by Ginny Rorby
He nodded understandingly. “You have a nice voice.”
“That’s what my mother says, but I must sound funny to people because sometimes they don’t understand all of what I say, and I get teased at school. They mimic me by talking through their noses. I can tell by the way their nostrils spread.”
Do you go to a speech therapist?
Joey nodded. “On Wednesdays.”
Didn’t your therapist explain?
“Yeah, but not so I understood. She doesn’t like to write to me. She makes me practice reading lips and hers are hard to read.”
Charlie shook his head, then walked to Sukari’s log and sat down. Why don’t you use hearing aids?
“They’re pretty expensive, and since I haven’t quit growing yet, we’re waiting to get permanent ones. I have an FM system I use at school. That helps, except I hate wearing the earphones.”
You should wear them as often as you can. We learn words by imitating their sounds. To pronounce new words correctly, you need to hear them and have them spelled phonetically. That’s why people miss some of what you say. It’s easy to mispronounce new words. My mother never learned to speak. My father tried but no one could understand a thing he said but me. Thank heavens for sign language.
“But hardly any hearing people know sign language, so even if I learned, who would I talk to?”
Charlie grinned and scribbled, Well, this runt of a chimp and me, for two.
“That’s true. I’m sorry.”
He took the pad back and wrote, How do you do in school?
“Okay, I guess.” Joey shrugged. “I mostly try to get by with lip-reading ‘cause I get called bug-head when I wear the headphones.”
We all get teased about something. They called me Twig when I was in school. Hard to believe now. He patted his stomach and smiled. How well do you communicate with your stepfather and brother?
Joey shook her head. “Not at all with Ray. He has a long mustache. I brought a sign language book from the library this week, to teach my brother so we could talk, but Mom really wants me to lip-read.”
For an instant the expression on Charlie’s face reminded her of the fury he’d been in when they first met. “Can you read Luke’s lips?” he snapped.
“Well, no, not yet, but then he—”
So you’re just supposed to wait until he can speak his words clearly or learns to write? he slashed across the pad.
Joey flinched. She hadn’t meant to make him mad. When she took a step back, his expression changed. He shook his head. SORRY, he signed, but he was still mad enough to break the point off his pencil and have to fish for another one before he finished the next note.
If you went to a school for the deaf, you’d get a wonderful education and could go on to college and do just about anything you wanted. Without an education, you will be cut off from making a good life for yourself.
“My friend Roxy is teaching me to sign,” she said hopefully.
“Ump. That won’t last.”
Though Joey knew he was right, still she asked, “How do you know?” Her tone was a little defensive.
“She’s thirteen, right?”
“Fourteen.”
“She’ll get bored.”
Joey bit her lip. “I know she will. Her mother’s deaf and she’s mad at her all the time.”
They came out of the pygmy forest onto the hill above her house. Joey put Sukari down. “This is my tree stump, where I come to read, and that’s where I live,” she told Charlie. “How do I tell Sukari that’s my house?”
Charlie signed something, then lifted Sukari onto the stump. Joey put her foot in the springboard hole and boosted herself up to sit beside her. Sukari crossed her legs, folded her arms across her chest, and grinned.
I told her it was new-word time, he wrote. It’s time we give you a sign-name, a short way of referring to you. This is Sukari’s sign-name. Charlie brushed his chin several times with his first two fingers, then wrote, It means “sweet.” Did I tell you her name is Swahili for “sugar”?
“Yes, sir,” Joey said, mimicked the sign, then poked Sukari in the ribs. “That’s you,” she said.
TICKLE ME, Sukari signed.
NO TICKLE, Charlie said, signing quickly. LATER. NEW WORD.
TICKLE, Sukari signed, standing up and shaking her hands angrily.
NEW WORD. FRIEND NAME, Charlie signed to Sukari, then repeated it for Joey.
Sukari looked at Joey and puckered up, blowing little puffs of sow-bug breath through her long lips. NAME YOU? she signed by placing the first two fingers of one hand over the first two fingers of the other like swords, then pointing a bony finger at Joey.
Joey grinned. MY NAME J-O-E-Y.
VERY GOOD, Charlie signed, said “very,” then showed her the sign again. With his little finger he cut a “J” in the air, then added his thumb to make a “Y” just below it. J-Y.
Joey grinned and turned to Sukari. MY NAME J-Y, she signed smoothly.
“Sukari, look,” she said, pointing to her house. HOUSE THERE, J-Y. UNDERSTAND?
Sukari looked at Charlie, who repeated the signs for her.
HOUSE YOU, Sukari signed, poking Joey’s shoulder before she began to twirl atop the stump, keeping her balance with her knuckles.
* * *
When they were back at Charlie’s, Sukari let him tie her bib on, then took the spoon full of peanut butter he handed her and climbed into her high chair to eat it.
They’d found chanterelles and Joey stood at the stove, cooking them in butter, green onions, and lots of garlic. She could feel Charlie watching her as he sliced bananas and apples into Sukari’s bowl. When he finished, he came to stand beside her, and when she didn’t look at him, he tapped her shoulder.
“Why didn’t you tell your mother you were coming here today?”
Joey understood enough of what he’d said to answer, but she shrugged instead, then grinned. “I didn’t thank you for the letter. That’s the first one I’ve ever gotten.”
Charlie smiled. “I used to love to write letters. It will be fun to have an excuse again.” He must have thought she’d missed most of what he’d said, because he left and came back with his notepad, on which he’d written, Do you want to talk about why you didn’t tell your mother you were visiting us?
Joey read what he had written but didn’t answer. “These are ready,” she said, turning the flame off under the pan. They were having chanterelles and tuna-salad sandwiches, with Oreos for dessert. The early arrival of a drizzly rain had driven their picnic inside.
After they sat down at the table, Joey tried to answer his question: “I didn’t tell her I was coming here because I want to learn sign language, and, you know … Mom doesn’t want me to.” She knew that probably wasn’t a clear answer but couldn’t think of how to explain why one thing was the reason for the other.
Charlie picked up his pencil but wrote only, The mushrooms are delicious, and it’s a treat to have butter. I’m not supposed to have butter or eggs or anything else that tastes good. Bland, fat-free, salt-free, flavor-free food, that’s my lot in life.
“You should have told me,” Joey said. “I could have cooked them in water.”
“Ugh,” Charlie said and made a face, then wrote, Your mother wants you to fit into the hearing world, but like most hearing people, she doesn’t understand the isolation you feel.
As Joey read what he’d written, she felt the burn of tears and squeezed her eyes shut. He patted her hand and took the pad. Would you like for me to talk to her?
“Maybe,” Joey said, then changed her mind and shook her head. “I don’t think so. It will make her mad that I told you.”
Sukari banged her empty Coke can on her high-chair tray for attention, then signed, MORE DRINK.
NO MORE DRINK, Charlie signed, then wrote, All that sugar makes her hyper.
Sukari started to scream and bang the can on the tray. Charlie grabbed it away from her. SUKARI BAD, J-Y GO HOME, he signed, but Sukari contin
ued to scream and shake her hands until Joey stood up and began to collect the dishes.
She got quiet. GOOD ME, WASH DISH, she signed.
“She loves to wash dishes,” Charlie said, getting up to lift her out of the high chair. When he put her down, she ran across the room and pulled a small step-ladder from the space between the refrigerator and the pantry. Sukari jumped up and down until Charlie opened it and placed it in front of the sink, then she climbed up to sit on the edge.
Charlie ran the sink full so that Sukari could flick the suds with her big toes. She scrubbed and scoured the plastic plates, then rinsed and rinsed them again while Joey waited to dry. “This always takes a while,” Charlie said as he put them away.
It had stopped raining by the time they finished. Sukari watched quietly as Joey put her coat on, then went into her room and came back with her little pink plastic coat, one arm already jammed into the wrong sleeve.
“You’re not going,” Charlie said, taking the coat away from her.
Sukari shrieked and signed, ANGRY, BITE.
“You do and you’ll go to jail,” Charlie snapped, then scribbled a note to Joey: Jail is the upside-down playpen in her room. Take your coat off. I’ll take her to the bathroom in a minute, then you can make a run for it.
As soon as Joey took her coat off and returned it to the rack by the door, Sukari grinned, spun, did a somersault, then ran to bring toys from a box in the hall. A moment later she rounded the sofa, pulling a wooden train by a string and carrying poor Hidey like a rag doll.
“Is it potty time?” Charlie asked her, signing “toilet” with a shake of the “T” hand, his thumb jammed between the first two fingers of his fist.
Sukari drew up short and looked at him. J-Y, SUKARI GO TOILET, she signed.
TURTLE, SUKARI GO TOILET, Charlie signed. “You little monster,” he said, taking Sukari’s hand and leading her down the hall toward the bathroom. Just before he closed the door, he gave a little wave and Joey waved back.
Joey had her coat on and the front door open when Sukari scampered back into the room wearing a toilet-paper stole around her neck. When she saw Joey at the door, she screamed and lunged for her, catching Joey around her legs.
Charlie came around the corner carrying a clean diaper and scolding Sukari, though Joey couldn’t tell what he was saying because of the two big safety pins squeezed between his lips. He untied Sukari’s arms but she held on tight with her legs.
Charlie caught Sukari’s flailing arms in one hand, spit the pins into the palm of his other hand, then put them on the foyer table. He reached down to grab a leg and Joey bent to help him. Sukari let go, but she caught Joey’s jacket collar in her little iron fist, and when Joey stood up, the top three buttons popped off and arced away, rolling out of sight beneath various pieces of furniture.
Charlie snatched Sukari up, carried her to her room, shoved her under the upside-down playpen, and set the timer on her dresser.
Sukari grabbed the bars but didn’t move.
“Can’t she lift that up and get out?”
Charlie nodded. He found his pad and wrote, She’s in it for the raisins. If she stays put for five minutes, she’ll get a handful. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll move the sofa.”
“No, don’t worry,” Joey said, “I think my mother has one of every button ever made.”
* * *
No one was home when Joey came in from Charlie’s. She took the stairs to her mother and Ray’s room three at a time and came back with a needle, thread, and some buttons. She pulled the stool over to use the light above the stove so she could watch the driveway but not be seen herself. One of the buttons was too large and she went to find another. When she came back, Ruth, her arms loaded with groceries, was standing in the kitchen staring at the jacket. She turned to face Joey.
“How did this happen?” she asked, hoisting the bags onto the counter.
“I … snagged it on a limb.”
Ruth looked at her for a long minute, then said, “Let’s see your spore prints.”
“I—I didn’t do them yet,” Joey stammered.
“Where’s the homework you did do?”
“In my room.”
“Get it,” her mother snapped.
Joey knew she was sunk, but she dug the hole deeper. “It was just reading. There’s no actual written stuff.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed, then she jerked open the drawer beneath the phone and got out the directory. She opened it, flipped some pages, then ran her finger down a column. Before she dialed, she turned so Joey could see her mouth. “Mansell, right?”
Joey didn’t answer. Her heart pounded as her mother’s fingers jabbed the numbers. When Charlie answered, Ruth turned her back so Joey couldn’t see what she said, but she saw her mother grow tense and her hold on the receiver tighten. She hung up and turned around. “A chimpanzee?”
CHAPTER FIVE
“She’s a baby,” Joey said. “She’s not dangerous or anything.”
She could prove it; the Polaroid was in her jacket pocket, but she was afraid to show it to her mother. Afraid she’d tear it up. When they moved to this house and unpacked the few things they’d brought from Reno, all the pictures of her father had been torn from the album.
Her mother stopped putting cans of soup in the pantry and turned. “You’re no judge of that,” she said. “She attacked you and ripped your coat.”
“Ripping my coat was an accident.”
“Stop arguing with me. Don’t go over there again. That’s final.”
Joey ran to her room and slammed the door, then remembered the picture in her jacket. She went back to the kitchen and took her jacket off the stool. Her mother caught her by the shoulder before she reached her room again. “Give that to me. I want to wash it. That monkey’s been all over it.”
“She’s not a monkey. Chimpanzees are apes. Great apes.” She’d read all about them in the library at school. “Our closest relatives.”
“Give me the jacket.” Her mother held her hand out.
“I need to check the pockets.”
“Do it then,” she said and went out to bring in more groceries.
Joey slipped the picture from her pocket, slung the coat onto the nearest chair, and slammed into her room again.
An hour later, her mother came into her bedroom and stood with her arms folded until Joey looked up. “We’re going to take Luke to see the new Disney movie,” she said. “There’s stew on the stove, when you get hungry.”
Joey nodded and went back to reading.
Her mother didn’t move and Joey forced herself not to look up until her mother came and sat on the edge of the bed. “What was in your jacket?”
“Nothing.”
“Was it a picture?”
Joey wondered how she knew some of the things she knew. “Yes,” she answered.
“May I see it?”
“What for?”
“Is it of the chimpanzee?”
“Yes.”
Her mother shrugged. “I just want to see it.”
“She’s not an it. Her name’s Sukari.”
“‘It’ referred to the picture, not the monk … the ape.”
“You won’t tear it up or anything?”
“Why would I do that?”
Joey shrugged, then reached into the drawer in her nightstand, took the picture out from between two folded sheets of notebook paper, and handed it to her mother.
“It lives in the house?”
Joey nodded, afraid to say anything.
“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 re
ally 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.