Amy Signs: A Mother, Her Daughter, and their Stories

36. Gaining Independence

230 36 Gaining Independence Rebecca I want a close relationship with Amy, but our inability to communicate on an equal basis makes this difficult. One way we can share time together without communication being an issue is playing games. Amy enjoys both indoor and outdoor sports. In the summer, while I’m at work, John and Amy swim at a nearby pool, play croquet, badminton, or shoot baskets. In the evening, we play board games and card games. Amy’s current game of choice is Sorry. Having had my fill of losing the past week, and hearing Amy say, “I win. Too bad for you,” I suggest we walk to the Dairy Queen (DQ) since the summer evening is pleasant, less than ninety degrees. As we near the DQ, I ask Amy, “What are you going to buy?” “Chocolate cone,” she signs. “What about you, John?” I ask. “A Peanut Buster Bar.” He kicks a stone off the sidewalk into the street. “Here. This is for you to buy your treat.” I hand them each two dollars. Amy stuffs her money in the pocket of her shorts. “Mine. I have much money at home.” “That’s because you never spend any,” John grumbles. “She must have thirty dollars in her bank.” Amy Signs Main Pgs 1-320.indd 230 6/27/2012 10:37:47 AM Gaining Independence 231 Amy’s personality is competitive by nature. She wants to excel at everything; this applies to saving money too. She hoards her money, counting it each week to make certain neither John nor I have taken any, something we have assured her we would never do, but counting her money, locking her bank, and hiding the key are a ritual for her. “The money I gave you is not for your bank. It’s for your treat,” I say. “Tonight you will buy your own treat.” “Oh.”Amy pulls the money from her pocket and thrusts it toward me. “You do it.” “No, you keep it. You have to buy your own treat.” “Why me?” Amy replies. “Because you need to do things by yourself.” Amy stares at me; her forehead wrinkles with confusion. Her eyes narrow as she processes what I have said.“I not buy it. I cannot talk.” “Then you’ll have to figure out another way to tell them what you want. You have to buy your own treat tonight. I am not buying it for you.” We are now less than a block from the DQ. “Here, John.” She extends her money toward John. “You buy it.” “No.” I push Amy’s hand away from John. “Why not John?” Amy asks. “Because John will not always be with you. You must learn to do things on your own.” As we walk across the Dairy Queen parking lot, Amy shuffles her feet, lagging behind. She knows I am as obstinate as she is; whining will not change my mind. This lesson on independence is taking place in public. I pray I do not have to give in to avoid a scene. John opens the Dairy Queen door and a rush of cool air greets us as we enter. Amy remains outside. I motion for her to come in. She shakes her head. Her blond curls swing across her face but do not dislodge her scowl. “No.” She snaps her index and middle finger to her thumb several times. While John and I stand in line, I keep a watchful eye on Amy. Darkness is approaching. She’s upset and I do not want her to run home along poorly lit streets without us. “John, after you buy your ice cream sit at a table outside.”I let him order before me. Amy Signs Main Pgs 1-320.indd 231 6/27/2012 10:37:47 AM 232 Amy Signs “Sure. I want a Buster Bar,” he tells the clerk. “Next!” The high school girl behind the counter wears a soiled uniform. Streaks on the front indicate it’s been used for hand wiping. “I’ll have a Buster Bar, too.” I wanted a parfait, but if I have to chase Amy, it will be easier to run with ice cream on a stick than in a plastic glass. John receives his ice cream and goes outside. I pay for my ice cream and join him. Amy shuffles toward us, kicking loose gravel that stings my...