as it turns out

  in Lisa’s pocket

  was a printout

  of an email

  from Jake

  who wrote

  we can’t hate ourselves

  just find a way to make this

  turn you into someone

  better than you were

  that’s what we all have to do

  that’s all we can do

  I translate this to Baachan

  who squeezes her eyes shut

  shakes her head

  mournful, slow

  and uses that handkerchief

  that’s always tucked and ready

  in her front

  apron pocket

  Newton’s third law

  of reciprocal action

  says

  for every action there is an equal

  and opposite

  reaction

  that all forces are interactions

  all forces come in pairs

  Physics and You

  spells it out

  says

  if body A exerts a force

  on body B

  then body B will exert a force

  of the same magnitude

  on body A

  push and pull

  I think

  maybe this

  is what happened

  with Lisa

  and you, Ruth—

  body A

  and body B

  After two and a half days

  Baachan tells me to get up

  and shower

  and then come help

  in the kitchen

  start your body moving she says

  your mind will follow

  Yurie has left for work

  Aunt, Uncle and Koichi are in the groves

  they’ve all eaten

  Baachan’s washing up

  I sit at the table alone

  I eat rice, miso soup

  then Baachan and I

  go for a walk

  up to the temple

  before the heat starts

  before the cicadas

  are deafening

  when there is still

  coolness to be found

  in shade

  we trudge uphill

  Baachan pausing often

  to wipe her brow and neck

  with her handkerchief

  as we climb higher

  beyond the temple

  up terraces

  of stone monuments

  we bow before the Mano grave

  Baachan standing in prayer

  long after I have opened my eyes

  to stare at family names

  at the temple

  closed and quiet

  we ascend stone steps

  and sit down

  on the weathered boards

  of the veranda

  under the deep eave

  facing the bay

  and faint gray hint

  of Mount Fuji

  suicide can spread

  Baachan finally says

  utsuru she adds

  like a virus

  you have to stop it

  put up barriers

  I rock back and forth

  exhale

  ask

  do you think it was a mistake—

  the letter to Jake

  the email from Jake

  to Lisa?

  a hot wind gusts

  behind us

  from the south

  curling over the mountaintop

  brushing tree canopies

  and rolling down the slopes

  to breathe on us like dragon fire

  there

  on the veranda

  no she says

  what I think was a mistake

  was sending a girl

  of fourteen away

  to a different state

  to live in a dormitory

  by herself

  during a summer like this

  meaning a summer

  after what you did

  with the rope

  in Osgoods’ orchard

  I say to Baachan

  but I was sent away, too

  to another country

  far from home

  and Baachan looks at me

  like I’m truly twisted

  says

  far from home?

  what are you saying?

  you came home, Kana-chan,

  you came home to family

  That afternoon

  I start work again

  in the groves

  thinning

  and solving problems

  with Koichi

  in the mountain air

  above the bay

  and some mikan

  in the lowest groves

  are just turning color

  the stubborn green

  finally going yellow

  we take a day off

  during my last week

  all six of us

  and drive the van

  up the Shonan coast

  to Kamakura

  to visit the

  Big Buddha

  where I light incense

  and for once

  know what to say

  when I pray

  which is for you

  and Lisa both

  to find peace

  then two days before

  my flight home

  there is a surprise

  a farewell dinner

  for me

  at Asuka’s house

  sliding doors have been removed

  in several rooms

  to make a long hall

  for two rows

  of low tables

  with men down the farthest ends

  and women toward the entrance

  sitting and rising and going

  back and forth and

  in and out of the kitchen

  there are heaps of food

  and bottles of drinks

  brought by cousins

  and second cousins

  and aunts and uncles

  and people from the village

  and a few from beyond

  and Asuka and Rika and Ai

  and even a few girls

  from my class at the

  middle school

  everyone spilling out into

  side rooms

  the entryway

  the driveway even

  on cue from Yurie

  I take bottles

  of beer and sake and

  oolong tea and juice

  and go from person to person

  pouring into their glasses

  speaking my thanks

  bowing

  smiling

  chatting

  whether I remember

  who

  they are

  or not

  and they start to talk

  about my mother

  and my father

  and someone says that

  it is time for them

  to visit

  and someone else says

  that a party with them

  would be good

  but I mention that

  with my mother’s business

  winter is better

  since it’s difficult

  for her to leave in summer

  and suddenly they ask

  if I will be back

  next summer

  the room goes quiet

  I hadn’t thought

  about that

  I look toward Uncle then

  because I know that such respect

  is what’s expected

  and I look at Aunt

  and Baachan

  and Koichi

  and Yurie

  and they, too

  are waiting

  I bow

  and say

  if they will have me

  then add

  and if they will have Emi, too

  some handkerchiefs come out

  and there are cheers

  and Asuka and Rika and Ai rush

  to pour more drinks

  and then the men

  joke that Uncle’s fall harvest

  will be bigger next year

  with all that extra summer help

  that they will have to work hard

  to keep up and will have to see

  what relatives they can get

  to come help, too

  Then I’m back

  in New York

  in my room with Emi

  talking about the groves

  and missing the scent

  of mikan on my hands

  wishing I could have stayed

  a few more weeks

  for the start of the fall harvest

  just to see those mountain slopes

  with row after terraced row of trees

  with mikan all turned orange

  the day after I arrive

  I go see Jake

  riding my bike up

  the hill you climbed

  alone that night

  his mom hugs me

  in the driveway

  then shakes her head

  and gives me a deep look

  and I know

  he’s been having a hard time

  he and I

  sit on wicker chairs

  on their porch

  but neither of us

  speaks

  can we walk? I finally ask

  he nods

  and we go down the steps

  after we’ve walked

  away from their house

  along the road that continues uphill

  and that has hardly any traffic

  ever

  I stop on the rough edge of the asphalt

  turn to him and am about to say

  that I’m sorry and more

  but Jake warns

  don’t

  he glares then looks off, way off

  to where the road dips

  and beyond where a hill rises

  to a wooded dome

  he eyes me

  his look hard, steely

  then softer

  pained

  can I ask a favor? I finally ask

  he waits, suspicious

  and I almost don’t ask

  but I do

  the tree …

  can I see it?

  he seems to inflate with anger

  and I think he’s going to send me away

  as he exhales and inhales

  like a squall

  I wait

  for the weather in his eyes

  to shift

  when it finally does

  he leads me back down the road

  up their driveway

  behind their house

  and into the orchard

  we walk down

  the central rutted road

  ahead of me Jake

  dragging his feet

  kicking up dust

  when he turns left into a row

  I pause

  follow again

  and stop when he stops

  at the third tree

  he exhales

  then raises his arm

  and points upward

  I follow with my eyes

  and can’t help

  but cry out

  because somehow, Ruth,

  I’d pictured

  a branch still

  spring-bare

  and nearly empty

  but the branch

  Jake points to

  is full

  heavy

  drooping with

  the most stunning

  abundance

  of ripe apples

  Jake and I sit down beneath

  that abundance and

  for a long time we don’t talk

  when I do finally speak

  I tell Jake that

  later this month

  we will visit

  our cousins for Rosh Hashanah

  and join the Tashlich walk

  along the river

  as we do each year

  to focus on the past year

  casting crumbs of bread

  symbolizing our sins, our mistakes

  into the water

  and I say I will have to cast a whole

  loaf of bread

  or several

  to equal enough crumbs

  for all my mistakes

  this past year

  he nods

  then says

  I’d need a loaf, too

  no, I say

  not you

  there’s just one important crumb

  you need to cast

  which one’s that? he asks

  and I say

  the one for blaming yourself

  Two days later is

  the memorial service

  for Lisa, delayed so all of us

  who’ve been away can attend

  and where your mother

  gives a moving speech to us all

  has us hold hands, Ruth,

  until everyone in the chapel

  is connected

  in one big

  tangled chain

  she begs us

  each link

  in that community chain

  to make a pact to do

  what you can’t do

  what Lisa can’t do

  anymore—

  which is

  live

  then when she speaks of her idea to create

  a memorial among some trees

  in a section of orchard

  that Jake’s family has offered to

  donate

  I start

  thinking

  seeing

  sketching

  in my head

  as the service goes on

  tearful speeches one after another

  tributes to Lisa

  pleas to us all

  it is like

  I am drawing in the dirt

  in the mikan groves

  with Koichi

  later I tell

  Emi

  my mother

  my father

  and they tell me to draw

  in earnest

  and take me to an art store

  for supplies

  and then I do a difficult thing

  which is to call

  your mother

  to tell her

  my idea

  she invites me to come

  to your house the next week

  after school

  and there

  in your dining room

  your dogs checking me out

  I unroll and show her

  my plan

  which is

  for a path

  of flat stones

  that meanders

  through the orchard

  one stone to represent

  each of us former

  eighth-grade girls

  stones leading to a gazebo

  with benches for

  sitting

  talking

  watching the trees

  the rhythm of the year

  in sap, leaves, buds, fruit

  the cycle of growth and rest

  growth and rest

  I tell her that

  every year when the

  apples are in blossom

  we’ll gather

  decorate the gazebo

  with new greens

  bring you and Lisa

  your favorite foods

  and light small welcome fires

  for you both

  to join us

  and maybe we’ll sing

  or play some music

  maybe we’ll dance

  or at least walk

  around the gazebo

  and maybe we’ll picnic

  in the orchard

  or maybe not

  but definitely we’ll share

  our hopes

  dreams

  goals

  all the ways we promise

  to survive

  another year

  without you both

  your mother

  nods

  and starts to move her mouth

  but then she furrows her brow

  and says

  just one thing—

  can you make

  those stepping stones enough

  for all the eighth-grade girls

  and boys?

  I say

  of course

  not knowing why

  I didn’t think of that myself

  then I wait

  as your mother studies my drawings

  leans over them

  runs her fingers over my

  careful pen lines and letters

  and underneath

  the dogs sigh and

  settle down

  at my feet

  she sits up straight

  breathes in deep

  with effort it seems

  yes

  she finally says

  she would be pleased

  if I shared the plan with

  Jake and his family

  and if they approve

  and your father and brother approve

  and if Lisa’s godparents approve

  she would be especially pleased

  if I made the design

  and built the memorial

  with everyone’s help

  as I leave your house

  to bike home

 

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