The Succession of Us

Part 3

The rest of Wednesday came and went, and the night passed, and, eventually, so did Thursday morning. Nate reaffirmed their get together for later that afternoon, but other than that, they didn't have much chance to talk in class, as it was mostly lecture that day. They got out late, and Iffy had to rush to her next class without saying 'goodbye.' It ate at her for the next hour and a half of class: what if he thought she was blowing him off? What if he thought she was rude? What if he thought --

It doesn't matter, she told herself. If he's worth my time, he'll understand.

He didn't even mention it when they met again in the student union after both of their classes had ended, simply asked,

Did you make it to your class in time?

Iffy smiled. She nodded and handed the phone back.

Nate turned away and gestured for her to join him. She fell into step beside him, sort of, but he had such long legs she almost had to speed walk to keep up.

Nate signed something, but all she understood was 'want' and 'signs.'

Iffy frowned. "Sorry, I only caught a little of that."

Nate nodded, pulled his phone back out of his pocket, and tapped in, Want to learn some relevant signs?

"Oh!" Iffy grinned. She handed the phone back. "Sure!"

Nate pocketed his phone and showed her each sign one at a time, fingerspelling it slowly, letter by letter, twice afterward so she could get it. Coffee, tea, cookie, milk, scone, chocolate, vanilla.

"How do you say raspberry?" Iffy asked. "Like, raspberry flavor?"

Nate showed her.

"I like chocolate and raspberry in my coffee," she signed.

Nate grinned. He signed something and then fingerspelled 'latte.'

"I like chocolate and raspberry in my latte," she repeated.

He gave her a thumbs up and gently patted her shoulder. Iffy laughed and leaned a little closer.

The coffee shop was small, but not cramped, with high, open ceilings and floor to roof windows. All the furniture was dark green, wood and plush alike. An interesting choice. But it fit well with the vibe: laid-back, relaxed, with '70s punk playing from the speakers overhead. Right now it was The Clash: "Should I Stay or Should I Go?"

There were two men at the counter, and Iffy couldn't help but feel outnumbered, because Nate slapped the hand of the one covered in tattoos and batted down the brim of the other one's hat, so it was clear they all knew each other and she was the odd one out.

"And who's this?" the hat one asked.

"Butterfly," Nate signed.

"Iffy," she said simultaneously.

The man looked over at her and said, "I'm Justin." He thumbed over at the other man, who grinned and waved. "This is Blue. Which name do you prefer?"

Iffy opened her mouth, then hesitated. She didn't want to be difficult or frustrating or annoying, and Nate had made up a name sign for her and everything. But Iffy was her name. It was hers, and not many things were, or had stayed so constantly over the years.

"Either is fine," she said, but it was unsure and unenthusiastic.

"Butterfly, then?" Justin said. "So we're all using the same name?" His eyes darted over her face, then he said, "Or I can call you Iffy and we can just use Butterfly as a name sign."