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Some of the students do try though. Several of them have taken Robbie’s other classes over their following semesters. We only get to know them for two years, but I’ve seen a handful come back conversationally fluent in ASL and on the track for the master’s program, and I can see it in Robbie’s face why he does this.

Why he’s fought so hard to do this.

I wish I had the same passion.

And it’s not like I dislike my job. Really. Every job is frustrating, but it was just…athingthat sort of happened to me rather than me chasing a dream. I took ASL because I already knew it, and then I took Deaf studies because it made sense. And the next thing I knew, I was graduating without really trying to find anything meaningful in my life.

I just never understood the way people felt so strongly about one thing or another. I have friends who run a gym—adorable himbos who are smarter than most people give them credit for. I have professor friends and friends who own their own business. I know a guy who just inherited a little farm with button quail and chickens.

My sister’s a lawyer. My mom’s a pediatrician. My dad died when I was four, but he owned his own landscaping company, and he was elected to the city council when he was twenty-six.

My biggest accomplishment is the trophy I won for surfing when I was sixteen and the fact that I was frugal enough to buy my own condo the year after I graduated, and I didn’t move in completely house-poor. I guess in this economy, that is a pretty big accomplishment, but it feels oddly lonely and isolating.

I don’t know why my brain is so different from everyone else’s around me, but I’ve started to wonder if my lack of passion for those things has seeped into my personal life. I have friends. I have family—both blood and the people I’ve surrounded myself with.

But I can’t seem to keep a relationship to save my life. Every time I try, it ends with a polite smile and a kiss to the forehead and a promise that I’ll find what I’m looking for.

Whatever that is. I wish I knew. Maybe I’d have better luck.

Several friends have asked me if I’m aromantic or asexual, and I actually gave it some serious thought before deciding that no, I wasn’t. Idowant a relationship, and I am a very sexual guy. I’m just…lost.

I realize my mouth is speaking Robbie’s closing statements for the class—assigning page numbers, which will be updated in Canvas so no one can make excuses for missing what he and I have said in two languages. He drops his hands, and I settle back, preparing myself to interpret any questions anyone has.

Unsurprisingly, Allie is the only one hanging back. She’s trying to look inconspicuous, putting her stuff away very, very slowly. Robbie smirks at me, and I grin back. John is the last one to leave. I think he’s hoping he can hang back and figure out what we want to say to Allie, but I give him a pointed stare, and he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Robbie jumps when the vibrations roll under our feet.

‘Asshole,’ he signs.

I nod, then lean forward over my thighs as Allie finally looks up.

Her fingers are shaking when she asks, ‘What did I sign wrong?’

Robbie comes around the desk and leans against it. He’s a very good-looking guy. Too many students get crushes on him, and it gets a little weird some semesters. He’s got that hot librarian kind of look—not my thing, but aesthetically, I can see the appeal.

Dad bod, dark hair with a few streaks of early grey, often messy because he can’t stop running his hands through it. He’s got full lips, wide eyes, and metal-framed glasses he really only needs for reading. And he has a very kind smile in spite of the fact that he’s a grumpy dick eighty percent of the day.

‘Sometimes,’ he signs slowly for her benefit, though I’m going to interpret this aloud anyway, ‘ASL is complicated. With just a slight change, a very simple sign can turn into one that’s…’ His fingers flutter in the air, hesitating. My voice trails off. She glances at me, but only for a second. ‘Impolite.’

Allie’s cheeks turn bright red, and she covers her face. “Oh my God, what did I say?”

Normally covering a face or a mouth would send Robbie through the roof, but it’s clear he can tell she’s just mortified. He reaches out and gently taps her on the shoulder and waits for her to drop her hands.

‘That sign implies you have a different hunger. Not for food,’ he clarifies.

She just stares at him, not comprehending, so he just signs and signs the word, forcing me to voice it as well.

Her whole body goes still, and then the pink blush turns almost purple, and she drops back down to her chair. ‘Oh my God? Oh my God!’ She looks at me, and I give her a grimace and a shrug because what else can I do?

‘It happens to everyone,’ he tells her. I hope my voice is at least somewhat soothing. I tend to have a low affect if I don’t have to emphasize anything, but I don’t want her to suffer. Robbie gestures at me, and I nod.

“It’s true,” I tell her aloud. “I’ve been signing for most of my life, and I get it wrong sometimes.” I repeat that all in sign quickly for Robbie, though I’m sure he knows what I’m saying.

He snorts but doesn’t throw me under the bus.

Allie straightens her shoulders, then looks behind her before lifting her hands. ‘Thank you.’ Her hands fall because her vocabulary isn’t big enough for the rest of her sentence yet, and ASL 101 won’t be open until the fall semester. “Thank you for not telling everyone else.”

Robbie scoffs. ‘They know my rules. And please use that sign responsibly.’