The Language Inside

by Holly Thompson

  this friend I’d walked to elementary and

  middle school with

                 took ballet with

                           played volleyball with

  this friend whose grandmother’s arms

                 we’d held as we searched the rubble

                           of her missing daughter-in-law’s home

  we didn’t need words

  we just inhaled and exhaled

  side by side

  watching the waves

  until she said

  we’ll weigh you

  before and after

  what?

  she smirked

  to see if you get fat

  she was good at that

  reading the air

  saying the right thing

  at the right moment

  moving us along

  back to joking

  I gave her a shove

  we walked up the shore

  unlocked our bicycles

  and rode back to her house

  to eat our last two-family meal together—

  for how long? I knew we all wondered

  at this school in Massachusetts

  I listen to clips of conversations

  move from class to class

  biology to art to English to Chinese

  wondering who of these 1,200 students I should talk to

  and how I can begin conversations

  or try to make friends

  with my filling

  so different from theirs

  I don’t know when to say what

  I don’t know if something’s funny or not

  I don’t get sarcasm

  layered over sarcasm

  and jokes made by

  unjoking faces

  I know how to read silence in Japan

  I can read the air in Japan

  but I don’t have a clue

  how to read the air here

  by Wednesday I’m so glad

  to get on a bus to the Newall Center

  grateful to go someplace different

  from school and YiaYia’s house

  on the bridge over the river

  I check the No Stopping sign

  in case of blindness—

  but auras never seem to happen

  when you’re ready

  Sam is there

  by the entrance

  just like last week

  and he stares at me

  checking, it seems

  to see if I’m okay

  it’s nice

  to be able to see all of him

  this time

  where to? I say

  and he smiles, leads me inside

  where we sign in at the main desk

  go down a corridor

  up an elevator onto a ward

  to a nurses’ station

  this is the new volunteer

  Emma . . .

  Sam says and looks at me

  Karas

  I say

  then spell it

  I hand in my doctor’s report

  results of my TB test

  permission slip from my mother

  and receive an ID card

  to hang around my neck

  soon we’re following a woman named Lin

  who says she’s the rec director

  who helps the poet who runs the writing program

  the poet who comes from the university

  for a workshop once a month

  the workshop that patients

                 participate in

  that we, too, are encouraged

                 to participate in

  if we can

  Lin says she also runs the music and art programs

  even some dance because

  that’s what a rec director does

  she makes a joke about the wrecks she directs

  and she and Sam are laughing

  but it takes me a while to catch on

  she and Sam chat

  as we walk through the ward

  he says something about a Mr. Sock

  and I swear she then asks about Mr. Shoe

  and then they go on about a Mr. Pen

  and Mr. Pencil

  and it’s like they’re speaking

  another language

  even though the words

  are English

  all the while I’m looking around the ward

  checking to see if I’ll be able to handle this

                 tubes and needles stress me

                 I have to lie down

                 when I get shots

  but so far

  as I follow Sam and Lin

  down corridors

  peeking into rooms

  I’m not seeing people hooked up

  to lots of tubes

  finally we stop at room 427

  and Sam steps inside ahead of Lin

  and puts his hands together to greet two men

                 one in a bed

                 one in a chair

  and this time

  I know it’s not English

  that I’m not understanding

  and I look at the names on the wall—

                 Leap Sok

                 and Chea Pen

  Sam Nang’s patient, Leap Sok

  Lin says gesturing

  and that’s Chea Pen

  who sometimes joins in

  and now Pen sounds like Pine

  Sam Nang works with them

  in Khmer and English

  she adds

  then she turns

  to lead me away

  from the men

  from Sam

  wait!

  I say

  and Sam looks at me

  and Lin looks at me

  the two men look at me

  and I feel my face

  heat up

  can I talk to you? I say

  looking straight at Sam

  ask you some questions?

  at the end, I mean?

  and Sam nods

  sure, I’ll come by Zena’s room at 5:00

  Zena’s room? I say

  your patient he says

  and Lin leads me

  away from Sam

  and we are off

  we go down another hall

  and Lin is saying

  Zena’s a sweetie

  she’s got spunk, too

  you’ll love working with her

  when her eyes go up, that’s yes

  that’s all you have to know

  oh, and that a slash means

  the end of a line in a poem

  usually she’s in her chair

  but that’s being fixed today

  and then we’re outside

  room 448

  I take a deep breath

  and in we go

  she is just a head propped up on a pillow

  the rest of her hidden beneath

  covers, her graying hair

  brushed back and clipped

  with purple barrettes on either side

  her eyes follow me

  and seem to smile

  Lin says

  Zena Hickox

  this is Emma Karas

  who will help you write

  your masterpieces

  and Zena’s eyes look up

  Lin shows me the letter board, says

  there’s more sophisticated equipment

  computers that track eye movement

  but until an a
ngel comes along

  to help us fund such a system

  this is what we have

  she holds up a piece of laminated paper

  with the alphabet in five rows

  each row colored different

                 red, yellow, blue, green, purple

                 and in the last row—orange—

                 small words, question words

                 numbers, symbols

  Lin shows me how to hold it up

  and say the colors

  then the letters of that row

  watching for when Zena’s eyes go up

  to find which letter or small word

  or symbol she means

  and then I realize

  I will be helping her write poems

  letter by letter

  and I start to panic

  okay, honey? Lin says

  and I want to say no way!

  I want to say I have to go

  this was a mistake

  and I’m wishing YiaYia

  had found me volunteer work

  in a soup kitchen

  or tutoring kids

  or river cleanup

  anything else . . .

  but I nod

  okay, Zena? Lin says

  and Zena’s eyes

  go up

  Lin walks out the door

  and then it’s just me and Zena

  and the sounds of whatever she’s

  hooked up to

  which I try not to look at

  or think about

  and I don’t know what to say

  I sit down on the chair by her bed

  arrange my jacket over the chairback

  set my pack on the floor

  pull out a notebook and pen

  open to a page of blank paper

  take a deep breath

  then glance at her

  she looks up

  I like your barrettes I say

  her eyes roll up

  and I’m relieved

  but I don’t know what else to say

  to someone who can’t talk

  so I unzip my sweatshirt

  and waste some time

  arranging my sleeves

  shall we start? I finally say

  but she looks straight at me

  I mean with a poem I add

  still she doesn’t look up

  and I’m thinking I might need

  to go get one of the aides

  but then I try

  you want to do something else?

  and she looks up

  I don’t know what it is

  so I pick up the letter board

  and say the colors—red, yellow . . .

  and run my fingers over the letters

  of the row she selects

  as I say them

  i-n-t-r-o she spells

  introduction? I ask

  and Zena looks up

  like self-introductions? I ask

  and Zena looks up again

  ah! I say, so relieved

  to have figured out what she means

  that I jump right in blabbing

  that I grew up in Japan

  and went to Japanese schools

  then switched to international school last year

  but had to move here to my grandmother’s house

  because of my mother’s . . .

                                          breast

  Zena’s mouth goes wide

  and she makes a throaty sound

  and at first I think she’s choking

  or I’ve made an embarrassing mistake

  but her eyes seem to smile

  and I realize this growl is her laugh

  I go on to explain the first surgery

  and the second surgery coming up

  and how we’ll live here till Mom recovers

  and maybe longer

  we just don’t know

  and I say

  but I miss Japan

  like I’m missing a person

  and I don’t know why this is all coming

  out of me because I never talk like this

  to anyone

  I say to Zena now your turn

  but her eyes don’t go up

  I stare back at her

  and she seems to gaze at the letter board

  so I say the colors and letters

  and she spells

  e-a-r-t-h-q-u-

  and I guess the end

  and tell her about the quake

  and tsunami

  and Madoka’s relatives

  and the ongoing cleanup work

  okay, now you I say

  anxious to turn the conversation

  to her but she stares at me

  and spells

  s-o s-o-r-r-y

  and I nod

  say thanks

  when she continues to stare

  I do the colors and letters again

  and she spells

  r u i-n l-o-v-e

  and I can’t believe she asked me that

  I roll my eyes

  say no!

  and she makes that growl sound again

  now you I say

  this time firmly

  a self-introduction!

  I ask Zena questions

  are you from Massachusetts?

  her eyes go up

  this town?

  her eyes go up

  maybe you knew my grandmother—

  Elena Karas? Contos before she married . . .

  Zena’s eyes don’t move

  so I ask how old are you?

  then flinch

  sorry! that was rude

  Zena looks at the letter board

  chooses orange, the last row

  where in one box it says numbers

  so I count for her by tens, then ones

  and discover she’s 46

  even though she looks

  older than YiaYia

  who’s 71

  I take off my sweatshirt

  flushed and embarrassed

  feeling like a total failure at this

  is purple your favorite color? I ask

  her eyes go up

  will you dress up for Halloween? I ask

  her eyes go up

  as what? I ask

  m-e-r-m-a-i-d she spells

  and I laugh and tell her she’ll be a great mermaid

  and I’ll help her with her costume

  then I say so, should I bring some poems

  to read next time before we write?

  her eyes go up

  I’m not sure what else to ask

  but then I remember that question

  she asked me

  are you in love?

  Zena looks up

  and she growls

  and she eyes the letter board

  so I hold it up and she spells

  s-e-x-y m-a-n

  and I crack up

  time to write poems! I say

  so we start

  and it is slow

  this one-letter-at-a-time thing

  I try guessing words partway through

  but if I guess too soon Zena gets mad

  once I guess

  dryer? drugstore? dressing room?

  before she’s finished the word

  then she starts again, spells

  d-o-d-o

  and glares

  at me

  I bow, apologize

  start again

  and follow her exactly

  without rushing

  and now we have a first line

  which I realize is a line

  because she chooses a slash:

      I open the door to my dreams

  next line I say

  bu
t Zena doesn’t look up

  no? there’s more for this line?

  but still she doesn’t look up

  we go back to the letter board

  and she spells u

  you? I ask

  you mean me?

  her eyes go up

  and then I get it

  she wants us to take turns

  so I say okay, read

      I open the door to my dreams

  and add the line

      and see the face . . .

  your turn I say

  and slowly Zena spells

      of the one I love

  and I see she is playing a game

  trying to trap me

  into revealing something personal

  so I say

      gazing back at me

  then she spells

      in fear

  so I say

      and adoration

  and then I hear someone behind me

  and Sam is standing there

  in the doorway

  and I feel my face go hot

  and Zena’s eyes go up

  and she growls

  we’re almost done

  I say to Sam

  he says take your time

  and comes into the room

  and leans on the windowsill

  and I think by his broad shoulders there

  outlined by the late-afternoon light

  he must be a swimmer

  Zena and I

  go back and forth and at last

  we’ve written