Jasper

Back and forth. Back and forth. The sliding of a book across a wooden dining room table. Back and forth. The pen gliding across it's lined pages. The sound leaving the room to focus on the two of us. Back and forth.

Walking into a coffee shop, I never thought I would meet a friend. But life tends to throw the best things at you when you least expect it. It was a Saturday afternoon. I was waiting for my latte at the end of the bar top when I saw someone getting very distraught at the counter. The cashier's voice was filling with frustration. I saw the desperation in his eyes, and I looked at his hands aimlessly trying to point at the signs.



"He's probably deaf, ma'am," I revealed as I started to walk back towards the line of about five people waiting to order.



With regret on her face, she consoled, "I'm so sorry sir. I had no idea. Let me get you a physical menu and you can show me what you mean."



He looked over at me while she bent down to search in the endless drawers for a menu he could use. He expressed his gratitude and I thought that was the end of it, but after he ordered he stood next to me as we both awaited our fresh cup of java. Both of us unsure of how to proceed.



Eventually, my name was called. I picked up my cup and sat down on a stool next to the large, modern coffee tables near the front door. I had left my keys at the bottom of my brown leather briefcase, so I was digging for them before I got up to leave and suddenly, the man appeared again next to me. This time, he had his hand in his bag. He slowly removed a large, black, leather notebook from his backpack. Looking at me with anticipation, I nodded to let him sit opposite of me at the table.

I saw him get out a pen and begin to write on the first page. I could tell their were pages ripped out before. I was sure if I had not told the cashier about his inability to hear or speak, she would've seen this page. Not me. When he finished, he placed the black pen neatly on the top of the page and slid the book across the table to me.



"What is your name? I am Jasper."



I looked up at him, almost amazed that he found a liking to me and wanted to know who I was.



"I am Benjamin," I wrote back and slid the book over just the same as he had done.



"Nice to meet you, Ben. Thanks for what you did today. It can be stressful going out."



"Of course. I'm happy to help. How long have you been deaf?"



He smiled when he wrote. I was glad he found a way to communicate with people he actually wanted to speak to. I thought about the many ways he probably had to use that book. Getting cashiers to understand what he wants, telling people he's deaf and can't understand what they're trying to say, asking people what's going on. I couldn't imagine having to do that for the rest of my life. That book must see so much.



Jasper had a radiant smile, and lightly green eyes, like a watercolor painting of green leaves on a pond. His brown thick hair, like a mop upon his head, lay across his large forehead. His style was impeccable. Dark blue jeans and a nicely-made polo shirt with black high-top shoes.



Jasper slid the book to me again, "I've been deaf for 10 years. Really bad car accident when I was 14. We tried everything, including hearing aids. Nothing works. But that's alright, I'm happy."



"What makes you happy? Not that you can't be, it's just," I wrote and realized I'd just written something in pen that might be offensive to say.



I wanted to be sensitive. It's a sensitive subject. And I felt like we were just warming up to each other, I honestly was growing a liking to him and didn't want to be rude. I knew that he was happy, by the way he carried himself. He was alright with who he was, and you could tell from a mile away. No matter how flustered he seemed with a cashier, it takes guts to even walk into a situation you know won't be easy for you. It takes pride in yourself. So how could I ask him what makes him happy?



I simply continued my thought, "it's just that I can see you're happy and I want to know why you've decided to be that way to a world that doesn't understand all of the time."

He smirked at my clear consideration and wrote back, "I am happy for me. I've grown to enjoy myself and that's not for other people. It's for me. The world doesn't always understand, but sometimes I find people like you who are willing to have a conversation with me. Not about being deaf and what it's like and how it feels, but about who I am."



I smiled and looked up at his long face, and he waved towards himself (a clear signal to toss his book back to him).



"It's those people that make me feel okay with going outside. I'm just Jasper. I'm not a deaf man, who can't understand anything."



He was phenomenal. Someone who listens and responds honestly, and with his whole heart. I admired that about him, he was different than so many other people. The entire world existed around him, like he was the person everyone talked about without even knowing who he was.



"I can see that, Jasper. You're an intelligent, young man who seems to be sure of himself. Honestly, you're the most patient and kind man I've met in a while."



Writing back and forth was kind of fun. It was a new way to communicate I had never experienced before. I wondered if he ever grew tired of it, tired of having to carry things like that around. Tired of having to do everything for everyone who couldn't understand him. He didn't seem like that type. The type to get annoyed maybe, but not the type to punish other people just because they didn't know everything.



I was that type. If the roles were reversed I don't think I would've sat down with him. I would've been frustrated, exhausted, not willing to talk to anyone. But Jasper. He let me in. He told me what his life was like, what his favorite movies were, which trail was the best to hike around town. He was different than most people.



He began to show me a few words in sign language. He laughed when I accidentally said a curse word instead of mom. I was a bit embarrassed, but eventually I laughed too. Things were going really well, and we didn't have a moment of silence between us. It felt like the entire world had stopped around us. We spent hours sitting in that coffee shop, going back and forth. Talking about life and what it meant.



"I think they're closing soon," he wrote with a somber smile.



I looked around me and noticed that workers were wiping down tables and we were the only two left sitting in chairs. A look of surprise fell across my face and Jasper gave a silent giggle.



"I think you're right. Could I get your phone number or something? I really had fun today..."



Strangely, anxiety filled my chest. I had no idea I was so invested in this man I didn't know yesterday. I handed him back the book. Without glancing up at me, the pen raced across the paper and was pushed again in front of me.



"Are you hitting on me?"

Looking back up, I saw his smirk as he stared straight into my miserable, distressed eyes.



I slowly answered, "Is that a no then?"



He looked at his book, now filled with pages of our conversations. He tore off a small piece of paper near the very edge and handed it to me as he stood.

"It's a yes."



When I reminisce on that day, I feel the same joy I felt when I saw the numbers on the back of a little slip of lined paper, from a black notebook that was sent back and forth for hours. I think about the fact that if he forgot that book at home, I would have never met my husband.