“Natasha doesn’t really like to voice most of the time.” He holds up a finger, pausing his signing and speaking as he takes another sip. “She went through a rough patch a few years ago. Her dad had a heart attack, and she was with him when it happened. He was unconscious. She couldn’t communicate well with the paramedics. When they got to the hospital, the video interpreting service they used instead of a physical interpreter was lagging and impossible to use, so she had to write back and forth with nurses to try to find out what was going on. She felt like the hospital staff wasn’t updating her because they found it too difficult to share information with her.”
“That is frustrating.” Despite my own hearing loss, I’ve never been in a situation quite like that. People tend to work to communicate with me because I speak. In terms of accessibility, I can sympathize, but I also feel guilty about moving through the world more freely.
“And when she was finally allowed to see him, they called for her from the desk, and she didn’t hear it. They knew she was deaf, but no one bothered to go and inform her.” Ethan frowns.
“Wait, they didn’t even try to get her attention or anything?”
“Nope. After waiting a long time, she went up with a note written out on her phone demanding to see him. And, yeah . . . after that she got the cochlear implant.”
“I didn’t know she got it that recently.” I’d assumed she’d had it since childhood, like most of the kids at camp.
“Yeah, her mom helped her, but her dad wasn’t happy. Their whole family is Deaf, going back generations. He thought that by getting the surgery she was turning her back on Deaf culture.”
“What? I mean, she’s still deaf, even with the cochlear.” Most hearing parents run to get their babies surgery as soon as they’re deemed candidates for the implant. I understand the situation is more complicated with Deaf parents, but Natasha deciding she wanted it doesn’t make her any less Deaf. She’s in the corner now, sipping her drink and signing one-handed with Isaac and Jaden. No one would mistake her for hearing, especially seeing the magnet on the side of her head.
“Some Deaf don’t see it that way,” Ethan says and signs. He refills his drink. “They see it as attempting to fix something that isn’t broken. They want people in the community to sign, not speak.” He takes a long pause. “It took her a while to recover from the surgery. She almost had to repeat a year of school but was able to do enough summer classes to graduate on time.”
“Wow,” I say. “That’s a lot.”
I immediately want to take back every time I’ve been annoyed with Natasha for sticking with signing when she could jump in with voice. If she doesn’t want to, she shouldn’t ever feel like she has to. She must’ve been fed up with the world to want surgery against her parents’ wishes. I don’t know what I would’ve done in that situation. But I get why she seems annoyed that with the implant, she’s expected to be a go-between.
“Yeah, that’s why a place like camp is so important—people can find their own Deaf identities.” He takes another long gulp of beer and sighs before muttering to himself, “That’s why the money ——。”
“We still need to raise more money?” I ask.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he signs, taking a sip. “Some donations but still a little short. We’re working on it.” He smiles reassuringly, then wanders off from the bar.
The bar is crowded, but I don’t feel my normal urge to leave a social situation early or hide off in a corner. I don’t have my hearing aids in to pick up on headache-triggering noises, since the automated devices would be unsure which sounds to zone in on, cutting in and out while focusing on different things around me. Conversing with Ethan was the perfect balance of lipreading, hearing some phrases, and following along with his casual one-handed signing as he held his drink in the other hand. I may actually get through the night without listening fatigue.
But I’m concerned about what Ethan let slip about the camp finances. We don’t have enough raised yet to guarantee next year?
While drinking my water, I notice Isaac looking this way. I stand and am about to head over to my dance partner when two guys walk through the door. I wave to the guy in the gray sweater, assuming it’s Oliver, but apparently Ben has borrowed the top for the evening. As Ben beelines to the bar to get their drinks, Oliver rushes over to me. “So . . .” The smile grows across his face.
“So . . . I’m so sorry we haven’t had the chance to chat yet.” I try to project so the music doesn’t drown out my voice. “What’s up? I hope you’re at least having fun hanging out with Ben. Since the two of you are all alone by the lake.”
“Well.” Oliver smiles, glancing over his shoulder before leaning toward me, keeping his mouth in clear view as he whispers, “It’s precisely that.”
“It’s what?” I’m not following.
“The two of us ——。” Oliver leans forward, eagerly awaiting my response.
“Oh? Wait, you mean . . .” I squeal. Despite our somewhat flirty friendship, Oliver and I have remained platonic. But now it’s clear that those nights when I hung out at the lake, Ben wasn’t the third wheel—I was.
“It’s new. Shh.” Oliver motions to play it cool as Ben comes over with their drinks.
“—— looks like a party!” Ben calls out. “Can’t get a bloody Uber ——。”
“We can —— ride back ——，” Simone offers, leaning away from Bobby at the bar to drop in on our conversation. “Lilah’s driving.”
Bobby, already bored, walks off, unfolding his cane to navigate to the pool table in the dim light.
“When did everyone decide that I’m driving?” I ask. “Seriously, when did I sign up for this?”
“We’ll take any lift we can get,” Ben shouts over the noise.
Oliver laughs. “We had to call a taxi company to ——。”
“Sorry, it’s loud in here and hard for me to hear you,” I say. “I’m not wearing my hearing aids.”
“No worries,” Oliver shouts. “When did you get your ——？”
“My . . . period?” I drop my eyebrows, speaking before realizing I clearly misheard him. “Okay, that can’t be right.”
Oliver chuckles. “Your hearing aids,” he says, enunciating carefully.
“Oh, that makes a lot more sense,” I say, shaking off my embarrassment. “I got them when I was a baby. The period was many years later.”
“I’d hope so,” Ben says, chuckling. “How’d they —— keep them in your ears?”
“I wore a little bonnet thing.” I demonstrate tying it. The headpiece kept my baby hands from yanking out the devices.
“That’s cute,” Oliver says.
“So did you two know each other before camp?” I ask them.
Ben shakes his head.
“But get this,” Oliver says. “Turns out we go the same ——。”