Her mother caught the door before Joey could close it behind her. “Where are you going?”
“Out to read,” Joey said, holding the book up.
“Why don’t you read in here?”
“I’m not going to his house.” Joey whirled and ran across the yard, in the opposite direction from her tree stump and the trail to Charlie’s.
She glanced back. Her mother stood in the doorway, watching, hands on her hips. Joey kept going, over and down the embankment. Out of sight of her mother, she followed the trail along the creek that curved to flow behind their house, then straightened to cascade past Charlie’s on its way to the ocean. When she could see her tree, she began to climb toward it, through the sword ferns and elderberries. Before crossing the back trail, she hid behind an alder and peeked to make sure her mother wasn’t watching from the kitchen window, then she darted across and up the steep incline to her stump.
The little tarp was heavy when she pulled it out and her first thought was that it had somehow filled with rainwater, but when she picked it up by a corner, a package fell out: a wrapped package, with silver paper and a blue bow. For a moment, she thought it was a gift for someone else, mistakenly left in her hiding place, but the envelope stuck beneath the ribbon had “Joey Willis” written on it in Charlie’s shaky handwriting. She turned it over to open. On the back he’d scrawled, I’m too old. It was Sukari who remembered how to find this tree.
Joey spread the tarp across the top of the stump, folding an edge over so as not to smother the red huckleberry sprout that had taken root in the tree’s rotting core.
The long letter started with “Dear Jo y.” The “e” was missing, cut out with a hole punch, leaving a small, empty circle.
I had such a nice time today, and so did Sukari. She adores you, and why not—you’re much more fun than a slow old man. I think she’s found a soul-mate.
I decided I’d write and tell you more about my parents and what my life was like growing up. Hearing you speak of your friend Roxy reminded me how angry I used to get at my parents, and the burden I thought they were because they didn’t talk or read lips. I, like Roxy, was their bridge. That’s a huge responsibility for a kid.
My mother was born deaf and never heard a single word, she never spoke, though oddly she had a wonderful laugh that I still miss. When she was young, the traditional thinking was to make the deaf learn to speak, but luckily, her parents quickly gave up that notion. They wanted to be able to communicate with her themselves so they sent her to a school that taught American Sign Language and they learned it, too.
My father was a baby, just learning to talk, when he lost his hearing. His parents were caught up in the same debate, but they chose the other path. It was a terrible handicap. Because it took so long to teach him to approximate the sound of each word, the rest of his education had to wait. What little speech he learned, no one could understand. The frustration finally drove him to quit school in the eighth grade and take the only job he could find—a janitor. The good news is that the job was at a school for the deaf. That’s where he met my mother and where he learned to sign. Eventually, he found his life’s work as a printing press operator (the perfect fit for him; presses make a “deafening” racket). He made a good living and they were happy. We were happy.
Don’t get me wrong. Both arguments have valid points. But if I had to decide for a child of mine, I would choose sign language. If we hadn’t all signed, I would not have been able to talk to my own parents.
I just got the call from your mother. I’m sorry she was upset. I had to tell her that Sukari ripped your jacket because I think she thought I did it. I think I should come by and meet your parents and maybe bring Sukari. She’d love Luke. Just her size and speed. But I’ll wait for your okay. I don’t want to make things worse.
This is a little gift to you from me and the runt. I hope with time, it opens a new world for you.
Love,
C and S
Cautiously, so as not to ruin the beautiful paper, Joey undid the bow and eased the tape loose. It was a book: The Joy of Signing. Between the “o” and the “y” in Joy, Charlie had pasted the “e” he’d cut out of her name, making the new title The Joey of Signing. Inside the front cover he’d written, To Joey Willis, remember all you are unable to do is hear. Love from your friends—Charlie and Sukari. Sukari had scribbled her signature, too.
Joey bit her lip, but it didn’t work. She covered the little “e” with her index finger, hugged the book, and sobbed.
After she’d cried herself out, she spent the next hour signing all the words in the first chapter, “Family Relationships,” then practiced a sentence, nearly each word of which she had to look up. THANK-YOU FOR THE SIGN LANGUAGE BOOK, she signed over and over to herself.
When she got cold, she drew up her legs and covered herself with an edge of the tarp, and worked on signing, MY NAME IS J-O-E-Y W-I-L-L-I-S. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?
She stayed gone a couple of hours. When she came down the hill from her tree, her mind was still busy tracing the shapes that words took on the hands. She passed the kitchen window as she came along the rear walkway and saw her mother ironing with hard, fast strokes. Ruth glanced up, stony-faced, as she passed. Joey wondered if her mother knew she’d been signing and was taking her anger out on Ray’s shirt. She believed her mother had the freakish ability to know what she was up to all the time. As much as she wanted this to change since meeting Charlie and Sukari, Joey accepted it as a price she paid for the ease with which they communicated. She read her mother’s lips and moods and in exchange her mother read her secret thoughts. Though she’d left the book wrapped in the tarp, Joey believed that hiding places—tree hollows or the heart—were no barriers to her mother’s second sight. She was at the front door before she saw Charlie’s car in the driveway.
Charlie was talking and watching football with Ray, who had Luke on his lap.
“Hi,” Charlie said. “I thought it was time for us to meet your family.” He winked, took a notepad from his shirt pocket, and handed it to her. He’d already written, I got your message. It was on the answering machine when I got back from leaving your present. Did you find it?
Joey nodded and smiled. She felt such relief, she wanted to hug him.
“Where’s Sukari?”
Charlie jerked his thumb toward his car.
“Luke,” Joey said. “Want to meet a chimpanzee?”
Charlie tapped Joey’s shoulder. “Your mother.”
Joey turned.
“No. She might bite him.”
“I want to see the chimpagnee,” Luke shouted.
Joey was facing her mother, so she didn’t see what was said next, but her mother leveled her icy stare at Ray and said, “If it hurts him, I’ll … I’ll never forgive you.”
“I’ll bring Sukari in here. They can play in Luke’s room.”
“I don’t want that animal in the—” Ruth stopped and glared at Joey. “Fleas,” she said, then returned to punishing the ironing.
“Come on, Luke.” Joey held out her hand.
Sukari was stretched out on the ledge behind the backseat with a magazine. I-SEE-YOU, J-Y.
“Did you see that, Luke? She talks with her hands.” Joey opened the door.
Luke scooted behind Joey’s legs and peeked around as Sukari rolled off the ledge and dropped onto the backseat, stood, and wobbled toward them. NAME BOY? Sukari asked.
“His name is Luke. L-U-K-E. He came to play with you.”
Sukari clearly understood the word “play” because she grinned and signed, TICKLE-CHASE, by slapping the back of her hand with her index finger.
“She said she wants to play chase,” Joey told Luke.
Luke held tightly to Joey’s leg and shook his head.
Joey scooped Sukari into her arms, kissed her, then took Luke’s hand and led him to a lawn chair. “Would you like Sukari to teach you to talk with your hands?”
Luke shook his head no.
“Well
, let’s learn one word, okay?” FRIEND, Joey signed. “Luke and Sukari.” FRIEND FRIEND.
Sukari hooked her index fingers, then poked Luke’s shoulder.
Luke hooked his fingers and poked Sukari.
CHASE, Sukari signed.
“She wants the Bear to chase her.”
Luke made claws and a snarly-face.
“Oops,” Joey said and glanced at Sukari for her reaction to Luke’s teeth. “Don’t scare her, okay?”
Sukari seemed oblivious. She signed, CHASE ME, BOY.
Joey interpreted.
Luke giggled, jumped off Joey’s lap, and ran at Sukari. Sukari loped away on bowed legs and knuckles, slowed a bit for him to catch up, then launched herself up an alder tree and dangled by one hand from a branch just above his head.
Luke looked stunned for a second. “Come here, monkey,” he snapped.
Sukari swung to another limb and then another until she’d gone all the way up the trunk and was back where she’d begun.
“Do this, Luke.” Joey made Sukari’s chase-sign.
CHASE, Luke signed, then flung his elbows up and charged across the yard with Sukari on his heels. He shrieked when Sukari caught him and rolled with him on the ground. Joey glanced at the house to see if the rough-housing would bring her mother running.
Ruth stood at the kitchen window with her arms folded across her chest. Joey signaled, OKAY. Her mother nodded. You just read your first sign, Mom, she thought, then turned away so her mother wouldn’t see her grin.
Sukari had raced off and climbed up the rungs on the power pole.
Luke formed a gun with his index finger and thumb and rushed forward, screaming “pow, pow, pow.”
Sukari climbed higher. Too high. “Come down, Sukari,” Joey said, shushing Luke. “Come down.” CHASE BOY.
The bottom rung was about six feet off the ground. When Sukari’s foot touched it she launched herself at Joey, who caught her and swung her around and around by her arms.
“Do me. Do me,” Luke shouted.
While Joey swung Luke, Sukari flailed her arms for another turn, so she made them link hands, and, holding their free hands, swung them both. When she put them down, Luke signed, CHASE, and ran with Sukari on his heels. When he turned to see if Sukari was gaining on him, Joey shouted a warning, but he hit the power pole full-bore. He fell to the ground, shrieking and holding his head. Sukari squatted beside him and touched the bump, then turned to Joey and signed, BOY HURT. HUG BOY. She wrapped her long arms around Luke, patted his back, and kissed him. Luke sniffled, then grinned.
Sukari looked up and signed something Joey couldn’t interpret. At the same moment Ruth ran up, arms swinging as if she was going to pummel Sukari. “Get away from him,” she screamed.
Sukari screamed, too, fell backward, then scampered away and back up the power pole. “Where did she bite you?” Ruth cried, inspecting Luke’s arms, then his legs. “Oh my God.” She tilted his head and inspected the red welt on his forehead.
“Mom, she didn’t bite him. He ran into the pole. Sukari was comforting him.”
Luke jerked on Joey’s pants leg. “I want to hug the monkey,” he shouted. His bottom lip jutted and quivered threateningly.
“Well, ask her to hug you.” Joey knelt down, hesitated, then showed Luke the signs.
“Monkey,” he said. WANT HUG.
“She uses sign language?” Ruth asked.
Joey nodded, expecting her mother to sneer.
GIRL MAD, Sukari signed, pointing at Ruth. BITE SUKARI.
“She won’t bite you.” Joey glanced at her mother. “She thinks you’re going to bite her. You won’t, will you?” She grinned.
“It’s not funny. They’re playing too rough and I don’t want her licking him in the face,” Ruth said.
“She’s not a dog, Mom. She was kissing Luke’s boo-boo. Right?” She mussed his hair.
WANT HUG, Luke signed.
Sukari came down slowly but stayed on the bottom rung, just out of reach.
“Mommy, go ’way,” Luke said.
Sukari watched Ruth walk slowly back to the house. When she was far enough away, Sukari hooted, swung down, and ran on bowlegs and knuckles into Luke’s outstretched arms, bowling him over with kisses.
At the front door, her mother stopped to watch. In the instant before she went inside and closed the door, Joey thought she saw her smile.
It began to get chilly after the sun slipped behind the trees, but when Joey came to the door with Luke and Sukari, her mother waved for her attention. “They’re all dirty; keep them outside.” She tossed Joey a damp dishtowel.
Charlie stood up. “I guess we’d better be going,” he said, lifting Sukari off Joey’s shoulders.
“No,” Luke howled. “I want the monkey to stay.”
Charlie flinched. “She’s not a monkey, son, she’s an ape.”
“I want the ape to stay,” Luke wailed.
Sukari squirmed and leaned toward Joey, signing, HUG, HUG.
“I’ll take them back outside,” she said. “You stay. Please. I want you to get to know each other. Charlie’s parents were deaf,” she told Ray.
Ray’s brow furrowed and he said something to Charlie under his mustache.
Charlie patted Ray’s shoulder and said something that Joey couldn’t see because he was turned so she couldn’t see his mouth. Whatever it was, Ray glanced at Joey, his always sad eyes sadder.
Joey avoided looking at her mother. She took Sukari back from Charlie and kissed her. “Come on, Bear,” she said to Luke, who burst out the door ahead of her.
Charlie picked up his empty beer can and shook it. “Sure, I’d love another.”
It had gotten quite cold when Luke jerked on Joey’s sleeve and pointed to the front door. Charlie and her parents were on the front deck. Her mother motioned for them to come. She no longer looked mad, but she wasn’t happy, either.
Sukari, who was wearing Luke’s cowboy boots, signed, NO GO, when she saw Charlie, then took off running toward the woods. The boots, which were on the wrong feet, tripped her up. Joey tackled her as she tried to scramble away and carried her screaming to the car, where Charlie strapped her into her car seat.
SUKARI MAD. BITE, she signed.
Whatever Charlie said to her had a sobering effect. Sukari hugged herself and blew angry little puffs of air through her long lips.
Charlie turned from scolding Sukari to shake hands with Ray, then with Luke, then Ruth, who paused before smiling stiffly and taking his hand. When he came to Joey, she hesitated a moment, then hugged him quickly. THANK-YOU. SIGN LANGUAGE BOOK, she signed.
Ruth reached to stop Joey, but Ray caught her mother’s wrist in midair. Ruth jerked it free and jammed her hand into her apron pocket.
CHAPTER SIX
The second Charlie was out of sight, Ruth grabbed Joey’s arm and spun her around. “You told him, didn’t you?”
Joey’s heart leapt and she threw her arm up to block the blow she expected.
It was her mother who looked as if she’d been slapped. She let go. “I’ve never hit you.”
“Your grabbing scared me.”
“Sorry,” she said, “but you did tell him, didn’t you?”
Joey shook her head.
“Why would you tell a complete stranger our secrets?”
“I didn’t tell him,” Joey cried and tried to turn away.
Her mother tightened her grip on Joey’s arm. “I’m not through talking to you.”
Ray suddenly stepped between them, breaking Ruth’s hold. He must have said something in defense of Charlie, because her mother snapped, “How would you know? Someone to watch football and drink beer with is not a measure of the man.” With that she spun on her heels and, dragging Luke, marched into the house.
Her stepfather turned, gave Joey’s shoulder a squeeze, then followed her mother. The argument continued. Joey slipped in and began to set the table for dinner. She caught only the parts her mother wanted her to see or a snatch here
and there when Ruth faced Ray directly, often shaking a spatula to emphasize a point: “---------- stranger butting ---------- our ---------- pushing her to learn sign language.”
Ruth glanced at her then deliberately—so that Joey could see every word—and said, “You want her to use a language a monkey can learn. Sign language.” She snorted. “It’s a contradiction in terms.” She shook a finger at Joey. “No signing. I won’t allow it.”
Joey’s hands began to tremble. She put the plates on the table before she dropped them. I knew this would happen. Ray looked at her and shook his head, warning her off going further with this, but she couldn’t let that be the last word. “Stop calling her a monkey,” she shouted. “She’s a chimpanzee. And signing lets us know how she feels, what she’s thinking, and what she wants. That’s more than I can tell about my own brother.” She ran to her room, slammed and locked her door.
* * *
The Old Dock Café was opening early Monday to host a breakfast for some group or other. Since her mother had to be there to help set up, she insisted on taking Joey to school, as if not letting her ride the bus was a form of punishment.
Ruth pulled up in front of the middle school. Smoke from her cigarette formed a gray haze in the closed car. Joey put her hand on the door handle and glanced at her mother, who continued to stare straight ahead. Ruth hadn’t spoken to her since last night.
Joey opened the car door and stepped out but held on to the handle. Her heart hammered as it always did when she had something she wanted to say. Speaking up for herself terrified her but her mother’s silence was crushing. Before she met Charlie and Sukari, only the sight of her mother’s lips moving made her feel a part of things. When her mother punished her, turning so Joey couldn’t see what she said to Luke or to Ray, it was as if a lid had been clamped down on the jar she lived in, and twisted shut, airtight. Now Joey stood gripping the door, holding her mother in place. Her breath came in short gasps the way it did after a good cry. “He understands what it’s like for me,” she said.