Page 84 of The Sign for Home

“He didn’t want see you again? Never?”

While Arlo waited for my response, I felt like I had left my body. I noted the difference between the coolness of the sweat pouring from my temples and the sun frying my skin pink. Could I answer Arlo’s question?

“I don’t know. I got a letter from him shortly before he died. A paper letter. It just said, ‘I forgive you.’ The thing is, it might have meant he wanted to see me. By that time I knew he was already in the hospital and close to dying. Something terrified me about seeing him. I mean, if he had called me maybe I would have gone. But, you know, he never called me.”

Arlo turned his head and looked like he saw something just beyond my head.

“Too late, right?” he asked.

I couldn’t even answer. Arlo suddenly pulled me into a tight hug, patting me on the back like I was three years old. When he finally let go, after I pulled myself together, he signed:

“It’s okay. Before, you were younger. You confuse… like you asleep. I understand. You woke up. It’s okay. Honest with you, I think later your friend forgive you. He just didn’t have time. Now must hurry. Must drive very fast to see Shri! We talk more tomorrow. Or next day. Now we friends forever.”

“Ha ha. Yes. You’re right. We have to get going fast. No more stops, okay? Next stop: Shri!”

As we got back in the car, I opened my phone to check the maps app and saw a parade of message alerts. Some were from Molly, two from Professor Bahr, and then a number I didn’t recognize. After reading the first few frantic texts, I grabbed for Arlo’s hands.

“Did you lie to me?”

37NEW PLAN

Arlo never had his uncle’s permission like he said. Nor had he alerted the nursing facility. He hadn’t even told Shri he was coming. It was all a lie. As we neared Poughkeepsie, I pulled the car into the parking area of a gas station. Arlo was silent the entire trip back and didn’t even notice I had stopped the car. Snap squeezed her head between the front seats and licked Arlo’s ear and cheek. Then she gave me that admonishing side-eye of hers, seeming to say:Fer god sakes, Cy, now isn’t the time.

But I wasn’t going to allow that wet-nosed emotional manipulator to sway me again.

“Your uncle is very pissed off and so is Professor Bahr,” I signed, my hands filled with anger. “They’re waiting for us now at the college. You know, by lying to everyone, you put us both in a very fucked-up situation!”

Arlo turned toward me, his face obscured by his sunglasses.

“Question,” he signed. “Before, suppose I tell you:Hey, Cyril, nursing home never respond to my emails… oh, and Brother Birch forbid me see Shri… You will still drive me?”

“No. Of course not,” I signed back, still furious at him.

“Reason I lie?” Arlo angrily pointed to that place in the air where our hands had just been attached, the place where I had refused him. “That!”

“You don’t understand!” I signed, matching his intensity. “We were supposed to be friends. You don’t lie to friends!”

Arlo removed his sunglasses. For a few seconds his eyes locked onto mine with a look of hatred.

“Bullshit!” Arlo punched his words into the air. “I fed up! Brother Birch lie! Molly lie! Mama lie! Hearing people always lying! But DeafBlind allowed to lie? No! DeafBlind must good boy all the time! Fuck that! ADA law says equality—must! So, if hearing-sighted can lie, then I can lie! And you say: ‘But we friends…’ Ha ha! You worst liar! You say: ‘I care about Deaf and DeafBlind.’ Lie! Before, Molly say you just take advantage of Deaf for money!”

As soon as Arlo finished eviscerating me, he folded his arms to prevent me from responding. I tried to contain my hurt and anger, but it was no use. I tapped his arm over and over, but he pretzeled himself tighter. Finally, I forced his arms open and pressed my hands back into his.

“Are you fucking serious?!” I shouted. “Can’t you see how I’ve been risking my job for you? Yes, you’re right, hearing-sighted people lie! Everybody lies. Yes, I am an interpreter, but I’ve stupidly also become your friend. And that’s the problem. I can’t be both anymore!”

Arlo let his limp hands drop as a wounded look filled his face. I had gone too far in my screaming. Snap again confronted me with her disapproving eyes:Asshole, they said. I jimmied my hands back into Arlo’s.

“Look,” I signed, calming my tone. “Let’s stop fighting. I’m sorry if I was too rough with you. I was wrong. And what Molly and Brother Birch did to you was awful. Unforgivable. But if you want to see Shri sooner rather than later, you’re going to need to play Brother Birch’s game for now. So chill. Understand?”

I hoped Arlo would tell me he understood, but he didn’t. So we drove on in silence. When we arrived in the parking lot of the college, there were three people waiting for us: Molly, Professor Bahr (who obviously had to bail on the field trip), and a man I figured had to be Brother Birch. He was shorter than I had expected, thick, with a salt-and-pepper military buzz cut, wearing a white shirt and tie. His severe face was covered in apermanent five-o’clock shadow, with thin red lips like an angry stab wound above his chin. He had a sort of punishing-father sexiness, like the host of one of those 1960s educational videos about the dangers of syphilis.

For what seemed like a very long time, the three just stared at Arlo and me sitting in the car from twenty feet away. It was a bit like one of those long pauses before a shoot-out begins in an old Hollywood western. Professor Bahr said something to Birch, who then shook her hand. As she walked back into Hudson Hall, she turned back and shot an accusing, hate-filled look in my direction. I desperately wanted to chase after her and explain that I had nothing to do with Arlo’s lie. But then Birch started walking toward the car, stopping at the edge of the hood, staring at me. His eyes were the coldest blue I had ever seen.

I stepped out of the car, leaving the air-conditioning on for Arlo and Snap, who remained inside. It was then that I first noticed the middle-aged woman, short and thick, with blond hair and glasses, sitting in a nearby car, watching us with her windows down. I approached Brother Birch.

“Look, Mr. Birch, I get that you’re upset about what happened. But I promise you, we are all on the same team. We all want what’s best for Arlo.”

“I see,” Birch said. His voice was higher pitched than I’d imagined, with a distinct upstate accent.

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