Someone Else's Ocean

“I could say different about where I came from. I suffered from overstimulation. What do you teach?”

“Linguistics and American Sign Language and sometimes I dabble in creative writing.”

“Professor Kemp?” I mused, unable to picture him instructing a classroom. “You went from the Marines to teach?”

“Actually, it was my wife’s doing. My ex-wife, Tara. When we discovered our daughter was deaf, I dabbled in speech, speech pathology, audiology, and linguistics. She pushed me in the direction of teaching. I used to write letters to her when I was stationed overseas. She thought I had a knack for it.”

“So, you started it mostly for your daughter?”

He nodded. “I taught some classes at her school for a few years when she began attending.”

“Sign language is fascinating.”

He nodded thoughtfully and let Disco free. She ran straight toward me and jumped through my feet attacking my flip-flops.

“I agree. I spent years studying the language and the culture. And with Ella’s disability, it seemed a natural progression,” he shrugged.

“None of this is impressive at all,” I said sarcastically.

“Tara was more in tune with the Marine, I think. Her pursuit for me career-wise actually backfired.”

“Did you see yourself in this career?”

“I didn’t see myself as anything. I joined the Marines to buy time to figure it out.”

“And just so happened to finish some of the hardest military training in the world?”

Ian shrugged. “It was either that or go to college for a useless degree.”

“Touché.”

“Pardon?”

“I agree with you. I am a proud owner of one of those useless degrees.”

He winced. “Sorry.”

“I’m not. I’m glad I’m not wasting any more time.” I nodded toward his full erase board. “So, teach me something, professor.”

“This doesn’t interest you.”

“Everything interests me.” I scooped up Disco and took a seat on the corner of his couch. “Were you practicing in here?”

He scrunched his nose as if he smelled something bad. “Practicing? I don’t need practice. This is a list of lectures.”

“Where do you teach now?”

“Nowhere at the moment. I’m hoping for a position at my daughter’s new school.”

“So, teach me, here, in St. Thomas.”

Ian bit his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I know what you’re doing. Did my mother put you up to this?”

“Yes, your mother prodded Disco to whine all night and forced me over here to snoop at your dry erase board. My education awaits, Professor Kemp.”

“And what was your major?”

“I got a master’s in business, got my real estate license, joined a firm and blew a $2 billion deal because I had a panic attack. I should have joined the Marines, it might have made a better woman out of me. Now, teach me something.”