Author’s Note

This novel uses historical, nineteenth century terms to refer to the Deaf community and Deaf education. The setting for this novel, The American Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb, changed their name to the American School for the Deaf in 1895. The terms “deaf-mute” and “dumb” are antiquated and are considered offensive by members of the Deaf community in the modern day. The term “asylum” is used in the historical sense—that is, an educational institution for the differently-abled and the proper name of the school. These terms are used throughout the novel, without the intent to cause offense or discomfort and with understanding of their modern connotations. By using these terms, the author hopes to promote understanding and to give voice to those who may have been forgotten by history through their contemporary language.

Chapter 1

         

Journal of Adeliza Huntington

January 23, 1829

I remember when Mama first looked me in the eyes. It was also the first time my mind knew sound.

I sat in the rushes by the corner of our rough-hewn cabin. Papa had taken the wagon to town and Mama flapped her mouth as she bustled around the farm. That bright morning, I clutched the only possession I could call my own, a dried corn cob with a leaf of husk attached as if to form a halo of hair.

The snow on the fields had broken and the sun’s rays softened the hard, Massachusetts earth. Even as a small child—only five years to my recollection—I delighted in the dripping sky. The musty smell of damp leaves pressed into the soil, the fragrance of sprouting life—wet and full and sharp—penetrated the walls of our cabin, driving out the fetid, wintery air.

A modest building, the warped door swung open in the breeze, reverberating against the great quartered log walls. The chinking must have been a gleaming white plaster once, though I only knew it as dull brown with chunks of garbage and moss filling sporadic holes; a world away from the elegance of Hartford, where I now write. Once, my beloved cob doll filled a hole above my straw pallet. Two black kernels, like the stained-glass eyes at the church house, watched me as I slept.

I kept my makeshift plaything with me and treasured her as my own china doll. At night, I would spirit it away to a hollow at the foot of a tree several yards from the well on the hill—a spot where no one would look. It was my dearest secret, my closest friend. The remaining kernels felt wonderful under my fingertips, though they were dry and shriveled. I passed my fingers over the dull ridges and the rough, exposed cob. I would revel in keeping my small friend rolled in my skirt as I went, thinking it imperceptible to the world.

As I sat alone with my friend, the sun crept over the hill, filtering through the leaves of the large elm above me. In a clearing a small space down the hill, Mama knelt upon the matted grass, consumed in some kind of work. She surrounded herself with a basin, wooden slats, and lengths of rushes woven into strands. The acrid smell of lye chased the smell of dampened earth.

I would like to say I know something of mama. Her struggles must have been great, but as it is, I cannot lend her much sympathy. In my sixteen years, I have seen the world and am old enough to know a mother’s duty in the eyes of God.

That morning she was wearing a plain, loose-waisted calico dress, one I found particularly delightsome as it had a fanciful print of dull pink flowers. She was a full-bodied woman (of how many years I know not). Her stringy locks fell from under her bonnet as she worked. I never cared for the dry creases in her face or her flat lips, but I found her disheveled auburn tresses beautiful in the dawning sun.

As I crouched in the weeds with my knees tucked inside my skirt, I gently rolled my friend, back and forth, up and down on my palm. A white butterfly flew from behind me, down the slight slope to where Mama knelt. It darted and bobbed along into the grove of scrubby pines which sat atop the hill above the cabin. The flitting and flying of the butterfly held me in a trance. I sprang up to follow, forgetting the old cob. It dropped from my idle hand and tumbled away from the shady patch. It rolled down towards Mama and the basin, skittering over rocks and roots. My breath caught in my throat. I leapt to follow after, thinking I could grab it before Mama saw. I dodged the peaking stones in the pathway, scrambling down the slope with my stubby legs.

I was too late. As the dried chunk bumped up against the basin, Mama looked up from her work. As usual, her eyes were empty and cold, her mouth a thin line. She snatched the cob from the ground and examined it.

Mama and I spent every day together on the farm. She worked all day, only retiring to the fireside at night to gaze into the flames, a thin shawl lank on her shoulders. Once, I watched her for what must have been hours before she noticed and turned her back to me. Her eyes never met mine. For all I knew, I looked clear as water to her. Would she ignore the cob as she ignored me? I froze, awaiting the answer.

Her brow stiffened and wrinkled deep into her face, so deep I thought her head might crack in twain. The lines around her mouth were drawn taut. Slowly, her lower jaw opened to reveal knobby brown teeth. She held her mouth thus for what seemed an eternity as I shrank before her. Her eyes whipped round and settled on me. She peered into my eyes with hatred and contempt, as if steaming tar oozed from her heart to burn my flesh. As I stood in my tattered frock I felt the sun disappear and the earth melt beneath my feet. I crouched down and covered my face with my small hands, but I peeked through my fingers, our eyes unbreakably locked. She had never looked at me—I couldn’t break the trance. Even as she raised her hand to throw the cob at me, I was transfixed. In those eyes I felt for the first time that Mama saw me even as I could see her. The doll struck my arm—I couldn’t move.

Her arms flailed, spittle flying from her unbridled mouth. She paused, her face frozen in a grotesque expression as if time had stopped. Tears filled her eyes and she looked away. Her face sank into her hands as she collapsed to the ground, emptying the lye water over her apron. She quivered in a heap at the side of the path.

Not knowing what to do, I stayed paralyzed. Mama then stood and smoothed her sopping apron. She picked up the basin and her other tools. I decided to retrieve my doll which had flown away after striking me. Keeping out of the way, I turned to my hiding place in the weeds next to the house.

I’d gone about five feet when the most abominable pain washed downward from my head, accompanied by what I can only describe as sound—high and piercing, shrill beyond all imagining—as if I were staring at a multitude of suns, unblinking. My head pounded and a hot feeling took me. Ever present was the banshee shriek inside my mind. I felt dazed, as if my spirit would take leave and fly away, or worse—that the pain would continue everlasting. Before I lost consciousness, I saw Mama standing above me, no longer cold and distant as she had been. Her stance was bold, upright and knowing. She brandished the basin as I lay on the ground. Through my pain I saw a splotch of blood and a dent on the side of the basin, the noxious lye fumes stinging my nose. I can only describe her face as satisfied.

I apologize, dear diary, for my trembling script. Though my mind has matured, my heart is the same as that little girl, paying for the crime of her own existence through irrational cruelty. Betrayed by her Protector, forsaken by Nature. Now a young woman, I chronicle these painful experiences to become my own Protector—to defy Nature.

Before that day I had never heard a sound, neither voice nor breeze. Since that day I have never known sound beyond that horrifying cry as I lay in the dust, writhing in pain. I reckon I’d rather leave that to hearing folks. That frightful sound whose memory chills my bones and haunts my sleep is the best and only gift Mama gave me.

October 22, 1826 – 3 Years Earlier

Adeliza inhaled deeply, despite the lye smell burning her nostrils. She wrapped her fichu tight around her shoulders. The carriage lurched along the rough dirt road. No matter how she shifted there was no avoiding the sudden jerks which made her bottom sore. She held her starched handkerchief to her nose. The smell of lye, manure, and sweat unnerved her. It called her to a far-off time and a too-familiar place. The wind bit into her face but the olfactory barrage was worse. She could abide being cold—she had years of practice—but this assault was unrelenting and haunting.

A heavy old woman sat across from her, dressed in black with her face hidden; a thick-browed young man in a navy coat held the woman’s hand. Adeliza had trouble seeing the others in the brake carriage—it didn’t matter to her anyway. They didn’t look familiar.

The man next to her in an ill-fitting waistcoat wiped his bulbous nose on a plain handkerchief. Adeliza’s escort was her town minister—a white-haired, kindly old man she had known since she was a great deal younger than her thirteen years.

The other carriage riders looked at each other, moved their lips, shook and nodded their heads along with the conversation. Adeliza had no company but the jostling of the cab and the passing road.

She wished she knew where they were going.

She noticed clapboard homesteads popping through the dense foliage. The weather turning brisk, the New England hemlocks were turning brilliant with the fire of the season. Adeliza marveled at the slow blur of yellow, orange, and red that complemented the amber sky.

A finger tap brought her back to the carriage. The minister held his forefinger to his pursed lips, pleading silence. The young man across from her stared bug-eyed, the older woman leered from under her veil. In her idle gazing, Adeliza forgot her long, slow throat vibrations bothered people she met. Her cheeks flushed red. Though she could not put her thoughts into explicit words, she thought of kicking her feet in defiance and screaming like the babes at Sunday service. Their judgmental gaze kept her legs still and her screams behind her lips, though. As expected, the travelers returned to their own company and only stared when they thought she wasn’t looking.

The sun lowered in the sky, the stars poked through the clouds, and the carriage pulled to a stop. Adeliza had fallen asleep but woke with a start when the minister tapped her shoulder. She looked at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. He gestured for her to exit the carriage. Taking the footman’s hand, she stepped onto the cobblestone street.

She was small, even for thirteen years old. Her gaunt limbs, little more than bone, defied physical logic as they stretched back to life. Her uncurled blonde hair peeked out from under her straw bonnet. Her curiously-bent left forearm reached up and tucked in the rebellious locks.

The minister stepped out of the carriage and went to collect their baggage.

Adeliza looked in wonder at this, the first city she’d been to. Buildings of stone, brick, and painted timbers lined the narrow street, their facades stringing together like a tall fence. High up, a woman leaned out a window and a dusty man on the street stopped to look up and mouth at her. A dog brushed her leg, followed by five barefoot boys. Striped skirts blurred with golden waistcoats, crisp kerchiefs, and fluttering carrick coats in a kaleidoscope of grey, vermillion, and ochre. Horse-drawn carts with squash and ruffage ambled up the road. An unshaven man in a brown top hat cut through the crowd, lighting tall lampposts from a tin lantern. Every moment felt like Sunday after services ended but the crowd never cleared. More people, horses, and oxen bumped past her every minute. Certainly, this was the grandest lane in the state.

Where was this place? Why were so many people here? A puff of hot air seeped into her lungs. She coughed in the face of a scraggly-haired woman who spat at her feet. Adeliza’s heart pounded as the shadows darkened around her. She gasped for breath and stumbled back to the carriage, struggling to lower the carriage steps. Her despair mounting, the minister took her hand in his. He looked into her eyes and stroked her cheek with his soft fingers. In his eyes she saw everything would be alright. She smiled and stood upright.

They entered a busy, smoky building and settled in for the night. After supper, the minister had her practice her letters. She didn’t understand what she was writing, but she knew the shapes well. She had traced the lines over and over while leafing through her Bible. Her favorite letter was the straight-backed letter with two bumps on the side. It reminded her of her favorite rounded rock in the town lake which peeked above the water’s surface, the bottom half a rippling reflection.

Afterwards, they knelt in prayer. She kept her clasped hands close to her chest and watched the minister speaking, understanding nothing he said. He went on for an unusual amount of time tonight, she thought. She bit her bottom lip at the edges, alternating sides to pass the time. The minister’s closed eyes teared up when she spied to see whose footsteps she felt in the floorboards. The chambermaid tiptoed toward the bed and spread white sheets across the straw mattress. Adeliza’s mouth dried as the minister’s steady hands quivered. He continued his prayer through gentle tears.

Adeliza tried her best to sleep after the candle was snuffed. Something was wrong. The minister, ever composed and genial, had withered before her. Sometimes during service he would be fervent, but never like this. Adeliza’s mind raced. He had reassured her outside the carriage tonight… but his prayer unsettled her again. This new place..

She awoke as dawn broke and rushed into another carriage. Despite her troubled sleep, the minister’s cheery face tempered her troubled, ephemeral thoughts. In the distance a mighty river, broad and swift, curved like a great bow aimed at the heart of the city. Above the chimneys and smokestacks, great masts with colored flags waved in the wind.

Their carriage headed northwest. As they rode, Adeliza saw the city in bright sunshine under a periwinkle sky—rumpled farmers in loose shirts and broad-brimmed hats, women in wide-hemmed calico dresses with puffed sleeves and bright bonnets, gentlemen in elegant frock coats and breeches with top hats and lace handkerchiefs. A group of stick-wielding boys ran aimless down the street. The ever-present carriages, horses, and carts moved up and down the thoroughfare, dodging fruit sellers and stray dogs. She felt the carriage roll along the stone streets in a pleasant cadence.

The city dissolved into trees and fields; the horses strained to mount the steep road. The hill crested, they arrived at a large white building atop a ridge. It was broad and severe with two wings extending parallel to the street. The center bank had a great pediment with an inset half-moon window. From the ground sprang four engaged pilasters which ran up the wall to meet the eaves. On either side of the façade were flat walls with many windows. Four chimneys shot from the roof. A half-circle path sprang from the street to the front stairs before arching back towards the road. The grounds were open and well-manicured with a thick lawn and tall cherry trees.

Milling in front of the building was a crowd of young folk—some as young as Adeliza, others ten years her senior. They waved their arms and rapidly moved their hands, forming distinct shapes and gestures while scrunching their eyebrows, pursing lips, and lolling tongues. Peppered throughout, older adults moved in the same manner in visual conversation with their younger counterparts. She furrowed her brow and stared unflinching at the sight. The minister led her by the hand down from the carriage and up the path. They walked up the stairs together toward the great front door. Adeliza noted a particular group of girls under a tree beside the path who were laughing. Her pace slackened as she looked at each of their faces and gloved hands. The minister looked back smiling, reminding her of her place. She hurried along into the building as the minister held open the door for her.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the change in light. She looked around the entryway where more conversation groups had formed. They walked along the corridor which lead inwards and sprang into a great hallway, running in either direction down the center of the building. The tall door presaged the looming walls. To her small size, they seemed to run as high as the trees outside. Down the long hallway, sturdy oak doors were set every fifteen feet. Above the many doors were elegant but simple casements. Broad, polished floorboards lead throughout, holding firm without a hint of bowing—despite the weight of the slew of people coming and going.

And here was Adeliza, a speck in a maelstrom.

The minister led her down the left hall and into an open office. Inside sat a few men behind desks. The room burst with pale light and the smell of paper. There were stacks of books and sheaves which consumed the men’s attention. The minister gestured to a small wooden chair beside the door. She sat, and the minister walked past the reams of paper, disappearing through an open door at the back.

Looking upwards at the ceiling, Adeliza reveled in the cold sheen the daylight cast upon the plaster. From the window on the far wall she saw the smooth light shine and fade as it receded back towards her seat and the hallway door. She noticed how the light changed subtly as her eye caressed the wall upwards until she couldn’t remember how the light had felt when she began. It swirled and swished inside her head until she noticed a one man looking at her. She had been swinging her legs on the rather tall chair, skidding on the floor with each pump. She shrank in shame, lowering her head in deference. The young man smiled, returning to his ledger.

It wasn’t long before the minister emerged with a slight, well-groomed man. The man’s eyes twinkled through a small pair of gold-rimmed glasses on his long, straight nose. They approached while moving their lips and tongues as hearing people did. Adeliza felt their firm footfalls stop in front of her. The bespectacled man smiled and bowed. She hopped from her chair, eyes fixed to the spats on his shoes. She gave a tired curtsey and shuffled her feet.

But the man waved in front of her, palm down, moving his fingertips up and down. She looked up, her eyes working their way to his. He then made a slow wave while grinning at her. He moved his hands as she had seen the people outside and in the hallway. She furrowed her brow and squinted at him. She struggled to understand the meaning of what was happening, yet she felt no malice or deception from him. Calmly, he shook her hand and returned to the back room. The minister crouched down and placed his hand on her shoulder. Tears welled in his eyes as he gave her a strong embrace. His arms quivered.

Soon after, Adeliza watched the minister descend the steps they had climbed together and step into the carriage alone. Adeliza now stood on the portico with a black-haired woman whose sympathetic brow portended what Adeliza already felt in her heart. As the coach pulled away, her despair mounted. She searched in her mind for answers to the many questions she didn’t have words to ask. Where was he going? Would he be back? Why was she being left behind? She dashed for the carriage only to be caught by a stern embrace. The woman held Adeliza to her tender breast and stroked Adeliza’s hair as the girl lost her strength. The carriage horses walked down the hill and the passenger waved from the cab. With the departure of the minister, she had lost the last familiar face for untold miles. More than her companion, she had lost her last surrogate parent. She wouldn’t be returning to Fairwain. Adeliza slumped to her knees and wept.

#

It was now noon, the fall sky burning a pale yellow. Outside the American Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb, brilliant carmine leaves flickered through the air. Adeliza sat on a bed in a large, plain room on the second floor. Her trunk had been brought and was currently being arranged by the black-haired woman who had comforted her. There were two rows of other beds arranged next to and across from her own, about eighty in total. Adeliza’s was under the middle of three large windows. Her arms hung at her sides as she hunched her back and bored holes through the floor with her eyes. Her tears had stopped now. She reached for her corn doll and plopped it on her lap.

Amid her sullen trance, two girls entered the room and caught her eye as they curtseyed to the woman. The lady smiled back and stood up from her kneeling position. The first girl was a grinning, ruddy-faced girl with shining golden ringlets pinned close to her crown. Her dress was a pale blue print, ruched at the hem with long sleeves. Her companion stood shorter, but not as small as Adeliza. Pale with freckles and large dark eyes, she beamed at the woman. The girl also wore her hair curled and pinned, though her locks dangled precariously from their set place. Her dress was all white with flounces of fabric on the bottom fourth and short sleeves, pleasantly puffed. They both glanced at the new addition and made some hasty signs to each other.

Adeliza pored over every motion and twitch of muscle to discern the meaning.

The woman waved to the girls after putting Adeliza’s bonnet on the bed to free her hands. Her eyebrows squinched quizzically, she held her right palm open to each girl and touched her thumbs to where her shoulder met her chest. She brought her fists together and twisted her right wrist. Adeliza missed the next series of signs, but the girls nodded in tandem. They brought their right hands up and flicked their fingers from shape to shape in a blur. Adeliza edged forward and flexed her hands open and closed as she spied on the scene.

The woman stood straight and blinked at the girls in disbelief. Her index and third fingers like a forked branch, she gestured to the girls and formed more hand shapes, moving up and down and in and out.

The girls grinned, shuffled their feet, and examined the ceiling beams. The smaller dark-eyed girl flicked her forefinger upwards followed by tapping the forefinger of the forked branch shape against the palm of her left hand.

The blonde moved her long legs half a step forward. She gestured to her dark-haired companion and signed crisp and clear, though Adeliza could not identify distinct signs through her fixed smile and knowing eyes.

The dark-haired girl rolled her wrists as she signed her reply. She rocked on her feet and lolled her tongue. The woman considered one, then the other, and shrugged. She muttered a few sloppy signs as she turned back to Adeliza’s trunk.

The two young ladies looked up and found Adeliza’s gaze. Her heart pounded as their chiding grins morphed to innocuous smiles. The tall blonde signed first, but slower than before. She waved, indicated herself, traced a zig-zag shape in the air and held her hand in three stationary shapes. She indicated herself again and traced the zig-zag shape by her right temple. Then she pointed to Adeliza, eyebrows raised in questioning.

Adeliza looked at her, still unmoved. She was unsure what to make of their gesturing. What was she meant to do? What if she did something to cause them to leave, too?

The blonde repeated herself and waited for a response. Adeliza blinked from one to the other, throat tight and skin sweltering. A thought struck her, a wordless memory from before the carriage ride that had brought her here. Setting her doll aside, she took a worn sheet of paper from inside her dress pocket and showed it to the blonde. The old lady had showed her how to hand this to strangers if she ever got lost. She had shown it to the minister once, but he only nodded at her.

The two girls searched the paper’s surface and flashed a few signs to each other. The brunette placed the paper on the bed and indicated herself. She pointed her forefinger towards the ceiling and her thumb towards the wall, like the straight corner of a book, followed by six other shapes. She repeated the first shape in the same pattern as the blonde had repeated the zig zag shape. She then moved the straight corner shape and touched the forefinger below her right eye, then brought the shape forward. Adeliza looked from the brunette to the blonde. The black-haired woman plopped a stack of stockings onto the bedspread. Adeliza shook her head, her heart beating so fast her vision waivered.

The blonde, the zig zag one, patted Adeliza’s shoulder, her eyes were wide and her smile sincere. She pointed at Adeliza and nodded. The two girls signed to each other.

“I” said the straight-corner girl, followed by more signs unknown to Adeliza. “She,” she continued, indicating Adeliza.  “You and I,” this time the straight corner girl pointed to the zig zag girl as well as herself.

Adeliza marveled at the majesty of their motions. She had, of course, pointed and mimed her thoughts since she was young, but never with such beauty and intention. She labored and strained for each concept—most people lost patience after a few tries. Here she witnessed full and fluent communication. As each word flew from the girls’ fingers she saw the subtle way their bodies moved, their eyebrows wrinkled, mouths opened, and shoulders turned. Every move complimented the exchange.

The woman tapped her foot on the floor, the vibration catching the girls’ attention. “…you and you,” she said, Adeliza missing the first sign. “I… go,” she pointed out the door, could she be leaving? “…You two…” She’s looking up at the ceiling, what’s up there? The woman continued “…I…  you and you” again indicating the girls, “… to her” pointing to Adeliza again.

The girls curtseyed, and the woman ambled off, brushing her apron between steps. Their attention diverted, Adeliza found her courage.

She had figured out ‘go’, she must learn more. She looked at the zig zag girl and the straight corner girl, their eyes still following the woman out the door. Adeliza waved and pointed to each of them in turn. “You and you,” she said. She then flapped her mouth and wriggled her tongue. They shook their heads.

“No.” As they indicated they did not speak, they touched their right forefingers to their right ears.

They couldn’t hear either? She had imagined herself the only deaf-mute in the world.

The zig zag girl signed slowly, describing her signs along the way. “We are both deaf-mutes. We do not speak with mouths, we use our hands. You are deaf-mute.”

The straight corner girl nodded to zig zag girl, a loose pin falling to the floor. She waved her arm for Adeliza to come closer. Without hesitation, Adeliza hopped down from the bed. The straight corner girl signed again, “I’m [L]. Not her,” she pointed at the tall zig zag girl, shaking her head. “She’s not [L]. I’m [L].” She took Adeliza’s arm and formed the same signs indicating her name. When she released Adeliza’s arm, she formed the signs again on her own.

“You are [L]” said Adeliza. She waited for their approval, then allowed herself a thin smile. “You are… [Z],” she said forming the zig zag at her temple.

[Z] and [L] cheered in silence in the bright afternoon light, clapping, pointing and signing with glee. With every passing minute the world grew and grew for Adeliza. Eagerly, she inhaled the bits of language as a stray dog scarfs down table scraps.

Like the addition of a kernel of rye to a granary, Adeliza’s mind had changed, though not enough for her to notice outright. She thought to herself clearer than ever: The world is much larger than I had supposed.