Hurt Go Happy (9 page)

“She's cute.” Ruth handed back the picture. “I'm sorry I yelled at you.”

“Did you?” Joey tried to smile.

Her mother gave a short snort of a laugh. “Sometimes I forget you can't hear me.”

“I still hear your phantom voice, you know, but the tone never changes.”

“Do you understand why I don't want you going over to that man's house?”

“Not really. I told you he's old and really nice.”

“Joey, you don't have the experience to judge people. Look at Roxy.”

“She didn't know that you didn't want me signing.”

“She's trash, Joey.”

“She's my friend.”

“I don't want to hear anything more about her or this old man and his monkey. Is that clear?”

“Totally.” Joey had listened to all of this she could stand. She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes. The room fell silent. But the longer she waited, the worse the knot in her stomach got. When the pressure in her ears suddenly changed, she knew her mother had opened the door, but she waited until the shock wave of the door slamming passed through the wall and her headboard to her back before she relaxed and opened her eyes.

As soon as they left for the movie, Joey went and got the phone directory. She dialed Charlie's number, then started to count aloud to ten so that if he picked up, he'd hear her voice. But before she reached ten, she felt the sting of tears. “Charlie, this is Joey Willis,” she said, regaining control. “My mom says I can't come over anymore. She says Sukari might be dangerous, but that's not the real reason. I'm not sure what it is but it's not Sukari. I showed her the picture. She's so little in the picture. Charlie, please come talk to my mother. No one understands me like you do. I've never had anyone to talk to before.” She paused for a second, trying to think of what else to say. “I had a nice time today.”

*   *   *

Sunday morning came and went with no word from Charlie. By midday Joey was sure he hadn't gotten her message, that she'd talked over a phone ringing in an empty house.

To pass the time, she straightened things, made the stack of magazines on the coffee table neater, and collected the newspapers from the last few days, folded them, and put them with the kindling. She used the little dustpan to sweep up around the woodstove. Her mother thanked her, but suspiciously, since it was not Joey's habit to keep house.

Eventually, she took a seat on the sofa opposite Ray's chair and stared up the driveway. Under her breath, she hummed a mantra—
please come
—over and over, rocking a little to the beat.

Ray was watching football. During a commercial he glanced at her and smiled. Twice he'd gone to the kitchen for a beer, stopping to massage her mother's shoulders as she cooked Sunday dinner. While the commercial lasted, they talked with Ruth's back to Joey, so she couldn't see even her mother's half of the conversation. Luke was down for his nap. Joey finally took her jacket from the hall closet and got the book she'd been reading.

Her mother caught the door before Joey could close it behind her. “Where are you going?”

“Out to read,” Joey said, holding the book up.

“Why don't you read in here?”

“I'm not going to his house.” Joey whirled and ran across the yard, in the opposite direction from her tree stump and the trail to Charlie's.

She glanced back. Her mother stood in the doorway, watching, hands on her hips. Joey kept going, over and down the embankment. Out of sight of her mother, she followed the trail along the creek that curved to flow behind their house, then straightened to cascade past Charlie's on its way to the ocean. When she could see her tree, she began to climb toward it, through the sword ferns and elderberries. Before crossing the back trail, she hid behind an alder and peeked to make sure her mother wasn't watching from the kitchen window, then she darted across and up the steep incline to her stump.

The little tarp was heavy when she pulled it out and her first thought was that it had somehow filled with rainwater, but when she picked it up by a corner, a package fell out: a wrapped package, with silver paper and a blue bow. For a moment, she thought it was a gift for someone else, mistakenly left in her hiding place, but the envelope stuck beneath the ribbon had “Joey Willis” written on it in Charlie's shaky handwriting. She turned it over to open. On the back he'd scrawled,
I'm too old. It was Sukari who remembered how to find this tree.

Joey spread the tarp across the top of the stump, folding an edge over so as not to smother the red huckleberry sprout that had taken root in the tree's rotting core.

The long letter started with “Dear Jo y.” The “e” was missing, cut out with a hole punch, leaving a small, empty circle.

I had such a nice time today, and so did Sukari. She adores you, and why not—you're much more fun than a slow old man. I think she's found a soul-mate.

I decided I'd write and tell you more about my parents and what my life was like growing up. Hearing you speak of your friend Roxy reminded me how angry I used to get at my parents, and the burden I thought they were because they didn't talk or read lips. I, like Roxy, was their bridge. That's a huge responsibility for a kid.

My mother was born deaf and never heard a single word, she never spoke, though oddly she had a wonderful laugh that I still miss. When she was young, the traditional thinking was to make the deaf learn to speak, but luckily, her parents quickly gave up that notion. They wanted to be able to communicate with her themselves so they sent her to a school that taught American Sign Language and they learned it, too.

My father was a baby, just learning to talk, when he lost his hearing. His parents were caught up in the same debate, but they chose the other path. It was a terrible handicap. Because it took so long to teach him to approximate the sound of each word, the rest of his education had to wait. What little speech he learned, no one could understand. The frustration finally drove him to quit school in the eighth grade and take the only job he could find—a janitor. The good news is that the job was at a school for the deaf. That's where he met my mother and where he learned to sign. Eventually, he found his life's work as a printing press operator (the perfect fit for him; presses make a “deafening” racket). He made a good living and they were happy. We were happy.

Don't get me wrong. Both arguments have valid points. But if I had to decide for a child of mine, I would choose sign language. If we hadn't all signed, I would not have been able to talk to my own parents.

I just got the call from your mother. I'm sorry she was upset. I had to tell her that Sukari ripped your jacket because I think she thought
I
did it. I think I should come by and meet your parents and maybe bring Sukari. She'd love Luke. Just her size and speed. But I'll wait for your okay. I don't want to make things worse.

This is a little gift to you from me and the runt. I hope with time, it opens a new world for you.

Love,
C and S

Cautiously, so as not to ruin the beautiful paper, Joey undid the bow and eased the tape loose. It was a book:
The Joy of Signing.
Between the “o” and the “y” in Joy, Charlie had pasted the “e” he'd cut out of her name, making the new title
The Joey of Signing.
Inside the front cover he'd written,
To Joey Willis, remember all you are unable to do is hear. Love from your friends—Charlie and Sukari.
Sukari had scribbled her signature, too.

Joey bit her lip, but it didn't work. She covered the little “e” with her index finger, hugged the book, and sobbed.

After she'd cried herself out, she spent the next hour signing all the words in the first chapter, “Family Relationships,” then practiced a sentence, nearly each word of which she had to look up. THANK-YOU FOR THE SIGN LANGUAGE BOOK, she signed over and over to herself.

When she got cold, she drew up her legs and covered herself with an edge of the tarp, and worked on signing, MY NAME IS J-O-E-Y W-I-L-L-I-S. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

She stayed gone a couple of hours. When she came down the hill from her tree, her mind was still busy tracing the shapes that words took on the hands. She passed the kitchen window as she came along the rear walkway and saw her mother ironing with hard, fast strokes. Ruth glanced up, stony-faced, as she passed. Joey wondered if her mother knew she'd been signing and was taking her anger out on Ray's shirt. She believed her mother had the freakish ability to know what she was up to all the time. As much as she wanted this to change since meeting Charlie and Sukari, Joey accepted it as a price she paid for the ease with which they communicated. She read her mother's lips and moods and in exchange her mother read her secret thoughts. Though she'd left the book wrapped in the tarp, Joey believed that hiding places—tree hollows or the heart—were no barriers to her mother's second sight. She was at the front door before she saw Charlie's car in the driveway.

Charlie was talking and watching football with Ray, who had Luke on his lap.

“Hi,” Charlie said. “I thought it was time for us to meet your family.” He winked, took a notepad from his shirt pocket, and handed it to her. He'd already written,
I got your message. It was on the answering machine when I got back from leaving your present. Did you find it?

Joey nodded and smiled. She felt such relief, she wanted to hug him.

“Where's Sukari?”

Charlie jerked his thumb toward his car.

“Luke,” Joey said. “Want to meet a chimpanzee?”

Charlie tapped Joey's shoulder. “Your mother.”

Joey turned.

“No. She might bite him.”

“I want to see the chimpagnee,” Luke shouted.

Joey was facing her mother, so she didn't see what was said next, but her mother leveled her icy stare at Ray and said, “If it hurts him, I'll … I'll never forgive you.”

“I'll bring Sukari in here. They can play in Luke's room.”

“I don't want that animal in the—” Ruth stopped and glared at Joey. “Fleas,” she said, then returned to punishing the ironing.

“Come on, Luke.” Joey held out her hand.

Sukari was stretched out on the ledge behind the backseat with a magazine. I-SEE-YOU, J-Y.

“Did you see that, Luke? She talks with her hands.” Joey opened the door.

Luke scooted behind Joey's legs and peeked around as Sukari rolled off the ledge and dropped onto the backseat, stood, and wobbled toward them. NAME BOY? Sukari asked.

“His name is Luke. L-U-K-E. He came to play with you.”

Sukari clearly understood the word “play” because she grinned and signed, TICKLE-CHASE, by slapping the back of her hand with her index finger.

“She said she wants to play chase,” Joey told Luke.

Luke held tightly to Joey's leg and shook his head.

Joey scooped Sukari into her arms, kissed her, then took Luke's hand and led him to a lawn chair. “Would you like Sukari to teach you to talk with your hands?”

Luke shook his head no.

“Well, let's learn one word, okay?” FRIEND, Joey signed. “Luke and Sukari.” FRIEND FRIEND.

Sukari hooked her index fingers, then poked Luke's shoulder.

Luke hooked his fingers and poked Sukari.

CHASE, Sukari signed.

“She wants the Bear to chase her.”

Luke made claws and a snarly-face.

“Oops,” Joey said and glanced at Sukari for her reaction to Luke's teeth. “Don't scare her, okay?”

Sukari seemed oblivious. She signed, CHASE ME, BOY.

Joey interpreted.

Luke giggled, jumped off Joey's lap, and ran at Sukari. Sukari loped away on bowed legs and knuckles, slowed a bit for him to catch up, then launched herself up an alder tree and dangled by one hand from a branch just above his head.

Luke looked stunned for a second. “Come here, monkey,” he snapped.

Sukari swung to another limb and then another until she'd gone all the way up the trunk and was back where she'd begun.

“Do this, Luke.” Joey made Sukari's chase-sign.

CHASE, Luke signed, then flung his elbows up and charged across the yard with Sukari on his heels. He shrieked when Sukari caught him and rolled with him on the ground. Joey glanced at the house to see if the rough-housing would bring her mother running.

Ruth stood at the kitchen window with her arms folded across her chest. Joey signaled, OKAY. Her mother nodded.
You just read your first sign, Mom,
she thought, then turned away so her mother wouldn't see her grin.

Sukari had raced off and climbed up the rungs on the power pole.

Luke formed a gun with his index finger and thumb and rushed forward, screaming “pow, pow, pow.”

Sukari climbed higher. Too high. “Come down, Sukari,” Joey said, shushing Luke. “Come down.” CHASE BOY.

The bottom rung was about six feet off the ground. When Sukari's foot touched it she launched herself at Joey, who caught her and swung her around and around by her arms.

“Do me. Do me,” Luke shouted.

While Joey swung Luke, Sukari flailed her arms for another turn, so she made them link hands, and, holding their free hands, swung them both. When she put them down, Luke signed, CHASE, and ran with Sukari on his heels. When he turned to see if Sukari was gaining on him, Joey shouted a warning, but he hit the power pole full-bore. He fell to the ground, shrieking and holding his head. Sukari squatted beside him and touched the bump, then turned to Joey and signed, BOY HURT. HUG BOY. She wrapped her long arms around Luke, patted his back, and kissed him. Luke sniffled, then grinned.

Sukari looked up and signed something Joey couldn't interpret. At the same moment Ruth ran up, arms swinging as if she was going to pummel Sukari. “Get away from him,” she screamed.