The Language Inside

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by Holly Thompson

to YiaYia

  to me

  and I think

  something’s wrong

  what? I say

  Mom tells me

  it’s my choice—

  I can go back

  to Japan

  in January

  if I want

  since it looks definite

  Dad will go back then

  she says she and Toby

  will stay with YiaYia

  but if I want

  I can return to Kamakura

  just after winter break

  to attend international school

  we know that’s what you want, honey

  she says

  I lean back in my chair, say

  I thought we needed to stay together

  you, Toby, me

  for all this

  that’s what you said in August

  that’s what Dad’s been saying

  but Mom says something about the prognosis

  being better than she’d initially feared

  and adds I think by January

  I’ll be able to manage better

  even if we have to be apart for a while

  she sets out details:

  I’d be on my own a lot

  I’d have to cook dinners

  I’d have to do laundry

  be disciplined about my homework

  and on and on

  but I only half listen

  she’s waiting for my response

  I think she expected me

  to jump for joy

  because when I sit there

  gripping my mug of tea

  caught between

  Japan and Massachusetts

  stunned to have gotten what

  I’d secretly been wishing for

  she says Emma?

  after New Year’s? I ask

  yes Mom says

  just after your birthday—

  I refuse to miss that

  her jaw sets as she says this

  and it occurs to me just then

  that she’s opposed to the idea

  and maybe Dad is, too

  but they’re offering anyway

  I count the months, weeks, days

  whatever I’d have here

  before I left for Japan

  the time I’d have to

  try Cambodian dance

  the time I’d have leading the tanko bushi

  at halftime shows

  the time I’d have for poetry workshops

  the time I’d have with Zena

  the time I’d have

  with Samnang

  and suddenly

  it seems like nowhere near

  enough

  I don’t know I say

  and Mom and YiaYia both

  jerk their heads back in surprise

  then I consider . . .

  the one-year anniversary . . .

  I could be there in Japan

  maybe even in Tohoku

  I’ll mull it over I say

  set down my tea

  I need to think

  I go up to my room

  close the door

  and lie down on my bed

  stiff as a plank

  I stare at the ceiling

  trying to visualize the pros

  to each option, the cons

  to each option

  in my journal

  I make lists

  but they’re no help

      Japan

      Dad

      Madoka

      Tohoku visits

      international school

      fund-raising

      one-year anniversary

      Japanese language

      spring soccer

      Massachusetts

      Mom

      Zena

      Cambodian dance

      tanko bushi and full program

      YiaYia

      Toby

      driver’s license

      Samnang

  when there’s hardly any daylight left

  I put on my coat and gloves

  and go outside to sit on the freezing bricks

  of YiaYia’s steps to the backyard

  out there it feels private

  in the dark and cutting air

  but I can’t sit still

  so I start pacing

  back and forth

  across the yard

  picking up fallen sticks

  flinging them at a tree

  I don’t know what to do

  or how I’m supposed to decide

  or what the consequences will be

  of choosing one way over the other

  at last I call Samnang

  hey he says warmly

  and I nearly lose my nerve

  but I ask him

  Samnang, I have to know

  why did you kiss me today?

  oh he says

  and he’s quiet a long time

  so long a car comes to a pause at the stop sign

  turns and continues up the street

  lights raking yards as it disappears

  and the dusk turns silent again

  I kissed you because he says softly

  I wait for him to say more

  that’s it?

  no he says

  but that’s all that needs saying right now

  and he’s right

  I can read the air between us

  I could read it all day between us

  there’s no need for words

  thanks I whisper

  I walk across the yard

  to a woodpile left from when

  Papou was alive and well

  split logs I can barely make out

  in the light from the kitchen window

  I sit down on the pile

  elbow on one knee

  head in one hand

  holding Samnang’s breathing

  close to my ear with the other

  I want to weep

  Samnang I say

  I just learned I can go back to Japan

  if I want

  not right away

  but soon

  I hear the air explode out of him

  like how not right away? he says

  like . . . I’d be able to get my permit

  and your license?

  not my license

  I’d go back with my father

  to start school in January

  I hear a door bang shut

  or a book thrown

  then he’s wheezing

  and I count seven inhales

  and seven exhales

  yeah, but . . . he says

  I know I say

  then I tell him I need to walk

  for a bit, just think

  that I need him to stay on the line

  and he agrees

  I go around to the front of the house

  and make my way up the street

  over the cracks and swollen

  root wounds of the sidewalk

  I like that he’s okay with silence

  as if he’s walking with me

  I like that he doesn’t feel the need

  to fill the quiet every second

  look

  Samnang eventually says

  I get it about being pushed and pulled

  and pressure and guilt

  but you can help from here

  I know I can I say

  but now they’re saying I can go back

  and I don’t know what to do

  I don’t know what’s right

  well, I can’t tell you what’s right he says

  I know, I’m not asking you to

  but Samnang, whichever way I decide

  I think I may have to try on the idea

  before I make it final

  Emma
he suddenly says stay

  he’s never spoken to me like this

  with my name and a command

  why? I ask

  he hedges

  there are plenty of reasons he says

  but the vagueness bothers me

  like? I ask, just wanting to hear him say

  but then his voice turns sharp

  like figure it out! he says

  and hangs up

  I hide out in my room

  till YiaYia calls me down for dinner

  which I hardly touch

  then I go upstairs to write in my journal

  but I end up just staring

  at a blank page

  the next morning

  I get an email from Madoka

  who must have heard from her parents

  that my father’s going back

  she says she’ll be preparing for high-school entrance exams

  she says she’ll be busy but we can study together if I like

  she says we can have dinner together now and then

  but her words are muted

  she doesn’t say she’s pleased

  or is waiting for me

  I disappear into homework

  wishing Samnang would call

  but he doesn’t

  and I can’t say I blame him

  Jae-Sun is mad at me when I mention

  the possibility of my going back, saying

  I already committed to Boston Model UN

  so why can’t I just stay till that’s over

  you flip-flopped he says

  my parents flip-flopped I say

  I decide not to say anything to Tracy

  until I really know what I’m doing

  Samnang is sullen

  distant and cool

  when we meet

  in the halls at school

  but by Wednesday

  when we drive to the Newall Center

  he’s thawed some

  focusing less on later

  and more on now

  which is what I want to do

  for a change

  we skirt the topic of my decision

  talk about our classes

  our plans with Leap Sok and Zena

  even dance

  he tells me he consulted the dance troupe director

  even checked with the other dancers

  and they said I can join the practices

  from next week after their performance

  he adds I asked about summers, too

  in case you want to join in

  whenever you’re back here

  thanks I say

                 as he parks at the center

  so grateful that he’s waiting

  patient

  not pressing me

  for an answer

  on my decision

  we sign in

  and elevator up

  to the wards

  to our patients’ rooms

  when I reach Zena’s room I’m surprised

  to find Sarah, unannounced

  it seems—a class was canceled

  and someone in her program had to drive

  to UMass Lowell and Sarah caught a ride

  my first thought is disappointment

  since I’d wanted to talk through my decision

  with Zena, to gauge her reaction

  seek her guidance

  but now I see that Zena

  is frustrated with the computer and Sarah

  doesn’t know what to do, so I drop my bag

  put the good letter board in Sarah’s hands

  then turn away, shuffle papers

  pretending to hunt for my poems

  finally Sarah gets

  letter by letter

  word by word

  the simple things

  Zena is telling her

  that she likes Sarah’s haircut

  that Sarah looks healthy

  but should wear a thicker coat

  and b-o-y-f-r-i-e-n-d?

  Sarah says

  yes, he’s still with me

  then Zena spells w-e-d-d-i-n-g?

  and Sarah quips no, I’m still in school, remember?

  a bit more surly than seems fair

  so I suggest poems

  I ask if Zena has a new one

  and she looks up

  Sarah hesitates, then pulls a chair over

  says mind if I listen?

  and follows along

  as I work with Zena

  I run my finger down the colors

  and rows of letters

  and word by word

  Zena grows a poem

  that makes my throat tighten

  but not until I read it aloud

  from start to finish

  does Sarah suddenly twitch

  with understanding

  I read:

      Hair

      locks around a chubby finger

      in her mouth

      shaken about

      tangled and wild

      in my face

      when she’s in my arms

      or deep asleep

      on the pillow

      beside me

      trimmed with my sewing scissors

      braided with my fingers

      toweled dry by my hands

      brushed and combed

      dry or wet

      salty with sweat

      how I miss

      her hair

  after a moment I say

  it’s beautiful

  and I so want Sarah to dangle her hair

  on Zena’s forehead or say

  yes, amazing or some compliment

  but she says I don’t know much about poetry

  I rush to ease the tension, say

  well, it’s the feelings you have

  when you hear a poem or read it . . .

  like, to me, her poem is

  about both being a mom

  and not being able

  to be a mom

  but there’s an awkward pause

  that’s long even by my Japanese standards

  so I tell them I brought poems

  and they both look to me with relief

  the first is

  a long skinny poem

  about patience

  being wider than

  we expect it to be

  I give one copy to Sarah

  while I read the other

  three times to Zena

  since meanings

  grow clearer to me

  after several readings

  I don’t think it’s clear at all

  to Sarah though

  so I go on to the next one

  by Derek Walcott

  which is another poem about a fist

  this one about a fist around the heart

  and falling in love

  being like madness

  and plunging into the abyss

  Sarah seems to like this one

  and laughs

  and Zena looks up

  and growls

  then Zena points her eyes at the letter board

  and spells

  r u p-l-u-n-g-i-n-g?

  who, Sarah? I say

  and I glance at Sarah

  but Sarah nods to me

  then looks to Zena

  and Zena gazes straight

  at me

  me?

  and Zena looks up

  so I smile

  trying to be mysterious

  but just then Samnang walks in

  and Zena growls

  and Sarah laughs

  and I

  can’t hide

  and I look at Samnang

  as he moves a step

  toward me

  and I say

 
yes, I think I’m plunging

  and Zena looks up

  and up

  and up

  when we cross to the pizza place

  Samnang puts his arm around me

  and I put mine around him

  and we are laughing

  because I have told him

  what Zena’s plunging comment

  was all about

  and I think

  this will be too hard

  to leave

  Friday is the performance

  and YiaYia drops me off

  because there’s some PTA

  event at Toby’s school

  so I sit by myself in the crowd

  reading each word of the program

  when the lights dim

  five dancers come onstage

  and I recognize the blessing dance

  the girls with the silver cups

  tossing petals

  for peace, prosperity

  and health

  I wait for Samnang

  all through the pestle dance

  with Sovann and Paul

  beating the long

  pestle poles on the ground

  and Nary and others dancing

                 feet fast

 

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