“You don’t like this new job, do you?”
“It’s not my favorite, no. But I’ve met some pretty cool dogs—the bark-woof kind, not, like,dawgs.” I note with amusement. Then, I tap my full treat container. “There’s some lady on Maple Street who has an adorable black lab named Ellie. She pretty much invites herself into the truck for a treat.”
His face scrunches in confusion. “The lady or Ellie?”
I chuckle. “Ellie.”
As I pull up to the address, Brody gasps. “Dad, look!”
The animal quickly approaching my truck definitely isnota dog and something I very much would appreciate steering clear of. I usher Brody out back to the package holding area, and try to close my doors, yelping, “No! Nope! You stay out!”
At some point amidst all my squealing and our clambering for safety, I miss a teenaged looking boy approaching. “You’re not going to want to come near!” I shout, warning him off. “There’s a skunk!” I add, pointing towards the driver’s side door.
Jeezus Criminey, it’s like this kid’s ignoring me.
“Skunk!” I shout again, turning my volume up to maximum, but he’s still heading right for it.
Brody—out of sheer habit, I’m sure—chimes in, both yellingandsigning. “It’s a skunk! Don't come closer!”
I swear I see an amused head tilt and a twitch on the boy’s lips before he bends, disappearing out of sight momentarily. When he pops up, he’sholdingthe damn skunk—cradling it in the crook of his arm, like a baby. “I know. He got out of the house when I opened the door,” he signs fluently in SEE.
Signs.He signs.
Brody taps me on my shoulder. “Dad, look. He’s got hearing aids!” he chirps excitedly, then adds, “The boy, not the skunk.”
I snort. “Thanks for clarifying that for me, kid.”
Ugh, and it does things to my heart to see him so excited at seeing someone—someone relatively his age, at that—who must also be deaf. Christ, it hits me hard just knowing how isolated Brody can feel sometimes, when he feels like he doesn't fit in. When kids make fun of his speech. When nobody recognizes just how much hard work Brody has to put into things that the rest of the world takes for granted.
I flash my hands to the fart squirrel wielder, to get his attention, then sign, “That’s a domestic skunk, I assume?”
The boy raises his fist and makes a nodding motion with it. “He can’t spray. No scent glands.”
Brody gasps, gaping up at me and simultaneously signing and verbalizing, “Can I get out and see it? Dad, please?”
“Do you have a permit for that thing or something?” I ask the teenager.
“Yes, he is my emotional support animal,” he replies out loud, his voice sounding rough as if he doesn’t use it much.
“Okay, dude,” I sigh at my son. I slide the door open so he can stagger out. “Make sure you ask him if you can pet it first before just doing it, Brody.”
I grab the box addressed to one Cameron Dupris and hop down out of the truck next. Brody’s now holding the skunk like he’s accepted a gold medal for handling the most unique pet anyone’s ever admitted to owning. I tuck the package under my arm and raise my hands. “Are you C-A-M-E-R-O-N?” I ask, fingerspelling his name.
He nods, and I pass him the device I’m supposed to use to collect his e-signature, thankful I remembered it this time. I’ve gotten spoken to once about it already. The last thing I need is another mark on my record this early on. A little over a month in, I'm already treading on thin ice—a record low for me.
Have I mentioned lately how much I hate this job? Granted, I seem to blow through them just as often as I change out underwear, but seriously… I hate this fuckin’ job. One day I’ll find something I can jive with, but until then, I need to make due with what I’ve got.
Once he hands me back the pad, I pass him his package. “Thanks,” he signs to me. Then, he glances over at Brody. “Is he your son?”
“Yes.” Then, I finger spell, “B-R-O-D-Y.”
Cameron smiles. “That’s cool that you still sign with him, even though he has a cochlear.”
“Yeah, well, technology only goes so far. Me and his mother still wanted to be able to communicate with him if he felt like someday the cochlear wasn’t for him, you know?”
Cameron nods. “I like that you’re giving him that option. Some parents of deaf children don’t. They just expect that the cochlear instantly registers their kids as hearing, and carry on as if there isn't a whole Deaf culture out there to become immersed in.”
I nod. “Ugh, yeah, don't we know that. Unfortunately, there's not a huge Deaf community here, so his mother and I often struggle to find a balance. We want him to feel proud of who he is, because his deafness doesn't mean he's disabled, but it's so hard when he feels alone, youknow? Brody often feels quite isolated, being the only kid at his school who is deaf. Do you go to school here?” I ask.
