Page 5 of The Sign for Home

He sees me.I expected him to confront me about not declaring my presence. For even then, I knew that not announcing myself was considered incredibly rude. I held my breath, ready to accept a scolding. But a second later his eyes floated past me, and he hunted for the chair he had recently bumped into and sat down.He didn’t see me.So, I continued to observe for a minute more. His Disney-animated eyebrows conducted an orchestra of internal emotions: a sweet memory, an annoyance, anxiety, sadness—something darker. Shirley’s face had shown nothing; Arlo’s was a full-on carnival of secrets.

“Growlf!” Arlo’s old dog glared at me reproachfully. Guilt-stricken, I tiptoed over to the door, opened it, and slammed it hard to indicate I had just arrived. Arlo’s head turned toward the door, a look of anticipation on his face.

“Hello? Interpreter?”

Arlo quickly squeezed some sanitizer onto his hands and then reached out two feet to the right of me. I scooted over to shake.

“Hello?” Arlo signed. “My name A-R-L-O. Name-sign: (Arlo twists the letter A into his cheek. Name-signs like this usually mean the person has a dimple there). You certified interpreter?”

Arlo’s hands floated in the air in front of me, palms down, waiting. I hesitated. My hands were shaking. Finally, I lifted them into his.

“Hi. Yes. I’m C-Y-R-I-L. My name-sign is (my pointer finger lies flat above my eyebrows and wiggles in imitation of my forehead’s tendency to twitch when I’m excited—my Deaf ex gave me it when we first met). Nice to meet you.”

I removed my hands so Arlo could answer.

“People here [in the room]… how many?” Arlo asked, his expression puzzled. “Before, someone here. Maybe other female interpreter?”

Again, I placed my hands back into Arlo’s. That’s how it would go from then on. He talks: ASL in the air as usual. I talk: his hands on top of mine, feeling my signs.

“Yes… I mean… no,” I lied. “I just got here. Just you, me, and your dog, who I hope doesn’t like to eat interpreters for lunch. Ha ha.”

I added aha hasign at the end so he knew I was joking.

SignHA HA: Upside-down “H” hand with thumb out. The two fingers casually jiggle like legs kicking in laughter. Also an abstracted spelling of H-A-H-A.

Arlo smiled. Dimples. Teeth. Wattage. But a split second later it was all gone, swallowed by a look of concerned curiosity. Meanwhile, I felt myself attempting to combat his blindness with a kind of visual shouting, broadening my own smile to the point of ridiculousness. My expressive face, my greatest tool, was worthless.

Arlo nudged his dog with his knee and snapped his fingers, commanding her to lie down. She hesitated, still staring at me, like she didn’t trust me.

“Sorry,” Arlo signed.Snaps fingers. “Very old guide dog. Grumpy.”Snaps fingers.“Letting you know she will angry if you hurt boss. That’s me. Ha ha.”

Suddenly I got it: The dog’s name was Snap. With Arlo’s hands atop mine,listening, I talked to the dog.

“Don’t worry, Snap! I’m a good guy. Although I’m a cat man by nature. Ha ha.”

Arlo didn’t laugh. Neither did Snap. All three of us simply waited. Me staring awkwardly at him. Him staring three inches to the right of my head. Snap, her ridiculously expressive brown eyes on the verge of rolling at the absurdity of my discomfort.

“Excuse me,” Arlo finally signed. “Personal question. You JW?”

It took me a second to understand what he meant. Then I remembered: J-W was the sign forJehovah’s Witness.Usually, a new Deaf consumer would first ask whether or not I came from a Deaf family and then if I was married and had kids. They never began with a question about my religion.

“So is this your first time taking a college class?” I asked, attempting to deflect.

Arlo’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Believe in Jesus?” he asked, clearly not letting it go. “Catholic? Jewish?”

How much was I willing to hide my heathen homosexuality in order to get the job? A bad interpreter-client match is the worst thing in the world.

“I don’t usually talk about that,” I said. “But if you want to know, I wouldn’t say I’m an atheist. That’s way too committal. If not knowing or caring were a religion, that would be the one I’d join.”

Arlo appeared confused by my response.

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

Snap half barked, half growled, nudging her gray muzzle between Arlo and me. Was the dog religious too? Arlo pushed the dog’s snout down and pointed his finger admonishingly. Snap lowered her head, her judgmental eyes still glaring at me.Imposter!she seemed to be thinking.He’s not suited to this job!

“Okay,” Arlo signed to me. “Understand. But you will die forever. Not afraid? Sorry. Sorry. Right. Too personal.”

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