Genevieve
was almost 15 when she got her first hearing aids. Something
degenerative had been slowly turning down the volume in her head
since grade school. Now in her late twenties she could hear almost
nothing, and taught young kids, in varying degrees of hearing decay
themselves, at a little academy in an upscale part of town.
People
never seemed to notice her hearing aids, though she never really
tried to hide them. They weren't small, like her dimples. They
weren't disguised by her bobbed hair, that always seemed just dried.
Most likely it was the disarming way she looked at people when they
spoke; inconspicuously, intently, reading lips to pick up anything
her ears didn't catch. With her cool blue eyes, most people didn't
even notice she had ears, let alone devices.
It was the first
day of class, complete with awkward hugs for the younger set whose
parents had taken the morning off, and older kids exiting donated
vans with their hands blurred in conversation. No dew on the grass
thanks to the late summer heat, just bits of exposed dirt turning to
dust as the kids bottlenecked at the door, the early morning sun
already raising beads of sweat. Genevieve watched the children from
behind starlet sunglasses at the end of the walk, nonchalantly
checking email on her phone or refreshing the Missed Connections page
on Craigslist. Maybe she caught someone's attention at the movies a
few nights ago, or perhaps someone noticed how she sauntered slowly
through the entire farmer's market yesterday, but bought
nothing.
She looked up in time to catch a man consoling his
son of about five or six. The kid couldn't decide if he wanted to
fiddle with his aids or hold dad's hand, stalling before letting go
that last time before walking into the building. Even though
Genevieve was older when it happened, she remembered this day when
she went through it. She put her phone in her pocket and made her
way over to say hello. While she couldn’t hear much without her
earpieces, Genevieve still had full use of her voice. She tended to
speak a little louder than necessary, and sometimes talked over other
people a little, when she didn't realize they were talking, but that
was no different than 90% of the other people in the world.
“Hi…what’s
your name?” she asked the little boy. He said nothing, just stood
there looking at her, almost motionless, squinting in the sunlight
with one hand on the hammer loop of his father's pants, the other
gingerly futzing with one of his hearing aids. She waited, smiled,
then shot out her hand and said “I’m Ms. Genevieve.”
“I’m
sorry, this is Eli.” the father said. Evidently Eli had been on the
edge of tears all morning, nerves and what-not, and he was having
trouble getting used to his new hearing aids. She understood
completely. He said this was a big transition for everyone in his
family, but they were all doing their best. “I don’t think any of
us got much sleep last night.”
“He’s
in the right place, this is just the spot.” Genevieve knelt down
eye-to-eye with Eli, wrapped her hands around his, and smiled. “Those
things…they kind of suck, huh?” Eli nodded. “Let me show you
something…” Genevieve took off her sunglasses, turned her head
left and tucked her hair behind her right ear, then slowly turned her
head right and tucked her hair behind the left, exposing both of her
hearing aids to Eli. “See? I have them too. And you know what?”
Eli shook his head. “Almost everybody here has them, or something
like them. Soon you won’t even know they are there.” Genevieve
booped his nose then stood up.
The
father fell victim to the same set of blue eyes everyone else did,
the tanned skin of her face only made them more obvious, and more
obvious that they were looking right at him. Like most he immediately
started avoiding eye contact. She said “You know, today is more
about getting acquainted than anything else, you're welcome to come
inside for a little while, if you have a few minutes.” She imagined
striking up a witty conversation, giving a personalized tour of the
school, and perhaps offering up her business card. As inappropriate
as it might seem. The father looked down at Eli, Genevieve couldn’t
see his lips, and said “How would that be, bud? You want us to stay
for a little bit?” Eli immediately lit up and nodded quickly,
almost like he'd just been asked if he wanted to blow off class and
go to the zoo.
Genevieve
asked if they had begun working on sign language with him, because
that would probably be the most rigorous part of the first semester.
“We have, yes. Well, we’ve just
started.”
He looked down at Eli again, and again Genevieve couldn’t see his
lips. “Haven't we?” She said it would be a good idea to start
integrating both speech and sign around the house, to start making it
a habit.
For
the first time since she approached, Eli spoke. “Dad, when are you
going to pick me up?” The father held up three fingers, the last
three, with his thumb and forefinger touching tips. The 'OK' sign,
but upside down. “Three o'clock, ok?” the father said. “Three
o'clock, ok?” Genevieve couldn't help but laugh, and she stifled
her chuckle by clapping a hand over her mouth, but her shoulders blew
her cover.
The
father stared, then half smiled. “What?”. Genevieve took his hand
and held it up, shaped it into the 'OK' sign. “This...is 'ok'.”
she said. She took his elbow in her other hand, and turned his arm
down, forearm facing up. She said that when you hold the 'OK' sign
this way, it takes on a much different meaning. She whispered “You're
signing 'asshole'.”
With
eyes wide he finally held Genevieve's gaze, except there were no
words. The background slowed to a stop like a record player suddenly
unplugged. He broke the silence by pitching back his head, erupting
in laughter. Funny thing about laughter; even if you can't hear it,
it's still contagious. She let her hand fall from her face and
smiled, her shoulders still giving away her efforts to stifle her
amusement at the situation. The father turned red and doubled over,
laughing silently now, then finally caught his breath sounding like
an accordion in reverse. It completely drowned out Genevieve's
snorting.
She
looked up to see a woman approaching in a trot, carrying an Iron Man
backpack. Genevieve's laughter stalled when she said “Got your bag,
Eli.” The father could do nothing but motion for her to come
closer, turning his hand counter-clockwise toward him. “What...what's
so funny?”
“Ms.
Genevieve, this is my wife.” Genevieve said hello and put out her
hand, but the invitation for a shake was not accepted. The wife in
fact recoiled slightly and offered only a quick hello through a
cautious grin. The father held up his hand with his fingers fanned
out. “This...this is 'ok'.” He wiped tears away from his eyes,
then rotated his arm down, forearm up, fingers still fanned.
“This...is 'asshole'.” What he thought was a very
reassuring combination of sign and speech inadvertently turned into
his first sign language swear. The wife was not amused. The cautious
grin turned to one much more forced and rooted in disbelief. “The
first day of school and you're teaching him profanity in sign
language?”
“Well...no,
I mean it was a mistake I made, she pointed it out. She corrected me.
Thank you, for that.” He paused. She glowered. “Oh c'mon, don't
you think it's funny how one little thing changed the tone of the
whole situation?” The wife exhaled a little cough. “Hysterical”,
then took Eli by the arm and made for the door after shooting
Genevieve a big, fake smile.
The
father followed after, then stopped and turned. “Thank you. I
needed that.” He thumbed toward his wife, mouthed 'She's ok', with
his hand up and fingers fanned, then turned and left to catch up.
Genevieve
waved and smiled, then said softly “No, more of an asshole.”
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