Page 99 of The Sign for Home

“Sorry,” Bella said. “I can’t let you in until she calls. I’m sorry.”

As I interpreted this, Arlo groaned loudly and ran his hand through his hair. Bella grimaced at the sound and went back to her call.

“Okay,” I said, even louder than before, still trying to keep the situation amiable. “I’ll call now and let you talk to her aunt. Hold on a minute.”

I punched in ten numbers, put the phone to my ear, and complained it had gone to voice mail.

“Hey, Auntie!” I said loudly into the phone. “This is Doug. Walt and I came up to visit Shri, but you forgot to leave our names at the front desk. When you get this message, could you do that for me? Thanks.”

I turned back to the receptionist with a disappointed look on my face.

“I forgot today she’s volunteering at the Hindu temple all day. I have no idea when she’ll call. You have to understand, we’ve driven a really long way. Isn’t there a way to make an exception? Please. My brother and Shri have been best friends since they were kids.”

The receptionist shook her head no. I signed to Arlo without voicing.

“We need to make the receptionist feel really sorry for you, okay? Pretend you’re really upset.”

I turned Arlo so he was directly addressing Bella. In an instant, Arlo turned hysterical, signing dramatically and using his voice. He told her how it was actually his birthday and how Shri was his best friend, and“please, see friend, please.”He was even able to produce tears that he wiped on his sleeve. The performance was impressive. Bella, ending her personal call, appeared overwhelmed by having a weeping DeafBlind man in front of her.

“Poor kid,” Bella said, her expression softening. “Tell your brother not to be so upset. Maybe the aunt will call back with permission. It’s nice you know that Deaf hand stuff so you can talk to him. Sometimes I wish we had someone who could make signals to that Mukherjee kid. Most of the time they just write on a piece of paper.”

As soon as I interpreted what Bella had said, Arlo’s fake, weepy face was instantly replaced by one featuring incredibly real anger.

“What?” Arlo snapped. “Shri can’t read English good! Shri from other country!”

“Hey. Take it easy,” I begged him without voicing. “Your sad performance was starting to work. Let’s just get you in to see Shri first. I’m sure they get interpreters in when they need. While you two are talking, I’ll speak to whoever runs this place and explain about the language issues. Now go back to looking sad.”

He did.

“Is something wrong?” Bella asked.

“He’s just upset. Like he said, it’s his birthday, and he’s being sent to live out west so he may not be able to visit Shri again for years.”

Bella shook her head sadly. “Hold on a minute.”

Bella dialed the phone and let it ring for a while. She looked frustrated, but on the brink.

“The assistant supervisor isn’t picking up as usual. Oh, well… I really shouldn’t, but next time just make sure the family calls first and leaves a note. Go to room twenty-five. Down that hall on the right. But the rule isonly one person in the room at a time. Otherwise the kid throws a fit. We don’t need any drama this week.”

Bella leaned in and whispered from her rolling throne. “Don’t be fooled by that girl. You look in that room and see those big pretty Indian eyes and think she’s a precious angel. And then bam, you get clocked on the head with a can of Ensure. Or worse.”

Bella pulled her right eye bag down with her pointer finger to indicate she was giving me the inside scoop. I suddenly grew concerned that Larry may not have painted a complete picture of Shri’s condition.

“Got it,” I said. “We’ll go one at a time.”

“Mmm-hmm. But sign the logbook first.”

As I flipped through the book, I paid special attention for the last time anyone had actually come to see Shri. There were no recorded visits until I went all the way back to December, when someone, who I assumed was her aunt, stopped by for just thirty-five minutes.No one else for eight whole months.

When I signed our names, I wroteDoug and Walter Whitman.

Snap whimpered as her calloused paws slipped and slid on the tile floor as we made our way down the grayish-pink hallway. Two older female patients with some sort of dementia wandered along the hall with vacant looks. One of the women pulled up her gown, exposing her naked lower half like a neglected toddler. Surprisingly, there were very few attendants around, especially for a place that was responsible for doing rehab as well as skilled nursing care. Other than the echo of our footsteps, the only sounds were the random groans and mutterings from behind half-open doors. Snap’s ears pushed back, and her eyes echoed my own concern. At one point Snap planted her paws, stubbornly resisting going any farther. Arlo shook the harness aggressively, then reassured Snap with a pat on the head.

“Snap nervous,” he signed. “I nervous too.”

Me too, buddy, me too, I thought.

When we arrived at Shri’s room Arlo took a deep breath. A woman pushing a cleaning caddy reminded us about the one-at-a-time rule. They were watching us.

---