I remember the wrinkled water of the canal reflecting my face, just the way I felt: inside out, like a Picasso. Everything was sad and sallow and grey, as if his memory had bled to death.

So why didn’t I cry? Empty anger was circling in my soul, just grief-in-waiting.

I was holding on to the rail, thinking how everyone else had cried when "juffrouw" Schaafsma

told us that Henkie had drowned. Her eyes had looked like wet marbles and there was something in her voice, that silenced everybody.

"Henkie died", she told us and tried to compose herself to explain how our classmate drowned in the canal. While she spoke I turned to look at the empty desk behind me and decided not to believe her. Kids don’t die and Henkie always throbbed with energy, so this couldn’t be true.

We continued our first grade activities till the principal came in our classroom to talk about Henkie and his family. He asked us to bring a guilder to school tomorrow to help Henkie’s family with the funeral costs.

I finally believed he had died. The principal said so. They all cried again and I felt guilty and strange due to my lack of tears. My pain was invisible—like shadows in the night or tears in the rain. Death is nothing but a doorway, but even at six I knew it was a one-way door.

I continued to stare at the water, it was black and dead, like Henkie. A gust of wind made me hang on to my hair, remembering the bald guy that told me his hair had blown of his head on this bridge. Mama told me that this story wasn’t true, but how did she know, she never believed anything. Like when the milk was spoiled and she wanted me to drink it. But I ran next door to Oma and then Mama got in trouble. Oma always saved me from the spoiled food and told me it was because of the war that Mama never wanted to throw food away.

The pungent smell of the water made me shiver and in the reflection of the black, scudding clouds I imagined I could see all the children who had ever drowned in that stinking canal.

And then I remember slamming my head against the rail till the image went away and the tears finally came.

gea