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Authors: Silas House

Same Sun Here (15 page)

BOOK: Same Sun Here
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Next thing I knew there were all kinds of sirens. Then we were at the hospital and I passed out. They said I was in shock. But I got OK. They gave me a Coke and a Little Debbie, which made me feel better.

I couldn’t believe it, but my mom came to the hospital. I hadn’t seen her out and about in ages. But there she was. I know this sounds crazy, but I had forgotten how she moved. I was so glad to see her up and walking on her own, to not be lying down in bed with a washcloth on her forehead, that my first thought was that this was all worth it. I felt bad later, thinking that, especially because Mark may never walk again and they might even have to amputate his leg, although that’s not in the papers yet.

Mom ran in with Mamaw close behind. Mom ran over and wrapped me up in her arms and then tears were just

S

T

R

E

A

M

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down her face like little waterfalls. But I didn’t cry. I was so happy to see her, but I was numb, too. I don’t know how to explain it. But I thought, this is how a rock feels all the time.

I guess people would say rocks don’t feel. But not feeling is a kind of feeling, too. Does that make any sense?

Then Dad came running in, and I’ve never seen him so scared. He was as pale as a ghost, and once he saw that I was all right, he actually had to run in the little bathroom there in the emergency room and throw up. Being scared messes with people in different ways, I reckon.

Some of the boys are still in the hospital and all the news crews are camped out down there. I mean everybody. NBC, ABC, CBS, CNN, FOX, MSNBC, every one of them. Mamaw has been on ALL of them. Have you seen her? You’d know it was her, instantly, especially since her last name is Justice, just like mine. Nellie Justice. I guess you don’t really know her name since I always call her Mamaw. But that’s her. Dad said she was “giving them hell.”

Mamaw and this bunch of people she works with called Kentuckians for the Commonwealth are planning a big march on the state capital. There are movie stars and singers and writers coming to march, too. But mostly just regular people. And even coal miners. You won’t believe it but my mom and dad are going, too. Mamaw has everybody all fired up. She has been on the phone nonstop since it happened.

Since all the rocks fell, it’s easier to see how much of Town Mountain they’ve taken. Used to be you really couldn’t see all the damage from down in the valley, but now it is just
GONE
.
It makes me sick.

I have thought of you many times through all of this and wondered what you were seeing on the news about it. I know it is a big news story but wonder how much you’ve seen. Let me know.

They wanted to put me on the news but my parents said no. They have been showing the picture of the whole basketball team, so you might have seen me that way. It is weird to be on the news like that. Every time we turned on the TV for a couple days there I was in that group picture. Then they show the gym with all the rocks piled up against it. On one channel they have made up special music for when they talk about us, and they have this big movie title that glides onto the screen that says, “Christmas Miracle in Kentucky.” Mom says this is ridiculous, for news to have theme music. She has been better since all of this happened. I don’t know why. But anyway, now we just don’t even turn the television on.

How are YOU, Meena? I am so sick of talking about all of this that I would much rather hear what’s going on with you. I still think about your dadi and feel bad for you. I hope you are not too sad, still. I hate to think of you being sad.

It started snowing yesterday and I thought of what you said about your grandmother being in the snow and the sunshine.

To answer your question: No, Rufus doesn’t come in when it’s cold. He’s a country dog and would freak out if we brought him in the house. One time he ran in the house because he was scared of a thunderstorm that was coming (he heard it before we did), but then he got even more scared to be walking on the linoleum, so he ran back out and ran under the porch and wouldn’t stop shivering for the rest of the night.

In all the excitement I guess I haven’t really told you about Dad coming home. He had only been home a couple days when the rockfall happened, so I haven’t been with him the way I would have regularly. But the first couple days were real good. When he came in I realized how much I had missed him, and I hugged him so hard I hurt his neck. “Whoa there, now, little man,” he said. “You’re going to break me in two.” I had forgotten that he called me little man sometimes.

When he went in to see Mom, he kissed both of her eyes and whispered, “Oh, how I have missed those pretty, pretty green eyes.” But later on that night when I was supposed to be asleep (but was finishing the new
Spider-Man
instead), I heard them arguing. Their words were muffled through the wall, but I could tell by the way the words bounced around that they were fighting. She was in the hospital until about a week before the rockfall and wasn’t doing much better, really, until the rockfall. She hasn’t had a headache since.

There was one more question I needed to answer: I only listen to “Here Comes the Sun” when I’m alone, because it makes me sad, even though it’s a happy song. I don’t know why it makes me sad. It just does.

I know, I’m weird. But I can be weird with you. Remember, we can be our true selves with each other.

I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon. Write me as soon as you can.

Yours truly,

River Dean Justice

P.S. What I said on Dec. 7 WAS “Hi.” So you did hear me. And on December 10 at 9:07 I believe I heard you say, “I am here, River Dean Justice! It’s me, Meena.” At least that’s what I thought I heard. And later that evening I thought you said to me, in my head, “Did you hear what I said earlier?” So I think we do have telepathy. Let me know if these are the messages you sent me.

 

January 7, 2009

Dear River,

Happy New Year. Everyone is so glad you are OK. Mum did a special aarthi for you and I have been sending lots of telepathic messages. Are you still needing Little Debbies to feel better? What kind of medicine is that?

I am writing tiny so I can fit on the back of this flyer. I have just finished hanging twenty of them up around school. I drew the picture and Carlos did the lettering. The show “goes up” next week.

How is your friend Mark? I hope he still has both his legs. I hope he is not in pain.

We did see your mamaw on TV. I knew it was her from her last name and from what she was saying and because, I don’t know, I just knew. In the group photo, I think you are the smiling boy with freckles at the end of the front row. Am I right? When the photo came on TV, I jumped up and pointed, and said, “That’s River! I know that’s him!” Mrs. Lau yelled at me for getting fingerprints all over the screen.

It was so scary to find out from TV. I was watching the news with Mrs. Lau and Cuba and then all of a sudden there was Town Mountain looking like something had taken a big bite out of it. It was terrible to see the trees knocked over and your school squashed flat. When the news lady said boys from the basketball team were hurt, I got so scared I couldn’t breathe. I can’t believe this has happened to you.

We watched the story on TV for three days. Mrs. Lau cursed in Chinese whenever that man who owns the coal company came on. She said he was greedy and had a liar’s chin. For the past week, there hasn’t been anything on about your school. Now all the stories are about Obama’s inauguration and the subway fare hike.

Since Jennifer and her baby got kicked out of the building, Mrs. Lau has been picking up Jennifer’s newspaper from the vestibule. She cut out all the articles on Town Mountain, and Mum let me put the picture of your basketball team on the fridge. I started saying, “Hi, River,” every time I opened the fridge. Then Kiku started doing it, too, to make fun of me, and now everyone does it, even Mummy-Daddy. Not like it’s funny, just like it’s something that’s part of opening the fridge around here.

I have read your letter five times to myself and once out loud in Ms. Bledsoe’s class (don’t worry, just the part where you described the rocks coming down). There are seven other kids from the Summer Program in class, but nobody but me is still writing to their pen pal. They were all surprised that we are best friends but we haven’t ever met. Ms. Bledsoe said that’s what happens when you find a “kindred spirit.”

Where are you going to school now?

I am sorry about all the bad things that happened. But it is good that your mum got out of bed and your daddy came home and that people are listening to your mamaw and helping her fight. It’s like everything you’ve been praying for has come true.

I feel like we have been through some very hard times together.
I am almost out of page. Sorry this is so tiny. I will write more soon. Be safe, River Dean Justice. I am thinking of you and Town Mountain.

Your kindred spirit,

Meena

 

15 January 2009

Dear Meena,

This will be short because I have so much homework to make up. Ms. Stidham is making us write another poem, so I am going to practice by making this letter like a poem. So here goes.

Here are the answers to your letter:

Little Debbies are not medicine.

They’re little cakes. We are going to school

in the Lost Creek Church of God now. It’s weird

to be going to school there. We are

in the basement, which is damp and cold all

the time, and smells like Summer Bible School.

I liked how your teacher said we were “kindred

spirits.” I looked that up on m-w

.com and it says that means we are related

spirits, like family who is not blood

family. I told Mamaw this and she said,

“Sometimes that’s the best family of all.”

There, that seems like a good place to end the poem. I actually kind of like writing them. It’s fun to count up the syllables and think about where the best place is to make the line break so that there is a mystery. I guess I better run for now, but write to me when you can, please.

What is an “aarthi”? You said your mum did one. I’m guessing it’s like a prayer. ??????????????????????

Later, Tater,

River

 

January 20, 2009 (Sometimes I forget and still write 2008. Do you?)

Dear River,

Surprise! I’ve been learning to type!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It just took a second to make all those exclamation points.

I don’t think I would have ever learned to type if it weren’t for you and our letters.

I am at the library. The man at the computer next to me keeps sneezing, and everyone around him keeps saying, “Bless you.” It is kind of funny. I never used to say “Bless you” when someone sneezed at home. That is something I started doing since I came to New York.

Happy Inauguration Day. We watched it on TV at school. Did you? Ms. Bledsoe was so happy she cried. She talked to the class about what it means to have a president who looks like her and so many other people in the country and world, and she talked about how times have changed. Her great-great-grandparents were slaves in North Carolina. She said she wished they were alive to see this day.

Kiku said that if he and Ana Maria have a baby someday, maybe it could be president. He said he would like to have a half-Mexican, half-Indian leader. I like Obama because he is very smart and because it seems like he tries hard to be fair to everyone. Also, I think he has nice hands and teeth.

My favorite parts of watching the inauguration were the music, the pictures of Washington, D.C., and when President Obama said his middle name. “Hussein” is also an Indian name, and it made me feel very proud and like I belonged to what was happening, in some way.

I am at the library because there is no heat in our apartment. There is also no water, and yesterday a dead mouse fell through Mrs. Lau’s ceiling and onto her kitchen table. Cuba stretched his nose over the edge of the table and sniffed the mouse for a long time. It is so cold we have all been sleeping in our coats and hats and scarves, and when Mum gets home we turn on the oven and leave the door open and huddle around it to warm up.

Mrs. Lau says the water and heat aren’t really broken. She says it’s the landlord trying to make us all so uncomfortable that we will leave the building so he can sell our apartments for a lot of money. Mrs. Lau says this is illegal but it is what happens all over Chinatown. She says if it were rich white people living in our building, the landlord would fix things and take good care of everyone.

I have been listening to “Here Comes the Sun.” It is a really nice song. I love the way he sings “It’s all right.” Kiku gave me a little picture of the Beatles from a magazine, and I taped it inside my locker right next to my picture of Beyoncé.

A Chorus Line
is over. It went really well. I’ll tell you about it now:

When the show started, the first thing you saw was the backdrop I drew and painted. It took me until the day before the show to finish. It’s a New York City scene of the Empire State Building and the Manhattan Bridge and the Statue of Liberty. At the bottom of the backdrop is a street full of buses and cabs and the entrance to the F train and lots of people walking on the sidewalk. I drew lots of random faces and also people I know, like Mrs. Lau and Cuba, Kiku on his delivery bike, Mum and Dad in the back of Sushil-Uncle’s cab. All along the sidewalk, I drew every kind of person there is in New York: black, white, Thai, Mexican, Pakistani, Jewish. I spent a long time trying to get their faces right. I stink at drawing noses but I’m pretty good at eyes and mouths. I have not told anybody this, not even Kiku, but in the middle of the block, I drew a little pagoda tree with a monkey sitting in it, and underneath the tree I drew Dadi in her white sari holding her grass sickle and schoolbooks. She is the best drawing I have ever done. She looks just like herself. It made me feel a little better to put her in the show and to put her in New York.

BOOK: Same Sun Here
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