She told me that I must be mistaken because all her brother's vocal cords had been removed during an experimental surgery, which had failed. The boy made one of those hand signs at me as I was about to leave. She told me that he was saying that he loved me with his hands. I didn't say anything back to her at all because I didn't believe her. People can't talk with their hands and everybody knows that.
People can only talk with their mouth.
Almost every Sunday for the next year or two I could see the boy through the chain-link fence as we ate watermelon outside behind the dining room, during the summer time. He always made that same funny hand sign at me and I would just wave back at him, not knowing what else to do. On my very last day in the orphanage I was being chased by the police. They chased me around the dining room building several times and finally I made a dash for the chain-link fence and tried to climb over in order to escape. I saw the deaf boy sitting there on his porch just looking at me as they pulled me down from the fence and handcuffed me.