A Reason to Learn

Asher 

6:30 A.M

The alarm I set for 6:00 is sounding. For a second, I get irritated with my phone for waking me up, until I look at the time. Of course, on one of the most important days of my life, I woke up late.  

I have to go. 

There’s no time to shower, obviously, because I have to get there in about 15 minutes. 

Now I'm just irritated with myself.

My heart and head are pounding with panic as I put on a button-up shirt and jeans. I slide into my shoes and rush out of my small apartment, down 2 flights of stairs, and out the door.

It’s 6:40. I have to be at the convention in 5 minutes. God, this would’ve been so much easier if I had just woken up on time. I don’t have a car, so I have to take the subway. I know I’m going to be late, but if I hurry, at least I’ll be there sooner. 

Before I have a second to think, I’m running down the street. 

6:45

I’ve made it to the subway, but I’m already supposed to be at the convention center, showing what I can create. All I’m showing is that I can’t be trusted to wake up on time.

Benji

6:50 A.M.

Sometimes I wonder how many people have tried to talk to me in public, but failed because I can’t hear them. I wish someone would just get my attention in another way, instead of giving up. That would be nice. 

I wish it was easier for me to talk to people in public, but basically, nobody in San Francisco knows ASL. Not that I’ve met, at least. It’s kind of discouraging because it makes it nearly impossible for me to communicate with anyone. 

I have a few friends who can sign, and a few who communicate in other ways, and I really do appreciate them. I just wish there were more. I pull my sketchbook from my backpack, flip past the page I spilled coffee on, and get working on my latest drawing.

7:00 A.M.

I look up from my book, not only because we finally started moving, but because I swear I felt someone tap my shoulder. There’s nobody in front of me, but to my right, there’s a guy in a white button-up and light brown jeans. He has caramel brown hair, and it’s in a small ponytail with some in the front that was probably too short to fit in the ponytail. He looks emotionless, almost like a statue until I make eye contact with him. Then he smiles. His smile is bright and kind. I bet everyone loves him. 

The guy tries to tell me something, and I can sort of tell by reading his lips, but I only get a bit of the sentence. Something about what I’m wearing, I think. 

I try to tell him as clearly as possible that I’m Deaf and can’t hear him. He stares blankly for less than a second, then nods and smiles and pulls out his phone. I wish people could see their own faces because I probably look so curious and confused. And I am. 

He shows me his phone.

Typed at the top of a page are the words, 'Hey, I like your outfit. (You can type your response if you want.)’ He hands me his phone and smiles again. I smile back at him and begin writing.

‘Thank you!’ I type right under his message.

‘Of course!’ He writes.

This type of thing has never happened to me. Normally, when people realize I’m Deaf they simply say ‘Never mind,’ and leave. I’m so happy. This guy doesn’t even know me, and he still found a way to compliment me and communicate with me. 

He shows me the phone again.

‘I’m Asher.’ He writes.

‘I’m Benji.’ I type.

We continue typing back and forth on the page, forming a long line of messages to each other. When I get to my stop, I realize it’s Asher’s stop too. 

‘Where are you heading? I’m heading to an art convention… I’m pretty late, though.’ he types.

‘Wait, the art convention at the Moscone Center that started at 7?’ I type, continuing the line of messages.

‘Yeah, why?’ 

‘I’m headed there as well, just for fun.’

‘Well, I’m super late, so I’ve gotta go.’

We get off the subway and jog up the stairs. I feel the cold and refreshing breeze on my face as Asher and I hurry to the convention center. Hopefully, he’s not deducted points for being super late, because that would definitely not work out for him.

As we go our separate ways, I show him my crossed fingers and say good luck. I hope my pronunciation isn’t too bad, and he understands. Most people have a hard time understanding me when I talk because I can’t hear myself. Most of the time, I at least get the message across, and that’s good enough for me. I walk away and start exploring the convention.

Asher:

7:20 A.M.

While I'm late to the convention, the subway ride to get here was the most pleasant experience I've had on it in a while. I met a boy named Benji. He’s deaf, but I didn’t know, so it took me a couple of tries to get his attention. At first, I tried just saying ‘Hi,’ but he was drawing and couldn’t see or hear me. 

When I eventually got his attention and realized he couldn’t hear me, we had a very pleasant conversation by typing on my phone. We talked about his art, my art, things we like to do, and how he was born deaf and didn’t suddenly go deaf partway through his childhood. 

It was really interesting talking to him. I hope I see him again. 

I make my way to my station in the convention center, and start working. 

A lot of interesting people come to my area. A few of them buy my smaller pieces of art, and almost all of them admire it all.

I create a lot of different kinds of art, and I have it all on display here. There are quite a few clay sculptures, a lot of paintings, some framed drawings, and even a few tapestries. I never stay interested in one type of art for a long period of time, I guess. I move on and come back to it later.

8:30 A.M.

Benji just came across my station. He stood, smiled, and admired all of my art. He finds a piece of paper and a pen, and we write back and forth. 

I love his handwriting, the way all of his letters swirl together. They look like art on their own. It’s nice. 

He talks about how interesting and creative my art is. He says he likes how it looks like I put what I think into what I create. 

Trying my best not to be creepy, I asked Benji for his phone number. He gave it to me, and I don’t think I creeped him out? I mean, I hope not. We agreed to hang out sometime soon, and I was glad that we would be able to see each other again after the convention. 

Which ends in less than 15 minutes. 

Benji

8:55

I can not even begin to explain how creepy Asher looked just a second ago when he asked me for my phone number and all that. He stood in thought for a few seconds and then squinted at me. Almost like he was thinking about the best way to ask. Then he scribbled the words out on the paper we were having a conversation on really fast. I could barely even read it. 

When I (very hesitantly, I will be honest.) said sure and wrote my number on the paper, he looked relieved. Then he jotted down, ‘Okay. That wasn’t creepy, right? Like, I didn’t seem creepy?’

I didn’t want to lower his self-esteem or something, so I said no. Probably one of the biggest lies I’ve ever told. I look back at the paper Asher and I have been writing on, and it says, ‘Now we can officially be friends!’

-The Next Week-

11:00 A.M.

Asher and I have been texting for a while, making plans and deciding when and where we should hang out. 

I’m really excited.

In about 5 minutes, I’m going to start walking to an ASL class so Asher can learn sign language, and I’ll be there with him, and we can communicate in a way that’s easier for me. Actually, a lot easier for both of us. Oh, and if he ends up meeting another Deaf or hard-of-hearing person, he can communicate with them too. It’s just nice. 

It’s time for me to go.

11:15 A.M.

When Asher and I arrived at the ASL class, it wasn’t what I was expecting. In my head, it was a school classroom. Actually, it was a large rectangle of tables with chairs on the outer rim. There were papers on the table for every person. I’m assuming it’s what we’re going to be learning to say.

When there are enough people, and it’s actually time for class to start, the girl teaching everyone tells us to stand up one by one and introduce ourselves.

Everyone does.

Charlie, Spencer, Ophelia, Rowen, Andie, and a few more. Until the line reaches Asher.

He stands up and lifts his hands. I definitely look confused. Not even probably. 

He says, “Good morning, my name is Asher.” in ASL, the first language I learned, and smiles at me.