Reading sample

Love for a Deaf Rebel:
Schizophrenia on Bowen Island

By Derrick King

Copyright 2021 by Derrick King

e-Book Edition ISBN 978-981-18-0575-2

Published in Singapore by Provenance Press

Pearl is priceless, so this book is not for sale. This book is published under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 (International) License. Everyone is free to download, print, copy, search, reuse, modify, redistribute, or link to this book provided this book is cited and the author is identified. For license details: creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0

National Library Board, Singapore Cataloguing in Publication Data

Name(s): King, Derrick.

Title: Love for a deaf rebel : schizophrenia on Bowen Island / Derrick King.

Description: Singapore : Provenance Press, [2021]

Identifier(s): OCN 1243509349 | ISBN 978-981-18-0574-5 (pdf) |

ISBN 978-981-18-0575-2 (ebook)

Subject(s): LCSH: King, Derrick--Marriage. | Love. | Man-woman relationships. |

Deaf--Marriage. | Mentally ill--Marriage. | Deaf--Family relationships. |

Schizophrenics--Family relationships.

Classification: DDC 306.7--dc23

“Never Comes the Day” words and music by Justin Hayward, Copyright 1969 (Renewed), 1970 (Renewed) Tyler Music, Ltd., London, England. TRO-Essex Music International, Inc., New York, controls all publication rights for the USA and Canada. International copyright secured. All rights reserved, including public performance for profit. Used by permission.

This is a true story. Most written conversations are abridged from transcripts. Signed and oral conversations are recreations from notes and records. The author tells the story as he experienced it, with Pearl’s earliest history revealed last. The names of living persons have been replaced by pseudonyms.

Dedication

To Pearl

Sometimes with one I love, I fill myself with rage,

for fear I effuse unreturn’d love;

But now I think there is no unreturn’d love—

the pay is certain, one way or another;

(I loved a certain person ardently,

and my love was not return’d;

Yet out of that, I have written these songs).

Walt Whitman

Sometimes with One I Love, 1860

Contents

Part I: Together in Love

Under the Clock

Shall We Be Magnificent Couple?

A Silent Movie

Guatemala by Motorcycle

The End of the World

Part II: Partners in Adventure

Bowen Island

Trout Lake Farm

Men Can’t Be Trusted

Rich Couple’s House

Shooting Pigs in a Sty

Alberta School for the Deaf

Part III: Divided by Destiny

I Want a Baby

Where Are the Bullets?

How Did You Find Me?

Down the Road

Love for a Deaf Rebel

Epilogue

About the Author

Press Reviews

Reader Comments

Also By The Author

Part I: Together in Love

Under the Clock

I walked into a roar of conversation, bought sushi, and shuffled through the lunchtime chaos of the Pacific Centre Food Court, looking for a seat. Umbrellas and overcoats dripped water onto the white tile floor.

A black-haired woman sat under the clock, her back to the wall, scanning the crowd with radar eyes. Her porcelain face, brown eyes, and high cheekbones gave her face a long-distance presence, yet her elegance was neutralized by a brown dress and a perm. Her drab style contrasted with the gaudy colors and big hair of the 1980s. She wore no makeup or jewelry. Her radar locked on to me as I looked for a seat.

The seat opposite her became vacant. I elbowed my way through the crowd and sat down. I was wearing a blue suit with a white shirt and a silk tie; like most bankers, I only removed my jacket on the hottest of summer days.

I loosened my tie. I ate while she studied me with the barest hint of a smile. I smiled at her and looked away. She looked at me while she ate fish and chips and sucked down the last of a Coke with a gurgle.

“What are you staring at?” I finally said.

She pointed to her mouth and then to her right ear.

“Are you deaf?” I said, at first puzzled and then surprised.

She nodded.

I took the gold Cross pen from my suit pocket, picked up a napkin, and wrote, “Spicy horseradish.”

I turned my napkin to face her. She read it and smiled at me as if she expected me to write more.

“I wondered why you looked at me. I never met a deaf person before.”

“I watch lips. If you speak and I ignore you will think I am rude. I don’t want hearing to think that deafies like me are rude.”

“Can you lipread?” I said.

The woman shook her head.

“Most people never look at each other. They only look at the floor. That’s why I spoke to you.”

She smiled. “We are 200,000 deafies in Canada. Our language is ASL—American Sign Language.”

“I’m getting an ice cream. Do you want one?”

The woman scribbled on the tattered napkin and pushed it across the table.

“Almond.”

She smacked her lips, grinned, and put the napkin in her purse.

I bought two ice cream cones at Baskin-Robbins and stuffed a handful of napkins into my pocket. The music of Madonna played in the background. We sat on a bench in the mall and continued to write. I noticed her fingernails were badly chewed.

“Congenitally deaf?”

The woman shrugged.

“Born deaf?”

“Mother had measles at 4 months pregnant. Lucky not 2 months or I am blind and deaf.”

I smiled. “That’s life.”

“That’s me. I accept my deafness. My children will be hearing.” She looked at her watch. “I go back to work. Nice to meet you.”

The woman stuffed the napkin into her purse and disappeared into the crowd as I watched her walk away.

I went back to the food court just before noon. The silent woman was sitting at the same table under the clock. She looked up and waved at me. I sat down. She looked at me expectantly. She seemed to be about my age, almost thirty, yet her face hadn’t a wrinkle.

I reached into my suit and pulled out a few sheets of paper and my pen.

“I remember you.”

She put down her chopsticks and wrote, “Ha-ha.”

“How are you today?”

“I feel bothered about my real estate. I am stuck to pay mortgage and apartment rent.”

“You must have a good job to afford two places.”

“I work at the post office. I sort mails. Managers and union fight. Something not nice to work there. Good pay but I have Medical Lab Technician diploma at St. Paul Technical Vocational Institute. They have interpreters there.”

“Then why do you work in the post office?”

“After divorce I come back to Canada to Vancouver because a lot of deafies in Vancouver so I can get a good job. But no hospital would hire me. All refused because I am deaf. I got a temporary job at the post office.” She turned the paper to face me so I could read it and then took it back and continued writing. “Six years ago. Temporary. Ha! But I am lucky to have education and job not to be unemployed. Most deafies are unemployed—80%. 1/3 quits high school.”

“I studied too. Electronics engineer, but I work for a Dutch bank. Boring but better than a post office job! I study Spanish at night school. I will start an MBA in September. I want to work in another country. I taught at night school, so a teacher and a student at the same time. My name is Derrick King.”

“Pearl.” Pearl pointed at herself, looked up to check the time, and mimed punching a time-clock. “I must go. 15 minute walk back and PO is strict. Bye!”

Whenever I went to the food court at my usual time, just before noon, Pearl was sitting under the clock, and we started writing.

“I met my husband at TVI in St. Paul but he is from North Dakota.”

“How long were you married?”

“9 months. Then I found him in a gay bar in Fargo!” She stuck out her tongue and hung her wrist limply. “I lost my mobile trailer down payment from mother—my wedding gift. All my furnitures. That was 7 years ago.”

I pointed at “Fargo.” “My wife and I were married in ND too! A strange coincidence.”

“How long were you married?”

“7 years.”

“Who left who? And why?”

“She left. She said she didn’t want to be married anymore. She said she was a feminist so she needed to be single. As soon as she could support herself she told me she didn’t need a husband.”

“Respect is important. Did you want her to stay?”

“Yes.”

“I want a family with Mr. Right. Children are first then the husband is second.”

“I’m Mr. Write! Kids need a house. Nowadays that means two incomes.”

“Two incomes until children are small. Then wife should be home to be mother if husband will afford. Depends on location.”

“Yes. Where do you live?”

“Kitsilano near the beach.”

“Me too, 2125 2nd Ave.”

Pearl grinned. “2168 2nd Ave.”

“That is the other side of the street! Another strange coincidence.”

A man with a gray comb-over was sitting at the table next to us. He wore several sweaters. He leaned over to Pearl with a big smile, as if we were his grandchildren, and said, “And what kind of game are we playing?”

Pearl shrugged and turned to me for an explanation.

“She’s deaf, so we are writing to each other.”

He pulled back as though I’d said we had leprosy. “I’m so sorry!” He stood and walked away.

I told Pearl what he had said, and her face became flushed with anger. “I HATE when hearies make pity.” Her pen plowed into the paper.

“Hearies” was a new word to me, and I was one of “them.” Pearl slurped her Coke and grinned.

“You carry a paper in your pocket now.”

I laughed. “It is for starting fires.”

I jogged downhill to Granville Island Public Market. As I approached the market, I spotted Pearl walking with a woman. They carried their groceries in shoulder bags and backpacks to leave their hands free to sign.

Pearl looked over her shoulder as if she had eyes in the back of her head. She waved at me. I waved back, wiped the sweat off my brow, and walked through the crowd.

“Hello, Derrick,” said Pearl’s friend in a hollow voice.

“Do you know me?”

She grinned. “Pearl tells me everything.”

Pearl tapped her arm. “Tell him you’re hard-of-hearing and can interpret,” Pearl signed, as the woman interpreted. I was astonished at the transparency of her interpretation; it was as if Pearl had spoken to me herself.

“So fast! I’ve never heard Pearl speak before,” I said, as the woman interpreted.

“When people hear my accent, they don’t realize I’m hard-of-hearing. They think I’m Swedish,” she signed and said. She pulled her long hair back to reveal a finger-sized hearing aid behind each ear. “I’m Jodi.”

“Don’t interpret everything,” Pearl signed, as Jodi interpreted.

I laughed. “I must be careful about what I say.”

“Derrick is curious—his eyes sparkle,” signed Pearl. “Will you eat with us?”

“No. I can’t jog home with a full stomach.”

“Then rest with us,” signed Pearl, “so you can run faster on your way home. Today we will eat Vietnamese food.”

We sat down at the Muffin Granny. Pearl put her bag in Jodi’s lap for safekeeping and went to buy food.

“Is it hard for hearing people to learn sign language?”

“That depends on you,” said Jodi. “How badly do you want to learn?”

“That depends on Pearl.”

Pearl and I became friends slowly and cautiously, seeing each other for lunch two or three times a week for two months before we progressed to a date. Our first date was on 14 April 1984—for dinner, at Pearl’s invitation. With a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates, and a notepad, I walked across the street from my apartment, one of the best-kept buildings on the street, to her apartment, one of the most run-down.

At the entrance, I studied the intercom. Her suite was the only unit with OCCUPIED instead of a name. I rang the buzzer. A few seconds later, the electric door opened. I walked down the corridor and saw Pearl peering from a door. She grinned and waved. I followed her into her one-bedroom flat, and she bolted the door behind us. Pearl accepted my gifts with a nod, a smile, and a sign I didn’t understand. She handed me a corkscrew and two glasses. I poured the wine, and we raised our glasses in a silent toast.

Pearl’s apartment was simply furnished and tidy. A crochet project lay on her coffee table. The wooden-cabinet TV played silently while white-on-black text scrolled across the bottom of its screen, decoded by the Sears TeleCaption decoder sitting on top. I had never seen captions before, but now I could read the news line by line.

I walked over to her TV and tried to turn its green tint into natural color, but its picture tube was worn out. Pearl didn’t have a videotape player, so her home entertainment was books and green-tinted TV.

Next to the sofa stood a bookcase with Reader’s Digest, Introduction to Psychology, two McCall’s Cooking School binders, and a Hume Moneyletter binder. On her desk sat a telephone, lamp, keyboard device, and a box with wires leading around the room and up the wall to the doorbell panel and the bedroom. Charcoal drawings and oil paintings hung on the walls, original artwork.

We sat at the kitchen table and smiled.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Deaf Aids. If a doorbell rings the lamps would flash slowly. If the telephone rings, the lamps would flash fast. Those pictures that my youngest sister Carol who is artist drew.”

Silent News and the Dictionary of American Idioms for the Deaf lay on the kitchen table. I picked up the dictionary and browsed through it.

“Do you know many idioms?” wrote Pearl.

“I know all of these.”

“Idioms confuse and cause a problem to have deep English communication. Now captions teach me. Before captions I don’t understand TV.”

The telephone rang, and the lamps in the living room and bedroom began to flash. Pearl sat down at her desk and put the telephone handset on the keyboard device, a Krown Research Porta-Printer. It bleeped as green fluorescent text flowed across its one-line screen and text printed on a strip of paper, like a receipt scrolling from a cash register. Pearl typed her reply, removed the handset, and hung up.

I sat on her sofa and wrote, “What computer is that?”

“TTY, not computer.”

“What does TTY stand for?”

“Telecom? Device for the Deaf. TDD or TTY. Before 1980 deafies must ask hearies to phone. Now all have TTY. This is new. $600.”

I tried to imagine living without understanding television or being able to use a telephone.

“When you call me you can call the telephone company MRC—Message Relay Centre. I have unlisted number. I don’t want hearies to call without a TTY. Some deafies put number in phone book. Bad! Thieves know owner is deaf and rape if name of woman.”

“I see a hearing aid on your shelf. You are not deaf.”

“I am deaf. I understand nothing with a hearing aid. Only noise.” Pearl jammed her little finger in her ear and wiggled it to show me it was itchy. “I never use hearing aid. School force kids to use. I did not like.”

“You must have had a hearing test.”

“Many. I tested myself too. I hear birds fly, stars twinkle, and sun shine. Do you understand?” Pearl smiled. “But I can’t hear my TV without captions.”

I laughed. Pearl fascinated me. She pulled a folder from her neatly labeled files and handed me an audiology report. It charted a trace of hearing at low frequencies in her right ear and no hearing whatsoever in her left. Pearl’s ears were useless.

I pointed to the chart. “140 decibels in your good ear. You hear a jet fly like I hear a pin drop.”

Pearl put a battery in her hearing aid, put it in my right ear, and turned it on. Feedback made it howl painfully loudly. I removed it.

“My breathing sounds like a vacuum cleaner!”

“Ha, your problem. Maple syrup spareribs are ready. My favorite.”

We took turns writing and eating.

“You need a decoder to see CC. When I was a child I could not understand TV.”

“Why do some TV shows have a little window with someone signing?”

“Deaf children can understand. Deafies don’t like signing boxes and prefer CC. Easy to read and learn English too. We have to wait for movies to be on video before we can watch captions.”

“When you were small did your family help you with the TV and telephone?”

“Until sisters got bigger then too selfish and busy. My family does not sign. In my youth no signs were allowed so today still no ASL in my family—only ‘home signs.’ Experts told family don’t learn any signs so I would force to be lipreader. Family only talk to me.”

“How much did you understand?”

“Few words. Mother always say I fool her and pretend I don’t understand. Families with deaf today sign—happy. New way is ‘Total Communication.’ My children will sign.”

“Your family can learn to sign now.”

“My sisters and brother learn few signs recently, but mother always refuse signs. I learned nothing until I went to school. There I learned to sign!”

“Your family is handicapped, not you.”

“True! I wanted to hurt my mother for not signing. I think she forgives me now.”

As the kettle behind me began to boil, Pearl gestured to let me know so I could turn it off. I laughed. She looked embarrassed, and I realized I had been rude when I laughed.

“I forgot you hear it boil. Deafies watch pot boil for each other.”

Pearl carried a pile of photo albums to the table and took me on a tour of her life. Her photos were organized and labeled. She looked happy in her photos, especially at college.

“Student in college in USA where I learned to become medical lab tech.”

From her photos, it was clear that attending college in a signing environment had been a happy time for Pearl. She had fewer photos after college. I was impressed that her mother had sent her to study abroad. She pointed at her ex-husband and grimaced. She pointed at her nose, then at her father’s matching nose.

“When friends looked at my pictures, they said my face does not change. My Father, we were almost same. Smart man in oil company, killed in the car accident. If my Dad is alive right now we would be multimillionaires. Mother. Works in the company kitchen. Warm but not close to me. Sister Debbie is 29. Her husband is teacher. I’m closest to Sister Carol, artist, 28. Brother Kevin is 22. He is manager assistant for cement basement and fire extinguish. You can see in Yellow Pages. He is handsome and charming. He would beat up anyone who bothered me if I asked. I have a hard time to say ‘Kevin.’ K is invisible on lips.”

“Try to say my name.”

“Derrick,” she said softly and unintelligibly, like Eh-ih.

“I can understand you a little bit. How do I sign ‘King’?”

“Fingerspell or we invent name sign. Most people use first letter of name and describe something about personality, looks, etc. King is like this.” She put her right hand on her left shoulder, formed a fingerspelled K, and curved it down to her right hip like a royal sash.

“Then like this for Derrick?” I made the same sign with a D.

Pearl laughed. “I approve your name sign. Only deafies can give a hearie a name sign. You are not suppose to change it.”

After an hour of exchanging gestures and notes, Pearl closed her last album, opened a drawer, and pulled out certificates for bookkeeping, office management, and est seminars. I was impressed by her continuing self-development. Pearl showed me how she had organized her drawers with hanging files, each with labeled tabs, but her files were nearly empty.

“I will show you my goals now.” Pearl showed me an expensive leather-bound desktop executive agenda, almost empty.

“You have no appointments.”

“Not yet.” She opened a section of her agenda labeled Things to Do Before I Die. Her five-year plan listed a dozen goals, including Find Mr. Right, Have kids before 35, Learn scuba, and Learn computers.

I pointed at the word scuba.

Pearl led me to her closet and yanked it open. I was surprised to see a dry suit, air tank, and a thousand dollars’ worth of diving equipment. She walked back to the living room and sat at the end of the sofa with her knees together.

“Your equipment looks new. How did you learn to dive? Did your instructor sign?”

“No lessons yet. I will learn with Jeff who signs fingerspelling. Jeff is my hearing friend that lives nearby. He has epilsy. He leaves his marijuana here because I don’t want him to smoke so much.”

“Isn’t scuba diving dangerous with epilepsy?”

“Never heard if.”

“Was Jeff your boyfriend?”

“A few times. Jodi liked you. Jodi is the most friendly girl than others deafies and HH. I envy her ability to talk to hearies. But her English is worse than mine. Did you like Jodi?”

“Yes, but not as smart as you. Tell me about the accident. How old were you when your father died?”

“14. Father was killed with all family except me because I was in school. Mother was driving the car. Father was driving another car with all family except me. The car of father passed mother. Then cars hit and went from the road.” Pearl mimed two cars tumbling. “Everyone throw out of the car but only my father died. He was 35. I was only family to go to a funeral because all other family are in hospital.”

“That’s horrible! Why did the cars crash?”

“Exactly! Why? Newspaper and police question my mother for cause. Police call grandparents and neighbors and investigate my mother. They say accident. I think not accident.”

“You believe your mother wanted to kill your father, so she caused an accident that almost killed her whole family?”

“I will research to find the truth. I love my father even he refused to learn signs. He permitted me to drive a car. I sit in his lap and turn the steering. Many griefs. Years to trust mother again.”

She began to cry, and she gulped down her wine.

“I was 17 when I was raped the first time. I was home from school. My sisters invite me to the hearing school dance. Mom said no, but I demanded. Then she say yes if my sister watch me. My sister and I had good time, only dance. Clean. Three men watched me. I went outside to parking lot, then they took me away. I screamed loud but they covered me. They took me in a car to a road. Two men raped me. One man watched. Then they went away and left me on the road. Later a car takes me to hospital.”

I was astonished when Pearl unzipped her jeans and pulled her panties down to her pubic hair. I saw a vertical surgical scar on flawless skin. One end started a finger’s-width above her pubic hair and the other end, she pointed, went all the way down. She zipped up her jeans.

“Surgery for my womb. The hospital thought I have brain damage because I am mute. Later an interpreter comes and I tell her about my rape. Police arrested men at party. They think they are safe to rape and go back to party because I can’t talk to police. Stupid!”

“You need a ‘Medic-Alert’ bracelet or card so doctors know you are deaf. If you are in an accident you might get the wrong treatment.”

“I refuse to wear deaf bracelet or card. There was a big trial. The man who watched was witness and confessed. Two rapists go to jail for three years. They should hang! They are out now. That is why I have unlisted phone and etc.”

“You wrote you were raped ‘the first time.’ How many rapes?”

“The second time was at a party. I did not resist. No point to shout at deaf party. I did not call police to avoid court and threats.”

“You can survive anything. Will you come for dinner next week?”

Pearl nodded with delight. “I will bring dessert.”

I borrowed The Joy of Signing from the library. I fingerspelled “The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog” again and again. In a year, I would work through the book and learn most of its 1,500 signs. Learning American Sign Language for Pearl was one of the most satisfying things I ever did.

Pearl and I saw each other for lunch nearly every day. Our second date was a week after our first date, at my place. I prepared dinner in advance so my hands would be free for conversation.

My doorbell buzzed, but when I pressed the intercom button, I heard nothing but street noise, then a mumble. I pushed the door button and rushed to the lobby. Pearl followed me into my one-bedroom flat. I pointed to a bottle of tequila on the counter.

“Margarita?” I said, wondering if she could lipread me in context. She didn’t understand me, so I pointed to a bottle of margarita mix. Pearl licked her lips.

While I mixed the drinks, she surveyed my flat. My stereo dial glowed, so she put her hand on the stereo and then on a speaker. She scanned my books and records on shelves that covered the wall. She pointed at How to Make It on the Land.

I handed her the cocktail and mimed cheers. Pearl tasted the margarita, smacked her lips, and sat down.

“What do you make on the land?”

“‘Make it’ means to support yourself from your own business.”

Pearl fingerspelled, “C-a-n y-o-u f-i-n-g-e-r-s-p-e-l-l?”

“P-e-a-r-l,” I fingerspelled. My telephone rang. I ignored it and could see that Pearl hadn’t heard it. “You said something on the intercom. Did you hear me with your hearing aid?”

Pearl pulled back her hair to show me she wore no hearing aid. She mimed her face pressed against the panel, struggling to feel the vibration of a voice in the loudspeaker.

“I am sorry. I have no experience with deafness.”

“Most of hearing men just want to fuck deaf women. They think deaf women are always opening their legs. That’s not true. Many hearing men were surprised how smart I am. Many times I hurt them. I believe laws should change to make hearing men to be death by hanging or electric chair or whatsever. If one more hearing man do it to me again, I would kill him once! I want to kill them because I see how many hearing men do that to deaf women. 80% of deaf women get raped. Mother worry about I go with hearies. She prefer me to stay in deaf group. I told her that deaf group bore me and where I can go and find happiness and etc. One thing I know she already told police about me. I am still going anywhere I want!”

I wondered why her mother and the police had discussed Pearl, but I didn’t think to ask.

“You should carry ‘mace.’ Police use it.”

“No, the man can hold my hands. Mother’s friend RCMP taught me this.” Pearl mimed face-scratching and eye-poking.

“Would you like to go dancing on Saturday at Granville Island Hotel?”

“I do go dancing. Most deafies like to dance. Jodi and I used to go dancing but now she has a boyfriend.”

I borrowed a new company car for our third date. Her lobby door clicked open seconds after I pushed the intercom button, and Pearl walked out in a high-necked, lilac dress. We greeted silently and walked to the car, with no other communication, until we reached the Pelican Bay restaurant in the Granville Island Hotel, one of the most expensive venues in town.

Pearl pushed the centerpiece aside for a clear view of my hands. Her clothes weren’t beautiful, but Pearl was stunning. I took out a notepad.

“The car is from the bank. I am an engineer but I work for a bank because I believed hippies about lifestyle being important.”

Pearl pointed to tiger prawns on the menu, and I ordered them for both of us.

“I did not have any date since a long time.”

“Later there will be music so we can dance.”

“The music must be loud. Every summer we have the deaf national reunion. Last year was in Toronto. At the party many deafies dancing hard to enjoy the beats. The hotel complained, then some deafies messed up their rooms. The hotel said no more deaf! Next year we will stay for another hotel, that’s our revenge.”

Pearl taught me the sign for revenge: the thumbs and forefingers looked like birds pecking at each other.

“You can hear loud noises with a hearing aid, so are you hard-of-hearing or deaf?”

“I do not understand any words with hearing aid so I prefer deaf. HH like Jodi are not deafies and not hearies. Deafies have two communities. Deaf—’D’ and deaf—’d’. Difference is culture. Born deaf and not oral—Deaf culture. Deaf later so oral, or rich parents so oral—not Deaf culture. Some Deafies do not welcome HH. Some deafies have problem to have hearing friends. Some hate hearies. Some deaf men hate when hearing man takes deafie wife because fewer deafie woman left for them. Most of hearing woman don’t want a deaf man—few jobs for support. But deafie woman is good mother. I want to marry a man who cares me then work together to find home business plus salary. Plus 1 or 2 kids. I feel worth to have them because when I get old, they can visit me, so on. I don’t care if I have deaf or hearing. Some deafies prefer deaf children, others want hearing children to be interpreter.”

“Do deafies like hearing people to learn ASL?”

“Yes if the hearing has deaf relatives. Some hearies want to learn ASL, then teach religion to convert deafies or want to feel important to help deafies. I really hate!”

“Do you have a religion?”

“If there is God there is no deafness, no father death, no rape. Get it? If there is God why does he let my sisters blame me? One time my sister break the vase and blame me. Mother did not believe them but I said to my mother that yes I did that accident. I don’t care because I am going to deaf school.”

On Monday, three months after meeting Pearl, I registered for a course in American Sign Language. I was hooked.

Shall We Be Magnificent Couple?

I telephoned Pearl for the first time. “Message Relay Centre,” answered the operator. “What is the number you wish to call, and whom do you wish to reach?”

“555-1212 for Pearl.”

“Please wait.” I heard a keyboard tapping.

“Pearl is on the line. Go ahead.”

“Hello, Derrick here. Are you free on Friday evening to visit me?”

“Don’t forget to say ‘go ahead,’” said the operator.

“Go ahead.” I felt like I was operating a ham radio station.

“I am free. Go ahead,” the operator relayed from Pearl.

“Come at eight o’clock … see you then. Go ahead. … I’m finished talking. What do I say now?”

“Don’t talk to me. Talk to the other person,” said the operator.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” the operator relayed from Pearl.

I didn’t know it then, but I was one of the first people to use the MRC; the Western Institute for the Deaf and the BC Telephone Company had just launched it.

Pearl arrived on time. She walked around the apartment, looking at my books and collections. I was sitting at my kitchen table, analyzing numbers on columnar paper with a calculator and writing a report longhand; on Monday, my secretary would transcribe everything. I put my work aside and poured drinks. Pearl asked to see my photos, so I brought my albums from the bedroom and sat beside her as she scrutinized them.

“Why so many blank spaces?”

“When Eugénie left I divided our photos. I thought she would come back, and when she returned I would put her photos back in the book—I was so naïve!” We came to a picture of one of my best friends, Leo. “That’s Leo the cop, my best friend since grade 7. That’s my grandmother and grandfather.”

“Grandma’s family were very wealth. Grandma has 19 or 16? (I don’t remember) sisters and brothers. When my father was 2 years old, I don’t remember who took him when her mother had heart attack and laid down on kitchen floor and left my father alone. My father’s father and 4 boys (brothers) were all drowned near Squamish. Then my father got killed by a car.”

Pearl’s story shocked me, and the offhand way she talked about these disasters shocked me, too.

“Sister Nadine, 28, student. Sister Lydia, 21, student. Brother, 26, doctor.”

“How old were you when you found out you were deaf?”

“My aunts watched me tear paper to feel vibrations. When was 2 Grandma told her that I am deaf but Mother refused to accept until doctor in the hospital admitted. I was 3. Someone gave measles to her when pregnant. Many deafies are first in family.”

“Is your ex-husband deaf?”

“Hard-of-hearing like Jodi. We open up and talk deeply about something. She or I don’t feel safe to talk to another friend.”

“I talk deeply with Leo and Virgil. Do you have many hearing friends?”

“About 10. Deafies—lots but I don’t want to get close, just see them once in 2 wks. is enough. Many deafies have problems. I don’t like deafies who are negatives.”

Everyone generalizes, but the way Pearl talked about her community, either disparaging or boastful, surprised me. She didn’t seem to see deafie and hearies as equals but as “us vs. them.” Despite the language difficulties and against her mother’s advice, Pearl said she preferred to spend her time with hearing friends.

Pearl walked across the street to my condo. We were constantly dropping in on each other for tea. We scribbled like madmen as we tried to get to know each other.

“Where are you going on holidays?”

“I’ll visit grandma and grandpa for few days. Then stay at Uncle’s ranch to ride on the horse. I am going to learn to jump the fence on the horse this year.”

Pearl caught me staring at her. “It’s amazing how much your face can say.”

She smiled. “‘Body language.’ Jodi and I go to Bimini Bar once a while after health club. We don’t get bothered there. Men are thinking we are weird because of ASL. We are peace. Hardly explain to you. We don’t drink very much. Ex-boyfriend Eddy was very alcoholic. I lived with him almost 2 yrs. ago. I did not like his way. Bad influence to children in future. He’s my good friend now. I think I meet wrong men.”

Pearl’s sexual history included a homosexual, an alcoholic, and an epileptic. What was I to think of her? I thought she, like I, had been unlucky in love.

“You’ll make a wonderful wife and mother to some lucky guy.”

Pearl beamed. “I believe that I’ll be.”

“What if you met a guy you can love but who didn’t want kids?”

“Forget him for boyfriend but keep him as good friend for yrs.”

I brought a bouquet, a half-bottle of wine, and plastic glasses to our food court rendezvous, even though it was illegal to drink it there. Pearl handed me a letter, looking self-conscious. Her script was neat and her grammar better than in our speedwriting conversations.

8 May 1984

Dear Derrick.

Shall we be magnificent couple? …I want to talk with you about anything we can know each other more deep and also improve our communications (signs). Even touching—so on. I want you to teach me anything that you want. I like to try anything to expand my experiences. We create it ourselves and enjoy it together.

I do wish your separation is over. You are hearty person—wonderful! You are not naive. I really love to see your being a gentleman—to make me a woman. I really want to wear nice dress for my work and meet you for eating together. We would feel fascinate.

I notice myself that you make me week and to be loved.

I feel like to touch you but I couldn’t reach you because you are working on 20th floor, ha!

I love you, Pearl

Cupid had shot an arrow into my heart—three months after we met, six weeks after our first date, and while we were still talking on paper! But although we had connected in a magical way, I didn’t want more than friendship. Perhaps I didn’t want to take advantage of a handicap, or I was worried that my actions might be seen that way. Release of my prejudice—for that is what it was—was our final hurdle.

I walked across the street to Pearl’s for brunch. While she toasted waffles, she asked me to check out her diving equipment. It was stored on top of cartons of World’s Finest almond chocolates. The fundraising chocolates were labeled Silent Leadership Association.

I took a box to the kitchen.

“Whose chocolates?”

“Silent Leadership Association. I store them because I can’t trust other SLA members not to eat them. There are many deaf groups fighting. Deafies are weak to make progress. I started SLA to make strong association for leadership of all deafies who will join.”

“How many members do you have?”

Pearl shrugged sadly. “Few.” She opened a file from her desk and showed me a logo. “My sister draw for me for SLA.”

“That is a nice logo. If there are already many deaf associations then another one will divide deafies even more.”

“No because they will join SLA for strong deaf leadership. But few in SLA want to help me sell. These chocolates are for future sale.”

“The expiry date is next month. Can I see the contract?” Pearl handed me a letter from her file. “This is a final demand for payment threatening to hand your invoice to a collection agency. Do you want me to help?”

Pearl nodded and looked relieved.

A few days later, I called the general manager of World’s Finest Chocolates and asked for Pearl’s debt to be canceled.

“Thanks for calling,” he said. “Communication with this group has been difficult. This group didn’t know how to organize a fund-raiser. My staff should have checked whether the Silent Leadership Association was a registered society and begun with a small order, so we are as much to blame as they are. I’ll write it off and close the file.”

Pearl’s stillborn deaf association and her unmarketable chocolates were naïve, but her initiative impressed me. I found myself wondering how successful Pearl would have been, and could still be, if she had a mentor. Most people overrate their importance in other people’s lives, and I was no exception.

It took Pearl and me two years to eat the chocolates.

Our next date was at the Ridge Theater, where we saw a Spanish movie with subtitles. As we sat in the theater, I was surprised to see Eugénie walk past the footlights, smile at me, and sit at the other end of the theater. She and I had seen more foreign films than Hollywood films and plenty of both. The Ridge had been our favorite haunt. While we were together, Eugénie and I had worked our way through every non-bondage position in The Joy of Sex. Now, ten years later, I was working my way through every sign in The Joy of Signing!

After the movie, Pearl came to my place and pointed to the map hanging on my wall.

“Roads I’ve ridden on my motorcycle. All states, all provinces, half of Mexico. Eugénie and I rode across Canada for our honeymoon. I want to ride to South America. That’s why I study Spanish. I have a pen-pal in Madrid. I ride safely, no tickets. How long until I can sign?”

“Depends on how much we have a conversation. For example, we eat together, I can teach you each food. It’s easier for you to remember while we are doing. English—The red dog is under the table. ASL—Under table dog red. It’s easy. I have seen so many people who learned ASL. They become more smart than they were before.”

I stared at Pearl, baffled.

She laughed. “I was joking.”

“Hello,” I signed, using the sign in the textbook.

“That is for USA. Almost same to Canada but like this is for children.” “Hello,” she signed the Canadian way. “For adult.”

“Sometimes deafies fingerspell words.”

“For names and other weird words. Local names we usually name it by our signs.” “Granville Island,” she signed. “Our invention. G plus island sign. You’ll meet deafies children who are hearing—very smart than normal children. My friend Elizabeth has a hearing son 8 years old. He learns both deaf and hearing worlds. So many deafies have hearing children. Few deafies has generations all deafies. My family is nothing. I am only one deaf. Jodi and I talked a lot about having kids.”

“If you wanted kids, then why did you buy a small condo?”

“For investments, I don’t like to waste $ on rents. I don’t know how long I find Mr. Right. My friends teased me which—deaf or hearing husband I prefer to have. In my teenage I made it clear to my deaf friends that I forbid about marrying a hearing man.”

“Why did you change your mind?”

“I thought of having hearing husband cause of few good deafie husband. But many mixed marriage failed because the hearie got bored of effort to talk to the deafie. Then the deafie married a deafie and become happy. Depends on communication and trust.”

I felt a twinge of disappointment to realize that as a potential mate, I would be Pearl’s second choice.

Pearl drove me to the empty New Westminster condominium she was struggling to sell. The radio in her red Buick Skyhawk roared with static when she turned the key. I turned it down and tuned in a station. Pearl felt the dashboard and drove off.

Her condominium was bare but for a mattress, a propane barbecue, and a makeup table.

“Why do you have a radio in your car?”

“It is impossible to buy a car without a radio—discrimination!”

We locked the door and walked upstairs to Elizabeth’s flat. When we rang the doorbell, a handsome boy opened the door and signed rapidly. We walked in, and Pearl turned the light switch on and off a few times to announce our presence.

A slender brunette came from the kitchen and signed; the boy interpreted. “I’m delighted to see you. I’m so happy Pearl has a boyfriend. This is my son, Kieran.”

I was amused that Pearl had told her friend I was her boyfriend when we had yet to kiss! After a look around her spartan two-bedroom apartment, we sat down to dinner.

“Your scuba gear—why did you sell it?” I said, with Kieran interpreting.

“My husband left me. It cost two thousand, but I sold it for one thousand. He sends money, but I have to work in a picture-frame factory. They say it is noisy, but I don’t care.”

“You must be a special son, with two deaf parents,” I said to Kieran, who interpreted professionally, without reacting to anything he was interpreting unless it was directed to him.

“I learned to sign at two and to talk at three,” Kieran signed and said.

“And to fingerspell at five,” signed Elizabeth.

“I’m listening through a perfect interpreter. Jodi interprets well, but Kieran speaks naturally, and he signs naturally, too.”

“He was a devil,” Pearl signed.

Elizabeth laughed. “Kieran would turn the TV all the way up and then ignore our neighbors when they pounded on the walls. When the doorbell rang, he would turn the TV down. When I answered the doorbell, the neighbors were furious, but nothing was wrong!”

“It was fun,” Kieran signed and said.

We laughed.

“I’m lucky we weren’t thrown out of here,” signed Elizabeth. She

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Texte: Derrick King
Bildmaterialien: Derrick King
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 17.08.2021

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