The Language Inside (50 page)

I finally call Samnang

Tuesday night

what’s up? I’ve texted

like, a hundred times
I say

then hear

Lok Ta Chea died

over the weekend

I found out Sunday night

I suck in air

say I’m sorry

but the truth is

I’d forgotten

Chea Pen was in the hospital

will there be a funeral?

should I go?

there’s a funeral

and cremation

and a seventh-day ceremony

but you don’t need to go

it’s all Cambodian
he says

and just so you know

tomorrow

the Newall Center

I won’t be going

I spent this afternoon

with Lok Ta Leap

oh
I say

I’ll stop by

to see him

the next day I take the bus

to the Newall Center

and Zena’s frustrated

with her computer—

the word predictions

aren’t always bringing up

exactly what she wants

give it time
I tell her

let’s just use the letter board today

and we do

but she’s impatient

and irritable

and finally I figure out

that she doesn’t have any poems

besides those she’s typed

into the computer but can’t

seem to retrieve to show me

and doesn’t want to spell out

all over again

I consider reading her the refugee poem

from the book Samnang loaned me

but it seems too harsh for her mood

so I read a poem that I found online

written by a performance poet

after her first visit to Phnom Penh

a poem that repeats in a list

and is full of hope

for the children of Cambodia

like the poet herself

Zena looks up when I ask if she likes it

but there’s no shine in her eyes

no spark of connection

so I ask if she wants to talk

or write poems

by letter board

or if she’d just rather work on her computer

but she seems exhausted by

her struggle to be able to write

independent of any helpers

so I tell her I’ll come to the workshop

led by that poet from the university on Saturday

I joke that this will save me from a skating date

and Zena looks up

a slight gleam in her eye

I tell her I’ll bring the notebook

so we can share poems

we’ve worked on

even if we can’t

access the poems

in the computer

she looks up again

but her eyes are heavy

so I get ready to leave

see you on Saturday

I say

I stop by Leap Sok’s room

do
sompeas

and tell him I’m so sorry

and bow

I set my things down

and from my bag I pull

sheets of origami
washi
paper

I fold five cranes

and set them around the room

               on Chea Pen’s food table

               by the photo of Wat Banan

               near the Buddha and Angkor Wat

               on Chea Pen’s empty bed

               and before a small shrine

                         set up on the dresser with

                         candles, incense and flowers

                         and a photo of Chea Pen

Leap Sok nods

and I bow

and go

then I return to Zena

who’s blinking at her computer again

and I put cranes all over her room, too

and even fold a purple one

and tuck it into the barrette in her hair

and finally, finally, finally

her eyes smile

YiaYia picks me up

and hands me my

black sweater

black skirt

and some flats

which I change into

in the car

she was the one

who insisted we go

and through Beth reached Lily

who gave her the details

on Chea Pen’s funeral