The Language Inside (16 page)

we tiptoe into the kitchen

to make
yuzu
citrus tea

from a big jar of preserves Mom bought

at a Korean market in New York

over the tangy aroma

as the tea is cooling

she whispers

we’re lucky, Em—

even now

with my lousy breast

I know I’m losing my Japanese—

words aren’t there

when I reach for them

and I have to check the dictionary

when I write letters to Madoka

even though I practice kanji

in the workbooks she sent me

I’m already behind Madoka

because I switched to international school

where the native-level Japanese classes

are a year behind the national curriculum

ninth grade was a review year for me

tenth was supposed to be new material at last

my goal was always just to keep up with her

now my goal is just to keep myself

from going backward

but without seeing kanji all around me

without hearing Japanese each day

without writing Japanese in class

I know I’m slipping

in YiaYia’s kitchen

my mother’s stirring soup

and telling me to stop worrying—

               my foundation in the language is solid

               we’ll return eventually and

               I can study it again in university

you don’t have to rely on Madoka or her mother
she says

you can hire a tutor and take the proficiency tests

you can pick up and continue the language anytime

here or there

but I’m so on the verge
I say

the verge of what?
she asks

complete fluency
I say

what I’d need to enter a Japanese university

I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking
she says

I’m not necessarily

I don’t know yet

but I want that option

then study
she says

don’t lose it

like it’s as simple as that

Mom’s not as fluent as I am

she doesn’t know how hard it is

to hold on to those kanji you learn

and use in high school

if you’re not surrounded by them

I sigh

loud

and that sigh seems to set her off

I don’t have a magic wand, Em

to make everything just right

so here—

you stir

and she storms out

I apologize to her back

and to YiaYia

who’s looking at me like

what was I thinking

and I stir the soup

until YiaYia turns it off

and tells me I can stop

she’s so sensitive

I complain

I’ll say
Toby adds

she explodes at anything

well, of course she’s sensitive!

YiaYia snaps

scowling at us both

so give her space

and hold your tongues

upstairs after sulking

about holding my tongue

and tiptoeing around Mom

I think some more

on what’s strange

about being here

and I realize

it’s not just losing

Japanese words

and phrases

it’s as if I’ve lost

half of myself here

but no one knows

because I’m a
white girl

here

I don’t look like I belong in Japan

here

I don’t look out of place

here

everyone thinks I must be glad

to be “back” in Massachusetts

as if this were home

               but it’s not

I think of all the cleanup in Tohoku

the endless stretches of mangled homes

the tangled mountains of debris

and all the broken towns and families

that’s where I should be, I think

that’s where I’d be of more use

not here with Mom who doesn’t need

me or Toby making her days harder

with our back talk

YiaYia is gentle

she’s experienced

able to comfort her

better than us

but I hold my tongue

and don’t say a word

on my bed Toby and I lean back against the headboard

and watch a Ghibli movie on Mom’s computer

as the movie ends I try to discuss it in Japanese

but lately when I ask Toby something in Japanese

he answers in English like he’s happy

to shed the language as if it were an extra coat