didn’t react. I was understanding them, Dad didn’t catch what I said from the doorway. I’m not explaining it well. I can’t. I tried explaining it to Audrey once, but I couldn’t find the words.

It was maybe like telepathy, only for sign.

“Jay,” Dad said.

The boy nodded. “I am, yes.”

“You’re not eleven. When I met you, you were eleven.”

“I still am. Somewhere out there,” and Jay waved a hand past me to the front door. “Eventually I’ll find out about this place, but by the time I get here I’ll be gone.”

“Time is a funny thing.” Dad said nothing for a long time, and then ordered a gin and tonic, drinking it back in two gulps. I’ve never seen Dad drink before or since. “I hurt you. I met you, and I said you were in my way – I forget where I was going, or why I was in a hurry. I told you to get lost.”

“You did.”

“I get lost all the time now. Ever since that day.”

“I know. I did the binding on you, probably without realizing it. I could remove it, if you think you’ve learned your lesson?”

“I don’t – I don’t know.” And Dad said something then, and it was as if he had to and didn’t want to. “Are you still jaysome?”

“You don’t trust me.” And I’ve never seen an expression like I saw on Jay’s face before. I never want to again. It was too hurt, too old, and I understand what Dad meant when he said Jay wasn’t thirteen.

“I never forgot you. You were eleven, and – not like you are now,” Dad said, and he refused to look at Jay.

“I am, as much as I can be,” Jay said finally. “I can remove what was done to you; there would be no cost. Nothing like that.”

“I don’t – I’m used to it. Being lost, getting lost. It drives my family mad. But I can live with it. You’ve met my son.”

Jay nodded.

“Could you make it so he can hear, instead of fixing what you did to me?”

“I could.” And I believed him, and I know Dad did too. “But I am no longer eleven, Ronald Bogsworth. And having your child no longer be deaf would be noticed. I can arrange things so that it isn’t; there are those who owe me favours. but the fae do nothing for free. You would be in their debt, or Jason would be.”

“Then I will be,” Dad said.

And Jay looked at me. “Do you want this?” he asked.

Dad turned. Saw me. “Son.” He signed, fumbling, making sure I could see his lips. His fingers shook. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“I know,” I said, and I made sure to sign slowly because Dad was looking so shaken. Afraid, of me? It made no sense.

“Being deaf is part of who you are,” Jay said. “Your father is scared you might hate him for wanting to remove it.”

“Oh!” I’d never thought of that, because I knew Dad didn’t hate me. I’ve had friends who would never just know that about their parents; I might not be lucky in a lot of things, but I am in Dad and Mom. Even Audrey, really.

I thought it over. There are people in the Deaf Community who would hate me if they knew that. But I did. I thought about my life, and the future. But mostly about how it would be made so that everyone knew I’d never been deaf. And what price Dad would pay for that. I asked, and Jay said he didn’t know.

I think he did. He was eleven and thirteen at the same time, so the future wasn’t some closed book to him. But maybe he couldn’t be sure what these fae would ask? I don’t know. I looked at Dad.

“If I wasn’t deaf, you’d drive me nuts with snoring too.”

And Dad laughed. Laughed and hugged me so tight it hurt. And then asked me to go back to bed. I did. Audrey might have tried to stay, but Jay would have known.

We left the next morning, after breakfast. Dad still gets lots, but I think not as much as he used to. We never did get to Swindon, and we’ve never been back to Jay’s Inn. And I don’t know if I’d ever want to. Some choices you never want to face again.