The Weight of Water

  She still won’t look.

  She won’t look at me when I sit

  Opposite her at dinner

  Trying not to spill anything,

  Even eating the onions.

  She won’t look at me

  In bed at night,

  And if we accidentally touch,

  She shakes me off like

  She’s been bitten,

  Like I’m poison.

  So now I’m feeling too

  Brittle to look at her.

  Instead I stare at the

  Hem of her dress,

  Or a clip in her hair,

  Or the rings on her fingers

  When we speak.

  And it all makes me feel

  Like going swimming.

  Desperation

  It is

  Not my fault

  Tata doesn’t

  Love you

  Any more.

  Can I say that to her?

  Hope

  Someone was cruel to Mama at work.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say.

  Mama sniffs.

  And now she wants to go home.

  ‘To Gdańsk?’ I ask.

  She nods.

  She hasn’t showered in days.

  ‘Really?’ I ask.

  She nods again.

  ‘When?’ I ask.

  Mama shrugs

  Then puts her head into her hands and weeps.

  Split

  There are many Kasienkas now.

  She has split into pieces and

  Scattered herself about like fallen fruit

  Beneath a leafless tree.

  One Kasienka is Mama’s girl –

  The Kasienka who chews quietly

  And sleeps with a teddy bear in her arms.

  She is muted and hidden and

  Wants nothing more than to run to Tata –

  To form a real family again.

  Another Kasienka is Tata’s pilgrim,

  The tight-lipped teenage Kasienka.

  She is frightening and moody.

  She is also William’s Cassie,

  Shy-eyed and broad-backed –

  A swimmer, but a girl before anything else:

  A girlfriend with a mouth and breasts.

  Cassie belongs to Clair too,

  She smells of cabbage and fear.

  She is a dumb, defiant victim.

  But she is easily demolished.

  If only I knew Kasienka’s Kasienka:

  When I search for myself in the bathroom mirror

  I cannot find her at all.

  When I am alone

  I do not know who I am.

  When I am alone

  I am nothing.

  Part 3

  Dalilah

  You are the new girl in the class

  And maybe they will hate you

  Instead of me.

  They do it like this:

  They look,

  They whisper,

  They laugh.

  And it doesn’t sound like much,

  But when it happens

  Every day

  It feels like you’re walking uphill

  Carrying a giant boulder on your shoulder.

  You are the new girl in the class

  And maybe they will hate you

  Instead of me.

  Maybe they will notice your shoes.

  I do.

  They are not like everyone else’s:

  They are thick and buckled

  And you’re wearing knee-high socks

  Which no one does.

  But I only half want that –

  I only half want you hunted.

  Mostly I want a friend.

  So when the teacher says,

  ‘Lily will need a partner,’

  I throw up my hand,

  Offer up myself to you,

  And you look at me and smile

  And that

  Makes

  My

  Day.

  The Veil

  Dalilah wears a purple veil and she is so pretty in it.

  She is

  All eyes.

  I make myself jealous looking at her,

  Imagining my face framed,

  My hair hidden beneath folds of fabric.

  When I see women in the street

  With veils down to their feet,

  Chadors,

  I am jealous too,

  Jealous of their concealment,

  Of a robe that would cover me

  from head to toe

  And hide me from the world.

  It would be like a kind of armour,

  A veil like that,

  A veil that covered me

  from head to toe

  So no one could get in.

  July 7

  At 8.50 a.m. The Bell rings and we stand

  To remember

  What happened.

  But Clair is looking at Dalilah

  Forgetting,

  Not remembering at all.

  And at break we are surrounded

  And Marie says,

  ‘Why did you say they deserved it?

  I heard you. I heard you whisper to Cassie.

  I heard you say that.’

  And Dalilah looks at me because she was standing to remember

  What we were all too young to remember

  While Clair was standing looking at her.

  In Mama’s Absence

  There are balloons all over the place.

  There are red balloons in the house

  And more in the garden.

  Helium balloons on string

  To keep them from being

  Captured by the sky.

  William’s grandmother

  Is having her birthday party

  And she wanted balloons

  Instead of waxy candles that would

  Ruin the cake.

  There is a barbecue in the garden

  And William’s father

  Is wearing a stripy apron and

  Cooking everything outside.

  Meats mainly.

  There is music

  Coming from two heavy black

  Speakers

  Connected to an iPod

  And a bouncy castle for the kids.

  We both want to bounce

  But his cousins are on it and they’re

  Young –

  And we don’t want to

  Be like them.

  Then William’s grandmother

  Crawls into the castle and starts to jump

  And jump

  And I laugh

  Out loud

  With William.

  I do not think she is like

  Any grandmother

  I have ever seen before.

  I could not imagine Babcia

  Bouncing.

  So it’s OK for us to jump

  Too.

  And we do.

  We hold hands and jump and jump

  And I squeal a little

  When I fall over,

  When I fall on top of William,

  Which I do

  Again

  And again.

  William’s father doesn’t scowl

  When we close

  The bedroom door,

  Just says, ‘Be good, kids.’

  He turns on his computer

  And asks me to choose a song.

  I point to a track I don’t recognise

  And he says, ‘Cool,’

  And I feel good.

  Music fills the small room as

  A firework explodes inside my belly and

  Colour spins and sparkles in my gut.

  When he smiles it is like having a torch

  Shine right at me

  Lighting up all the dark corners,

  And I cannot imagine why everyone

  Is not in love with him.

  William leans in

  Opens his mouth

  And I do too.

  But not t
oo wide.

  Just enough

  To give him room to breathe into me.

  I close my eyes,

  Let William lead,

  And try not to pant too loudly

  As we do things

  Mama would hate.

  When we have kissed enough

  I ask him where his mother is –

  Why his mother is missing –

  And he shows me a photograph

  Of a woman with no hair and says

  ‘Mum died.’

  And then we hug

  Until it is very dark outside.

  And I tell him how sorry I am.

  And I tell him about Mama

  And Tata,

  And revealing our feelings

  Means more than the kisses ever could.

  And inside I am bursting to tell Tata how grateful

  I am that he was missing and

  Not dead.

  Maybe I Should Not

  Be thinking of William

  And aching

  In this way.

  But when Mama sees me and

  Doesn’t look closely enough to notice the scandal

  Printed all over my skin,

  I do not feel guilty at all.

  Confidence

  When I tell William

  All about Clair

  He says, ‘Stand up for yourself.’

  William is in Year Nine.

  He could save me from the pack

  But he does not want to:

  He knows

  I can save

  Myself.

  And this makes me glow

  And love him even more.

  Practice

  Girls shouldn’t want to

  Beat each other –

  But I want to beat everyone,

  To know I’m faster,

  And stronger

  Than the girls in the other lanes,

  Than Clair in lane four.

  It isn’t meant to be a competition.

  We’re just training.

  No prizes or trophies for coming in first

  Today.

  And yet.

  When I hear the whistle,

  I dive with a fierceness

  I don’t expect,

  And a passion for first place

  Propels me

  Through the water

  To the other end and back again.

  I take breaths

  Only every four strokes,

  Preferring to see the

  Blinking tiled bottom of the pool

  Than the clumsy splashes

  Of my teammates,

  Than Clair out ahead of me.

  When I pull myself from the pool

  Ms Morrow approaches and says,

  ‘Nice one.’

  Then, one after another,

  The other girls emerge too.

  Some shake their heads,

  Others prefer to cut their eyes.

  Clair won’t look,

  She turns in the water

  And does backstroke

  Up to the other end.

  ‘She wants to be team captain,’

  Marie tells me later.

  ‘So be careful;

  There’ll be trouble if the coach

  Chooses you.’

  Ms Morrow

  Ms Morrow does not know.

  She does not know but she suspects.

  After practice she keeps me back

  To check.

  And this is what I have been waiting for.

  But I do not know what to say.

  Or how to tell what’s happened.

  When Ms Morrow says, ‘What’s going on?’

  I cannot tell her everything.

  So I tell her nothing.

  Family

  When Mama and Tata stand together

  They do not look right:

  Tata is too shiny for the room

  And for Mama

  Now.

  Together they are tuneless;

  The sounds they make are ugly,

  Like knives being sharpened

  Against stone.

  Together they are waxwork statues;

  Recognisable

  But lifeless.

  Tata will not look around the room

  Even when Mama says,

  ‘Look!

  Look where we have been living!’

  He is staring at his smart, shiny

  Shoes and will not notice

  There is only one bed in the room

  And the kitchen is in here too.

  ‘Look!

  Look how we have been living!’

  Mama shouts.

  But Tata is staring at his tight, shiny

  Shoes and will not notice

  That Mama’s clothes are frayed and frumpy

  And mine are too.

  Tata merely mumbles and goes on

  Looking at the floor

  While Mama keeps condemning him.

  Tata is as silent in the room

  As he was before we found him.

  When Tata has gone Mama whispers,

  ‘Look . . .

  Look at what your father has become.

  And Kasienka

  loves Tata

  more than

  she loves

  Mama.’

  A Solution

  Melanie is standing at the school gates

  holding Briony

  by the hand.

  Briony is wearing a green dress

  and licking a melting ice cream.

  Melanie waves and I wave back

  and then we walk

  together to her car

  Where she buckles Briony in

  and Briony rubs ice cream

  all over the seats.

  Melanie is taking Briony to the pool

  And thinks I might like to come too,

  Which I do.

  I do not do lengths up

  And down

  The pool because

  The wave machine is on so I splash

  And play with Briony

  And we pretend we are at the beach,

  The wild ocean lapping us,

  Launching us on to the shore.

  Melanie does not change into her costume;

  She sits by the side of the pool

  Chat, chat, chatting on her phone

  And not watching us at all.

  So when a wave takes Briony away from the edge

  Into the gyre of water

  And spins

  Her

  About

  And around

  Up and down,

  Melanie will not save her because she is

  Chat, chat, chatting on the phone.

  And for a moment I pause

  And wonder what life could be without

  Briony.

  Allegiance

  When Tata gets home from work we sit

  Around the dining table

  Like a real family

  Eating spaghetti bolognese,

  Wearing bibs like babies and

  Trying not to flick sauce on our faces.

  Melanie says, ‘She was amazing.

  She saved her life.’

  Then Melanie says,

  ‘We would like you to come and live with us,

  Kasienka. Here.’

  I stop eating my pasta to look at Tata,

  To see if this means he has left Mama

  For ever.

  And Melanie says,

  ‘You would have your own bed.

  You would have a room to yourself

  And a computer, if you like.’

  Tata has been telling tales,

  Stories that make Mama

  seem bad.

  When he looks up he is frowning

  And then he looks at Briony

  and I know this means that he will not

  be back

  To live with us;

  That it is Melanie and Briony

  For ever.
br />   She serves éclairs for dessert,

  Expensive chocolate dribbled pastries

  That Mama could never afford,

  And I wish I could take mine home.

  To give to Mama.

  As a treat.

  Instead of eating it

  Myself.

  When I am helping to load the dishes

  Melanie takes my arm and says,

  ‘Will you come and live with us?’

  But Melanie does not know

  How Mama would feel.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘I can’t live here.’

  I won’t leave Mama.

  Cracked

  I cannot make Mama whole again.

  Tata stole

  pieces

  of

  her

  and now she is

  Jagged at the edges –

  Cracked.

  When I get home I take off my shoes

  To keep the carpet clean

  And do my homework

  Without asking questions.

  I tiptoe.

  I am silent.

  She does not look at me

  Any more.

  She lies in bed

  With a book and a

  Glass of wine

  Held to her heart.

  Sometimes she drinks

  Half a bottle,

  And maybe she drinks

  Even more.