Page 31 of Saving You

She pinked. “Um. Not really, no. I pretty much just speak at home.”

Oz cocked his head to the side. “Can I ask why you decided to change schools, then? I was mainstreamed for all of my schooling. My parents were deeply, deeply anti-ASL so we never used it at home. I was more used to mainstream school, so by the time I realized Deaf education was an option, I didn’t bother asking to go.”

That was simplifying it way too much, but Oz wasn’t about to burden this poor kid with his own childhood trauma.

Her face fell, and he knew then that was the tender spot. “They didn’t actually want me to come here.”

“Okay. So you advocated for yourself?”

She shrugged. “I guess? My IEP team held basically an intervention last year when I was getting Ds in all my classes. They told my parents that if they really wanted me to thrive, I needed to be at a Deaf school. And begged because I really want to go to Gallaudet after I graduate.”

He smiled. “You’re not alone. But you know you don’t have to be fluent to attend there, right?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “But I don’t want to feel like I do now when I’m surrounded by really, really smart, fluent college kids. If I have to look like a moron, isn’t it better to do it while I’m still young?”

He laughed and shrugged. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it, sure. And I suppose you do get more one-on-one time here. Plus, you’ll still learn through immersion in your classes.” He put his chin on his hand, elbow propped against the edge of his desk. “So…do you mind me asking what you’re worried about?”

“I’m scared I’m going to flunk out if I don’t figure out how to get better at ASL. I mean, I still have no idea what’s going on in class and I feel like I’ve been here forever.”

Oz smiled softly. “First of all, your teachers here aren’t going to let you fall behind because you were denied early access to your natural language. They’ll be patient and work with you. That’s kind of our whole thing. Secondly, two months feels like a long time, but it’s not. Two months from now, you’re going to forget what it was like to struggle this much. That’s how it happened for me—only it took me longer because partway through my first semester of ASL, I gave up and quit. It’s my one regret when I started my Deaf journey.”

Tai let out a small breath. “So you reallydoget it.”

Oz grinned. “Yeah. I really do.”

She smiled for the first time and tugged on the ends of her hair. “I asked Miss Cassie if there were any teachers who grew up like me, and she told me you’d understand.”

“I do.” More than he wanted to admit. It felt like a lifetime between the man he was now and the man who wasn’t sure he was ever going to learn enough to consider himself Deaf, but those scars were still tender. “I do teach my class in ASL, and I don’t wear these”—he tapped his left processor—“but I will always make sure you’re not behind. And you’re allowed to make mistakes here.”

“They’ll be mean about it though, won’t they?” she asked, her voice so small he had to read her lips. “The other kids?”

He sighed. “Maybe some of them. Forgive my language, but people can be assholes no matter where you are. There will always be people who think you’re too much or not enough. The only thing you can control is how deep you let those people get under your skin. And there are other students like you, Tai. There are students who have been here a year and are still trying to make it because their parents are standing in the way of their language acquisition at home.”

“Why do parents do that? I don’t understand,” she said, her face drawn and almost afraid.

He sighed and shook his head. “Fear, maybe? Embarrassment? I promise I’ll let you know if I ever figure out the answer to that question.”

“So your parents still don’t use it?”

“No, and they try to forbid me from using it at their house. Our relationship is—” He was going to say strained because that’s what it had been, but that word was all wrong now. It was more than just strained, but he wasn’t about to drop that bullshit bomb on a teenager. “It’s always going to be a little complicated with people who don’t understand what our life is like.”

She let out a breath and glanced away. “So, it doesn’t get better.”

“Sometimes it does. Sometimes love is enough for people to get their heads out of their asses and realize what you actually need. Pardon my language.”

She giggled, covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers before grinning at him. “I think I might like your class.”

“I hope you do. This is my first year teaching, so I’m still trying to be the cool guy.”

She laughed again before standing up. She hesitated, then put her fingers to her chin. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he signed back, mouthing along. ‘You’ll be okay. True-biz.’

She looked hesitant for a beat, then nodded and turned, leaving without saying goodbye. It was a very teenager thing to do, and he didn’t mind. He was still young enough to remember what it was like when all of his anxiety and fear manifested in anger and the need to completely isolate from everyone and everything.

His parents called him disrespectful. His teachers labeled him a problem child.

Really, he was lost, and it would be years later before he was found.

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