for some necklace idea she has in mind
she’s even figured out how to put the bead
on a wire stretched between two cup handles
so we can turn it and paint all sides
just go ahead, try something
YiaYia urges
there are plenty of beads she says
she bought extras
so we can make mistakes
I’m trying to think of
some simple kanji character
suitable for a single bead
that’s clearly way too small
for the four-character proverb
I’d thought I’d try
finally I settle on the characters
for genki
meaning health or energy
and even though they are easy
grade-school kanji
it takes me three tries to get the ki right
on the curve of the bead
and I’m glad that YiaYia
bought extras
Toby sees mine and tries the kanji
for katsu
victory
but on that small bead
the strokes are too hard
so he gives up and changes
to the character
for chikara
strength
watching him I think of
the day Mom, Toby and I left Kamakura
when Madoka came to say good-bye
with her mother who gave
my mother
an amulet from Hachiman Shrine
with a gold crane for long life
me
a cell-phone strap
with a dove and ginkgo leaf
and Toby
a tiny arrow
like the one Yoritomo launched at evil spirits
and a sports towel
with the character for katsu
they waved and waved
as we pulled out of the driveway
and turned down the lane
pressing handkerchiefs to their eyes
calling itte irrashai!—go and return!
which is what you say
for an ordinary everyday farewell
when you send someone off
for school or work
when you expect them to go and return
and we replied, even though
we were moving for who knows how long
six months?
a year?
forever?
itte kimasu—we’ll go and return
Dad drove us to Narita
then worked in Tokyo two more weeks
before moving to New York
and driving up to Boston
for the first surgery
some days I want him to quit the firm
find a new job in Boston
so he can commute from YiaYia’s house
and be here with us all the time
but most days I want him to work hard
stay in New York
do whatever it is he needs to do
to stay with that firm
which is our ticket out of America
and back to Japan when Mom is better
I check our beads drying
genki, chikara
health, strength
and I think
please
this town of YiaYia’s is in the woods
on a river that flows somewhere
eventually into the sea
but there’s no sea
anywhere in sight
here in YiaYia’s town
I can walk and walk
in any direction
but I never see
or smell
the sea
from our house
in Kamakura
it’s a ten-minute walk
or five-minute run to the beach
and at the eastern end of town
the beach meets a headland
and there’s a lane to take you out
around the headland
to a marina
with tall palms
and condominiums
and views of the bay
Enoshima
Izu Peninsula
Mount Fuji
I go there in winter when the air is cool
and the sun off the sea warms the wall
or in summer when the air is hot
but the breeze off the water blows cool
my mother always ran
from home to the marina
then from eastern headland
to western headland
and from western headland
back home again
she says she kept her health
all these years
running by the sea
lungs full of seaweed air
tropical breezes
cold gusts
typhoon winds
now standing here in YiaYia’s backyard
bordering other backyards
that border more houses and woods
I would love to fill my lungs
with damp seaweed air
after I left Miyagi
when I learned of Mom’s decision
to have the surgery in the States
and Dad’s decision for us
to attend school in Massachusetts
I called Shin, my close friend
from middle school
meet me at the beach I said
I need to talk
he did
and we walked to the center
of the beach curve
where the river enters the bay
then back to the eastern headland
by the windsurfers
and when the beach ran out
we continued into the marina
all the while
not talking
the marina seawall is long and high
and you’re not supposed to climb it
or sit on it but everyone does
you have to run at the wall
and keep running when you hit the wall
to gain enough height to haul yourself up
to the top
I skinned my knee
and as we sat between people casting for fish
and I told Shin the news
we watched a trickle of blood
track down my leg
turn toward my calf
then stop
and dry
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
I treat it like an assignment
that I want to do well
and add an extra page
for her grandparents
or cousins in Tohoku
but I miss just being with Madoka
with Madoka I could always talk
or not talk
either way she understood
like before we left Japan
when Madoka and I went to the beach
to swim before dinner
it wasn’t very clean
never is late August
but Madoka’s head bobbed on the waves
the cliffs rose in the distance
and above them, nearly not there
the faint gray stamp of Mount Fuji
when a plastic bag
turned into a jellyfish
we scrambled out, showered
then walked to the end of the beach
where the windsurfers go in
and where the rocks of an ancient
artificial island
surface at low tide
we waded through shallows
over rippled sand
staring at those rocks
heaped hundreds of years ago
to make the safe harbor
we’d studied in school
and as we stared at that history
which I’d come to think of as mine
Madoka said softly
amerika-jin ni nacchau—
you’ll turn into an American
I am an American I said
but inside you’re Japanese Madoka said
using the word nakami—filling
for inside
I laughed
said well, that won’t change
good Madoka said
and don’t start talking all loud and obnoxious
or eating too much
I won’t! I said
don’t change she said
then I noticed
her chin trembling
we wandered back from the sandbar
and when we reached dry beach
she stopped
remember when we first went up to Miyagi
after the tsunami?
I nodded
and we first looked into Jiichan
and Baachan’s house?
I nodded
I di
dn’t think I could do it
I thought I’d made a mistake
going there so soon after
and with my aunt still missing
but you just grabbed one of the shovels
handed me a bag and started in on the mud
bag by bag, you said
you’d read that on someone’s blog
that’s how to get it done
and you were right, bag by bag
she looked at me sideways
then turned back to the waves
they’ll be waiting for you up there, you know
all of my relatives
I whispered
it might be a year
sick at the thought
I could be away that long
or longer
she nodded
that’s okay
they’ll still be waiting
her eyes glistened
and I knew that it wasn’t so much for our parting
as for all that had happened this year
all we’d seen together
smashed cars
fish in trees
sad eyes of people
and debris we’d bagged and added
to heaps upon heaps of debris
in an endless stretch of ruined towns
I stood with her on the wet sand
The Language Inside Page 3