She tried using her hands but ended up simply picking up the bowl and tipping its contents into her mouth. When she finally put it back down both she ...nd the floor were splattered. I leaned forward and picked up the bowl and placed it in the sink. Something to keep Marta occupied in the morning.“Clean the floor, you dirty girl,” I told her and she instantly obeyed.She carefully licked the floor trying to pick up every trace of tomato sauce before kneeling up, looking at me, hopeful that she had. She was trying to be “normal” when not. She couldn’t hear me. It explained her proud, stuck up, school demeanor. She didn’t respond because she didn’t hear the hellos. Like at the café, she faked her way through school.How difficult a life, such a terrible card dealt, not being in the conversation, isolated, no one understanding your deaf plight, instead traduced to classmate scorn, our scathing, clever epithet quips trailing her passage through corridors and classrooms. It reminded me again. More

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