The Silence Between Us

by Alison Gervais

  It didn’t always look the same way, but this was pretty much an everyday occurrence for me, someone getting weirded out for some reason or another because of my lack of hearing. Most people never said hello or good morning to me in the hallways at school, and some still stared whenever I started fiddling with my hearing aids or changed their batteries, even though my first day at Engelmann had been months ago.

  Outside of school was even worse. Anywhere I went I almost always received the look, that pitying one I hated so much, even if I was doing something as simple as helping Mom grocery shop. And nobody needed that.

  So, what was the future going to look like for me and Beau if he got upset and angry over something like this anytime it happened? Beau worked hard for the things he achieved, and I knew that, but he’d never have to work the way I did just to get the simple things some people were handed on a silver platter.

  On my way up the driveway after saying good-bye to Beau, I started to wonder if it was finally time to start addressing the differences between our two worlds.

  CHAPTER 31

  Something in Mrs. Stephens’ expression seemed a tad bit more shrewd than normal. Our biweekly appointments after school to stay current with everything college usually went off without a hitch. We got into a routine of getting right down to business, Kathleen interpreting as she stood behind Mrs. Stephens’ desk while we discussed my current grades, filled out the necessary forms to register for orientation, and the like.

  But maybe there was just something off about my face today that made Mrs. Stephens brush aside the packet I got in the mail about freshman orientation and ask, “. . . there something wrong?”

  I looked to Kathleen while she finished interpreting what Mrs. Stephens was saying. Kathleen was signing, YOU LOOK UPSET.

  I’d done my best to put the Steaming Bean incident from my mind. I got through another round of job applications and was currently waiting for any response before Mom told me I needed to hit the pavement and do some “face time” with potential employers.

  As discouraging as the whole Steaming Bean thing had been, and even if Mom had already told me when I’d hinted that our finances might be rough that we were doing all right, I still needed to get a job.

  But no matter how many times I would deny it to Beau and Mom, the Steaming Bean incident had thrown me off. I spent more time thinking about it than I should have, wondering if they really had filled the position or if they just said that because they didn’t want to pay for an interpreter. I was pretty sure if I put this out there to my friends back at Pratt, they’d probably be able to share similar experiences.

  FINE, I signed, looking back and forth between Kathleen and Mrs. Stephens. BUSY A LOT.

  Mrs. Stephens nodded as she listened to Kathleen speak and said, “Senior year . . . busy. . . . anything . . . bothering . . . ?”

  “I’m fine,” I said aloud this time.

  There was this moment when I thought Mrs. Stephens wasn’t about to let subject drop, but she relented after a couple of tense beats.

  I looked back to Kathleen as she jumped into interpreting again while Mrs. Stephens started shuffling things around on her desk.

  GOOD IDEA IF WE CONTACT C-A-R-T-W-R-I-G-H-T FOR APPOINTMENT, Kathleen was signing.

  FOR? I signed in confusion. DORM? CLASS?

  Mrs. Stephens shook her head and Kathleen signed, FOR INTERPRETER.

  I grudgingly had to accept she had a point. Mrs. Stephens admitted she’d never worked with a Deaf student before and was unsure how long it would take to arrange for an interpreter to accompany me to all my classes and labs during my time at Cartwright.

  By the time I left Mrs. Stephens’ office, we’d been able to schedule an appointment with the Disability Resource Office on Cartwright’s campus for next Tuesday afternoon.

  NO WORRY, Kathleen signed to me in the hallway outside Mrs. Stephens’ office. NO PROBLEM WITH INTERPRETER. PROMISE.

  I HOPE, I signed back.

  A miniscule drop of doubt had settled into the back of my mind at the thought of not being able to get an interpreter for my college classes. I waved good-bye to Kathleen and backtracked to my locker on the other side of the school.

  Ever since Beau and I had become whatever we were now, he’d been perfectly happy to drive me home after school. Getting the ten extra minutes with him each day was fantastic. But there had been a quiet tension between us since the Steaming Bean. I knew exactly what it was and what caused it—that talk about cochlear implants and how he’d seemed to think things would magically become easier for me if I got one.

  I just wasn’t ready to face it with everything else on my plate. If Beau and I kept on the way we were going, it’d come out soon enough.

  I checked my phone after I grabbed everything I’d need for homework from my locker and saw that I had a text from Beau, letting me know he was waiting for me in the library. I found him at one of the tables across from the librarian’s desk, deeply engrossed in AP Statistics homework.

  He looked up when I took a seat across the table from him and gave me a smile. No matter how weird it sometimes seemed like things had become between us because of the Steaming Bean incident, being on the receiving end of one of Beau’s smiles still got me feeling warm in some funny places.

  “How was . . . appointment?” he asked, flipping his textbook shut.

  FINE, I signed to him. SET UP MEETING FOR INTERPRETER.

  A look of confusion crossed Beau’s face and he signed, WHY?

  “It’ll be the same as Kathleen,” I said with my voice. “I’ll need an interpreter going with me to each of my classes every day.”

  Beau nodded and signed, TRUE.

  I sat there waiting while he gathered up his homework things and shoved it all in his backpack, and we left the library together. The ride home was uneventful, and my thoughts were tangled up with what Mrs. Stephens said about arranging an interpreter for my first year of college.

  College was going to look a lot different for me and chances were I wasn’t going to get lucky twice and wind up with a great interpreter like Kathleen. But I’d made friends with Nina and Beau at Engelmann. It shouldn’t be too much to hope that the same would happen at Cartwright on the friendship front.

  THANK YOU, I signed to Mom as she parked in the lot just outside Cartwright’s administration building. I KNOW YOU BUSY, BUT—

  Mom waved a hand to cut me off, signing, FINE, with an exasperated smile. COLLEGE IMPORTANT, she added, yanking the keys from the ignition.

  I KNOW, I signed in agreement.

  That still didn’t make me feel any less guilty for pulling Mom away for a few hours to take me to meet with the Disability Resource Office in the middle of a school and work day.

  DON’T WORRY, Mom signed to me on our trek through the parking lot up to the building’s entrance. THEY FIND YOU INTERPRETER, EASY.

  I did my best to muster up a smile, not sure what to sign or say.

  The Disability Resource Office was on the building’s fourth floor, and it was a tense ride up in the elevator even though Mom kept giving me comforting squeezes and signing, YOU FINE, multiple times.

  There was determination in my step on my way down the hallway to the office. I held myself with as much dignity as I could muster, pressing the office’s doorbell and waiting to get buzzed in. Mom stuck close to my side on the way over to the front desk where the receptionist sat, and I said, “We’re here to see Nadine Frederickson.”

  The receptionist nodded with a polite smile and reached for her desk phone to make a call. A moment later, Mom tapped on my arm and pointed to the other side of the miniscule waiting room where a woman was opening a door. The woman seemed pleasant enough as she came forward to introduce herself and shake our hands. She was wearing a nametag with Cartwright’s logo on it that said her name was Nadine Frederickson, Director of Disability Resources.

  “Nice to meet . . .” Nadine said, then gestured behind her. “. . . my office?”

 
We followed her back to her office, a tiny space barely bigger than a closet and yet still equipped with a full-size desk, computer, filing cabinet, and two chairs for guests. I took a seat while Mom remained standing, moving over to stay in my line of sight to interpret.

  There were a couple moments where Nadine shuffled things around on her desk and typed some stuff into her computer, not saying anything. I looked to Mom for an indication of what was going on, and she just shrugged. When Nadine finally turned in her chair to address us, the corners of her mouth were tucked into a frown.

  WHAT’S WRONG? I signed to Mom immediately.

  There was a slight pause as Mom listened to what Nadine began to say, and then her face started to fall too.

  WHAT’S WRONG? I signed again, leaning forward in my seat.

  When Nadine was finished speaking—speaking only to Mom, ugh—Mom finally started signing to me, and she didn’t seem all that thrilled.

  COLLEGE NEED PROOF YOU DEAF, was the first thing she signed to me.

  I slipped both my hearing aids off and set them on Nadine’s desk, signing, HERE.

  “. . . need . . . hearing . . .” Nadine said with a wince, purposefully not looking at my hearing aids.

  TEST, Mom signed to me when I looked back at her. A-U-D-I-O-G-R-A-M. Getting a copy of my last test from years ago was no big deal. It would just take a day or two.

  Mom kept her attention fixed on Nadine while she spoke before signing to me. What she signed just about knocked the air out of my lungs and made me grab at the arms of my chair for support.

  “There’s a wait list for interpreters?” I said out loud.

  A LOT O-F DEAF STUDENTS APPLY RECENTLY, Mom signed to me while Nadine started talking a mile a minute. THAT GOOD, BUT NOT A LOT O-F INTERPRETER HERE FOR EDUCATION RIGHT NOW, AND—

  I stopped Mom mid-sign, holding up a hand. “Wait a minute. If there’s a wait list for interpreters, how long will it take me to get one?”

  My brain was firing off questions faster than I could get my hands to sign, so I was stuck using my voice.

  Nadine went palms up, a bit anxious now as she looked back and forth between me and Mom. “Maybe . . . ?”

  Mom’s eyes widened at whatever Nadine told her, and she both said and signed, REALLY?

  HOW LONG? I signed to Mom, my nerves jangling.

  Mom signed back, DON’T KNOW. I HOPE SOON.

  “So . . . so . . .” I licked my lips a few times, my mouth uncomfortably dry now. “What does that . . . ?”

  Nothing was happening the way it was supposed to. Not having an interpreter available right this instant wasn’t the end of the world because fall semester didn’t start until the end of this coming August. But I didn’t want to wait a whole semester to start college.

  HEY, Mom signed at me. YOU OK?

  FINE, I signed. ALL DONE NOW?

  Mom signed, WAIT. She spent a few more minutes talking with Nadine before she signed, OK, ALL DONE.

  Nadine escorted us out of her office and waved us off with a courteous smile, but I chose to ignore that. Mom started signing to me again on our way back to the car, but I couldn’t pay attention. What if I had to withdraw my application from Cartwright because there was no available interpreter for me? What if I had to wait years?

  Anger didn’t really seem like the right word to describe what I was currently feeling. This was a lot more complex than that.

  There were thousands of Deaf people out there like me wanting to get into college and expand their education. Yet suddenly there weren’t enough interpreters to go around? This wasn’t sitting right with me. Chances were I was just jumping to conclusions here, but I had this unsettling thought that maybe it was because nobody expected Deaf people to actually go to college.

  Mom got the car unlocked and climbed in the driver’s seat, but I just stood there, resting my forehead against the window, begging my brain to quiet down. I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I felt Mom’s hand on my shoulder, gently urging me to turn around and face her.

  WHAT’S WRONG? Mom signed, keeping one hand tight on my shoulder.

  WHAT HAPPEN IF COLLEGE CAN’T FIND ME INTERPRETER? I signed as I sucked in a shaky breath of air.

  THEY WILL, Mom signed, pointing back at the administration building. PATIENT, she added, tapping a finger to my forehead.

  I tried to keep signing, but my hands seemed incapable of cooperating the way I wanted. “I thought I’d tackled the hardest part,” I told Mom. “Getting into college and all that. But now this? I know you say they’ll get me an interpreter eventually, but . . . what if this is a sign I’m not supposed to go into respiratory therapy?”

  Mom took my face in her hands and very clearly said, “Adjust . . . expectations.”

  She pressed a kiss to my forehead before she let me go and took a step back, and then she signed, LIFE NOT WORK HOW WE THINK.

  I KNOW, I signed back quickly. BUT—

  NO, YOU DON’T KNOW, Mom signed in disagreement. YOU YOUNG. NEED TIME.

  I tried to respond, but Mom kept cutting me off before I could get more than a few signs in.

  YOU SAD NOW, I UNDERSTAND, she signed, her movements very firm. BUT YOU NEED FOCUS. THINGS WILL IMPROVE.

  She finished making her point by signing, PATIENT, again.

  Unfortunately, patience had never been my strong suit.

  CHAPTER 32

  It wasn’t the warmest day outside, but I thought I could use a change of scenery during lunch. After the events of yesterday, I wasn’t up for much talk today, and I knew Nina and Beau would want every detail of my visit to Cartwright.

  There were a bunch of picnic tables set up in the small courtyard outside the cafeteria, and I had my pick since almost no one was going to venture out into the cold to enjoy their sandwiches. I dropped my backpack onto the ground next to the table on the far side of the courtyard and sat down. Wallowing had never been my favorite pastime, but I couldn’t snap myself out of it.

  I just about jumped out of my skin when a hand came down on my shoulder, and the breath I’d sucked in came out in a rush when I saw Beau and Nina standing there behind me, looking as shocked as I felt at their sudden appearance. They both signed, SORRY, while I worked to breathe properly again.

  FINE, I signed back, one hand still at my chest.

  SURE? Nina signed, taking a spot at the picnic table across from me. YOU LOOK . . .

  Apparently, she couldn’t come up with the appropriate sign to describe what I looked like, so she settled for saying, “. . . off.”

  I looked back and forth between Nina and Beau as Beau took a seat across the table from me too, debating telling them what happened yesterday. I mean, they were my friends. Okay, maybe Beau was a little more than just a friend. But they still might not understand exactly how devastating the news was, and I wasn’t in the mood for false cheer. In the end, I explained what happened at the Disability Resource Office yesterday, trying not to get emotional about it all over again.

  SORRY, Beau and Nina signed in unison when I finished my story.

  “. . . seems like they . . . find . . . interpreter,” Nina continued, resting her chin in her hands. “. . . just take time.”

  I KNOW, I signed, exhaling heavily. “But . . . is it so bad that for once in my life I just want things to work out?”

  “What do . . . mean?” Beau asked with a frown.

  I started tapping out a beat on the tabletop with my fingers, trying to formulate my thoughts into something that would make sense.

  “Ever since I lost my hearing I’ve had to put in ten times the amount of effort just to keep on top of things, you know? Like in school and pretty much every other aspect of my life. I mean, I honestly worried I wasn’t going to get into college because I’m Deaf. And now this? I mean, I wouldn’t change anything about my life, but can’t I just have this one simple thing?”

  I THINK . . . Beau started to sign hesitantly, UNDERSTAND.

  “You do?” I said, feeling a bit skept
ical. Wasn’t like he’d run into this situation before.

  Beau signed, YES, and glanced over at Nina for backup.

  Nina took her time responding.

  “. . . think . . . will . . . worth . . . wait,” she said, putting on a smile. “Hard work pays . . .”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said, that feeling of defeat working its way through me again. I cared about my friends, I really did, and I knew they cared about me too, but they weren’t helping right now.

  HEY, Beau signed to get my attention. OK?

  The earnest and concerned look on his face was so endearing I couldn’t keep the tiny smile from tugging at my lips.

  FINE, I signed, and this time I kind of meant it.

  Beau broke out into a grin too and reached across the table to curl his hand around my own.

  “. . . know . . . adore each other,” Nina said with a pretend-exasperated expression. “But let’s . . . about something happier . . . like Maya’s . . .”

  “My what?” I said in confusion.

  BIRTHDAY, Beau signed for me. SOON, RIGHT?

  I felt caught off guard at the mention of my birthday because I’d honestly forgotten it was coming up. There were a few more important things on my plate at the moment besides my eighteenth birthday.

  But it was touching that Nina and Beau had remembered my birthday when I’d completely spaced on it. They paid more attention to some things about myself than I did. I was just beginning to dread whatever was about to come out of Nina’s mouth because I knew that calculating look in her eyes.

  “And?” I said, deciding to play it cool so Beau and Nina would see that I did not want to make a big deal out of my birthday.

  YOUR BIRTHDAY! Nina signed, giving me this look that clearly said, duh!

  “Yes, well, I’m choosing to ignore my birthday this year,” I said, slapping a hand down on the table. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “No way,” Beau said with an incredulous look. “. . . turning eighteen.”