Page 24 of The Sign for Home

“Um, no, I mean, at first I was dreading it. I had this bad experience when I was a baby interpreter, so I never tried again. I guess years more experience helps. But the Tactile thing still takes getting used to. I think it’s because I don’t fully trust myself yet. The DeafBlind guy is pretty reserved but seems cool enough. Young. My team is another story, ugh. I can’t really talk about it.”

The first tenet of the Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf’s Code of Professional Conduct is about confidentiality. I had already violated that tenet by telling Hanne where I was working. Adding the information that the consumer was a young DeafBlind male at the community college made it way worse. Anything that reveals identifying information about a consumer is considered a violation. But to be absolutely honest, my boundaries with Hanne were sometimes really blurry.

“Oh, come on,” Hanne said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t even know who this person is. And I always keep your secrets..Verdomme. Just tell me. Please, please, please. Just don’t tell me his name.”

Keeping it as vague as possible, I told her all about Molly and my first day with “the DeafBlind client,” including the tug-of-war with Molly in the hallway. Hanne was leaning so far over the counter she was almost in my lap.

“Can you get her fired?” Hanne asked. “She doesn’t seem to be very respectful.”

“That’s the thing,” I said. “She’s been with him forever. He obviously likes her. Her skills are good. It could be the whole Jehovah’s Witness thing.”

Hanne narrowed her gaze, curious as to what I meant. “Jehovah’s Witness? Is that a problem? Are they awful?”

“No, not at all,” I said, and I meant it. “That’s the thing. Most of the JW interpreters I know are really nice. Never had a problem, other than the random attempt to convert me here and there. And, frankly, they are some of the best interpreters around. But this one… Jesus. She’s rigid and suspicious and looks at me like I smell bad or something. But I need thisjob. Luckily, I think I’m doing better than I thought with the whole Tactile thing.”

“Of course you are. My Cyrilje is the best interpreter.”

“Yeah, right. I’m notthatgood. And how would you know, by the way?”

“True, but I sense it.”

“Okay, but really I think it’s because this DeafBlind guy is just way smarter than people realize, and he’s making up for my incompetence.”

Just as I was trying to finish my thought, Hanne’s eyes widened at something she saw through the window.

“Verdomme!That’s him, isn’t it?”

“Him? Him who?”

“The DeafBlind student. The one you’re working with. Does he have an old dog?”

I turned to see whom Hanne was pointing at. Sure enough, Arlo and Snap were standing right outside the coffee shop. His huge yellowI’M DEAFBLINDbutton shining in the sun. It was like the RID education committee had sent him as an example of why an interpreter should keep all information confidential. I quickly shrunk down on my stool, feeling guilty as heck.

“Hey, Hanne, chill,” I hissed. “Remember? I’m not supposed to have told you anything. Please stop looking at him.”

Hanne quickly turned away, then more subtly craned her neck to catch a glance.

“He’s different than I imagined,” she said. “The old dog is so cute too. Wait, is the skinny woman who just walked over to him that awful Jehovah’s Witness you told me about?”

Inconspicuously as possible, I turned my head to look. Yep, it was Molly, my nightmare. I quickly walked behind the counter and pushed Hanne in front of me, using her as a shield.

“Cyrilje? What are you doing?”

“I just don’t like running into people I work with when I’m not, you know, prepared. What are they doing in this part of town?”

Hanne turned and pretended to be wiping off the counter and glanced up at Molly and Arlo through the window.

“Careful. Please!” I barked, ducking again. “I just can’t deal with her right now.”

Hanne looked at me, puzzled.

“You’re actually scared of that skinny little woman?”

“It’s not that I’m scared. Okay, maybe a little. I just don’t want her to know anything about me. I don’t trust her.”

When I looked toward the window again, Molly was placing Arlo’s hand on the windowpane, anchoring him there so he had some sense of where he was. Then she walked off. Arlo turned his face toward the café and for a moment it looked like he was staring directly at us. Hanne checked to see where Molly had gone.

“She just went into the deli on the corner,” Hanne said, sighing. “She reminds me of this old woman I knew when I was little back in Belgium. Her name was Hildegard. Hildegard’s husband died when she was still young, so she joined this lay religious order in the middle of Bruges, famous for making lace. All day, when she wasn’t praying, Hildegard would make lace. Her fingers going so fast it was incredible. But she always looked so tense and unhappy. It didn’t matter how beautiful the lace was, Hildegard always looked like she was holding the biggest shit inside her ass. Like she didn’t want to surrender it. Like it was all she had. Your new coworker looks the same, like she’s afraid of letting go of her shit.”

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