The Language Inside (47 page)

that night I text Samnang—

I need to talk to you about dance

and

know any good Cam poems in English? for Zena?

because I’m thinking that I’d like to read some

and she might, too

and he replies

okay to dance talk

no to poems, but can check

and I text back

I saw Leap Sok today

then my phone rings

you saw him?
he says

and I can’t help but laugh

that he so did not think I’d do that

how did you talk?

I explain that

I know how to speak

in simple English

and I showed photos of Japan

and even places in Tohoku

after the tsunami

and he’s all quiet

just listening

that’s amazing

he finally says

but I don’t think it’s really amazing

I ask if he thinks it was a mistake

to show Leap Sok the photos from

tsunami-hit towns, PTSD and all

nah, tsunami trauma is different

from war trauma

then I say

it looks like we’re not moving back to Japan this year

not till summer

Samnang is quiet for a moment

is your mom sicker?

no, no, just radiation therapy

for seven weeks

then hormone treatment

things that take time

oh, well, good
he says

yeah, mostly

I mean, I thought you meant

they found more cancer

or she needed more surgery
he says

no
I say

nothing like that

well, I’m sorry
Samnang says

I mean, that you can’t go back to help and stuff

’cause I know that’s what you want

but in one way it’s great

what way?
I say

Zena
he says

which, it’s true

is great

but isn’t quite

what I was hoping

he might say

I should have anticipated this one

since it hits post-stress

like clockwork

Sunday

two days after the path report

I’m brushing my hair

when I note a finger of my hand

               missing

then from my face in the mirror my left eye

               missing

and from the window in my room an entire pane

               missing

I haven’t even had breakfast

I have tons of homework

I’ve already had a full night’s sleep

I don’t want to sleep more

but there’s nothing I can do

except go back to bed

I put on my pajamas again

swallow my pills

yank the curtains closed

crawl under the quilt

and cover my face with a T-shirt

for dark

now and then I open my eyes

check the migraine progress—

first the spreading blindness

then a flickering crescent

overlaying the blindness

then I don’t need sight

to note the progress

as I feel numbness

seep into my arm

advance along my jaw

and slip into my throat

YiaYia comes in and starts telling me

that it’s nearly 9:30

she already woke me once

and got me out of bed

but I press my hands

over my eyes

whimper

and she says
oh!

tiptoes out

then tiptoes back

with a bottle of water

later Dad comes in

and sits on the edge of my bed

this is his day to leave for New York

but now that it’s time to say good-bye

I can’t make sense of his words

can’t form sentences

language jumbles

I hear

                            
mother

                         
radiation

               
walk                               Toby

                         
Yia         in the

support

               
school

                         
you    run

                                        
           love you

and only with effort

can I mutter

two words together

               
thank you

I feel him kiss my pounding head

tears dribble from my eyes

squeezed shut

against any hint of light