Give Me a Sign

by Anna Sortino

“This is good,” I sign, nodding as I chew. Before I can say it out loud, Oliver jumps in. “That means ‘good,’ right?” he says, smiling. “I knew it.”

Isaac: Hey

I’ll hit him back with a single-word text of my own.

I came back because I want to spend the rest of the summer here. With you.

I don’t need people knowing about this. I’m not their sad story.

Often, when people are inspired by disabilities, what they’re really thinking is Wow, I’m so glad that’s not my life.

“I almost forgot. I got you this.” He reaches into his left pocket, pulls out a bag of strawberry cheesecake jelly beans, and hands it to me. “Not easy to find.” “My favorite! You remembered.”

“I made you another one.” I shrug, glad I have something to offer in return. I’d offer a million of them if I could.

“Should we go to the dining hall?” I ask reluctantly, but I’m sure he wants to meet up with the others. “In a minute.” He wraps an arm around me, and we stay right where we are. “I missed you, too,” he signs finally.

“A cochlear implant doesn’t fix everything. It’s a surgical procedure after which I had to train my brain how to hear the world. My hearing isn’t magically restored the same as a hearing person’s.”

“My brother hasn’t picked up much ASL yet. I’m trying to teach him as I learn.” “And I’ll help you,” Isaac offers once more. He slides closer to me on the bench.

I’ll miss him. I’ll miss the person I am around him.

Saying goodbye to Gray Wolf will never be easy.

He leans forward and kisses the tip of my nose. Then we jump.

“I’ll miss this,” I sign. “Me too.”

“Being deaf isn’t something that needs to be fixed.”

I don’t fault her for wanting what she thought was best for us, raising us as hearing-passing. That’s what ableism has shown as the “best move.” But I want to use sign language.

Then, as he has all summer, Isaac appears by my side.

“He seems nice,” my mom says, smiling. “I see why you’re extra eager to improve your sign language.” I blush. “One of many reasons.”

With Isaac nearby, attuned to my comprehension, I’m confident. I never feel lost in the conversation when he's by my side.

“No, no,” Isaac signs. “I’ll help you.” He carefully turns me back toward the plate, standing behind me so I don’t step too far into the path. His arms wrap around me as I lift the bat, and he places his hands over mine. Though we’ve been entwined for much of the last few weeks, my skin still tingles at his touch.

His arm is still around me, so I turn to hug him. I lean away, signing, “Okay, your turn. Go ahead and show off.” Isaac grins wide. He cranks the machine up to a faster setting. “Safer to wait outside.”

He raises his eyebrows and bites his lip. “Kiss it and make it better?” I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my hand around the side of his head to draw him closer. I peck his forehead, his cheek, and his lips. “Much better,” he signs. “Good.”

“There are different levels of deafness: m-i-l-d, m-o-d-e-r-a-t-e, s-e-v-e-r-e, and p-r-o-f-o-u-n-d.” He shakes out his hand a little bit after all that fingerspelling. I smile. “It’s your choice. People think different things. Some prefer capital D, Deaf,” he signs, demonstrating by holding up an index finger and bringing the other hand to it in the same shape as the uppercase letter. “Or just deaf, or hard of hearing.” He shrugs. “But whatever way, all deaf, all belong.”

He grins and retrieves his own phone. “Let’s take another picture.” He presses a kiss to my cheek and captures the moment.

For some of the other songs, a lot of the ASL went over my head, but as I sign along to this one, I think I may be getting the hang of this. Just maybe, I’m finally figuring out this whole hearing-loss thing.

We exit the wooden area into the parking lot, where above us is a brand-new, towering entryway arch, with a proud and friendly wolf front and center. Written in both English and ASL lettering is Camp Gray Wolf.

If only Isaac had more time before school.

I want so badly for this to not to be the last time I see him.

We’re two weeks into the fall quarter, which is also a couple of classes into the ASL course my family has started taking.

I’m getting a video call. From Isaac.

“I thought you might need someone to practice your ASL with.” Isaac smiles.

My hands fly effortlessly, and I can tell that, even though it’s not summer and I’m back to reality, who I was at Gray Wolf is still at my fingertips. It’s not just the fluency, but the confidence. I know who I am. I don’t need to be more hearing or prove my deafness. I can bring both worlds together. Just being myself, I’m complete.

With all the hurdles we face, it’s no wonder that so many of us struggle to understand our place in this world—but I promise, you belong.