Lost for Words

by Alice Kuipers

  I said, “And we seemed so together last year.” And it might not sound funny written down, but she laughed and I laughed and then we were both laughing really hard.

  Her brother came in and said, “It’s not funny,” and that made us both laugh harder. He smiled and shook his head. “I’ll talk to you both later.”

  TUESDAY, JUNE 13TH

  Too much homework. Rosa-Leigh told me that school finishes for the summer much earlier in Canada. She can’t believe how many weeks we have left before the holidays.

  FRIDAY, JUNE 16TH

  Very dull week at school. Mum said we’re going to the Haywoods’ tonight to stay over. ROBIN IS COMING WITH US. She’s already told me TWICE. I wanted to ask her where Robin is going to sleep; is he going to sleep in her room there? What is going on with them? But I couldn’t look her in the eye.

  SUNDAY, JUNE 18TH

  We could tell we were early because Katherine still had an apron on when she opened the door. “Come in, come in,” she said, wiping her hands down her front. Then she gave Robin a BIG HUG. Before me or even Mum. She took both of his hands, smiled, and said, “We’re so glad to see you, Rob.”

  Then Katherine hugged me. Just before she let me go, she whispered into my ear, “He’s a good person.” Then she stepped back, giving me a significant look. Every time I think I’m getting closer to being an adult, one of them goes and does something that makes me feel like a child. Katherine got even more annoying. She made this sound like someone had stepped on her foot, and tears spilled out her eyes. She hugged Mum hard.

  I was glad to get to Lucy’s room. She was sitting on her bed, all breathy and red-faced. “Kai and I have broken up,” she said. “I thought I didn’t love him, so I dumped him and kissed his friend.” She burst into tears. “He won’t take me back now.” She looked up at me guiltily. “God, I’m sorry to go on about me like this when you’ve been through so much.”

  “It’s fine. Have you spoken to him?” I said.

  “He won’t answer his phone. I haven’t even been writing my blog; I feel so miserable.” She played with her duvet and went all quiet.

  The twins shrieked into the room. “You’ve got the lurgies,” Molly cried.

  “Get out! This is MY ROOM!” Lucy screamed.

  Mark came in and yelled at everyone. Everyone went quiet, because we were all thinking that he’d had a heart attack and he could have died. Well, that’s what I was thinking anyway. Then the twins ran out.

  Lucy said, “Sorry, Dad.” And then to me, “Should we go and find the others?”

  I nodded, and the both of us went into the kitchen, where Mum and Katherine were trying to teach Robin to make a roast dinner.

  Mum was obviously happy—not insanely happy, but a bit happier. I know I should be pleased for her, but I just feel weird about the whole thing between her and Robin, even though they didn’t sleep in the same room because Mum told Katherine they are just friends, for now…I overheard her.

  I don’t know how I feel about any of it. Am I supposed to like him? I hardly know him. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Mum happy like this that I know I should be nice to him, but then he does something annoying, like putting his hand on Mum’s arm, which he MUST know is completely awkward for me. And how does Emily fit into the whole picture? She never met Robin and isn’t part of this new family. Are we a new family? Is Mum in love with Robin? Or are they really just friends?

  I wish Emily were around to talk to because…Just because.

  WEDNESDAY, JUNE 21ST

  Dan texted just now. Unbelievable. He says he’s been thinking about me. He wants to meet. A tiny part of me thought about kissing him, thought about how easy it was, how it made me forget everything else. But the rest of me remembered what a jerk he’s been to Abigail. Sleeping with Megan, fooling around with me while seeing Abi. I’m never going to see him again.

  I was going to reply, saying something like “Not now, not ever,” but I figured answering would only encourage him. I deleted his text. And his number. Exactly what Emily would have done.

  FRIDAY, JUNE 23RD

  Between Art and English Abigail told me she was going to break up with Dan. “He’s not really that nice, Sophie.” She swallowed hard. “I found out he slept with Megan.” She started crying.

  I said, “You okay?”

  “I didn’t even like him that much. I don’t know. I can’t believe Megan.”

  “It was probably just as much his fault.” I tried to defend Megan a little, not because I like her but just because I feel so guilty.

  Abi wiped her eyes. “I have other stuff to deal with. I don’t think Megan was very good for me anyway. She…” She swallowed again. “She started the whole throwing-up thing.” She paused. “I’m going to see my doctor tomorrow.”

  I didn’t reply, but I was glad because I realized that Abi wanting help is a big step. Abi chatting to me as we walked through the crowded hallways kind of felt like old times. And kind of not. I’m not sure we’ll ever be like we were. I don’t think I mind as much as I did, though. I hope she gets better.

  I hope I do.

  MONDAY, JUNE 27TH

  After I finished my homework tonight, I was lying in my room. Mum came in with a rucksack—the rucksack Emily brought home that day last summer, the day before she died. I sat up and looked at Mum. She pulled out some brittle twigs, and it took me a moment to remember they were for Em’s family tree project.

  I looked at Mum for what felt like ages but was probably only about two seconds.

  She said, “There’s a memorial service. They’ve asked me to say something. I want to make this and I want you to help.” It sounded rehearsed.

  I realized how hard she was trying—how hard she had tried. And I knew it was time for me to try a little harder, too. I said, with a little break in my voice, “Help how?”

  “I thought we could make something together.”

  I paused for a long moment.

  She looked down; I could see the hope leaking out of her.

  I looked at the brittle twigs she’d laid out. I said, “How do we make it?”

  She caught my eye and smiled. “I don’t know. Maybe we should do it differently. We could make it represent her in some way. I don’t know how, though.”

  I wanted to cry then, really badly, but I swallowed down the tears. I said, “We could make a tree with the twigs, then color in paper leaves and write on them to say what she was like.”

  Mum nodded.

  We started at the bottom and worked our way to the top, leaf by leaf. It wasn’t as beautiful as the tree Emily could have made, it probably wasn’t as artistic, but it was colorful.

  “Emily would have liked this,” Mum said, hanging a purple leaf on one side of the tree. “This could be Generous.”

  “We need a leaf for Funny. She was funny.”

  She paused for a second, and then she nodded.

  I colored some leaves in bright orange. I lifted one and said, “I want this one to be a memory I have of Emily holding my hand on the beach in Greece once.”

  She nodded.

  All I could think to say was, “I miss her.”

  Mum started to cry; the tears just fell out of her. She said, “I miss her all the time. Every time I take a breath, I think about her. How could I not? But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about you and what you’ve been through, Sophie. What you’ve seen. I wish I could take it away to make it better for you. But I can’t. I can’t undo what happened. And I can’t undo the state I was in. I’m so sorry.” She looked at me, and I saw her eyes were flecked with gold. I’d never noticed before. “But you have to know this, Sophie. I don’t ever wish it was you instead. I never once wished that.”

  I said, “I know. I always felt like she was your favorite.” And then because I couldn’t say anything else, I was so choked up, I turned to write on an orange leaf.

  She said, “I love you both the same. I always have. And just imagine, that day of the bombing, it co
uld have been both of you. It doesn’t bear thinking about how awful it would be if I lost you, my littlest daughter.” She wiped her eyes. Then she cut out a large leaf and said, “This one could be us: we were part of her life. Me, you, and your father.”

  “Yeah…Dad.” I held my breath. “Mum, about Robin. I’m trying to be nice, but it’s taking me a while to get used to him being around. I’ve found it difficult….”

  “Robin is just supportive of me right now. He’s a good friend, that’s all. I’m still too sad for anything more.”

  “I feel sad all the time. And I have panic attacks. They make me feel like I’m dying. Was that what it was like for her, do you think? Dying, I mean.”

  “Oh, Sophie.”

  “I think about it constantly. The blood, the screaming, the panic, the flames.”

  She nodded and took my hand.

  I looked up at her. “Your eyes have changed color,” I said. “They’ve got golden bits in.”

  “Really?” she said. And then we sat there for a while, her fingers laced in mine.

  THURSDAY, JUNE 29TH

  After school today Rosa-Leigh, Kalila, and I went shopping for summer clothes. Kalila’s amazing at finding bargains. We got some great stuff.

  FRIDAY, JUNE 30TH

  We had a talk at school about exams and our future. Maybe I’ll be a doctor. No, I don’t think I could cope with all the blood. Maybe I’d like to be a counselor, or a psychiatrist, or psychologist, someone who helps people. I might be good at that. I’ll have to work harder on listening to other people. And I’ll have to do better at school. I haven’t got very good marks this year, although I’ve finally started working harder, because I’m worried about next year. I have loads of catching up to do.

  I got home, did some homework, and sat watching TV in a pool of sunshine. A bird flew into the window of our house with a loud knock. I ran outside. A poor little sparrow lay on the grass panting and panicking. I crouched and held my hands around it. It twitched and fluttered in a panic, but I wanted to save it from Fluffy, who was prowling round. After a while it perked up and took a couple of steps. It flew off.

  After that I went to find Mum. I blurted out, “Can we go to see her grave?”

  “You want to? When I asked you before, you didn’t want to come with me.”

  I nodded. “I want to.”

  She tugged her car keys out of her pocket. “Let’s go, then.”

  The graveyard at the church in Highgate is quiet. The graves are in higgledy-piggledy lines, and in the sunlight the cemetery is a beautiful place. Emily’s grave is over by a line of trees. We sat next to it. I read her name, her age, looked at the flowers someone had left. Nothing happened, and I didn’t feel good or bad. I just enjoyed Emily, Mum, and me sitting there all together—even though Emily wasn’t there, she was, if that makes any sense—and time went by.

  THURSDAY, JULY 6TH

  It’s the memorial service tomorrow.

  FRIDAY, JULY 7TH

  We balanced Emily’s tree in the back of the car next to me and drove to the memorial service. Well, Robin drove.

  Once we arrived, I began to feel light-headed. There were loads of people standing around. We waited for a bit, and Mum went to put Emily’s tree by the stage area. Then this old woman went up and spoke into the microphone. She started by reading all the names of the people who’d died in the bombing. When she read out Emily’s name, I thought I might collapse. Then I saw a tall guy I recognized. It came back to me immediately: he was the guy who’d helped me out of the tunnel. He had a scar along one cheek, running under one eye. He was holding a single red rose.

  Another guy came over to us. Simon. Emily’s boyfriend, at art college. I’d met him at her funeral. Mum leaned over and said, “Hi. Nice to see you, Simon.” And then, “Thank you for coming.”

  Simon said, “We all miss her,” and he gestured over to a group of people. Emily’s friends from art college. Some of them were crying. Her whole other life. And a familiar anger rose from my stomach, but then, instead of getting stuck in my throat, it flew out the top of me into the vast open sky. I let out a slow breath. My hands had been clenched, I noticed, so I relaxed them and spread my fingers wide. I smiled over at Emily’s friends, and two or three of them must have recognized me from my visits, because they smiled back.

  Up on the podium people talked of terrorism and of the suicide bombers who’d made the trains and the bus blow up. I didn’t want to hear about them. I didn’t want to think about why they’d done what they’d done, because no matter how much I think about it, it never makes any sense or any difference, and it doesn’t make me any less angry or sick. Then the politicians stopped speaking and, one by one, people got up to talk about those who’d died. I stood near the stage listening.

  Then it was Mum’s turn. She stood in front of all these strangers and some of our oldest family friends. The Haywoods were bunched together, Katherine holding Mark tightly. Lucy smiled over at me. Mrs. Haynes and Ms. Bloxam were with a group of other teachers from my school, and witchy Mrs. Haynes nodded over at me with tears in her eyes. Next to them stood Rosa-Leigh and her huge family, with Kalila. Rosa-Leigh waved, and so did Joshua, her oldest brother. A little farther off Abigail huddled with Zara. I smiled at her, then turned back to Mum standing all alone.

  Mum seemed like she was about to say something, but then the words must have become stuck, because she gestured at Emily’s tree and started crying. I don’t know what came over me. I saw her standing there all by herself, and I pushed past the people in front of me and walked up to stand next to her. I said, “It’s hard sometimes without Emily for Mum and me to remember we’ve still got each other.” I slipped my hand in hers and she squeezed hard.

  And then we both took it in turns to talk to all those people about my sister. It probably wasn’t the best speech in the world. But it felt to me like it was. And at the end I said, “I want to add one thing.”

  My heart pounded, but I made myself read out this poem. I added a verse to the end; I think it’s better now.

  “The sticks on the trees

  Stand up harsh and bare

  With rings on their fingers

  And knots in their hair

  “The silver of winter

  Is smoky with rain

  The witches of sunlight

  Fly low again

  “In a puddle of grey

  Last summer lies

  Where nothing can swim

  And my sister dies

  “The spring is weighted

  With what has been

  And she’s still with me

  Brightly unseen.”

  I looked out at the crowd. Some of the people had tears on their cheeks or tissues pressed against their faces. Then I looked at Mum. She was staring at me, her eyes shining like bubbles blown by a child.

  WEDNESDAY, JULY 12TH

  After school I went to see Koreen, the other therapist. I told her that, to help me, Lynda had given me a book to write in and that I’ve nearly filled every page. Koreen said she’d get me a new book so I could carry on. I thanked her but said I could buy my own.

  We talked more about panic attacks, about Emily, and the memorial service, about my mum. And then I started talking about the bombing and what it was like that day. Just talking about it made me panic, but Koreen listened and waited while I got through. I realized it’s okay that it’s going to take me a long time to recover after what’s happened. It’s normal.

  SUNDAY, JULY 16TH

  At Sunday lunch, which Mum spent ALL morning preparing, she and I were bickering because she wanted me to carve the chicken but I thought she should do it. Robin gazed at the ceiling—obviously pretending not to be in the room.

  Mum suddenly said, mid-bicker, “I’ve bought you and me a flight to Italy this summer. We’ll go for two weeks.” That shut me up.

  Robin’s not invited, and he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He said, “It’s important you and your mum spend time together.
”

  I kind of felt fond of him for about two whole minutes. Then he started telling a really long story about some trip he took in Bolivia five years ago, and I almost passed out with boredom.

  MONDAY, JULY 17TH

  Rosa-Leigh told me at lunch today that she’s having an end-of-school party for both our birthdays at her amazing house. She’s already organized everything.

  THURSDAY, JULY 20TH

  LAST DAY OF SCHOOL. Rosa-Leigh called to chat about her party. When I got off the phone, I sat around in the kitchen with Mum and Robin. Mum said she was going to Boxercise, so I ended up going with her again. I think I’ll go every week.

  FRIDAY, JULY 21ST

  Robin bought me a great dress for the party. It fits perfectly. It’s turquoise and silky and gorgeous, and I can’t believe he chose so well.

  SUNDAY, JULY 23RD

  I woke up when it was REALLY EARLY and still dark. I climbed onto the roof. The air had a summery feel, and I thought of the time Emily and I had sat up there and waited for sunrise. I started working on a found poem. I used words from the pages I’d written in this notebook, which isn’t technically a found poem. I might show the poem to Mum.

  Emily

  The windows failed

  I could not see

  to see

  Hold on to her tightly

  She’s generous

  (an orange leaf)

  Hugeness shut quietly

  I suddenly couldn’t breathe

  (take deep breaths)

  If only

  I could go back

  if only it would make sense

  I held her hand

  watched the sun go down

  Briefly

  When I was finished, I looked up and light streaked the sky in fingers of pink and blue. Then, as I was watching, the sun glimmered over the roofs of the houses and appeared in a fireball of molten orange. I blinked. For a moment I could have sworn Emily was sitting right there next to me.

  MONDAY, JULY 24TH

  I went out today and bought a new book for when this one runs out, which it’s about to. The new book’s got a map of the world on the front cover.