Chapter 6 #2
He had no idea how she could sound so confident, but he didn’t press any further. For now, he would focus on helping Ollie and pray that everything else would work itself out. If they were meant to be, surely it was possible. Right?
Mary had sent a video with a recording of her signing the song and instructions for how to break it down for Ollie. She’d filmed herself signing the song straight through, slow and clear, then signed it again at tempo.
The song broke into verses more cleanly than he’d expected.
“Frosty the Snowman was a jolly happy soul.” You could do that as five distinct moves—FROSTY, SNOWMAN, JOLLY, HAPPY, SOUL—or you could smooth it into three if the kid had the stamina, folding jolly-happy into a single brushed-up expression on the chest. He wrote both versions down and decided he’d let Ollie choose.
Six-year-olds were better than adults at picking the version that felt right in their bodies.
He made notes on tempo. The recorded version of “Frosty” that Mrs. Jones was using ran just over two minutes. He clocked Mary’s signed version and found they matched almost perfectly, which meant Ollie wouldn’t have to rush or stall. Good. The song wanted to be the song.
He watched Mary’s face again. Eyebrows up on questions. Mouth round on “jolly.” A little head-tilt on “happy soul”. Her whole face narrating what her hands said. He’d tell Ollie the same thing Mary had told him when they’d worked together: Your hands are the words. Your face is how the words feel.
At two-thirty he closed the laptop, went downstairs, pulled on his coat, and drove to pick up Mauve, feeling a little like a kid at Christmas.
Mauve was in her office when he arrived, coming out to the lobby to greet him. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss the chance to feel like a good person.”
She tossed her hair behind her shoulders. “You are a good person.”
“I spent the morning learning the song. Mary’s video was pure gold,” Jason said, ignoring her compliment.
“Come into my office. Do you want tea?” Mauve asked.
“No, I’m fine for now. Is it weird I feel nervous?”
“Yes, it’s completely weird. You’re a famous actor. No reason to feel nervous about helping a sweet little boy.”
“I just don’t want to hurt him or make him feel bad.”
“You’re not capable of doing that,” Mauve said. “Trust yourself a little, okay?”
Hadn’t that been his brother’s advice about Mauve?
He followed her into her office, the second time he’d been there, but now taking note of the child-sized table, a rug with a tree-of-life pattern in blues and greens, a low shelf of picture books and small wooden toys, including a plastic farm set, finger puppets, and a tin of what looked like letter tiles.
He settled on the floor on the rug just as Ollie arrived with his mother, clutching a tin of cookies.
He handed them to Mauve, who opened the lid to take a whiff of the sugary treats.
“We made them for you,” Sarah said from the doorway. “Ollie decorated them himself.”
“Well done, Ollie,” Mauve said brightly. “I love cookies more than I should.”
Ollie grinned, nodding in obvious agreement.
Jason stood, feeling suddenly too large for the room.
“You remember Jason, right?” Mauve asked Ollie.
The boy nodded, serious.
“He’s going to help us learn the song,” Mauve said.
“I had to learn ASL for a role a few years back,” Jason said, speaking to Ollie as if he were an equal. “So I thought I’d lend a hand.”
“I’ll be back at four-thirty,” Sarah said, kissing Ollie’s head. “Have fun.”
He gave her a tiny wave. She waved back and was gone, her shoes clicking on the stairs.
Jason returned to sitting on the rug and gestured for Ollie to join him.
Ollie sat across from him, looking at him with such earnestness that he had to fight the sting in his eyes.
Mauve sat down on the rug too, legs folded.
“Are you two ready to get to work?” Mauve asked. “And after, for a treat, we all get a cookie.”
Ollie gave a thumbs-up.
Jason took a deep breath before he began. “Okay, Ollie, here we go. First, your hands are the words. Your face is how the words feel. So we’re going to do both, every time. You can’t just do the hands. Mrs. Jones and everybody in the audience need to see what the song means on your face. Okay?”
Ollie nodded, folding his hands on his lap. .
“First, let’s learn ‘snowman.’” Jason cupped both hands loosely, palms facing each other, and drew them down in the shape of a snowman’s body. “Snowman. You try.”
Ollie tried. His version was smaller, more tentative, but the shape was right.
“Perfect. That’s it. You’re going to be great at this.
” Jason grinned. “Now, ‘Frosty.’ Frosty is the character’s name, so Mary, my ASL coach said we can give him a name-sign.
Here’s the one she likes.” He brushed two fingers down his cheek.
“That’s the sign for cold. So Frosty becomes cold-snowman.
You want to use that one, or do you want to make up your own? ”
Ollie considered. Then, slowly, he cupped his hands around an imaginary ball of snow and mimed shivering with his shoulders hunched and a tiny theatrical shudder.
Jason laughed. “That’s even better.”
Ollie beamed. Nodded.
“That’s yours. That’s Ollie’s Frosty. We’re using it.” Jason glanced at Mauve.
She was smiling, clearly delighted.
“Okay.” Jason turned back to Ollie. “Let’s do the first line.
‘Frosty the Snowman was a jolly happy soul.’ Watch me.
Frosty.” He mimed Ollie’s shiver. “Snowman.” He did the shape.
For “jolly and happy,” he brushed his flat hand up his chest, and made his whole face beam, eyebrows up, mouth open in an exaggerated smile.
For the word “soul,” he touched his chest.
Ollie didn’t take his eyes off him.
“Your turn,” Jason said.
Ollie did it. He did the shiver, he did the snowman, he did the brush up the chest. His face stayed serious.
“Good hands,” Jason said. “Really good hands. Now—your face. ‘Jolly happy soul.’ What does jolly look like?”
Ollie thought for a moment before making a fake, somewhat rictus smile.
Jason had to keep himself from laughing. “Okay, good start. In acting, we have to feel the word down deep in our bellies. What is your real smile when you think of something that brings you joy?”
Ollie glanced at Mauve and a smile broke out on his face. Mauve gave Jason joy too, so he understood perfectly.
“That’s it,” Jason said. “When you sign that word, try to connect it to something that brings you joy in real life.”
Ollie tried again, and it was absolutely beautiful to watch. “You’re bringing me joy, kiddo,” Jason said.
More beaming from the young one.
Jason continued the instruction. “You have to think of yourself as an actor and you’re telling a story with your hands and your face. The audience is going to be leaning forward trying to understand you. And you know what that means?”
Ollie shook his head.
“It means you get to be bold with your expressions. Sometimes actors are told to make things subtle for the camera, but not on the stage. On stage, you want to reach the cheap seats.”
Ollie’s brows came together.
“He means the people sitting in the back,” Mauve said.
Ollie nodded thoughtfully.
“Your turn,” Jason said. “’Jolly happy soul.’ Cheap seats smile. Go.”
Ollie took a breath. He brushed his hand up his chest, and he went for it. Total ham mode, with a wide, goofy, full-bodied grin, teeth and eyes and eyebrows. Like a kid about to get a cookie from his pretty therapist.
Jason made an exaggerated WHOA face. “Well done. I better be careful, or you’ll take my job.”
Ollie giggled.
It was the first sound he’d ever heard Ollie make, and it shot straight through his heart. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a more beautiful sound in his life.
They worked for forty minutes, learning “was a jolly happy soul” and “with a corncob pipe and a button nose.” Ollie nailed the sign for button, twisting a finger against his cheek, on the second try.
He made up his own sign for corncob pipe because the real one was too hard.
Halfway through the second verse, something happened that Jason didn’t expect.
Ollie was working on “Frosty the Snowman knew the sun was hot that day,” and when he got to the last word—day—his mouth opened and a small sound came out.
“Dah.”
Not the full word, but still. A syllable that escaped because his body was so wrapped up in performing that it forgot to hold back.
Jason’s eyes snapped to Mauve.
She had gone very still. Her face was carefully neutral, therapist-calm, but her hand had come up to her throat.
Ollie went again. The sound didn’t come a second time. In fact, Ollie didn’t seem to know it had even happened.
“Okay, bud, one more line and then we take a break,” Jason said. “You’re doing incredible.”
Ollie signed “jolly happy soul” again, bigger this time, repeating the brushed-up chest and the wide grin.
“I think we have an actor on our hands,” he said to Mauve before turning to fist bump his little friend.
“You’re a natural,” Mauve said to Ollie. “And you are too.” She winked at Jason.
Nothing had ever made him feel as good as he did in that moment.
Sarah arrived, stopping in the doorway. “Hey, everyone.”
Ollie looked up, beaming, then signed “jolly happy soul” for her, hands moving confidently now, face as open as a window on a warm summer day.
Sarah made a sound that wasn’t quite a word. “Goodness, that’s so good. I’m so proud of you.”
Ollie made the sign for “happy” and then pointed at himself.
“I’m happy too,” Sarah said, her voice catching.
“I’ve got another one to teach you that isn’t in the song,” Jason said. “This is ‘actor,’ which is what you are.”
He held up both fists, thumbs pointing up along the sides of his index fingers.
“Both hands like this. A-hands, we call them. Then you brush them up the front of your body, one at a time, like this.” He demonstrated slowly, alternating hands against his chest in small circles.
“It’s like you’re putting on a costume. That’s acting. ”
Ollie copied him, small fists brushing up his chest, eyes fixed on Jason’s hands.
“Good. Now to make it the person who acts, you add this at the end.” Jason held his hands flat, facing each other and slid them down the sides of his body, shoulders to hips. “That means person. So actor is act-person.” He did the alternating chest brushes then the slide down once again.
Ollie did it, with the shapes being perfect.
“There you go. That’s ‘actor.’” Jason grinned. “And my coach Mary, the lady helping me with the signs—she gave me my own version of it a long time ago, because I’m an actor too. It’s called a name-sign. Want to see?”
Ollie nodded hard.
Jason held up a J, his pinky extended, drawing the letter’s hook in the air, and then did the acting motion against his chest with that same J hand shape, one quick brush.
“That’s me. J for Jason, plus acting. That’s my name in sign. Mary gave it to me.”
He did it again, slower. Ollie watched, then lifted his own hand and drew a J in the air, copying the letter shape carefully. Then he tried the brush. His version was smaller, softer, but unmistakable.
“That’s me,” Jason said. “You just said my name.”
Ollie signed it again. Looked at Jason. Signed it a third time, more confidently, and pointed.
“Yeah. That’s me.”
Ollie, pleased with himself, lifted his hand and did the J-brush one more time at Jason, and then did the sign for “happy” at his own chest, and then pointed at Jason again.
“Yeah, buddy,” Jason managed despite the lump in his throat. “I’m happy too.”
Ollie slowly lifted his hand, made an O with his fingers, and pointed at himself. His eyebrows went up.
“You want one too?” Jason asked.
Ollie nodded hard.
Jason took a breath, thinking through how to explain this to a little boy.
“Okay, here’s the deal. I can’t give you one.
I want to, but I’m not the right person.
” He sat back on his heels, making sure Ollie was with him.
“Name-signs are special. In the deaf community, people who use this language every day as their main way of talking have a tradition. It’s actually kind of a rule, but also a matter of respect.
Only someone who’s part of that community can give a name-sign. It’s their gift to give. Not mine.”
Ollie’s face fell a little. He made the O again and looked at it in his own hand.
“I understand you feel sad about the rule, but it’s important.
A name-sign should come from inside that community.
But here’s the good news. Mary grew up with parents who were deaf.
They only used sign language to communicate in their house, which makes Mary part of the community.
She has the right to give a name-sign. Does that make sense? ”
Ollie considered this. He gave a gentle nod of his head.
“I think we should ask her if she would give one to you,” Jason said. “Would you like to video call her at our next session? We can show her how much you’ve learned already, and ask if she’ll give you a name-sign. Does that sound good?”
Ollie nodded. Then nodded again, harder.
“Okay. I’ll ask her tonight. And whatever she decides, please remember that you’ve already got a name. A great name your mom and dad gave you. Mary’s just going to give you one for your hands.”
Ollie smiled, then glanced at his mother. He pressed his fingertips to his lips and brought his hand out toward her. Thank you.
Sarah’s eyes filled. She brought her own hand up, palm open, and swept it gently inward toward her chest. You’re welcome.