Two Sisters

by Jeffrey Anderson

quiz. Who says you can’t have fun and still get your studies in?

  Speaking of having fun, you are now officially invited to the first ever Sister’s Weekend here on campus. It’s the last weekend in September and comes before Parents’ Weekend and Homecoming and all that other stupid stuff. I’ve already talked to Momma and she’ll bring you over on Saturday morning and come get you Sunday afternoon. You’ll get your very own sample of college life, compliments of Brooke. And don’t think for a minute this is just for you. Momma says she’ll take my dirty laundry home and bring it back so that I can have something other than sink washed panties and balcony-railing dried T-shirts to wear to class. She keeps telling me to try the local Laundromat but have you seen those places? My clothes wouldn’t get caught dead in one of those dryers!

  Guess what? My headache is gone! You really are a miracle worker, Leah. You can heal your poor old sis from fifty miles away! Maybe I should report you to the Miracle Worker Board for nomination to sainthood or something.

  Then again, maybe I should just keep you as my personal saint. Chances are this isn’t the last time I’ll need you.

  With love from--

  Your Awake and Perky and Ready to Go Play Frisbee Tag

  Sis

  P.S. I don’t care if you wave to Danny. Hope it reminds him of what he’s missing.

  September 18

  Dear Brooke,

  It sounds like you are having a great time. You always said “University Center was Party Central” and I guess that is true. I am surprised we did not get more stories from Matt about the wild happenings, but he never was one to share his experiences. Do you ever see him around campus? Is he at any of your parties? You probably hope not. You do not want a spy reporting back to Momma and Father.

  I am glad you got an “A” on your first quiz. I hope you are keeping up with your classwork. Do they still send mid-term grades to parents? That seems an outdated policy. I recall when Father got Matt’s first grades and complained about two “Bs” and a “C.” Didn’t he say something like, “I’m not sending my son to Center just to flunk out and humiliate our family!” Do you know if he ever said anything to Matt?

  Sister’s Weekend? I do not believe I saw that listed on the University Calendar I picked up when we dropped you off. You sure you do not mind dragging around your boring and bland little sister? I do not want to cramp your style or spoil your weekend. I will bring my homework in case you have someplace to go and cannot bring me along. I do not mind spending time alone in your room. At least it will be a change of pace from here.

  Unlike you, my classes are the highlight of my life. I do not have a social life and certainly no parties to go to. But I love my teachers and for the most part the classes are really interesting and stimulating. In American History Miss Peacock shared some of her personal library on the Jamestown settlement and the lives of John Smith and Pocahontas, and gave me the name and address of someone involved in the current excavations up there. I wrote to him and he sent me copies of some of his notes and field drawings. I feel like I am right there digging with him! Miss Peacock said she would like to take me up there over Thanksgiving break, to see the excavations and meet her former student (and get a behind the scenes guided tour!). But I have not gotten up the courage to ask Momma yet. I do not know how it would fit in with our trip to Gramp and Gram’s.

  My other classes are good too. We are reading Romeo and Juliet in English! I cannot help but see Olivia Hussey and Leonard Whiting every time I read their lines. I guess everyone, or almost everyone, in the class thinks the same way. Mr. Stanford says we will watch the movie after we finish the play and critique Hollywood’s adaptation. That sounds interesting but I am guessing that most of the students think it is Shakespeare not Hollywood that needs the improvement. Speaking of the movie, Mr. Stanford was quite excited to tell me that the closed circuit feed they get includes the option for sub-titles, “so you’ll be able to follow the dialogue!” I nodded thanks but thought to myself “now everyone will have to watch the words just for the poor little deaf girl.” Sometimes my teachers try too hard to help me out.

  My science classes are going fine but not as interesting as English and History. In two weeks we will be going on a fieldtrip in Earth Science to document pollution along Hornsby Creek. In Chemistry my lab partner is Sarah Ashford. She is very nice and told me she is learning to sign during her spare time. I appreciate her good intentions but cannot for the life of me interpret half of the new signs she tries out each day. I do not know if it is her bad form or my out of date system. I suggested we practice together someday after school. She thought that was a great idea but she has cross-country practice every day and asked if we could get together on the weekend. We are going to try for Saturday afternoon, if Momma will let me have the car. Sarah still does not have her license and lives south of town, way too far to walk and beyond bus service.

  The only fly in the ointment is, of course, Algebra. Everyone says deaf people are supposed to be really good with numbers. Well, God left me out of that side benefit. I can understand simple math and was always good in geometry. Maybe that’s my special math gift, with shapes and lines and visualizing three dimensions. But multiple variables and progressive equations? I’m lost. The good news is Mr. Ferrell hardly ever speaks, just writes everything on the chalkboard. So I can copy it all exactly then take it home for Father to help decipher. He is getting a little impatient with me though. I think he misses you mainly because you were my math tutor which left him free to read his paper in the evenings.

  I said Algebra was the fly in the ointment but that is only for my classes. My interactions with students are another matter altogether, and would that they were as easy to untangle as an Algebra equation. A few girls, like Sarah, are trying to be friends and I am grateful for that. To my dismay I have discovered that teenagers do not look you in the eye and speak to your face. They are always looking away and speaking down. This makes it impossible to read their lips. Even when somebody tells them to look at me when they speak (always a teacher or Principal Porter; I would never ask them to do that) after just a few words they start looking away. I have gotten around that problem by passing notes to girls in some of my classes. They think this great fun, a throwback to grade school or junior high. But they always end up talking about boys. That is O.K. by me, to a point. But sometimes I would like to talk about something else, like a book or current events.

  And the note passing does not work for meeting people not in my class. Sometimes I wish we had mailboxes like in the old days at Susan Sartor. Then I could drop a note off in anybody’s box I wanted to meet and they could mail me back. But imagine if I tried that here, slipping a note in someone’s locker. They would either think I was a brazen hussy or even weirder that they already think I am. So I guess all I can do is smile in their direction and hope they get the telepathic message and maybe one day approach me. But then what would I do? Write a note on my pad? I am the deaf girl. I can read lips if you talk slowly. Please look at me when you speak and annunciate clearly. That would get our friendship off to a great start!

  Regarding smiling in a certain someone’s direction, that boy Paul I told you about seems interested in me. I catch him looking my way at lunch more and more often. He seems to be making his way across the cafeteria toward me, sitting at a different table each day but steadily getting closer. If I was not so scared I would find his slow approach amusing. As it is, I am terrified he will finally arrive, maybe tomorrow, maybe Friday. He was only a couple tables away today, sitting with some Math Team nerds. Just my luck, right? I wish you were here to tell me what to do if he sits at my table. But I wanted to make the high school switch on my own. Can I rescind that wish for just a day or two? Guess it does not work that way, does it? I have to figure it out on my own.

  Your Brooke-less sis,

  Leah

  September 20

  Dear Leah,

  If he sits at your table, DON’T make him “look at you when h
e speaks and annunciate clearly.” He’ll get all weirded out (might not even know what “annunciate” means) and run away, never to return. Use the writing notes on your pad approach. If he’s at all smart and romantic (and if you have eyes for him, he’s probably both) he’ll love it! And if he’s a dummy who can’t spell, he can still draw pictures, maybe even some dirty ones. Now that I think about it, maybe I should try the communicate-via-pad approach on guys. It could produce some interesting results.

  It’s Friday evening and I just picked up your letter. Oh, how I wish I could see you or at least talk to you on the phone. I want to know what happened. Did Paul sit at your table? Was either one of you able to do anything more than make goo-goo eyes at each other? Did he ask you out? Set up a study date? I bet he could help you with your algebra. How I wish I could be there to talk to you. What good’s a big sister if she can’t give you advice on boys? No good at all. No good that she’s off at college and you’re all on your own. I’m sorry.

  A bunch of girls just headed out to try a new restaurant in town, some soup and salad place that’s supposed to be cheap and healthy. Us girls got to watch our waistlines! I told them to go