1. Returning Home
Returning Home
SUNANDA CHAIYASAN
I hadn’t been back here in nearly a decade, and honestly, I thought I’d never return. But here I was, standing in front of my old high school in the same small town that had once been my prison. The place that had torn me apart, one cruel word at a time.
The walls of this school had witnessed some of the worst moments of my life—being shoved in the hallways, the whispers, the cruel laughter when my hearing aids would malfunction.
Kids are vicious when they don’t understand something.
And for years, I didn’t think I’d ever escape it.
But now, I wasn’t here as a student. I was here as a teacher. A teacher for deaf children, no less.
I felt a strange blend of excitement and dread.
I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to be the teacher I never had, the one who would make sure no child ever felt as invisible as I did growing up.
But I was also terrified. Terrified that history would repeat itself.
That the same faces would look at me with pity, or worse, ridicule.
As I walked past the entrance, memories flooded back—of the lockers, the cafeteria, the empty stares, and the way everyone seemed to look right through me.
It wasn’t even their fault. They didn’t know how to talk to me, how to understand that I could hear the world in my own way.
But I couldn’t stop resenting it, not then.
I found myself at the door of the classroom where I’d be teaching.
The paint was peeling, the room had a musty scent to it, and the windows were cracked.
But it was mine now. My space to shape, to rebuild.
To show these kids that they were worthy.
To show them that we weren’t broken, we were just different.
I walked in, took a deep breath, and set my bag down on the desk. There was a sound behind me, footsteps approaching. I froze for a second, expecting a student, but then the figure came into view.
A man stood in front of me, wearing a dark blue mechanic’s uniform, the front stained with oil and his fingers darkened from working on an engine.
The last time I’d been here, the school could barely keep its bus running.
I wondered if they’d managed to secure another used one.
If that was the case, it meant their finances were at least improving.
"Hello," I read his lips just as my hearing aids activated. It was an old habit, one I hadn’t quite shaken. His face was hidden behind a dark, bushy beard, so I was grateful my hearing aids confirmed what I had read on his lips.
“Hello,” I returned, unsure of what else to say.
Did he work here? Or was he just passing through? Perhaps he was picking up a child?
He took a step closer, his eyes fixed on me, and I felt a strange tingling sensation crawl across my skin.
It was awkward—why was he staring at me like that?
Did I have something on my face? My cheeks burned as I focused on his lips, trying to steady myself in case he was about to say something more.
“Sunanda?” His voice was hesitant, as though he couldn’t quite believe I was standing in front of him.
H-How did he know my name? I racked my brain, trying to recall anyone I’d crossed paths with during my time here, but I couldn’t place him.
And why would I think I could? Whoever this was had grown into a broad, muscular figure with dark features that didn’t match the face I remembered.
The longer I stared, one thing became clear—he seemed to be of Latin descent.
That narrowed my memory even more. There hadn’t been many minorities in this town when I was growing up, just a handful—my family included, the only Thai family to have moved here.
“I’m not sure…” I hesitated, carefully choosing my words, trying not to sound rude for not remembering.
His eyes crinkled into a smile as he wiped his hands on his uniform without care.
“Sunanda Chaiyasan.” It was in the way he said it that sparked the right memory.
Mateo. Mateo Rubio. The boy with two first names.
He hadn’t changed much in his face, aside from the beard—but everything else was unrecognizable. How did that lanky boy with hair down to his chin transform into the man standing before me now?
I blinked, my mind racing. We went to high school together.
He’d always been the quiet type, the loner who kept to himself, barely interacting with anyone.
I’d never once thought much of him, except to note that he was always one of the few who didn’t make fun of me, though he never really stood up for me either.
He’d always been a distant figure, not someone I’d expect to see here.
“Um… Mateo, right?” I said, my voice a little shakier than I would’ve liked. He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” His words were soft, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something I couldn’t place.
I did, but I wasn’t sure if it was enough of a memory. I shook my head, just in case. “No, not much, I’m sorry.”
“I… I used to sit behind you in chemistry class,” he said, and there was an awkward pause as if that should’ve meant something more.
The memory slowly pieced itself together. A lanky boy, sitting quietly behind me, never teasing. Always silent, always in the background. But I hadn’t ever really noticed him. Not the way I noticed the others.
“Oh,” I said, nodding slowly, trying to make the pieces fit. “Yeah, I remember.”
“I work at the mechanic shop now,” Mateo said, glancing down at his hands. “I saw you walking around town yesterday. I didn’t think you’d be back here.”
“I didn’t either,” I replied honestly, feeling a sudden tension settle in the pit of my stomach. “It’s… a lot to come back to.”
He nodded, his eyes softening. “I get it. But I think this place could use you. People like you… people who understand. The kids, they need someone who gets it.”
I tried to smile but it felt forced. “I hope so.”
The silence stretched between us before he shifted awkwardly. “I’ve been meaning to ask… Do you, uh, want to get coffee sometime? Catch up?”
I blinked, taken aback by the question. Was he…
asking me out? Mateo? I couldn’t help but feel skeptical.
No one had ever really shown interest in me before, especially not someone who had been so distant back in school.
And yet, here he was, offering something I wasn’t sure how to accept.
College hadn’t been much different—most of the guys who talked to me were just looking to tick off the box of "dating a deaf girl. "
I hesitated. “I don’t know… Why?”
His eyes searched mine, and for the first time, I saw something real. Something beyond the awkwardness. He wasn’t joking. He genuinely wanted to get to know me.
It felt like an eternity, but I finally nodded, unsure of what else to do. “Okay. Coffee sounds… nice.”
I could feel my heart racing in my chest. I didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the fear of opening up, or the strange curiosity about why he would even want to know me after all these years. But something inside me told me to go with it.
He smiled widely, and it felt like the world shifted just a little. “Great,” he said softly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. How’s 6:00?”
“6:00’s good,” I said, my voice quieter now, as if the weight of what I’d just agreed to was starting to settle in.
I watched as Mateo turned and left, his figure disappearing into the hallway. I felt a strange mixture of nerves. I wanted to make a difference here, but I hadn’t expected this kind of difference to come knocking on my door.
And I definitely hadn’t expected it to be him.
As I closed my eyes for a moment, the weight of my decision hit me. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but for the first time in years, something felt like it was worth the risk.