Intertwined (UK version)

Post

"Luc-y!" Ms. Mendez sing-songed from the kitchen, her voice carrying all the way up to the second floor.

Luz Valdez cringed at the dead name from their bed room, but answered the call reluctantly. They flopped out of bed and made their way down the stairs, entering the kitchen. Their mother, who was never seen without a rosary around her neck, was a woman with thinning brown hair and the stature of a deer that looked nothing like Luz, who looked more like a cat: more lithe and sleek and athletic.

"Go get the post for me, please." Their mother stood at the stove, preparing a breakfast of eggs and sizzling bacon and Luz could smell some toast toasting. But as good as the breakfast looked and smelled, Luz nodded and did as they were told.

They retrieved a short stack of mail from the letter box just outside the door. Number One-Forty-Three Sterling Stream Rd. sat in a full, busy neighborhood. Being a stones throw from Kings Cross Station didn't help the fact, either. The houses sat nearly on top of each other, leaving little to no space in between, some having small, skinny trees out front.

Most neighbors were kind enough, albeit a bit avoiding of Luz. It wasn't because of Luz's appearance that never really fit the gender binary. Their short, curly hair would make even Little Orphan Annie a bit envious. No, it wasn't because of the dark tan pigment of their skin (it was the 21st century for godssake, that would be appalling).

It was because of the hearing aids that sat in their ears, a constant reminder to others of what Luz lacked. It was because of the rapid signs they and their friends would throw at each other, bantering in good fun, while walking home from school from the bus stop.

Luz was mute since birth and deaf since losing their hearing as a toddler. They now relied on hearing aids that they would turn off at school and back on once they got home. They were enrolled in an all deaf school in Kings Cross, London where they quickly became fluent in British Sign Language, or BSL, and had taught their mother some necessary signs, but usually they conversed through yes or no questions answered with head nodding or shaking.

Soon enough Luz returned indoors with a stack of mail. They bumped the front door shut again with the tap of their hip as they busied their hands by glancing through the post. Bills. Bills. Flyer. Magazine subscription. Junk. Another bill. They lazily flipped through the letters until they reached one that contrasted against the others. This one was thicker, like it contained a few papers, and a bit yellowed with a bright red wax seal with a fancy looking emblem embossed in it. It looked like it was sent straight from the 1700s.

Luz flipped it over and read the address that was written on it:

L. Valdez
The First Upstairs Bedroom to the Right
143 Sterling Stream Rd.
Kings Cross, Islington, London

They blinked a few times to make sure they read it correctly. The First Upstairs Bedroom to the Right? That was oddly specific, which didn't help the feeling that someone was watching where Luz lived and slept. Was someone stalking them?!

They thought quickly.

Luz tucked the letter in the waistband of their joggers, knowing their mother would immediately confiscate when she learned it was addressed to Luz (and so specifically at that). They pulled their t-shirt over it, effectively hiding the letter, and made their way back to the kitchen with the rest of the post.

Luz's mother still stood at the counter, finishing up the breakfast. Luz tapped on the counter to get her attention and plopped the post on the kitchen table, feeling the rough paper rub against their waist as they moved.