Chapter 21 — The Language of Hands

Part V — Relearning How to Listen

Sunday, after a night of almost no sleep, Thao Nguyen woke up early, sat in front of her desk with a blank piece of paper, trying to write down exactly what she needed to say to Mr. Phuc. She didn't want to repeat the same mistake — a general, hasty apology, just to ease her own guilt without really understanding at what point she had hurt others.

She went online and read more about the basic principles of communication in the Deaf community that Ms. Xuan briefly mentioned but she had never thoroughly researched — about the concept of "turning words" in signed conversations, about the fact that an interpreter or support person should never arbitrarily change or shorten a Deaf person's words, about turning away or not maintaining eye contact while a Deaf person is speaking is considered a form of serious disrespect, equivalent to interrupting or covering up. ears do not listen to what others say in a listening culture. The more she read, the more clearly she realized that what she did that day was not just "a bit hasty" as she once defended herself in her head, but was a systematic behavior that many Deaf people have to endure over and over again throughout their lives - being told for them, being decided for them, being deprived of the right to tell their own stories.

Before texting Mr. Phuc, she called Ms. Xuan to ask for advice because she wasn't sure she understood correctly and sufficiently. Ms. Xuan listened to everything Thao Nguyen had learned, was silent for a moment, then spoke, her voice both stern and warm. “You got most of it right,” she commented. "But I want to remind you of something more important than technical principles — don't come to Mr. Phuc with the mindset of 'returning' what you just read, to prove you've learned enough. Come with the mindset of truly wanting to listen to him say how he feels, even if it's harder to hear than you think."

That advice made Thao Nguyen thoughtful all the way to bed that night, reminding herself to be careful, not to let the apology turn into a speech proving that he had "corrected the mistake properly", but to truly be a quiet space for Mr. Phuc to speak and feel safe to express.

She texted Mr. Phuc, briefly but sincerely: "Mr. Phuc, I know you need time, I don't want to bother you. But if you are willing, I would like to ask to meet you once, not so that you can forgive me right away, but so that I can apologize properly, and so that I can better understand where I went wrong. I will respect if you don't want to meet yet."

It wasn't until that evening that Mr. Phuc answered, briefly: "Tomorrow afternoon, after work, at Lang Coffee." Thao Nguyen read that message, her heart pounding both because of worry and because of a small ray of hope.

The next afternoon, she arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes earlier than the scheduled time, sat alone at the familiar corner of the table, her hands clasped tightly on the notes she had prepared all night. When Mr. Phuc walked in, his face still maintained its usual calmness, but his eyes were a bit more reserved than before.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me," Thao Nguyen signed, trying to keep her hands from shaking. "I've thought a lot about what happened, and I want to make it clear, not a general apology."

Mr. Phuc sat down, nodded, signaled her to continue, did not say anything more, just observed.

"That day, I answered for you three times in a row, when you hadn't even finished signing your answer," Thao Nguyen began, gesturing slowly but clearly with her hands, her eyes looking straight at him without leaving. "I turned my back to you while you were speaking, which I know now, is like covering your ears and not listening to someone talking. You guessed and 'interpreted' what I meant the way I thought, instead of waiting to hear you say it yourself, because I was afraid of running out of time, afraid that the interview wouldn't go well. But my fear is not a legitimate reason for me to take away your right to speak and express yourself."

She paused for a moment, took a deep breath before continuing. "I also realize that this isn't the first time I've done this. I used to do the exact same thing with my own younger brother, many years ago, in a different way — letting my parents always be the ones to speak for me, make decisions for me, while I avoided actually learning how to let my younger brother speak for himself. I think, there is a part of me that, even if not consciously, is still used to seeing the Deaf voice as something that can be spoken 'on behalf' of the listener, instead of Always have to wait, always have to give space for that person to speak up."

Mr. Phuc was silent for a long time, his eyes thoughtful, then began to gesture, slowly. "It's a realization that's not easy for a listener to make on their own," he said. "Many people, even people who are very good at learning signs and have worked with the Deaf community for many years, still don't realize what you just said. I appreciate that you didn't just apologize, but really looked into it, really named the problem."

"I don't expect you to forgive me right away," Thao Nguyen continued, her voice still shaking. "I just hope you know, I will try not to let this happen again, not only with you, but with anyone. If you give me the chance, I want to learn more from you, about the principles of communication I am lacking, not to 'correct the mistake', but because I really want to understand correctly."

Mr. Phuc pondered for a moment, then nodded slightly, his eyes softening a bit. "I accept your apology," he said. "But I also want to be frank, trust is something that needs to be rebuilt slowly, through actions, not just through one conversation. I don't want you to feel pressured to prove it right away, just remember what you just said, and really live it."

"I understand," Thao Nguyen replied, feeling part of the burden lifted from her heart, even though she knew this was just the first step of a longer journey to regain trust.

"By the way," Mr. Phuc added, his voice was less tense, almost returning to his familiar friendliness, "the next time you participate in an interview or host a program with a Deaf person, remember this simple rule - if you're not sure if the person has finished speaking, just wait another three seconds of silence before continuing. Three seconds may seem long to the listener, but in sign communication, that pause is normal, not a sign that the person has finished speaking."

Thao Nguyen nodded, scribbled down that principle in the notebook she brought, feeling a sense of relief creeping into her heart - not because everything had been completely resolved, but because she felt that the road ahead, even though it was still long, had begun to have light guiding it again.

Before leaving, she lingered to ask Mr. Phuc a few more questions about how the Deaf community often organizes group conversations, about the order of taking turns, and about how to politely express agreement or disagreement with signs without interrupting others. Mr. Phuc patiently explained each thing one by one, sometimes joking a few words to make the atmosphere less heavy, and when the two broke up, even though they were not completely back as before, Thao Nguyen still felt a small door had opened again, waiting for her to move on with true perseverance and humility this time.

On the way home, she texted Hai Yen, recounting the entire conversation, her fingers typing more slowly than usual because she was still sorting out her emotions. "I think I just learned more than half a year of sign school combined," she wrote. "It's not about vocabulary, it's about how to truly respect others."

"I'm proud of you," Hai Yen texted back, without the usual teasing emoji, just a short but sincere sentence. "The hardest first step is the one you just took. What about the club, are you planning on coming back?"

That question made Thao Nguyen pause, realizing she still had another door to go through - not only for Mr. Phuc, but for Gia Bach, the whole club, and most importantly, for Binh An itself. She looked out the bus window and saw the streets passing by in the pale sunset. She was both relieved to have completed an important step and clearly understood that the road ahead was still very long, requiring her to continue to be even more courageous, especially when facing the person whose mistake had touched the deepest - her younger brother.

"Slow down," she texted Hai Yen back. "I want to resolve the matter with Binh An first, then consider the club. I don't want to go back there just because I miss Gia Bach or everyone, but because I'm truly ready to do my part."

"Okay, take it one step at a time," Hai Yen replied, accompanied by a small heart emoji. "I believe you can do it."

When I got home, the light in Binh An's room was still on even though it was quite late. Thao Nguyen stood in front of the door for a long time, her hand raised to knock and then lowered again, her heart pounding as she thought about the important conversation she needed to start tonight, unable to delay it another day.