The Language Inside (9 page)

I don’t know what will happen

what all this means
I said

and he put his arm around me

and I leaned into him

one of my oldest best friends

as the coppery coin of sun

slid into the haze

but then as if he hadn’t heard

a word of what I’d been saying—

               my mother, cancer, moving to America

he said
itsuka kokutte ageyo ka na
—

               one day I might tell you I love you

and I pulled away

and stared at him

what?

maybe, in the future

he said, and smiled

like I’d be grateful

and I said

why are you saying that?

why now?

did you hear a word I told you?

baka!
—jerk!

and I smacked him

on the back of his head

then I started to cry

I hadn’t meant to hit him

he said he was sorry

and held his head down

and I shook my head, said

it’s not you

I put his arm back around me

and leaned into him

but he looked away

toward the pinking sky

finally I licked my fingers

washed the track of blood

from my leg and we walked

back to my house not talking

just before we got there

I told him again I was sorry

in the future if you tell me you love me

I promise not to hit you

we both tried to smile

he said
don’t forget me

and I promised I wouldn’t

then we nodded

and finger-waved

good-bye

I have to wait a whole week

till my next Wednesday visit

at the Newall Center for Long Term Care

I look for Sam Nang at my new school

big as a college campus

with over 1,200 students

so many classes and different levels

and kids tall and loud

but in the crowds I never see him

and I realize I don’t even know

which grade he’s in

I hardly know anyone at this school

just some kids in my classes

and the Model UN team—

since I missed tryouts

for soccer and volleyball

               and just my luck

               both my sports

               here in Massachusetts

               are fall sports

I’m trying dance club

even though they dance at pep rallies

and halftime shows

and so far this fall

I’m not so full of pep

but Tracy, the captain

seems glad to have me

says I have awesome flexibility

says
good, good, that’s it

as I try following

their routines

after classes most days I go home

on the school bus

missing Japan’s fast trains

freedom

at YiaYia’s

I listen to the same old songs

play with the new cell phone

that Toby and I now share

do homework on Mom’s laptop

research Venezuela for Model UN

               Chavez and petroleum

               health care and politics

but soon I’m reading

news of Tohoku

and updates from friends in Japan

making comments on posts hours old

feeling time-warped and remote

I friend the few people I’ve met here

search for Sam Nang

but I don’t find any Sam Nangs

who look at all like Sam Nang

when Mom returns

from New York

she manages and directs us

               the way to slice the sandwiches

               which dressing for the salad

               the proper way to dry the plates

               what homework to do first

               how to fold our laundry

and we all turn quiet

just following orders

till she gets it out of her system

YiaYia takes me aside

tells me not to talk back

just let her be
she says

she needs to feel in charge

obliging, Toby and I move furniture into

and out of our grandmother’s den

to make a bedroom on the first floor

where Mom will soon recover

I want to talk with Madoka

but she’s only online

when I’m home weekends

during her late evening

which is my late morning

Madoka’s mother insists we write letters

and since it’s through Madoka and her mother

that my Japanese is what it is

               native level with no accent

once a week I handwrite

a proper letter

               starting with a seasonal comment

               asking after Madoka’s relatives

               sharing bits of news

               and inquiring about hers