Chapter 17 — The Language of Hands

Arriving at school at seven o'clock in the morning, Thao Nguyen was almost overwhelmed by the amount of unfinished work. The familiar backyard of the gymnasium has now turned into a miniature construction site — people erecting standees, people pulling electric wires for the small stage, people setting up tables and chairs for the booths, the sounds of calling to each other echoing everywhere.

"Where is the standee for the art exhibition?" she shouted and asked Minh Thu who was fiddling with a roll of tape.

"Looking for a place, seems to be missing a base!" Minh Thu shouted back, her voice also full of panic.

Thao Nguyen ran to check and discovered that there was indeed a standee missing. She had to ask the school security guard to help her find it in the old storage room, wasting another twenty precious minutes in an already tight morning.

At nearly nine o'clock, Binh An appeared, carefully holding the painting wrapped in moisture-proof paper, accompanying his mother. He eagerly looked for her as soon as he entered the event area, his eyes lit up when he saw the scale of the festival gradually taking shape.

"Sister, where should I hang my painting?" he signed, his signing voice filled with excitement.

"Wait a minute, the exhibition area is in the corner," Thao Nguyen replied quickly, still holding the walkie-talkie to contact the logistics team, glancing at the clock. She led me to the exhibition area and helped hang the paintings in the right position, but as soon as she finished, the walkie-talkie vibrated again, signaling a problem with the stage sound system, forcing her to hastily leave, only having time to tell me "I'll be right back" before disappearing into the increasingly crowded crowd.

In the middle of the morning, when everything seemed to be going smoothly, a truck carrying tables and chairs borrowed from a friend's school arrived nearly an hour later than expected due to traffic jams, forcing Thao Nguyen to stand at the school gate and call the driver while still holding the walkie-talkie to contact the stage set-up group. Hai Yen, even though not a member of the club, volunteered to help early in the morning. Seeing her friend standing in the light sunshine of early winter, sweating, she couldn't help but feel sad.

"You stop drinking water first," Yen urged, pushing a bottle of mineral water into her hand. "You look like you're about to fall."

"I'm fine, thank you for coming to help," Thao Nguyen replied hastily, only having time to take a sip before rushing off to check another area, leaving Hai Yen standing and watching, shaking her head in concern.

The event officially opened at 2:00 p.m., and right from the first minutes, the atmosphere far exceeded the expectations of the organizers. Students from the entire school came in large numbers, curious about an unprecedented event. The finger alphabet teaching booth, run by Ms. Xuan, quickly filled up with people lining up, bustling laughter rang out as the students clumsily practiced their first symbols. The area displaying documentary photos about the history of the Deaf community attracted many curious and serious eyes.

In particular, the painting exhibition corner received unexpected attention. Binh An's painting - an image of a crowded schoolyard with hands interlaced and gesturing among the crowd - many people stopped to look at and admire. An Art teacher at the school even stopped for a long time, asking about his drawing techniques and praising his delicate composition and color combination. Binh An, initially shy, gradually became more confident, trying to signal answers to the teacher's questions with the help of a volunteer who knew how to sign nearby, his eyes sparkling with a pride that was rarely expressed so completely.

At the finger alphabet booth, Ms. Xuan had to mobilize two more volunteers to assist because the number of students queuing was unexpectedly large, including many classmates in the same grade as Thao Nguyen, who had previously been indifferent to the Sign Language Club, but were now eagerly waiting in line for their turn to learn a few basic signs. That scene, if Thao Nguyen had time to stop and look at it fully, would have made her shed tears of emotion - but she could only pass by for a few seconds on the way from one point to another, not enough time to truly feel the results of many months of effort.

But in the meantime, Thao Nguyen was busy at the other end of the event area, dealing with another incident - a volunteer reported losing the key to the spare warehouse, preventing the group from getting more seats for the growing audience area. She ran around, calling, asking everywhere, sweat beading on her forehead even though the November weather was quite cool.

"You should rest a bit," Gia Bach said when he accidentally bumped into her in the middle of a crowded aisle, his eyes clearly worried. "You've been running since morning until now without stopping for a minute."

"I'm fine, there's still a lot of work to do," Thao Nguyen replied, her voice breathless. Before she could finish her sentence, she had to turn away because the radio rang again, signaling another problem.

It was not until nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, when everything had temporarily stabilized, that Thao Nguyen had the opportunity to run towards the painting exhibition area to see Binh An's situation. But when she arrived, she could only see the back of the Art teacher leaving, while Binh An stood there alone, her face still shining with excitement but also a little bit of disappointment.

"I'm sorry, I was too busy to come on time," Thao Nguyen said, panting. "Is there something funny? Can you tell me quickly? I have to go back to the stage right now."

Binh An looked at her for a moment, then shook his head and briefly signaled: "Nothing, let's talk about it another time." He turned away and continued to stand next to his painting, his eyes following the customers passing by, but there was no longer the explosive excitement like in the morning.

Thao Nguyen stood there for a second, feeling a fleeting pang. She intended to stay a little longer and ask her more carefully what the Art teacher had said, but the walkie-talkie rang again, this time it was an urgent message from Duc Anh informing her that a group of local journalists had just arrived, wanting to quickly interview about the event before they had to leave to catch up with another schedule. She glanced at her brother one last time, saw that he had turned his back, his eyes glued to his own painting as if he were talking to himself, then quickly turned away, feeling a little guilty but quickly swept away by the fast pace of the work.

"I have to go, I'll be right back!" she told Binh An, then hurriedly ran towards the event gate, where a small group of two people - a young reporter holding a tape recorder and a cameraman - were waiting, their eyes somewhat impatient because of the tight schedule.

Gia Bach was also there, briefly explaining the event to the group of reporters. "This is Thao Nguyen, one of the main people in charge of the project," he introduced when he saw her approaching, out of breath. "And this is Mr. Phuc, representative of the Deaf community accompanying the club."

Mr. Phuc, standing nearby chatting with a few other guests, heard his name being called, immediately walked over, nodded to the group of reporters with a familiar friendly smile.

"We only have about five minutes, the boss rushes home," the young reporter said, his voice hurried, his eyes glancing at his watch, his hand already adjusting the recorder. The cameraman standing behind also started setting up the tripod, the small light on the camera blinked signaling that filming was about to take place. "Can I have a quick interview about the meaning of the event?"

Thao Nguyen clearly felt the pressure of time pressing on her, her heart beat faster when thinking that this was a valuable media opportunity that she had worked hard to build for many weeks, and could not let it pass clumsily. She took a breath, tried to calm down, and turned to mentally prepare for the short but important interview that was about to take place.

Gia Bach glanced at his watch, then turned to Thao Nguyen. "Have you ever coordinated an interview like this before?" he asked softly, his voice a bit worried mixed with confidence. "Remember, let Mr. Phuc answer directly, I will only assist with translation when needed, don't let reporters just look at us."

"I remember," Thao Nguyen replied quickly, nodding, even though her mind was now divided between dozens of unfinished tasks, between the image of Binh An standing quietly next to the painting, and between the pressure to do well in front of the camera lens that was about to turn on. She didn't have the necessary silence to truly absorb that reminder, just hearing it pass by like any other admonition in a long day had made her senses dull, less sensitive than ever to the subtle details of intercultural communication that she should have learned very carefully over the past few months. The reporter's watch seemed to be beating in her head, urging her to be quick, to be concise, to leave the best possible impression in the little time left.