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“Waiting? Really, Dad?”
“Yes,” my uncle says, chuckling. “They’ve been counting down since you left for college. You’re their only daughter. What they have will one day be yours, as mine will be the boys.”
“We are not talking about that kind of stuff today.”
“We have no plans of dying today, daughter. Relax. But we are starting you off in style. Big red and the trailer are now yours. The truck has had a full overhaul, new wiring, new hoses, battery, all that stuff. The trailer has a new floor, three gates to make the ease of travel nicer. There’s room up front for three large dog crates or bales of hay. And, there are new windows along the sides. You can open them to let air flow through on warmer or cooler days.”
Dean walks up and takes my dad’s offered hand.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Dad, Mama, oh!” I hug them both as tears roll down my cheeks. “This is too much.”
“Never. You’re my baby girl. If I have it, it’s yours. Knowledge, back power, whatever you need.”
I hug my dad hard again.
“How about we get Miss Reba out of the trailer? I’m sure she’s ready to chomp some grass.”
I am dying of happiness right now. Reba McEntire has been my favorite country singer since I was a kid. To name her… Had they planned this all along? The twinkle in my mama’s eyes says she had.
Man alive, I am a lucky girl.
Chapter 7
Dean
Testing my advanced ASL class is a challenge for everyone involved sometimes.
I have to make it hard enough to make them think and yet keep it within the lines of our learning. I choose to do something a little different this go around. With Ness’s help, I’d created four different scenarios for them to work out. Each group is overseen by myself and my TA, Christian. We watch methodically. Making corrections when they’re needed.
There seems to be only a few students struggling with this assignment. Granted, picking lyrics to a song that is fast-paced is probably not the best idea. They all want to go out in the world and be translators—well, they’d have to learn on the fly like everyone else.
“All right, hold on. Everyone take a seat for a moment.” I wait until they’re seated. “It looks like there is a disconnect between what you know and what you are hearing. You know that not all words are needed or expressed in ASL. It’s not English. Translations for song lyrics are the same.”
I nod to Christian. He presses play on the iPad again. The words are playing on the screen for Jelly Roll’s “I Am Not Okay.” The song is one that pulls at your heartstrings. We all know someone who’s struggling. My hands and fingers roll through the words, my facial expressions showing the emotions of the words. That is a pivotal part of being an ASL translator. Whether it’s for family, friends, or strangers.
When the song ends, I look out over the class.
“What did you notice that I did differently from some of you?”
Hands go up. I point to a student.
“Your whole body was moving with the beat of the song. It was a silent dance.”
“Yes. But what else?” I point to another student.
“Your facial expressions were more honest.”
I nod. “Facial expressions are like fingerprints. I can sign something and use an expression, but Christian here could do the same thing and give you a slightly different expression. It’s all in the way you interpret the words. As in, let me?—”
I start to sign.
I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid I haven’t been alive enough.
“Awww,” someone says, making me smile. That’s a line my mom had used when she was so sick, she could no longer get out of bed. Meet Joe Black had been one of those movies she’d watched over and over again. It’s a movie I can no longer fathom watching, not without her here to enjoy it.
“You could see that emotion, yes?” I ask, moving to sit atop my desk.
