The Language Inside (4 page)

YiaYia eyes me

I try to read her face

but I don’t know

this grandmother well

we usually stay in Vermont

with Mom’s mother and father

near our cousins up there

when we come back summers

not here with Dad’s mother

YiaYia sizes up my state

               curled in the armchair

               fuzzy-headed

               recovering

then she picks up the empty glasses

did she call?
I ask again

YiaYia puts down the glasses

comes to sit on the chair arm

leans close to me

and whispers

no, but I imagine she’s doing just fine

so don’t stress about it

I’m not stressing!
I say

where’s Toby?

she rises and arranges a basket

of patchwork coasters

at a friend’s for dinner

which doesn’t seem fair

because right now

post-migraine

I just want someone

from my lived-in-Japan family

not YiaYia

who seems to think migraines can be controlled

just by flicking a brain switch

               some thoughts on

               some thoughts off

who wants me to be active and involved

who was the one to introduce me to

the Newall Center where my Papou

spent two years before he died

who when she heard they needed

a new volunteer poetry helper

piped right up with

my granddaughter writes poems!

meaning those verse scribbles

I’d write on her birthday cards

she thinks everything will be fine

if I just join groups

she thinks everything will be fine

if I just meet more Americans

and she thinks everything

will be fine in Japan

that it’s better we’re not there now

during the recovery

and she thinks

everything will be fine

in our family

but I think

she has a strange idea

of what’s fine

I think she doesn’t know

how much it hurt to leave

how much it felt like

abandoning Japan

and I think she doesn’t know

how strange it is to live

without our father

and I think she doesn’t

know what my mother is feeling

about having her breast lopped off

and I think she doesn’t

know what it’s like to be the daughter

wondering
do I carry those genes, too?

my migraines started

three days after our move

my mother says I need

a strict routine

YiaYia sews me a lavender pillow

and says to avoid chocolate

my father emails me articles

one of an exhibit of paintings

by migraine sufferers that show

the dark hole of blindness

and the crescent

               of zigzagging

                            triangles

               just like mine

Toby doesn’t say anything

after my migraines

just asks if I want a bath

to feel like I’m home in Japan

but Toby’s not here now

so in the armchair I

pull the scarf over my head

and hide inside

YiaYia sighs

pats my arm

picks up the glasses

and goes into the kitchen

I was at the international school

where I’d transferred for grade 9

               from Japanese school

I was in English class

when it started

               a tremor

                                        that grew

Mr. Hays had taught in Japan

only two years so I shouted at him

and at Ryan and Keizo

who were playing tough

“surfing” the quake

get under the desks!

this isn’t normal!

the building rattled

shelves, books, cupboards clattered

stuff crashed and fell

I thought the walls would give

I thought the windows would shatter

and I was glad

I’d worn my boots

they’d keep me warm

if the school collapsed

on and on

the building

bumped

creaked

swayed

clanked

while under the desks

we clutched hands

Sophia on one side of me

Yohei on the other

with the principal’s voice on the loudspeaker

now it’s slowing, wait, here’s another tremble

stay calm, stay calm, it will be over soon

but it seemed like forever