I’m Lila, 22 and hard of hearing. My best friend Riley is deaf. While chatting in sign language at our favorite café, a woman stormed over, demanding we stop because it made her “uncomfortable” and was “distracting” her son.
We calmly explained it was how we communicate, but she grew angrier. Riley shrank; I was stunned — until James, a kind waiter, stepped in. “The only disruption here is your prejudice,” he said firmly. Applause quietly followed.
As the woman dragged her son away, he looked back, signed “Sorry,” and asked how to say “friend.” Riley showed him.
James brought us cookies on the house. Another customer thanked us for sharing our beautiful language.
As we stepped into the sunlight, Riley smiled and asked, “Same time next week?”
I nodded. “Always.”
