Waking the Bear
I close my eyes and travel to another time. Dressed in pajamas, I’m standing barefoot on matted carpet in an apartment. Clink! Clang! Bam! Familiar sounds of my deaf mom doing dishes. The comforting smell of her au gratin potatoes and garlic chicken surrounds me. I’m home. Here, there are no inside walls to hide secrets. No windows for others to see in, though sunlight finds a way—even in the corner where a big bear curls itself in a hairy ball and pretends to sleep. Its belly swells with long snorting breaths then shrinks as air rushes past its flapping lips, the signal it wants to play our game.
I clutch my rag doll’s hand, the one Granny made to look like me in red polka dot pajamas and hair pulled in an afro puff on top of its head like mine.
“You shouldn’t count on her to speak and hear for you, Cordelia. Child ain’t but ten years old.”
Granny's words hover like white noise, but her signed English falls on Mom’s deaf ears. So she speaks what she signs to make sure I hear it. And she gives me dolls, Disney movies, and books that come with stuffed characters to remind me to “stay in a child’s place.” I watched The Jungle Book over and over. Baloo is my favorite character. We play games together.
I lick the cherry ring pop he left under my pillow. Two loud slurps mean, I’m ready to play too. He responds with a loud snort and makes his lips flap extra fast. I giggle. Ten seconds to hide! But where can I go in a place with no walls? Between my bed and dresser? Behind the couch? Under the coffee table? In a corner where the sun don’t shine?
Times up! The bear stands on its hind legs. I flinch but I’m not threatened. He slinks around me on all fours. I don’t move or breathe. He pries my doll from my hand with his teeth, gently lays it down then licks his chops, eyeing my ring pop. I cross my arms to hide my candy as he sniffs and nuzzles me. With my eyes squeezed shut, I relax while he takes my whole arm into his mouth and slurps the ring pop off my finger, careful not to bite. Funny feelings dance inside me, and my breath returns in short bursts. That wasn’t at all what I expected.
I'm not upset about losing my candy. And when I wake up, I won't be playing with dolls anymore.