Chapter 20

I opened my eyes. No sunlight filled the room. I looked at the clock: 5:00 a.m. I could close my eyes, rest some more. I could—but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep. Instead, I rolled out of bed, got ready for the big day and headed out the door, ready to pile into the car for the drive to Rochester.

When I got outside I stopped and shook my head. “Hey, Patrick! What are you doing up this early?”

He was wearing new jeans and sneakers and holding a paper and pen with him, like he usually did when he came over. Couldn’t let you take off without saying bye, he wrote. First day of school for me, too. I’d have had to get up sooner or later, anyway.

I read what he wrote and laughed. I wished I could hear myself laugh. I couldn’t even remember what it sounded like anymore. “Thanks.”

And I wanted to give you this. He pulled a brand new Yankees baseball cap from his backpack, and handed it over. The one I had was beyond old and comfy. It was worn out and a bit embarrassing to wear.

I felt funny taking the cap after the outburst with my father last night. But hey, best I could tell, the Yankees had done nothing to me, so why should I hold my deafness against them? I tried it on. “Cool, man. Thanks!”

Sure. I better go, he wrote after noticing how my family was frantically circling the car.

I wish I had thought to get him something. My brain searched for anything I might have in my bag, anything that I could give to him, but nothing came to mind. “Maybe we can do something this weekend?”

Sounds good. Have fun at school.

“You, too!” We did our handshake. It was different this time. Slower. It felt like it meant more that way, instead of rushing through it.

When we pulled out of the driveway, Patrick stayed on the sidewalk waving. I waved back. I had known for weeks that we wouldn’t be going to school together, and I had known it would be weird, but until right that instant, it just didn’t seem real. I watched him leave and knew he was thinking the same thing.

We arrived in Rochester early, which was part of Dad’s plan. The restaurant where we stopped for breakfast had a big parking lot. Inside, everything was brown and green. The booths were brown leather. It was nothing like the small family-owned diner at home. Food didn’t even smell the same. The servers wore green aprons. There had to be thirty booths along the walls and as many tables in the center of the dining area. The place smelled of pancakes, maple syrup, bacon, and coffee.

We sat in a back-corner booth. It was the first time since I’d become deaf that we’d gone out to eat as a family. I was able to see everyone in the place. When the waitress came to the table, everyone else ordered. I went last, concentrating on pronouncing each word correctly. Maybe I was slurring words or mumbling. How could I know? After ordering, I folded my menu and attempted to hand it to the waitress. Her lips moved. I couldn’t tell what she said and I looked quickly at my dad.

Dad spoke to the waitress with an apologetic look on his face. The waitress took the menu from me and opened the plastic-coated flaps. She pointed to the item I’d ordered: two eggs scrambled, rye toast, and a glass of orange juice. “Bacon, please,” I added. “Not sausage.”

When the waitress left, I scowled.

What? Dad signed.

“You told her I was deaf, didn’t you?”

Dad threw his hands in the air.

Mom signed, What should your father do? She asked you a question.

They were right. What did I expect? People were going to need to know I was deaf. I didn’t know why I thought I could keep it a secret. Why was I ashamed of being deaf?

After eating, Marie sat up front with Dad because Mom wanted to sit in back with me. She held my hand, her thumb massaging my knuckles. I couldn’t look at her. Instead, I nestled in close until she wrapped an arm around my shoulder and held me tight. The thought of being without my family frightened me more than I wanted to admit. The idea of living alone on a campus where I only knew the lady from admissions made me turn cold.

The Yankees ball cap felt tight and stiff on my head. It needed to be broken in. Getting caught in a heavy downpour was one of the best ways to baptize a ball cap, but…

Mom squeezed my hand, letting me know she wanted my attention. She pointed at me and asked if I was okay.

I nodded. I was afraid that if I said anything, I would start to cry and not be able stop. We were driving in the car on the way to my new school. I didn’t want to be bawling in my mother’s lap like a baby. I wanted to be brave for my family. “Fine,” I managed.

Nervous? Mom spelled.

“Some.”

You don’t have to stay, Mom signed. We can work with our schools back home.

I shook my head and shrugged, as if to say: We’re already here, too late now.

And it felt as if it were too late. What I really wanted was to scream for Dad to turn the car around and take us home. But I didn’t.

It was around 7:00 a.m. when Dad pulled into the school parking lot.

Everything was different now. Everything.