Give Me a Sign(64)

But the guard pins Isaac to the ground as the police car parks in front of us. The officer gets out, thoroughly unamused. He’s clean-shaven with a buzz cut. He walks leisurely up to the guard and Isaac, holding his belt with both hands. “What’s going on here?” he asks in a deep drawl.

“Can you help us?” I try to keep my voice level, but it wavers. “That guard grabbed him. Isaac can’t hear what you’re saying since he’s deaf.”

The officer squints toward me, holding up his hand. “Stay ——。” He motions for the guard to step back, then helps lift Isaac off the ground.

Isaac stands and carefully raises his scratched hands to his head, the bundle of friendship bracelets sliding down his arm. His face is pale, except for the red lines on his cheek. His brow is furrowed. There’s a gash above his left eye that is starting to bleed. His teeth are clenched tight, and his eyes, blinking rapidly from both pain and the nearby emergency lights, start to water.

The guard is saying something to the officer, but I can’t tell what. Or why he attacked Isaac. I get closer.

“Young lady,” the officer’s voice booms sternly.

“Excuse me,” I say, taking another step closer. Isaac gives the slightest head shake no, but I ignore him. “What is—”

The guard raises his voice to talk over me, but at least I can kind of tell what he’s saying now. “They —— and then stole —— when I called him to ——。”

“We didn’t steal anything,” I protest, but I am ignored.

The officer sizes up Isaac and his worn camp clothes. Isaac raises a hand to his forehead and brings it in front of his eyes to inspect the blood. He slowly wipes it on his sleeve, then holds one finger toward the officer.

“Why are you pointing at me?” the officer barks. The security guard slinks back toward the wall.

Isaac points toward his pocket. “My phone,” he signs cautiously, mouthing the words along with his signs to try to help the cop follow what he’s saying.

“He can’t hear you,” I tell the officer. “He’s deaf.”

“I’ve told you ——，” he shouts back, still not paying attention to me.

“I’m deaf and need to grab . . . ” Isaac slowly signs, bringing his hand down and motioning to the pocket with his phone.

“What are you doing?” the officer says. He reaches forward and pushes Isaac’s back against the patrol car, preparing to search him.

“I’m trying to tell you that he’s deaf!” I shout. While I know exactly what Isaac was signing, the officer must have no idea. Nor could he read Isaac’s lips.

“He’s what?” The officer pauses the pat-down and turns to look at me.

“Or if you have paper to write—” Isaac signs carefully.

Taking Isaac’s movement as a threat, the officer grabs him by the arm, spins him around, and handcuffs him behind his back.

“I’m telling you he’s deaf!” I shout again.

“Stand back.” The officer reaches to open the door of the police car, shoving Isaac, with his arms and primary method of communication bound behind his back, toward the seat. Isaac doesn’t step forward.

“He hasn’t done anything,” I say, my voice hoarse.

The officer pushes him again.

Isaac stands, frozen. He looks at me, tears in his eyes, lips quivering.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” I sign to him, trying not to cry. I feel so helpless.

The officer scrunches up his face and watches skeptically as I sign. “He’s deaf?”

“Yes, he can’t hear you,” I explain. “And he’s hurt because that guy grabbed him and—”

“Tell him —— in the car then while I ——，” the officer says.

“He wants you to get in the car,” I sign, my hands shaking. I’m so terrified of messing up right now, because the last thing I want is the officer to suspect that we’re bullshitting. I turn back to the cop. “But really, he didn’t do anything.”

“I still need to do some questioning inside,” the officer says. His voice softens. He says something else, but I can’t understand any of it now.

“But he needs a bandage or something,” I insist.

The officer’s voice is gruff again. “Then stop ——。 Right now, he needs to ——。 I don’t have all night.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong. Please.”

“I saw him assault the security guard,” the officer says, tired of this back-and-forth. He holds Isaac by the head and sets him inside the vehicle.

After shutting the door, the officer looks back at the guard, who is standing along the wall next to the store entrance, still wiping his bloody nose with a paper towel. “—— get the cashier for me?”

The guard hurries inside. He grabbed Isaac. Jumped on him. Started this whole thing. He’s the one who should be sitting in the car right now.

I approach the car door so I can try to sign to Isaac through the tinted windows, but the cop points to the pillar behind me. “Stand there against the wall and don’t move until I come speak to you.” I reluctantly take several steps back.

The security guard returns to the door with the cashier. The officer huddles with them for only a few minutes, jotting notes on a little pad of paper, before the cashier walks away. The security guard comes outside, picks up the snacks Isaac dropped, and carries them back inside. The officer returns to me.