this friend I’d walked to elementary and
middle school with
took ballet with
played volleyball with
this friend whose grandmother’s arms
we’d held as we searched the rubble
of her missing daughter-in-law’s home
we didn’t need words
we just inhaled and exhaled
side by side
watching the waves
until she said
we’ll weigh you
before and after
what?
she smirked
to see if you get fat
she was good at that
reading the air
saying the right thing
at the right moment
moving us along
back to joking
I gave her a shove
we walked up the shore
unlocked our bicycles
and rode back to her house
to eat our last two-family meal together—
for how long? I knew we all wondered
at this school in Massachusetts
I listen to clips of conversations
move from class to class
biology to art to English to Chinese
wondering who of these 1,200 students I should talk to
and how I can begin conversations
or try to make friends
with my filling
so different from theirs
I don’t know when to say what
I don’t know if something’s funny or not
I don’t get sarcasm
layered over sarcasm
and jokes made by
unjoking faces
I know how to read silence in Japan
I can read the air in Japan
but I don’t have a clue
how to read the air here
by Wednesday I’m so glad
to get on a bus to the Newall Center
grateful to go someplace different
from school and YiaYia’s house
on the bridge over the river
I check the No Stopping sign
in case of blindness—
but auras never seem to happen
when you’re ready
Sam is there
by the entrance
just like last week
and he stares at me
checking, it seems
to see if I’m okay
it’s nice
to be able to see all of him
this time
where to? I say
and he smiles, leads me inside
where we sign in at the main desk
go down a corridor
up an elevator onto a ward
to a nurses’ station
this is the new volunteer
Emma . . .
Sam says and looks at me
Karas
I say
then spell it
I hand in my doctor’s report
results of my TB test
permission slip from my mother
and receive an ID card
to hang around my neck
soon we’re following a woman named Lin
who says she’s the rec director
who helps the poet who runs the writing program
the poet who comes from the university
for a workshop once a month
the workshop that patients
participate in
that we, too, are encouraged
to participate in
if we can
Lin says she also runs the music and art programs
even some dance because
that’s what a rec director does
she makes a joke about the wrecks she directs
and she and Sam are laughing
but it takes me a while to catch on
she and Sam chat
as we walk through the ward
he says something about a Mr. Sock
and I swear she then asks about Mr. Shoe
and then they go on about a Mr. Pen
and Mr. Pencil
and it’s like they’re speaking
another language
even though the words
are English
checking to see if I’ll be able to handle this
tubes and needles stress me
I have to lie down
when I get shots
but so far
as I follow Sam and Lin
down corridors
peeking into rooms
I’m not seeing people hooked up
to lots of tubes
finally we stop at room 427
and Sam steps inside ahead of Lin
and puts his hands together to greet two men
one in a bed
one in a chair
and this time
I know it’s not English
that I’m not understanding
and I look at the names on the wall—
Leap Sok
and Chea Pen
Sam Nang’s patient, Leap Sok
Lin says gesturing
and that’s Chea Pen
who sometimes joins in
and now Pen sounds like Pine
Sam Nang works with them
in Khmer and English
she adds
then she turns
to lead me away
from the men
from Sam
wait!
I say
and Sam looks at me
and Lin looks at me
the two men look at me
and I feel my face
heat up
can I talk to you? I say
looking straight at Sam
ask you some questions?
at the end, I mean?
and Sam nods
sure, I’ll come by Zena’s room at 5:00
Zena’s room? I say
your patient he says
and Lin leads me
away from Sam
and we are off
we go down another hall
and Lin is saying
Zena’s a sweetie
she’s got spunk, too
you’ll love working with her
when her eyes go up, that’s yes
that’s all you have to know
oh, and that a slash means
the end of a line in a poem
usually she’s in her chair
but that’s being fixed today
and then we’re outside
room 448
I take a deep breath
and in we go
she is just a head propped up on a pillow
the rest of her hidden beneath
covers, her graying hair
brushed back and clipped
with purple barrettes on either side
her eyes follow me
and seem to smile
Lin says
Zena Hickox
this is Emma Karas
who will help you write
your masterpieces
and Zena’s eyes look up
Lin shows me the letter board, says
there’s more sophisticated equipment
computers that track eye movement
but until an a
ngel comes along
to help us fund such a system
this is what we have
she holds up a piece of laminated paper
with the alphabet in five rows
each row colored different
red, yellow, blue, green, purple
and in the last row—orange—
small words, question words
numbers, symbols
Lin shows me how to hold it up
and say the colors
then the letters of that row
watching for when Zena’s eyes go up
to find which letter or small word
or symbol she means
and then I realize
I will be helping her write poems
letter by letter
and I start to panic
okay, honey? Lin says
and I want to say no way!
I want to say I have to go
this was a mistake
and I’m wishing YiaYia
had found me volunteer work
in a soup kitchen
or tutoring kids
or river cleanup
anything else . . .
but I nod
okay, Zena? Lin says
and Zena’s eyes
go up
Lin walks out the door
and then it’s just me and Zena
and the sounds of whatever she’s
hooked up to
which I try not to look at
or think about
and I don’t know what to say
I sit down on the chair by her bed
arrange my jacket over the chairback
set my pack on the floor
pull out a notebook and pen
open to a page of blank paper
take a deep breath
then glance at her
she looks up
I like your barrettes I say
her eyes roll up
and I’m relieved
but I don’t know what else to say
to someone who can’t talk
so I unzip my sweatshirt
and waste some time
arranging my sleeves
shall we start? I finally say
but she looks straight at me
I mean with a poem I add
still she doesn’t look up
and I’m thinking I might need
to go get one of the aides
but then I try
you want to do something else?
and she looks up
I don’t know what it is
so I pick up the letter board
and say the colors—red, yellow . . .
and run my fingers over the letters
of the row she selects
as I say them
i-n-t-r-o she spells
introduction? I ask
and Zena looks up
like self-introductions? I ask
and Zena looks up again
ah! I say, so relieved
to have figured out what she means
that I jump right in blabbing
that I grew up in Japan
and went to Japanese schools
then switched to international school last year
but had to move here to my grandmother’s house
because of my mother’s . . .
breast
Zena’s mouth goes wide
and she makes a throaty sound
and at first I think she’s choking
or I’ve made an embarrassing mistake
but her eyes seem to smile
and I realize this growl is her laugh
I go on to explain the first surgery
and the second surgery coming up
and how we’ll live here till Mom recovers
and maybe longer
we just don’t know
and I say
but I miss Japan
like I’m missing a person
and I don’t know why this is all coming
out of me because I never talk like this
to anyone
I say to Zena now your turn
but her eyes don’t go up
I stare back at her
and she seems to gaze at the letter board
so I say the colors and letters
and she spells
e-a-r-t-h-q-u-
and I guess the end
and tell her about the quake
and tsunami
and Madoka’s relatives
and the ongoing cleanup work
okay, now you I say
anxious to turn the conversation
to her but she stares at me
and spells
s-o s-o-r-r-y
and I nod
say thanks
when she continues to stare
I do the colors and letters again
and she spells
r u i-n l-o-v-e
and I can’t believe she asked me that
I roll my eyes
say no!
and she makes that growl sound again
now you I say
this time firmly
a self-introduction!
I ask Zena questions
are you from Massachusetts?
her eyes go up
this town?
her eyes go up
maybe you knew my grandmother—
Elena Karas? Contos before she married . . .
Zena’s eyes don’t move
so I ask how old are you?
then flinch
sorry! that was rude
Zena looks at the letter board
chooses orange, the last row
where in one box it says numbers
so I count for her by tens, then ones
and discover she’s 46
even though she looks
older than YiaYia
who’s 71
I take off my sweatshirt
flushed and embarrassed
feeling like a total failure at this
is purple your favorite color? I ask
her eyes go up
will you dress up for Halloween? I ask
her eyes go up
as what? I ask
m-e-r-m-a-i-d she spells
and I laugh and tell her she’ll be a great mermaid
and I’ll help her with her costume
then I say so, should I bring some poems
to read next time before we write?
her eyes go up
I’m not sure what else to ask
but then I remember that question
she asked me
are you in love?
Zena looks up
and she growls
and she eyes the letter board
so I hold it up and she spells
s-e-x-y m-a-n
and I crack up
time to write poems! I say
so we start
and it is slow
this one-letter-at-a-time thing
I try guessing words partway through
but if I guess too soon Zena gets mad
once I guess
dryer? drugstore? dressing room?
before she’s finished the word
then she starts again, spells
d-o-d-o
and glares
at me
I bow, apologize
start again
and follow her exactly
without rushing
and now we have a first line
which I realize is a line
because she chooses a slash:
I open the door to my dreams
next line I say
bu
t Zena doesn’t look up
no? there’s more for this line?
but still she doesn’t look up
we go back to the letter board
and she spells u
you? I ask
you mean me?
her eyes go up
and then I get it
she wants us to take turns
so I say okay, read
I open the door to my dreams
and add the line
and see the face . . .
your turn I say
and slowly Zena spells
of the one I love
and I see she is playing a game
trying to trap me
into revealing something personal
so I say
gazing back at me
then she spells
in fear
so I say
and adoration
and then I hear someone behind me
and Sam is standing there
in the doorway
and I feel my face go hot
and Zena’s eyes go up
and she growls
we’re almost done
I say to Sam
he says take your time
and comes into the room
and leans on the windowsill
and I think by his broad shoulders there
outlined by the late-afternoon light
he must be a swimmer
Zena and I
go back and forth and at last
we’ve written