Lost for Words (14 page)

Mum nodded.

We started at the bottom and worked our way to the top, leaf by leaf. It wasn’t as beautiful as the tree Emily could have made, it probably wasn’t as artistic, but it was colorful.

“Emily would have liked this,” Mum said, hanging a purple leaf on one side of the tree. “This could be
Generous
.”

“We need a leaf for
Funny
. She was funny.”

She paused for a second, and then she nodded.

I colored some leaves in bright orange. I lifted one and said, “I want this one to be a memory I have of Emily holding my hand on the beach in Greece once.”

She nodded.

All I could think to say was, “I miss her.”

Mum started to cry; the tears just fell out of her. She said, “I miss her all the time. Every time I take a breath, I think about her. How could I not? But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about you and what you’ve been through, Sophie. What you’ve seen. I wish I could take it away to make it better for you. But I can’t. I can’t undo what happened. And I can’t undo the state I was in. I’m so sorry.” She looked at me, and I saw her eyes were flecked with gold. I’d never noticed before. “But you have to know this, Sophie. I don’t
ever
wish it was you instead. I never once wished that.”

I said, “I know. I always felt like she was your favorite.” And then because I couldn’t say anything else, I was so choked up, I turned to write on an orange leaf.

She said, “I love you both the same. I always have. And just imagine, that day of the bombing, it could have been both of you. It doesn’t bear thinking about how awful it would be if I lost you, my littlest daughter.” She wiped her eyes. Then she cut out a large leaf and said, “This one could be us: we were part of her life. Me, you, and your father.”

“Yeah…Dad.” I held my breath. “Mum, about Robin. I’m trying to be nice, but it’s taking me a while to get used to him being around. I’ve found it difficult….”

“Robin is just supportive of me right now. He’s a good friend, that’s all. I’m still too sad for anything more.”

“I feel sad all the time. And I have panic attacks. They make me feel like I’m dying. Was that what it was like for her, do you think? Dying, I mean.”

“Oh, Sophie.”

“I think about it constantly. The blood, the screaming, the panic, the flames.”

She nodded and took my hand.

I looked up at her. “Your eyes have changed color,” I said. “They’ve got golden bits in.”

“Really?” she said. And then we sat there for a while, her fingers laced in mine.

THURSDAY, JUNE 29
^TH

After school today Rosa-Leigh, Kalila, and I went shopping for summer clothes. Kalila’s amazing at finding bargains. We got some great stuff.

FRIDAY, JUNE 30
^TH

We had a talk at school about exams and our future. Maybe I’ll be a doctor. No, I don’t think I could cope with all the blood. Maybe I’d like to be a counselor, or a psychiatrist, or psychologist, someone who helps people. I might be good at that. I’ll have to work harder on listening to other people. And I’ll have to do better at school. I haven’t got very good marks this year, although I’ve finally started working harder, because I’m worried about next year. I have loads of catching up to do.

I got home, did some homework, and sat watching TV in a pool of sunshine. A bird flew into the window of our house with a loud knock. I ran outside. A poor little sparrow lay on the grass panting and panicking. I crouched and held my hands around it. It twitched and fluttered in a panic, but I wanted to save it from Fluffy, who was prowling round. After a while it perked up and took a couple of steps. It flew off.

After that I went to find Mum. I blurted out, “Can we go to see her grave?”

“You want to? When I asked you before, you didn’t want to come with me.”

I nodded. “I want to.”

She tugged her car keys out of her pocket. “Let’s go, then.”

The graveyard at the church in Highgate is quiet. The graves are in higgledy-piggledy lines, and in the sunlight the cemetery is a beautiful place. Emily’s grave is over by a line of trees. We sat next to it. I read her name, her age, looked at the flowers someone had left. Nothing happened, and I didn’t feel good or bad. I just enjoyed Emily, Mum, and me sitting there all together—even though Emily wasn’t there, she
was
, if that makes any sense—and time went by.

THURSDAY, JULY 6
^TH

It’s the memorial service tomorrow.

FRIDAY, JULY 7
^TH

We balanced Emily’s tree in the back of the car next to me and drove to the memorial service. Well, Robin drove.

Once we arrived, I began to feel light-headed. There were loads of people standing around. We waited for a bit, and Mum went to put Emily’s tree by the stage area. Then
this old woman went up and spoke into the microphone. She started by reading all the names of the people who’d died in the bombing. When she read out Emily’s name, I thought I might collapse. Then I saw a tall guy I recognized. It came back to me immediately: he was the guy who’d helped me out of the tunnel. He had a scar along one cheek, running under one eye. He was holding a single red rose.

Another guy came over to us. Simon. Emily’s boyfriend, at art college. I’d met him at her funeral. Mum leaned over and said, “Hi. Nice to see you, Simon.” And then, “Thank you for coming.”

Simon said, “We all miss her,” and he gestured over to a group of people. Emily’s friends from art college. Some of them were crying. Her whole other life. And a familiar anger rose from my stomach, but then, instead of getting stuck in my throat, it flew out the top of me into the vast open sky. I let out a slow breath. My hands had been clenched, I noticed, so I relaxed them and spread my fingers wide. I smiled over at Emily’s friends, and two or three of them must have recognized me from my visits, because they smiled back.

Up on the podium people talked of terrorism and of the suicide bombers who’d made the trains and the bus blow up. I didn’t want to hear about them. I didn’t want to think about why they’d done what they’d done, because no matter how much I think about it, it never makes any sense or any difference, and it doesn’t make me any less angry or
sick. Then the politicians stopped speaking and, one by one, people got up to talk about those who’d died. I stood near the stage listening.

Then it was Mum’s turn. She stood in front of all these strangers and some of our oldest family friends. The Haywoods were bunched together, Katherine holding Mark tightly. Lucy smiled over at me. Mrs. Haynes and Ms. Bloxam were with a group of other teachers from my school, and witchy Mrs. Haynes nodded over at me with tears in her eyes. Next to them stood Rosa-Leigh and her huge family, with Kalila. Rosa-Leigh waved, and so did Joshua, her oldest brother. A little farther off Abigail huddled with Zara. I smiled at her, then turned back to Mum standing all alone.

Mum seemed like she was about to say something, but then the words must have become stuck, because she gestured at Emily’s tree and started crying. I don’t know what came over me. I saw her standing there all by herself, and I pushed past the people in front of me and walked up to stand next to her. I said, “It’s hard sometimes without Emily for Mum and me to remember we’ve still got each other.” I slipped my hand in hers and she squeezed hard.

And then we both took it in turns to talk to all those people about my sister. It probably wasn’t the best speech in the world. But it felt to me like it was. And at the end I said, “I want to add one thing.”

My heart pounded, but I made myself read out this poem. I added a verse to the end; I think it’s better now.

I looked out at the crowd. Some of the people had tears on their cheeks or tissues pressed against their faces. Then I looked at Mum. She was staring at me, her eyes shining like bubbles blown by a child.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 12
^TH

After school I went to see Koreen, the other therapist. I told her that, to help me, Lynda had given me a book to write in and that I’ve nearly filled every page. Koreen said she’d get me a new book so I could carry on. I thanked her but said I could buy my own.

We talked more about panic attacks, about Emily, and the memorial service, about my mum. And then I started talking about the bombing and what it was like that day. Just talking about it made me panic, but Koreen listened and waited while I got through. I realized it’s okay that it’s going to take me a long time to recover after what’s happened. It’s normal.

SUNDAY, JULY 16
^TH

At Sunday lunch, which Mum spent ALL morning preparing, she and I were bickering because she wanted me to carve the chicken but I thought she should do it. Robin gazed at the ceiling—obviously pretending not to be in the room.

Mum suddenly said, mid-bicker, “I’ve bought you and me a flight to Italy this summer. We’ll go for two weeks.” That shut me up.

Robin’s not invited, and he doesn’t seem to mind at all.
He said, “It’s important you and your mum spend time together.”

I kind of felt fond of him for about two whole minutes. Then he started telling a really long story about some trip he took in Bolivia five years ago, and I almost passed out with boredom.

MONDAY, JULY 17
^TH

Rosa-Leigh told me at lunch today that she’s having an end-of-school party for both our birthdays at her amazing house. She’s already organized everything.

THURSDAY, JULY 20
^TH

LAST DAY OF SCHOOL. Rosa-Leigh called to chat about her party. When I got off the phone, I sat around in the kitchen with Mum and Robin. Mum said she was going to Boxercise, so I ended up going with her again. I think I’ll go every week.

FRIDAY, JULY 21
^ST

Robin bought me a great dress for the party. It fits perfectly. It’s turquoise and silky and gorgeous, and I can’t believe he chose so well.

SUNDAY, JULY 23
^RD

I woke up when it was REALLY EARLY and still dark. I climbed onto the roof. The air had a summery feel, and I thought of the time Emily and I had sat up there and waited for sunrise. I started working on a found poem. I used words from the pages I’d written in this notebook, which isn’t technically a found poem. I might show the poem to Mum.

When I was finished, I looked up and light streaked the sky in fingers of pink and blue. Then, as I was watching, the sun glimmered over the roofs of the houses and appeared in a fireball of molten orange. I blinked. For a moment I could have sworn Emily was sitting right there next to me.

MONDAY, JULY 24
^TH

I went out today and bought a new book for when this one runs out, which it’s about to. The new book’s got a map of the world on the front cover.

FRIDAY, JULY 28
^TH

Kalila and I are going to the party together. Can’t wait! Rosa-Leigh’s brother Joshua is going to be there, and I know this for a FACT because he TOLD Rosa-Leigh to tell me he would be. She says if I really like him then she doesn’t mind, but I don’t know! I like him, I think, but I don’t know if I even want to get involved with anyone right now. Oh, I don’t know.

I’m wearing the silky dress Robin got me, which feels
fantastic against my skin. Emily would love this dress. I’d let her borrow it if she were still here. It feels like she is sometimes. Those times are good.

I have to get ready. Kalila will be here in a minute.

Thank you, Lynne, Susan, and Sarah S, for pushing this novel to be what it is now.

Thanks, Kelley Jo Burke and the Saskatchewan Arts Board, for supporting me.

Thank you, Jackie and Natasha, for everything you’ve done for me and for my books.

Thank you, Ellie, Ellen, Jenny, Dad, and Anneke, for reading early drafts.

Thanks, Leona and Jill, for the lunches and writerly conversation.

Thank you, Juliette, just because.

And thank you, Yann, for it all.

Alice Kuipers
is the author of
LIFE ON THE REFRIGERATOR DOOR
, which was published in twenty-eight countries and won several awards. She was born and raised in London, England, and now lives in Saskatoon, Canada.

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