Page 77 of The Sign for Home

Brother Birch hugged you, told you he loved you, and said he was proud of you and would help you to be a spiritually strong young man, and he asked Mrs. Brother Birch to give you two pieces of chocolate cake at dinner.

Molly said she was crying because she was happy. She hugged you too.

You thought you had finally, really, truly forgotten.

But you hadn’t. You just became an expert at lying to yourself for the next three years. And then you met Cyril and started to learn about the sublime, and then you met Hanne, who made you be honest, and then you wrote your essay and started to tell the truth. Now you sit on the bench, in the middle of a walkway at Poughkeepsie Amtrak Train Station, waiting for your old friend. Gooseflesh erupts on your neck and upper arms. You are excited and scared. What if this is the key back into that room full of sorrow? What if, this time, you will never get back out?

Your hand rubs against the smooth metal slats that cover the metal bench. It curves to match the shape of a sitting body. You wouldn’t mind sitting here for a very long time. All the people traveling on trains make you feel connected to the world somehow. It suddenly occurs to you that maybe a thousand people have sat on the very same bench waiting for their train or their friend to visit. When you are done rubbing the bench, you pull out your hand sanitizer and clean your hands.

Thirty minutes later Snap pulls his leash as someone approaches. You scan the space in front of you, but the light from the window glares in your face and makes it impossible to see. A moment later you can tell someone is in front of you. He taps your shoulder and presses his name into your palm. You do the same. It’s him. It’s you. You hug each other long and hard. He reaches up to touch your cheek. You caress his head, which is even bigger and more strangely shaped than you remember. But his small body, his smell, the way he signs are all exactly the same. Instantly, you are brought back to those hundreds of nights where you, Martin, and he would huddle your bodies together for warmth and tell stories until two in the morning. You and Big Head Lawrence sit down on the bench so your knees touch, your hands entwine. You soon learnthat Big Head Lawrence didn’t come with an SSP or friend. He made the entire journey alone.

“Wow!” you say. “You train from Philadelphia to Long Island then New York City and then Poughkeepsie… very far. Can’t believe it. Yourself? Alone?”

Big Head Lawrence scoffs at your suggestion that he would need a guide.

“I train alone one thousand times!” he signs. “I already train Chicago, Orlando, New Orleans. You train alone, never?”

Big Head Lawrence’s question embarrasses you. Not only haven’t you taken the train alone, you haven’t ever ridden a train at all. You even failed at taking a bus alone. This, in fact, is the first time you have set foot in the Poughkeepsie train station. You decide to ignore Big Head Lawrence’s question and get back to important things.

“Wow! Long time never see you,” you say. “Curious, after you graduate high school, then what do? I know zero. Since then: What’s up?”

Then Big Head Lawrence starts telling you a very surprising story. First, he went to college at the Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT), where he stopped using the name Big Head Lawrence, since it was a mean name, and started using another name: Larry.

Name-signLARRY: The thumb of the “L” hand flicks off the middle of his forehead the same way the crooked middle finger of the “five” hand would flick off his forehead for the wordsmartorbrilliant.

After having a lot of fun at college he moved to Philadelphia and started working at the Pennsylvania School for the Blind in the library as a tech specialist. He gets a salary and benefits and lives with an annoying roommate in Northeast Philadelphia. He also takes the bus by himself every day and plays chess on the internet. Because he is an expert in technology for the DeafBlind, Larry has traveled to thirteen states to teach workshops.

“Next month, I will give a presentation at Gallaudet University conference. I will top technology speaker. You should come!”

You say you wish you could, but maybe next time. Part of you wants to cry because Larry has done so much and you have done so little, and another part wants to cry because you’ve missed being with someone else who understands what it means to be DeafBlind.

“Wow! Your life!” You make the ASL sign indicating to take off and soar. “What about best friend Martin? Martin live where? College too?”

Larry tells you how Martin moved to Seattle two years after graduating from the Rose Garden School, and now lives with an interpreter named Mel.

Name-signMEL: “M” on the bicep because Mel is a bodybuilder as well as an interpreter.

“Martin and Mel are G-A-Y partners,” Larry says. “You know Martin always G-A-Y, right?”

“Yes, I know. My interpreter he also G-A-Y. He help me find you. He my friend. Curious… you G-A-Y too?”

“No! Not G-A-Y. I love women! My favorite… short woman with big boobs. But no girlfriend now. Single.”

Larry doesn’t appear to be sad about not having a girlfriend. You remember what S had once told you about how cruel people were to Larry because of his unusual looks. Were you hurting his feelings every time you called him Big Head Lawrence? Before you can ask, Larry continues.

“I had girlfriend for a while—name T-A-R-A. Blind girl, hard of hearing. But broke up. Why? Let me have sex with her… very rare. Maybe touch her breast and finger her… that’s all. D-U-L-L. Kiss once, twice. Nothing! But Tara always wants me buy her everything. Clothes, movies, dinner. Can’t afford! Tara too expensive. Fed up! Finish! Done with that! I wait until meet new girl who has own job and likes me kiss her and sexwith her ten times every week. Martin, he smartest! Why? His boyfriend very affectionate and helps pay the bills!”

“Martin working too?”

Larry tells you that Martin doesn’t have a job at the moment, but lives comfortably on disability and has a nice apartment filled with all the newest technologies. In his free time Martin volunteers for a DeafBlind rights organization and goes to college part-time in hopes of becoming a social worker. Martin is very happy living in Seattle and being gay.

“You know, Seattle best place for DeafBlind!” Larry says. “So many services, DeafBlind housing, get-togethers, parties, F-U-N! Next year I maybe move to Seattle to be roommates with Martin and his boyfriend. They live in big nice supportive housing. Have extra bedroom. Very cheap. Hey, idea! Maybe you can come too. Why not?! We can roommates again. Like old times!”

For a split second you let yourself have the dream. You imagine yourself in that faraway place called Seattle, which appears in your brain like a warm beautiful farm by a lake with friendly horses that would smell like flowers and delicious foods. You would spend all day with your DeafBlind best friends, in your own warm, fully accessible apartment, telling stories, gossiping, and eating whatever you wanted without having to answer to Brother Birch. But soon a cold blanket of reality settles over you. The dream is an impossibility. The law says Brother Birch, your legal guardian, decides what you do and where you live. Yet one more thing you are embarrassed to tell Larry.

“Impossible!” you say. “Will survive, how? Every year, my eyesight gets worse. Without parents or guardian, I stuck. SSI check not enough. Martin’s gay boyfriend take care of three DeafBlind? Doubt it. I must stay in Poughkeepsie because Brother Birch takes care of me.”

“What for?” Larry laughs. “Not need someone take care of you. We take care of each other. We independent.”

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