Page 7 of The Sign for Home

“Sure,” I said. “I’m available.”

Arlo smiled while Clara clapped her hands, like a baby had said “Mama” for the first time.

“Great! I’ll have the secretary let the other interpreter know we’ll keep her on our list as a sub or if something changes. Now, Cyril, if you wouldn’t mind, could you interpret just one more thing I need to tell Arlo?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Clara explained how she was going to need to either cancel or reschedule Arlo’s campus orientation over the weekend since Molly, his regular interpreter, wasn’t available.

“But class start Tuesday,” Arlo said, looking distraught. “I finish touch campus—haven’t. First time. Cafeteria… where? Library for internet… where? I know nothing. Campus very big, complicated. Molly told me maybe one thousand stairs.”

Arlo indicated the warren of stairways that made up the hillside campus.

“Cyril interpret—can?” Arlo asked.

“I’m afraid I’m not available until Tuesday,” I signed and voiced. “I wish I was.”

“If Cyril can’t,” Arlo signed, frustrated, “can find other interpreter? Okay? If can’t… no problem. Sorry.”

If I were to describe my first impressions of Arlo, I would have said he was a smart, humble, and polite young man on the surface, but there was something underneath. It was as if he carried a heavy vessel filled with sorrow inside his chest. He reminded me of someone, but, at that moment, I couldn’t figure it out.

“I’m sorry, Arlo. It’s just not possible,” Clara said, exaggerating her disappointment. “You know how hard it is to find an interpreter last-minute. Of course, you could just use your SBC to communicate with the trainer?”

Arlo’s brow knitted and he pursed his lips. He explained how the SBC (screen braille communicator), a device on which Arlo would type to the non-signing trainer, was an older, cumbersome model. Using it would require him to sit at a table every time he needed to say something. Definitely not ideal while one was learning his way around a hilly campus with a dog and/or white cane. Clara apologized, saying she knew his equipment was out of date, but quickly got off the topic. (Clearly there was a story there.) Then she reiterated that an interpreter just wasn’t possible. I waited for Arlo to put his foot down and demand Clara try harder to find one.

“Okay,” he finally signed, forcing a smile. “Never mind.”

“Fantastic!” Clara said, ignoring Arlo’s obvious distress. “Then we’re all set.”

My redheaded temper began to flare. I desperately wanted to quote the law to Clara that gave Arlo the right to have an interpreter there. But it isn’t kosher for an interpreter to just interject their opinions while working.More importantly, it’s best to let the client advocate for themselves. However, I also knew how some Deaf, unaware of the law, would simply accept when hearing people would intentionally or unintentionally deny them their legal right to accommodation. I held my breath.Say something, Arlo! Please, say something, so I don’t have to!Then, after watching Clara Shuster, MSW, write a note that Arlo would forgo the campus orientation, I couldn’t control myself. Without voicing, I quickly asked Arlo if he wouldn’t mind if I said something to Clara myself. He looked puzzled but told me to go ahead.

“Pardon me,” I blurted out nervously, speaking and signing simultaneously. “This is Cyril talking now. Mrs. Shuster, I know it’s crazy hard to get an interpreter last-minute, and I’m sure you’ve tried your best. But, as you know, the ADA requiresappropriate, qualified access for communication. And Arlo’s correct. That campus is nuts with stairways, so he’ll clearly need an interpreter and the orientation. Sorry if I’m speaking out of turn, Mrs. Shuster, but I’m wondering if you’ve tried some of the other agencies?”

I then listed all the other good interpreting agencies within fifty miles of Poughkeepsie. Clara’s face made it clear she did not appreciate my supplanting her position as the chief social justice warrior in the house, but still she copied down the names and said she would try to find someone. When the interaction was completed, I noticed Arlo spell out the letters A-D-A to himself, like they were some magical incantation to which he was not privy.

“You do know what the ADA is, right?” I signed to him, still simultaneously speaking so Clara could hear me. “Americans with Disabilities Act?”

“I think that’s enough for now, Mr. Brewster,” Clara whispered, her teeth bared in an outsized smile. (Social worker lingo forI want to kill you.) “I’m sure Arlo is well aware of his rights but thank you for reminding us.”

I tried to imbue Clara’s terse yet placating tone into my interpretation.

“Cyril, question?” Arlo asked me privately. “Clara… angry now?”

“Not angry. Just a little annoyed—with me. I get the feeling she didn’t like me talking so much about the ADA. But I’m only guessing.”

Arlo nodded, affirming that he understood. Then, as Clara was about to end the meeting, there was a knock at the door. Clara called for whoever it was to come in. There at the door was a thin, short woman, probably in her early fifties. Her brown hair was streaked with silver and pulled back with a velvet headband, the sort women wore in the 1980s. She was not unattractive, but her face looked sullied by weariness and disappointment. She wore a neat polka dot skirt and a solid black sweater.Blackin thesummertime? She had to be another sign language interpreter, but one I didn’t know. She was clearly disturbed to see my hands atop Arlo’s.

“Oh, good!” Clara exclaimed. “Cyril, this is Arlo’s regular SSP and longtime interpreter, Molly Clinch.”

As soon as I fingerspelled Molly’s name, Arlo’s body tensed, and his eyes darted nervously around the room.

“Molly, I’m so sorry,” Clara continued. “I’m afraid we won’t be interviewing your friend. Arlo has decided to go with Cyril here as your team for the summer. So we’re all set.”

“Pleased to meet you, Molly,” I said, my hands still in Arlo’s, interpreting.

Pursing her lips so tightly they virtually disappeared, Molly gestured at me like a shit stain on a new white carpet.

“Does Brother Birch know about this?”

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