Chapter 3 - The Boy Who Saw Too Much
Dominic Russo’s townhouse looked nothing like Ava expected.
She had imagined marble lions, gold fixtures, and men with shoulder holsters standing beneath portraits of dead criminals.
Instead, the five-story limestone house on East Seventy-Second Street looked almost severe.
Beautiful, certainly.
But quiet.
Too quiet.
A security guard opened the door before Ava knocked.
“Ms. Collins.”
She stepped inside.
The foyer was pale stone and dark wood. Fresh flowers stood on a console table. Somewhere upstairs, a clock chimed ten.
The gray-suited man from the restaurant appeared.
“Good morning.”
“You have a name?”
“Anthony Moretti.”
“Do you always collect waitresses after midnight?”
“Only the memorable ones.”
Ava gave him a look.
Anthony smiled.
“Mr. Russo is in the library.”
Dominic stood beside a window when she entered.
No tie today.
White shirt. Dark pants. Sleeves rolled once.
He somehow looked more dangerous dressed casually.
“Sit.”
Ava remained standing.
“I have a shift at four.”
“I know.”
Of course he did.
Dominic indicated a chair.
This time she sat.
He took the opposite one.
“My son became deaf at four.”
Ava waited.
“Meningitis.”
Her chest tightened.
Same as Sophie.
Dominic continued.
“His mother, Elena, died two years later.”
“I’m sorry.”
His face gave nothing away.
“She was the person who understood him best.”
“You didn’t learn ASL?”
The question escaped before Ava could soften it.
Dominic’s gaze sharpened.
“I learned.”
“Enough to tell him to sit down and put on his shoes.”
“I can communicate with my son.”
“You needed me to translate him last night.”
Silence stretched between them.
Anthony, standing near the door, suddenly found the bookshelf fascinating.
Dominic leaned back.
“People usually spend more time deciding how to phrase things around me.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“For them or me?”
“Probably everybody.”
A corner of Anthony’s mouth twitched.
Dominic did not smile.
But he also didn’t throw her out.
“What do you charge?”
Ava blinked.
“For what?”
“Lessons.”
“I’m not an instructor.”
“You’re fluent.”
“That doesn’t make me qualified to teach.”
“It makes you more qualified than I am.”
That admission surprised her.
Dominic placed a folder on the table.
Inside was an employment proposal.
Three evenings per week.
Two hours each.
The amount at the bottom made Ava stare.
“This is ridiculous.”
“It is compensation.”
“It’s more than I make at Lavella in a month.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not taking this.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to owe you anything.”
For the first time, Dominic’s expression changed noticeably.
“You think working for me means owing me?”
“I think men like you rarely give without expecting something back.”
“Men like me.”
Ava met his eyes.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“Then understand something about me, Ms. Collins. When I want something, I say what I want. I want to understand my son.”
The room became very quiet.
“That is all.”
Ava looked at the contract again.
“Why now?”
His eyes moved toward the window.
“Because last night I watched a stranger make my child feel safer in thirty seconds than I have managed in months.”
There it was.
Not anger.
Shame.
Ava knew that emotion.
It had lived in her own family after Sophie lost her hearing.
Love did not automatically teach people how to communicate.
Sometimes love made failure hurt worse.
Ava closed the folder.
“I’ll do it.”
Dominic nodded.
“But not for this amount.”
His eyebrow rose.
“I’m serious.”
“You negotiate downward?”
“I’m apparently terrible at organized crime.”
Anthony coughed.
Dominic shot him a look.
Ava almost laughed.
They agreed on a smaller amount that was still absurdly generous.
The first lesson began immediately.
Eli came downstairs wearing jeans and a Yankees sweatshirt.
When he saw Ava, he stopped.
Then he ran.
Ava barely had time to stand before his arms wrapped around her waist.
Dominic froze.
So did Ava.
Eli released her and signed quickly.
You came.
I said I would.
He pointed at Dominic.
He said you might.
Ava looked at Dominic.
“That was optimistic of you.”
“I was negotiating.”
Eli looked between them.
What are you talking about?
Ava signed.
Your father needs homework.
Eli’s eyes lit up.
Dominic frowned.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you need homework.”
“I’m reconsidering this arrangement.”
Eli laughed.
That became lesson one.
Not vocabulary.
Not grammar.
Attention.
Ava made Dominic sit across from Eli with nothing between them.
“No phone.”
Dominic placed it aside.
“No Anthony interrupting.”
Anthony lifted both hands and left.
“No looking at me when Eli signs something you don’t understand.”
“What do I do?”
“Ask him.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“I don’t know how.”
Ava showed him.
Again, please.
He copied it.
His movements were stiff.
Eli corrected him.
Dominic tried again.
Then again.
Twenty minutes later, Eli was teaching his father the signs for dinosaurs because apparently Dominic had never needed to distinguish a triceratops from a velociraptor in his professional life.
Ava sat back and watched.
Something changed in that room.
Not dramatically.
But permanently.
Dominic stopped trying to control the conversation.
Eli stopped waiting to be misunderstood.
At the end, Dominic asked his son what he wanted for dinner.
Eli answered.
Dominic understood without looking at Ava.
His face changed.
One successful sentence.
That was all.
Yet Ava saw a father receive something priceless.
Afterward, Eli ran upstairs.
Dominic stood by the fireplace.
“You were right.”
Ava gathered her bag.
“About?”
“I know commands.”
She looked at him.
He stared at the empty doorway.
“I thought because I could tell him I loved him, that was enough.”
“It’s a start.”
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“It isn’t.”
Ava understood what he meant.
Love that could only travel one direction eventually became loneliness.
“Then learn.”
Dominic looked at her.
“I intend to.”
The next three weeks became a strange second life.
Ava served champagne and truffle pasta at Lavella by day and taught New York’s most intimidating man ASL by night.
Dominic was an infuriating student.
He hated mistakes.
He practiced until his hands cramped.
He memorized vocabulary at a speed that made Ava suspect he had built his entire life around never needing to be told anything twice.
Eli loved correcting him.
Their home slowly became louder despite containing very little sound.
Hands moved across breakfast.
Across hallways.
Across the back seat of cars.
One Thursday, Ava arrived to find Dominic and Eli arguing in ASL.
She stopped in the doorway.
Eli signed furiously.
You promised.
Dominic answered.
Work happened.
Work always happens.
Ava started backing away.
Dominic noticed her.
“Don’t.”
“I’m staying out of family arguments.”
“You started this.”
“I taught you grammar. I did not teach you how to win against an eight-year-old.”
Eli pointed at her triumphantly.
Dominic sighed.
The argument concerned a school science fair Dominic had missed.
Again.
Ava expected him to defend himself.
Instead, Dominic looked at Eli and signed slowly.
You are right.
Eli stopped.
I failed my promise.
Dominic continued.
I am sorry.
The boy’s anger cracked.
Ava looked away.
Later, while Eli showered, Dominic found her in the kitchen.
“You knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That apologizing would matter.”
“Everybody needs to know their hurt was seen.”
His gaze lingered on her.
“Who didn’t see yours?”
Ava’s breath caught.
He was too observant.
She turned toward her coat.
“I should go.”
“Ava.”
It was the first time he had used her first name.
She stopped.
“Why did you really learn sign language?”
Her hand tightened around the strap of her bag.
She could have lied again.
Instead, she said, “My sister.”
Dominic waited.
“Sophie became deaf after meningitis when she was thirteen.”
His expression softened.
“Like Eli.”
“Yes.”
“Where is she now?”
Ava looked down.
“She died when she was nineteen.”
Dominic said nothing for several seconds.
Then, quietly, “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
She left before he could see her cry.
The next morning, Ava arrived at Lavella to find Gerald waiting with an expression that made her stomach drop.
“What?”
He held out a folded piece of paper.
It had been left beneath the staff entrance.
No envelope.
No signature.
Six typed words.
STAY AWAY FROM THE RUSSO BOY.
Ava stared at them.
Gerald whispered, “Is this because of Dominic?”
Ava did not answer.
Because beneath the typed sentence was something far more frightening.
A hand-drawn symbol.
Two fingers crossed against the palm.
A sign.
One Sophie used to make when they were children.
A sign that meant only one thing in their private shorthand.
May you like
Danger.
And whoever had left the note knew Ava’s past.
