Page 51 of The Sign for Home

“You don’t email them?”

Just like that, he did his disappearing-inside-his-head thing. I tapped his arm and repeated myself, not wanting another situation where he just let everything drop.

“Hey, why did you lose contact with them?”

“Long story. Where they live? Where work? Last name? I don’t know. I know nothing! Before… many friends! Here… no friends. Only interpreters. Hanne almost friend. But talk to Hanne more—forbidden. No way!”

My stomach tightened. Was Hanne the invisible person he had been arguing with minutes before? Was Hanne the reason for Arlo’s retreat?

“Hey, tell me the truth,” I signed. “Did Hanne do or say something stupid that day I introduced you? I told you she can act a little crazy.”

“No, no. Hanne not crazy. Not do anything bad. Hanne very nice woman.”

Again, he begged my secrecy. I wondered whether his paranoia about people sharing his secrets was just specific to him or something shared by other DeafBlind folks. Did a lack of access precede a lack of trust? Of course, whether or not I was to be trusted was something I started to doubt, given my propensity to share Arlo’s story with Hanne. She, it was turning out, appeared to be a better confidante than me. Still, I vowed my secrecy.

“I honest,” Arlo signed. “What happen? Brother Birch angry, blew up. JW elder saw me with Hanne… talk private, alone. Understand? JW not allowed talk with strange woman in private. Red star.”

“Um… red star?”

“Sorry. Red star mean sin. When I small and I do sin, I get red star sticker next to my name on board at Sunday school. Too many red stars and punished. Must sit alone in room and pray long time. Or sometimes spanking and sitting. Sitting alone worse than spanking. I always many red stars.”

Arlo laughed. But all I could think wasWhat a fucked-up thing to do to a kid.Arlo went on to explain how the elder who saw him talking to Hanne went on to tell Molly. Then Molly told Brother Birch. Then Brother Birch made Arlo promise never to talk to Hanne again.Fucking Molly! What kind of interpreter rats out their clients?

“I’m so sorry,” I signed. “That’s my fault. I never should have introduced you to Hanne. That was really stupid of me.”

“No. New people… I enjoy talking. Hanne very interesting, but question…”

Arlo appeared uncertain whether his question might offend and hesitated.

“Go ahead,” I signed. “What’s your question?”

Arlo asked me to be certain no one was watching, and I assured him we were totally alone except for some older teacher reading a stack of papers.

“Tell me truth. Hanne—she witch or S-O-R-C-E-R-E-S-S?”

I waited for him to sign something like “ha ha” and tell me he was joking, but he didn’t. I stifled my own laughter before putting my hands into his.

“No. Hanne isn’t any kind of witch or sorceress. She can barely brew coffee. Hanne’s a brilliant and kind person, with strong opinions and crappy boundaries. She can also be a little too impulsive sometimes. But why would you think she’s a witch?”

Arlo knitted his brow and signed small and cautiously.

“When we talk, Hanne influence me. She make me tell secrets even when I don’t want to. I think she use magic.”

“Ha ha,” I signed. “Magic?”

Arlo could feel the laughter I could no longer hold back. He smiled at my reaction, but he was trying not to.

“No. Not joke. Magic real! Bible says so!”

“Yeah, okay. But don’t worry. Hanne is definitely not a witch. And if you saw her messy house, you’d know she has a serious fear of brooms.”

Arlo finally laughed in earnest, but I could tell he wasn’t 100 percent convinced. I told him I understood how Hanne might be mistaken for a witch, and I had seen her ability to get people to confess their secrets. I had done it myself. What I didn’t go into with him was that besides being the first person I told about being gay, she was also the first person I told about falling in love with Bruno and the first person I told about the breakup and what happened after. Hanne was a beautiful hurricane into which you could scream all your deepest secrets—or most of them.

“Hey, hey. Cyril,” Arlo signed, clearly feeling more comfortable with me now that we’d had a laugh. “Ask you something else private, okay? This about you. Okay?”

“Depends on how personal,” I signed jokingly. “But I can tell you right now, I’m not a witch either. Ha ha.”

Arlo didn’t laugh this time.

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