Alterity

Chapter Twenty-One

Let's just say that walking into Erik's apartment—where I'd only really been once before—is a far more nerve-wracking experience while his family is home. I went back and forth several times as to whether or not I was actually going to go through with meeting his family, which I think hurt his feelings a little bit, but they don't know Sign Language! Erik insisted each time that he'd help translate anything and everything he could, but this is where the newbie signers really get on my nerves: Because they quickly start thinking they are--or wanting to be--interpreters!

            Unfortunately, this sort of thing is super common when it comes to hearing people just beginning to learn Sign Language. Hell, sometimes even when hearing people become fluent, they are so eager to interpret for us and it's like, thanks... but I'd prefer to be able to just have a conversation AND if I need/want you to interpret for me, I'll ask. It's not their fault, they just love Sign and want to help but still. It's frustrating.

            When school gets out, Erik and I take the bus back to his place and that's when I start really getting nervous.

            "You ok?" He asks.

            I take a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine."

            His mom greets us at the door in a super-excited, overly-smiley fashion, so I can really only make out her saying Hi through lip-reading. Fun fact: the more you annunciate words or the bigger ways in which you move your mouth makes it so much harder to read your lips! Embarrassed and wanting a good first-impression, I make a point of not looking to Erik to interpret and just awkwardly shake his Mom's hand when she extends it.

            Once inside, we are quickly greeted by the smell of freshly-microwaved frozen dinners and a heavyset man seated in a recliner directly in front of the tv. Beer in one hand, he does that upwards nod thing that means hello. I wave back and direct my gaze elsewhere as quickly as possible. Erik doesn't talk all that much about his family but something about his dad reminds me a bit of my own. It's not the beer—my dad actually doesn't drink—or the recliner, but the look of disapproval and skepticism that almost seems engraved on his face. I know that look all too well.

            Erik taps me on the shoulder—breaking me out of the anxiety-induced, zoned-out trance I'd been in—and excitedly points to Aiden, who runs out of the kitchen with his arms outstretched, barreling into Erik's chest. He picks him up and spins him around, which leaves Aiden laughing like crazy. Erik puts him down and points to me.

            "This is my friend, Leo!" He says, while of course, signing simultaneously.

            "Hi, Aiden!" I say.

            Still smiling, Aiden looks up at me briefly, opening his mouth and putting his hands to his ears. It's strange but even by the way he looks at me, I can tell that he's different—and I don't mean that in a bad way or anything.

            "He really likes low-fives," says Erik, turning to me.

            I nod and look back towards Aiden. "Do you want a low-five?" I ask, putting my hand out.

            Aiden opens his mouth again and takes one hand off his ear, and quickly hits my hand. He does so with his fingers pointed downward, so it's more of a jab than anything and his nails hurt my palm a little bit but I don't mind in the least.

            "Thank you!" I say. "You are so cute!"

            By now, Aiden has turned his attention back to Erik—who picks him up again—while he presses his mouth and chin into Erik's neck and cheek again and again. I feel really guilty but something about meeting Aiden actually made me a little sad. I don't know if it's his mannerisms or what but I just feel kind of bad for the kid. Truthfully, in meeting Aiden, I'm forced to look back on some of the things I used to think—and regrettable say—about some of the students with autism and other intellectual disabilities that go to The Ducharme School. I never said anything to them, of course, but I was so pissed about having to go there and people thinking I was there because being deaf was a disability of some kind—which it's not—that I think I mentally blamed them a little bit.

            Admittedly, I do find myself feeling a little bit uncomfortable in the presence of Aiden. Not because of him as a person but just because I don't have any idea what to say or how to interact with him. Erik talks all the time about how so many people feel uncomfortable around people that have intellectual disabilities—especially if the disability is significant or the person is low-functioning—and I'm starting to really worry that I might be one of those people.

Like, I don't feel uncomfortable in the way that I think Aiden is weird or anything. If anything, I feel uncomfortable in the way that I do when I see a homeless person on the street: I feel really bad for them and my instinct is to just—you know—look away. God, that sounds terrible! I mean, I don't know, maybe it's just that this is a whole new world to me. I mean, hey, hearing people tell me all the time how bad they feel for me because I'm deaf and I know that's just because they don't understand it.

So, maybe it's kind of like that and maybe I need to make a point of talking to Erik more about stuff like this. After all, ignorance does not mean stupidity; It means uneducated or misinformed. As much as I hate to admit it, this is a subject matter on which I guess I've been pretty ignorant . . . and now that I realize that, it's time I do something about it. And hey, I'm educating Erik on American Sign Language and my culture, so why not have him teach me more about his.