Page 67 of The Sign for Home

“And Helen Keller!” she finally shouted. “A genius who could neither hear nor see, like Mr. Dilly here. I’ve been rereading her lately. Keller wrote twelve books—that’s right, twelve. Most were based on her own life. Our lives are our gold, students! Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I need to run to the office to make copies. Please just stare at your smartphones like zombies for a few minutes until I return.”

When I finished interpreting Professor Bahr’s final comment, I lookedup and found Molly had left her seat. Looking through the glass of the door, I saw her in the hallway, angrily jabbing the keys on her cell phone. I was grateful for the moment alone with Arlo.

“Hey, Molly left the room,” I signed to him. “I wanted to tell you something. I hope you don’t mind but I mentioned to Tabitha that you would like to get in touch with your old Deaf school friends. She suggested checking the DeafBlind Facebook groups. She says people from all over the country stay in touch there.”

Arlo asked what I meant by the sign—the initials F-B—that I had used for Facebook. I tried the various other signs I had seen for the social networking website. Finally, I just fingerspelled it. He still didn’t know what I was talking about.

“Okay,” I signed. “Facebook is like this place on the internet where you can connect with friends from all over the world, and usually try to make them think your life is way better than it really is. Also, you can post photos of your cat, or dog, or write things about how much you hate people from other political parties.”

I addedha ha, but the joke was lost on Arlo.

“Anyway, Facebook also has specific groups just for the DeafBlind. There’s a good chance you’d be able to find out about your friends from school. It’s totally free to join.”

Just then I heard a loud, purposeful cough. I turned to look at the door, and there was Molly glaring at me again. Then, in the harshest of whispers, she pointed to the hallway and said, “Outside. Now.”

After Arlo gave me a concerned “Okay,” I slipped out into the hallway and shut the door behind me, staring into Molly’s face, red and pinched, like she couldn’t breathe.

“I see what you’re doing!” she hissed. “The essay? The new haircut? Giving him money to buy lunches? Your stories about that DeafBlind woman and getting new gadgets. Facebook? You think we’re stupid?”

“Excuse me, Molly,” I said calmly, squeezing out a condescendingsmile. “I told you I had nothing to do with his haircut or the essay. That’s all him. The last time I saw him, I was with you. And what’s the big deal? He looks a hell of a lot better.”

Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head with disgust.

“You’re a liar and I know it. We’ve seen what you’ve been trying to do.”

“Trying to do?Molly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please!” her voice exploded. She immediately lowered her voice again, but the anger remained. “Let me explain something to you, Mr. Brewster. Arlo can’t just go to some other school or buy all the high-tech equipment you’re telling him about. He’s barely able to survive on his disability payments without help from his uncle. Also, both Brother Birch and Arlo have worked very hard in building a trusting relationship with each other, and you’re sowing distrust!”

“I am doing nothing of the kind,” I protested.

“You’re not? Mr. Birch is a spiritually strong man, and he adores Arlo like his son. But Mr. Birch also has a wife he needs to care for, and service work, and only has time for a part-time job. He doesn’t have extra money for extravagances. Trust me, sir, Mr. Birch makes sure Arlo gets everything he truly needs. How you could insinuate…”

Looking pained, Molly pressed her fingers into her forehead and temple. Having a fit did not come naturally to her.

Again, I tried my best to modulate my tone, hoping to get back to some sense of sanity.

“Look, Molly, we really need to get back in there so Arlo isn’t stuck there alone. But before we do, let me just say that I’m not trying to cause problems for Arlo’s uncle or you. I’m trying to help. The Laura Bridgman Center and the new tech equipment are things he can get financial help with—at least in part. There are a lot of resources available for people with disabilities. Maybe not for everything, but more than Arlo has at the moment. I mean, why shouldn’t Arlo have all the assistance he can get? It’s not fair to deny him.”

I immediately saw that I had crossed another line. Molly pointed her finger at me, sputtering like I had accused her of murder.

“How dare you. You have no idea.”

My forced calmness had run its course. I could feel the veins pulse on my forehead as I snapped.

“Okay,Ms. Clinch, time to chill the fuck out! Maybe I have a better idea than you. Ever consider that? And since we’re laying our cards on the table, let’s just go for it. Arlo’s uncle has allowed Arlo the bare minimum in services and training. It could almost be called neglect. Arlo’s equipment is so damn outdated it’s a wonder he can still get parts to fix it. With everything that’s out there, someone as smart as Arlo would have a good chance of being independent. At least partially. He may not even need to live with his uncle. Does he even know he has a choice?”

“That’s enough!” Molly screeched so loudly it echoed down the hallway. She flung her opened hand in front of my face, silencing me.

“Cyril Brewster,” she said, a bitter smile stretched across her thin lips, “the World-Renowned Expert on DeafBlind Accessibility. Hallelujah! He has arrived in the land of the poor, pitiful, starving DeafBlind. Hallelujah! The second coming of Annie Sullivan. Howdidwe all function before you arrived?”

It was like she had lost her mind. I shook my head and lowered my voice, gesturing toward the classroom.

“Jesus. We have to get back in there,” I whispered harshly. “He’s been alone since—”

“No!” Again Molly’s banshee-level squeal cut me off. “You don’t get to talk anymore. You think you’re the first interpreter who’s made some snap judgment about how Brother Birch and I have cared for Arlo? You’re not. Just like you, they all swoop in, try to disrupt poor Arlo’s life, and then suddenly disappear when some less complicated, better-paying job comes along.”

“You know nothing about me,” I responded, far too defensively.

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