The Life Intended by Kristin Harmel Page B

How’s the weather, when the dark-haired woman scoots her chair toward me.
    “I’m Amy,” she says.
    “Kate.” I shake her hand. “So you were here last week?”
    She nods. “I work at a bank; I’ve been meaning to learn the basics of sign language for a while because we have a few regular customers who are deaf.”
    “Well, that’s nice of you.”
    “Actually, that’s a lie.” She shrugs. “I mean, I do work at a bank. But a friend of mine took this class last semester and told me how hot the instructor is. I figured it was worth the price of the course to see for myself.”
    I smile and follow her eyes toward Andrew, who’s shuffling through a stack of papers. “I guess he’s pretty cute,” I say. “In a nerdy professor kind of way.”
    “Yeah, if Matt Damon was playing the role of nerdy professor,” she says with a laugh. “Looks like you already have someone anyhow. Good. Less competition for me.”
    I follow her gaze to my left hand and am almost startled to see a ring on my finger. “Oh, right. I’m still getting used to this thing.”
    “Well, you’re lucky,” she says. “Dating in New York is a nightmare. Hang on to that guy.”
    I force a smile, feeling uneasy. After all, I’m here because of my old husband, not my future one. “I will,” I tell her anyhow. Then, because it’s polite, I add, “I’m sure your guy is out there.”
    She glances at Andrew. “Or in here.”
    We’re interrupted by the arrival of a sixtysomething woman with her hair dyed carrot orange. She’s wearing a long purple skirt, a black sweater, and a flowing green scarf that grazes the ground. “Sorry I’m late!” she says, still panting from her rush down the stairs. “Begin, begin, don’t wait for me!”
    Andrew smiles at her. “Ah, Vivian,” he says. Then he signs something to her as she slides into the seat to my right.
    She looks perplexed. “I assume that means ‘Get your act together, crazy lady,’ ” she says.
    He laughs. “It actually just means welcome to class.”
    She sighs loudly in mock relief and wipes the back of her hand across her forehead. Andrew waits to begin while she digs in her giant bag for a notebook and a pen.
    “Ladies and gentleman, welcome to our second night of American Sign Language for Beginners,” he says, pausing to go around the room and lock eyes with each of us. “Vivian, Amy, Diane, Shirley, Greg, you all began this journey last week. Let’s all give our newest student, Kate, a big welcome.”
    I expect a smattering of claps, or a chorus of hellos, but instead, Vivian and Amy both give me what appears to be a salute, and the others move their outstretched, upturned right hands toward their rib cages. I glance at Andrew, who grins at me. “Kate, Vivian and Amy just said hello, and the others said welcome .” He turns his attention back to the rest of the room. “Great job, guys! I see you retained at least some of what I taught you last week. Kate, how about saying hello back?”
    I hesitate, feeling foolish, but Vivian smiles encouragingly, and I give her a weak salute.
    “Great start, Kate,” Andrew encourages. “But make sure you own the action. In American Sign Language, hesitating or flimsy-arming, as I call it, is sort of like mumbling out loud. Want me to show you how to thank your classmates for welcoming you?”
    “Uh, sure,” I say.
    “Watch this,” he says. He puts his right hand in front of his chin, just below his lips, and moves it outward, almost like he’s blowing me a kiss. “That’s thank you, ” he says. “You try it.”
    I put my hand in front of my chin uncertainly, but he arches an eyebrow, so I finish the motion with a definitive kiss-blowing motion forward.
    “Nice!” he says. “You’re a natural. Now, folks, I know we learned a bunch of basic phrases last time, and I’ll show those to Kate after class. Today, I thought it would be handy to learn and memorize the alphabet, and then we can conclude the session with