“You’re a natural,” Mauve said to Ollie. “And you are too.” She winked at Jason.
Nothing had ever made him feel as good as he did in that moment.
Sarah arrived, stopping in the doorway. “Hey, everyone.”
Ollie looked up, beaming, then signed “jolly happy soul” for her, hands moving confidently now, face as open as a window on a warm summer day.
Sarah made a sound that wasn’t quite a word. “Goodness, that’s so good. I’m so proud of you.”
Ollie made the sign for “happy” and then pointed at himself.
“I’m happy too,” Sarah said, her voice catching.
“I’ve got another one to teach you that isn’t in the song,” Jason said. “This is ‘actor,’ which is what you are.”
He held up both fists, thumbs pointing up along the sides of his index fingers. “Both hands like this. A-hands, we call them. Then you brush them up the front of your body, one at a time, like this.” He demonstrated slowly, alternating hands against his chest in small circles. “It’s like you’re putting on a costume. That’s acting.”
Ollie copied him, small fists brushing up his chest, eyes fixed on Jason’s hands.
“Good. Now to make it the person who acts, you add this at the end.” Jason held his hands flat, facing each other and slid them down the sides of his body, shoulders to hips. “That means person. So actor is act-person.” He did the alternating chest brushes then the slide down once again.
Ollie did it, with the shapes being perfect.
“There you go. That’s ‘actor.’” Jason grinned. “And my coach Mary, the lady helping me with the signs—she gave me my own version of it a long time ago, because I’m an actor too. It’s called a name-sign. Want to see?”
Ollie nodded hard.
Jason held up a J, his pinky extended, drawing the letter’s hook in the air, and then did the acting motion against his chest with that same J hand shape, one quick brush.
“That’s me. J for Jason, plus acting. That’s my name in sign. Mary gave it to me.”
He did it again, slower. Ollie watched, then lifted his own hand and drew a J in the air, copying the letter shape carefully. Then he tried the brush. His version was smaller, softer, but unmistakable.
“That’s me,” Jason said. “You just said my name.”
Ollie signed it again. Looked at Jason. Signed it a third time, more confidently, and pointed.
“Yeah. That’s me.”
Ollie, pleased with himself, lifted his hand and did the J-brush one more time at Jason, and then did the sign for “happy” at his own chest, and then pointed at Jason again.
“Yeah, buddy,” Jason managed despite the lump in his throat. “I’m happy too.”
Ollie slowly lifted his hand, made an O with his fingers, and pointed at himself. His eyebrows went up.
“You want one too?” Jason asked.
Ollie nodded hard.
Jason took a breath, thinking through how to explain this to a little boy.
“Okay, here’s the deal. I can’t give you one. I want to, but I’m not the right person.” He sat back on his heels, making sure Ollie was with him. “Name-signs are special. In the deaf community, people who use this language every day as their main way of talking have a tradition. It’s actually kind of a rule, but also a matter of respect. Only someone who’s part of that community can give a name-sign. It’s their gift to give. Not mine.”
Ollie’s face fell a little. He made the O again and looked at it in his own hand.
“I understand you feel sad about the rule, but it’s important. A name-sign should come from inside that community. But here’s the good news. Mary grew up with parents who were deaf. They only used sign language to communicate in their house, which makes Mary part of the community. She has the right to give a name-sign. Does that make sense?”
Ollie considered this. He gave a gentle nod of his head.
