Apparitions, page 16
We sat in the dining room pushing eggs around our plates, the two of us glowing together.
Will you do that for others? I signed. Put them in water?
Felix shook his head. No one believes the way you do, he signed.
He scanned the room. Sunlight flooded through the tall windows, brightening everyone’s face, even if they sat slumped at the table. Outside, the sky was the same wondrous blue as Felix’s eyes, and the ghosts on the prairie had for the moment relaxed and the fields bloomed sharp and green.
I hope their pain fades, he signed.
I want love.
They’re watching us now. They’ll take us both up there next time. No touching or kissing anymore until we get out.
When’s that?
I hope soon.
Ms. Beddim approached holding a piece of paper. She showed it to Felix and pointed to me.
What? I signed.
Therapy today, he signed. Separate. They have an interpreter.
Ms. Beddim smiled at me. Pointed to my plate and gave a thumbs-up. I nodded.
She walked away. Her yellow curls were fading toward the tips.
She’s been watching us for months, Felix signed, and she still doesn’t know how to sign good or bad. She takes notes, too. She probably gives them to Dr. Pearl. He can’t be bothered to leave his cozy office and see us himself. Then he’d have to see us as people instead of problems.
The previous night, I’d asked Felix why there are more white people in the institution than Asian or Black or First Nations. He said that in Japan and China, there are more Asian people, and in Africa there are more Black people. He said that white people have killed millions of others all over the world, including First Nations people here on the prairies, because they saw them as problems. The image of so many dead people forced the limits of my mind further and further outward until my head ached and creaked from the stretching, and I shuddered.
Bernice really wants out, Felix signed. Dr. Pearl took her upstairs before I got here. When she came down, she just sat in the hall and hardly said anything. Whenever Dr. Pearl looks at me, I see in his eyes he wants to cut my head open and play with my brain, or strap me down and zap me, or stick pins in my skin to see what I’d do.
I peered across the dining room. Bernice and Hortense were play-fighting with their thumbs. As Mr. Creel walked past them, they raised their middle fingers to his back.
I don’t understand, I signed. Why do people hurt other people or kill other people?
Some people are greedy or petty or bored, Felix signed, and some people have no choice.
He pulled me closer. At your next session, he signed, don’t give the doctor anything. Don’t tell him anything about me, don’t tell him about your baptism. That’s our secret. Understand?
Okay.
What’d I say?
Don’t say anything. About you.
I swallowed a forkful of cool eggs and broke off a corner of toast, then left it on my plate. I wasn’t hungry anymore.
Felix held up a spoonful of jam and poured sugar onto it and shoved it in his mouth.
What did your father do to you? I signed.
Felix’s eyes hardened. I told you, he put me in here, he signed.
Before you came here, what did he do? Did he hurt you?
Felix’s eyes dulled. He fucked everything up, he signed. He’s more a child than a man. He didn’t look after me, didn’t give a damn.
Felix sat up straight and snapped his hands sharply as he signed: He let my mother leave without a fight. He let people do what they wanted to me. Never defended me, never supported me. He makes things up in his head so he’s never at fault. He’s a fuck-up—weak, selfish, has no courage, believes in nothing.
I’m sorry.
I’ve written letters to my mother, but she hasn’t come. I bet my father’s keeping her letters from me, or maybe the doctors are doing it. Felix sagged. Both of them are horrible, he signed. I wish I didn’t come from my parents. I wish I was put together from spare parts, that I didn’t carry their blood, their skin, their eyes, their weaknesses.
He leaned close. If Dr. O asks you questions, just say, Everything’s fine, I’m okay. Understand?
👁
How are you? Dr. O signed.
He wore a green shirt with a collar. No suit. The same interpreter sat beside him. She’d cut her hair short; it made her smile look bigger.
Everything’s fine, I signed. I’m okay. Understand?
He spoke, and the interpreter began signing. I locked onto her fingers, trying to remember their rhythm from last time.
You could use a shave, he said. Maybe a trim, too. I’ll ask Ms. Beddim to arrange it.
My hair had gotten long, almost to my shoulders. Your hair’s shorter, I signed to the woman.
We’ve been trying to find your family, Dr. O continued, but it’s difficult without a name or address. Given everything that’s happened to you, we don’t want to return you to a harmful environment, but there are legal implications.
I swung my eyes around the small room. The bleak light outside made it look even tighter, like a fist aching to close.
May I ask why you’re not speaking? he said.
I tucked one hand into the other. His words prodded at me like mosquitoes.
You sure everything’s okay? Did Felix tell you not to say anything?
I met Dr. O’s eyes, then looked at the floor. Everything’s fine, I signed.
You’re welcome to share as much or as little as you want, Dr. O said. This is your time. Nobody else gets to tell you what to say. In here, you get to share what you want, not what someone else wants. You have a much better chance of leaving here if we can work things out.
Dr. O leaned forward, trying to snag my attention with his eyes. Are you sleeping better? he said. I heard that you woke up screaming a few times.
I’m okay, I signed.
What about your relationship with Felix? Are you two seeing each other romantically?
I started to sign something but stopped and shook my head.
Dr. O slumped back. So did the woman. They seemed like two parts of the same animal.
Last time, you had many questions, he said. Whatever you want to ask.
I had to move away from the subject of Felix, so I signed the first question that arose. Why do people die?
Dr. O’s thick eyebrows arched up. That’s a big question, he said. Deaf is a part of life.
The interpreter signed his words, then frowned at him.
Excuse me, Dr. O said. Slip of the tongue. Death—death is part of life. It’s natural.
Natural?
Happens all the time. Everyone dies.
But why?
We all have a certain amount of life in us, and eventually that life runs out. Sometimes it’s taken from us.
The soul? The spirit?
That’s right.
I don’t want ghosts around me.
You see ghosts?
No.
Ghosts are okay. They can speak to us. They’re nothing to fear.
Why do so many people have to die?
Dr. O took a moment. Are you afraid of dying?
I flexed my fingers together.
Do you have dreams about dying?
I thought for a moment. The question had nothing to do with Felix. I think so, I signed.
The interpreter snapped her fingers. The dogs? The men burying the body outside?
I saw them again last night, I signed. One of the men looked like my father.
It’s the same men you saw before?
Yes.
How many times have you seen them?
I don’t know.
Are you taking your medication?
Yes.
Have you told anyone else about this? Besides Felix?
I can’t.
Dr. O nodded. I have some news for you, he said. The woman signed words I didn’t understand. I caught family, you, place.
I tried to imitate the woman’s signing. She was too quick. I waved my hands for her to stop.
What’s agency?
Good people.
Please slow down.
The woman’s hands slowed.
We’re looking into taking you to a foster agency, where you’ll be able to find a new family. We’d misdiagnosed you, so we’re not sure the institution is the best place for you.
Okay, I signed. I still didn’t understand.
The plan now, Dr. O said, is to make sure you’re stable enough. Then the agency will help you find a new home. It’ll take a while, but that’s the plan, so you have to work hard. That means listening to me and the nurses and not causing trouble. Understand?
I worked to untangle the woman’s signs. Work, I signed. No trouble.
Dr. O gave a thumb’s up and started writing on a small pad of paper.
I’m going to give you a new medication, he said, something that’ll help with the nightmares.
Did you say a new home? I signed. Can Felix come with me?
Dr. O shook his head. This is for you and you only. I can’t discuss the plans for Felix or anyone else with you, and I can’t discuss you when I meet with him. That’s all private.
How will I talk to people without him?
That will be a challenge. The agency will do their best. You likely won’t leave until after the new year—the agency moves slowly, and we need to get your nightmares under control, so there’s a bit of time. I want you to spend that time thinking about yourself, asking yourself what you want out of life, what you might like to do, that kind of thing. Your life doesn’t belong to anyone else but you. You’re free to choose.
What I want to do? I signed. Like what? I don’t know anything.
You can learn. You may have a long way to go, but you can learn. I suggest you don’t tell anyone that you’ll be leaving. Some people might get upset.
Like Felix?
You understand? Say nothing about what we talk about in here.
I say nothing.
Dr. O nodded and made a note in one of his file folders. May I ask what you and Felix talk about? he said.
No.
Why not?
Because.
Because why?
A cold sensation wriggled through my guts. I squirmed in my chair. I can’t say, I signed.
Again, this is your time. Whatever you say in here will not leave this room. If someone is hurting you, or making you do something you don’t want to do, that’s our business. We’re here to protect you.
I stared. Kept my hands still.
Has anyone done something to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable?
No, I signed, my eyes fixed on the floor. I thought about telling him that I had a name now, but Felix gave it to me.
Are you sure? he said.
Yes, I signed. Everything’s fine.
👁
Felix was waiting for me outside Dr. O’s office. Hands crossed in front of him. Face stiff.
Everything’s fine, I signed.
She can see you. He pointed over my shoulder at the interpreter.
What’s this? I pressed my two fists together on my chest and flicked my thumbs up and down.
Romance. Felix’s eyes flared. What’d you say?
Nothing.
Felix shut his eyes and shook his head, then walked into the office and closed the door. I took a drink from the water fountain and sat on a bench down the hallway. The bench had writing on it. Different colors, different letter shapes. I dragged my fingers across the wooden slats and flexed my left arm. It had grown stronger thanks to my signing.
Anders approached, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, his hairy legs thick and bowed. He carried a large black book under his arm. He walked a little past me, then stopped and looked back, as if he hadn’t noticed me at first.
Hello, Anders, I signed.
He smiled, then looked over my shoulder, the way he had the day of my baptism. He sat beside me, opened his book, pulled out a black pencil and a red pencil, and started drawing. I started to stand. He pulled me back down and held up his hand. Stay. His eyes slid from my face to over my shoulder. I glanced behind me—there was nothing there but wall. He winced a few times as he drew.
I stayed still. Sweat slid down my face. I didn’t touch it.
When Anders finished, he turned the page toward me. He’d drawn me exactly as I was, sitting on the bench, hair hanging over my eyes, my cheeks pinkish, a calm expression on my face, the hallway in the background receding into blankness.
Mr. Creel snuck a look at the drawing as he passed by. He smirked and patted Anders on the shoulder. Anders waved him away, then carefully tore the page out of his book and handed it to me. My face and arms were blocky, made of sharp angles, and my hair was a cluster of zigzags, but somehow it still looked like me.
Thank you, I signed.
Anders said something that ended with airfull. He walked away, and I studied the drawing again.
Over my shoulder was a black shadow with two rough red spaces that looked like eyes.
Down the hall, Dr. O’s office door opened. Felix ambled out. I held up the drawing.
What did he say to you? he signed.
What’s this? I signed. I pointed at the shadow on the page.
What did the doctor say? He was keeping something from me. Tell me what he said.
I folded the drawing and put it in my pocket. The cold sensation tightened around my guts. I don’t know, I signed. The woman’s hands were too fast.
Felix sat down. His knee brushed against mine.
He told me it’s private, he signed. That means it’s important. Tell me what he said.
Felix peered over his shoulder. The interpreter stood in Dr. O’s doorway, staring at Felix. He took my arm and ushered me away to his room.
People filed past us toward the dining room and the smell of cooking meat. He shut the door. We sat on his bed—all his books had spilled out from underneath and spread on the floor.
I hate that interpreter, he signed. Hard to watch her. She has a face like a horse. She probably talks about us with her friends.
It’s lunch time, I signed.
Are you trying to hide?
No.
Felix swatted my arm. I stiffened.
What did he say to you? he signed. Did he tell you not to say anything to me?
I stayed still, flexing my thumbnails against each other.
Felix’s lips folded back into his mouth. You see what he’s doing? he signed. That’s how he pulls us apart. He thinks we’re ignorant. But we’re not ignorant, are we?
No.
We don’t have secrets.
No secrets.
What did Dr. O say?
He says I can leave here in the new year. Someone will take me out of here and help me find a new family. I asked if you could come. He couldn’t say.
Felix’s eyes dulled, held me in place like weights.
He says he’ll give me new medicine, I signed, because of nightmares.
Felix’s door opened, and Mrs. Koepp stepped into the room. She pointed at the door and spoke to Felix, then put her hand to her mouth. Food. She pushed the door open all the way against the wall and walked away.
I didn’t say anything about you, I signed. I promise.
I’m all you need, Felix signed. I don’t want you hurt again by a new dad or mom. My dad worked at an orphanage—the kids came back all the time, and they were hearing kids. They’ll put you in a hearing house, and the family will ignore you. They might have kids of their own too, kids who’ll hate you and play tricks on you. Maybe they’ll have a dog that scares you and bites you. It’s not worth it.
Felix’s fevered hands left marks on the air. I imitated him as much as I could. I understood only part of what he said, though his tone was clear. I repeated the sign for “family”—a small cozy circle made with both F-hands. Making the sign left a dent in my heart.
I’ll try to stay, I signed.
We’ll figure something out. If you behave badly, they’ll hurt you.
Why would he ask me not to tell you? I signed. Is this what people do? Do they always hide things?
People don’t like truth as much as we do. We’re truthful people. The world is built on lies and secrets.
I peered around. Felix’s room and the hallway outside, and even Felix himself, seemed to lose color and depth.
Why? I signed. Why are there so many words if nobody uses them right?
That’s why they hide, because they have so many words.
You asked me to hide, too, I signed.
He ignored me. With so many ways to say the same thing, he signed, they can talk their way out of trouble. But signing—it’s harder to lie when you speak with your body.
I shook my head. It’s sad that people hide, I signed. I don’t understand it. I hate hiding. I was— My hands spluttered. I clenched my fists, knocking them on my knees and on the edge of Felix’s bed.
I hate hiding my love, I signed.
I know, Felix signed.
I want love all the time. When I can’t have it, it hurts me.
We’ll figure it out.
I took Felix’s hand. He squeezed it. I kissed him, leaned into him. He pushed me away.
GOSPEL OF THE NEW PROMETHEUS
Pastor Felix Jimson
17 August 1980—and forever more
For posterity only, my gospel is as follows—
Nothing is truth but blood and bone.
I am my own savior. No one speaks for me but me.
God and humanity are one. I hold God in my hands and so am divine.
The world is my church—with my hands I deliver my message.
Just as Christ’s hands revealed the truth of his suffering, so do my hands reveal the truth of my love.
Silence is holy. My people are holy and shall inherit the world.
My people are the oppressed, the forgotten; I shall lift them up whenever possible.
