The interpreter’s been moving nonstop this entire show, breathing as much life into her signs as she can.
And when a song I know well comes on, I sign right back at her, letting my hands fly, careful not to move too much so Isaac won’t lose his footing beneath me. For some of the other songs, a lot of the ASL went over my head, but as I sign along to this one, I think I may be getting the hang of this. Just maybe, I’m finally figuring out this whole hearing-loss thing.
Chapter Thirty-one
I can’t believe it’s the last morning already. Didn’t I arrive at Gray Wolf just a week or two ago? How is it possible that the entire summer has gone by? I’m not ready to leave this place, these people.
We have to be off the grounds by ten, so Ethan instructs us to meet at the footbridge to the parking lot. “There’s something we want you all to see,” he explains.
“As I’m sure you’ve all already noticed, my construction guy is here this morning to attend to some quick cabin repairs,” Gary says. “But I had him put this together first. This used to be a staple of our camp’s former glory.”
We exit the wooden area into the parking lot, where above us is a brand-new, towering entryway arch, with a proud and friendly wolf front and center. Written in both English and ASL lettering is Camp Gray Wolf.
My eyes water. “I love it. And I know all of our campers, new and old, will love it next year, too.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Ethan agrees. “Let’s all get a photo underneath it.”
We gather to document our final moments of the season, smiling wide at the camera that’s propped up against the side mirror of the camp van, waiting for the flash to go off.
Then Gary runs back to set up another shot, just in case. What summer camp will Gary end up at next year, since he’s passing on the mantle to Ethan? Or will he hang up his tie-dye for a season? I’m sure Ethan’s de facto uniform will be a whole closet of Deaf-pride attire.
“Let’s take a silly one!” Mackenzie says and signs, because of course she does. She already told me she’ll be back and offered to video call with me so we can “practice our ASL together.” I’m not sure I’ll take her up on it, but I appreciate the offer.
Unfortunately, Simone and Bobby aren’t planning to come back—at least, not for a full summer. Maybe they’ll pop in for a visit, or volunteer for a few days . . . or stop by to drop off wedding invitations. Who really knows with those two?
Natasha and Jaden will still be in town for a few weeks before heading to college. They’ve invited me to hang out in the city with them and Ethan. I’m so relieved they don’t think I’m slowing them down anymore, or at least I’ve endeared myself to them enough that they no longer care.
If only Isaac had more time before school. He’s standing beside me, putting bunny ears behind my head, but soon he’ll be over a thousand miles away at Gallaudet University in Washington, DC. When we finish taking pictures, Isaac wraps his arms around me.
“I’ll miss you,” I lean back and sign, willing myself not to cry.
“I’ll miss you, too.” He hugs me tight but doesn’t say anything else.
Our future seems so up in the air. Is this a breakup? Were we ever really “dating,” or was this just a summer romance? I want so badly for this to not to be the last time I see him.
“You’ll text me?” I ask, barely conveying the whole range of emotions I’m experiencing right now but hoping he’ll read my facial expression.
He squeezes me tight. “Of course.”
He bends down to kiss me. I reach up to pull his face close to mine, not ready to let go. We’ve been through so much together this summer. It’s not fair that time is now tearing us apart. I want another month here, or a week—heck, even a single additional day. Anything to sit near the fire under the stars with Isaac by my side.
But life has to move on.
Chapter Thirty-two
I’ve been home for a month, but it’s taken a while to settle back in with Kelsey and Riley after an entire summer immersed in Deaf culture.
On our way back from hanging out Friday after school, I finally decided to speak with them about what I need. “You can tap me to get my attention. Like, instead of calling my name a million times.”
I had to address this mainly because I’ve been instinctively tapping them, and they were getting annoyed. But it opened up the conversation, and I dove into other accommodations, such as letting me sit in the middle. Putting captions on without complaining when we watch TV. Rephrasing things that need repeating, rather than just dropping the subject and leaving me in the dark. Some basic stuff that would be a huge start to a more accessible friendship.
At first, I was nervous, because Kelsey and Riley sat quiet in the front seat, staring straight ahead. But Kelsey broke the silence. “That all makes sense. I’m sorry it’s been so difficult before.”
“Yeah, things like the cafeteria at lunchtime are just always going to be impossible,” I say. “So sometimes I’ll be quiet and not really engaged in the conversation, but that doesn’t mean I’m, like, ignoring you all or being rude. And keeping the radio down while we’re driving would be nice,” I say, nodding to the stereo ahead of me.
“All the time?” Riley complains, but I’m quick to reassure her.
“We can definitely blast it while we’re singing along to something. Don’t worry.”
“Perfect,” Kelsey says, smiling as she slows to a stop in front of my house.
They drop me off at home, and I head inside right on time for dinner. We’re two weeks into the fall quarter, which is also a couple of classes into the ASL course my family has started taking.
“Plates on the table, please,” my mom says and signs as I enter the kitchen.
“Are you gonna help?” I ask Max.
“No,” he signs. He flips through a stack of note cards, practicing the words we learned this morning. “I’m busy studying.”
Hopefully it’s a glimpse of what’s to come. For sign to fully work for me, the people around me actually need to use it.
However, I’m under no illusions. Learning a language is difficult; it takes time and commitment. One intro class doesn’t mean we’re all on the path to being fluent. But this is what I want, so I’m going to stick with it and encourage them to do the same. This is how I want to embrace my disability and the access I need. It’s not hearing loss—it’s Deaf gain.
Max has already decided to go ahead with the cochlear implant, so that procedure is scheduled for the start of next summer so he has ample time for recovery, as well as time to retrain his brain with the new device, before classes start back up. He’ll miss a season of sports, and a month of camp again, but not much school, which was obviously our parents’ idea. To play it safe, he’s decided that he only wants to get it on one side, even if his other ear ever becomes eligible in the future. “Part cyborg,” he said with a grin when sharing his decision.
After dinner, we sit around the table. My dad waves for my attention. “Your phone,” he says and signs.
“Oh.” I hadn’t realized it was vibrating, but I’m even more surprised when I see why. I’m getting a video call.