Indian Country Noir (Akashic Noir) (11 page)

You helped me.

He was playing hard to get.

Why this time? I asked, spinning in my little lonely world.
Not that I don't appreciate the effort, but there're about a
hundred times I could name where I could've used the help.
Like that RPG in the market.

This time, you were working with something from my world.
You needed more than dreams.

You sorry I didn't listen?

You do what you're going to do.

Well, I got myself a monster. Does that make me a monster too?

Grandpa didn't answer right away, so I did it for him: I
guess that's why they call it a curse. Or responsibility.

Maybe you got some First in you after all.

I gave her up. Killed her inside me.

She's still with you. With everybody. She's carrying the medicine of our return from where the First came from. All the First,
and not just for one man, but for everybody. For everyone you're
keeping inside you, and the ones you let go.

That's some powerful shit.

Best there is.

Something caressed my face, and I thought it was Medicine Snake Woman saying her farewell. But her touch was
cold and then I thought she was dead. I opened my eyes, resolving not to let my heart break again when I looked up at
her face. Instead of her, I saw the head of a giant white snake
over me, tongue tasting the air, one cold eye fixed on me.

Your great-grandfather died because he killed his monster.

Snake. Talking. I wasn't having it.

That bridge collapse wasn't his fault.

No, but battle has its cost.

The design was flawed. The builders didn't correct it. I
looked it up.

If your grandfather hadn't fought as long and hard as he did to
win, the weight would have held long enough for the men to leave
at day's end. But if he'd lost, far more terrible things would have
come to the Kahnawake. And to more. Your grandfather, he was
killed by the one that came for him.

My heart jumped. Grandpa? You never told me.

And terrible things followed. Fire. And blood. For the world.

And Dad-my dad ...

Your father was killed before his time came. You carried his
burden, as well as your own.

So, what's the cost of my winning? Am I going to die? Is
my apartment building going to collapse-

You paid your price, in your heart.

I didn't like the way that sounded. Already, I was feeling
like I needed a way to let everything slide off of me. Maybe
even lose Grandpa in my head. So I said, Am I done? Is the
blood and the duty part of my life over?

You're not that special.

Ideas burst out of the little boxes I'd tried keeping them
locked up in. They chased each other around in my head like
mice running from a cat, and the circle of my little life suddenly grew bigger. Medicine Snake Woman. Monsters. Dead
people in my head. A burden of duty. I got a little cold thinking about how lucky I'd been, with Grandpa in my head and
Medicine Snake Woman being there to give me a way to come
out on top. And then I was cold as the far side of the moon,
thinking of Great-Grandpa all alone on high steel against
something like that. And Grandpa, going down, then Dad,
never getting the chance to even fight, having to watch me
come to his grave searching for answers and not being able to
give me any.

Then I remembered it wasn't Grandpa talking. It was the
damned snake.

"What the hell are you?" My question echoed in the big
empty train station, and I looked to the tunnel entrances for
someone new to come into my life.

That's your animal spirit, boy. Snake. Must be the white man
part of you.

Grandpa.

I gave a look back into that snake's eye. Why?

Gift from Medicine Snake Woman. Consider it your love
child.

I pushed myself up and saw her standing on the platform
edge smiling at me, though her face was bruised. She favored
one leg and kept her hands behind her back.

"Thanks-" I started to say, but she was already gone.

And then I remembered, she'd already said, "You're
welcome."

The snake curled around me, gave me a squeeze. I saw
stars. Python, boa constrictor, I couldn't decide. But after the thing finished hugging and sliding over me, I felt a lot better,
though by the end the snake was down to the size of a string I
could tie around my finger.

I picked up the little snake, which wriggled in my palm,
and asked it, "How did you know that stuff about my father
and grandpa?"

Of course, there was no answer. Still, I was grateful. For a
little while.

Medicine Snake Woman was already fading from my
heart. She was dead, at least to my flesh-and-blood heart. I'd
done a good job killing and burying her. Pretty soon, the surprise and sorrow and pride I'd felt knowing what happened to
my ancestors would slide off of me too. Because nothing sticks
with me, not for long.

But the circle I was running in was still bigger. My life
was taking a turn. I figured maybe I'd finally found that path
Grandpa liked to talk about, yet the crossroads I was bound to
run into looked like it was going to be serious trouble, if this
monster was just the start. But I was sure the snake was going
to come in handy.

Just shows you can't always be right.

I talked to the pale string of wriggling meat in my palm.
"So you're supposed to be my guide, my medicine, my healer?
White snake for the white man in me. Very funny. So what do
you have to say, Snake? You and Grandpa. Who am I? What
am I here for? What's next?"

It wasn't one voice that answered, but two, both in my
head. Yeah, I was on the path, all right, walking through high
places and sure to see more and bigger monsters in days to
come. And for a long time to come, I knew I'd be hearing
Snake and Grandpa saying just what they said when I asked
them all those stupid questions: You ain't that special.

Ontario, Canada

'm impressed you showed up," says Mrs. Saunders.
"Thanks." I look behind her for my boys. I'm not here to
fight. I'm here to take my boys out.

"I kept them in their rooms. I didn't want them to be disappointed." She lets her voice drift off, and I'm sixteen again,
and Noelle and me are shooting up till nothing else matters.
I shake that off. Noelle's dead, her mother's standing in the
doorway, blocking me from seeing my sons, and as their dad,
I'm not going to let her.

Mrs. Saunders shades her eyes. It's October in Cornwall,
Ontario, so the sun's not blinding her. She's making a point.
Noelle used to say you could tell a lot about someone from the
hands. Mrs. Saunders's hands look pretty young for a woman
who's almost seventy. Plus, she still wears her wedding ring
even though Mr. Saunders has been dead for at least twenty
years. She asks, "Who's that in the car?"

"My girlfriend Shana." I told her to stay outside. I knew it
would get too messy. I raise my voice. "We're here to see Jake
and Tommy."

The Buick door slams. I whip around, but Shana's already
striding up to the porch with her best waitress grin. "It's nice
to meet you, Mrs. Saunders. My name is Shana-"

"I'm sure," says Mrs. Saunders, letting Shana's hand hang
in the breeze. "So nice of Fred to bring his latest girlfriend to meet the boys." I see her taking in Shana's brown skin, big
nose, and bigger tits.

Shana doesn't get rattled. Like I said, she's a waitress. "I
feel honored." She doesn't sound funny when she uses big
words. She's saving up to go to college.

"Well, these courts think it's quite fashionable to give visitation rights, no matter what kind of parent it is. Jake! Thomas!"
Her voice is like a rawhide whip and I'm not surprised when
my boys' feet thunder up behind her. "My goodness. You sound
like a herd of elephants! Let's try that again."

While she pushes them back, I squat down on the step
with my arms out. I don't care what I look like. I haven't seen
my guys in two years and I'm not about to let a stupid thing
like pride trip me up. I've always been a big target for the
world, but I'm not going to hide from my only two fans.

I call out, "They're just happy to see me, aren't you? Thing
One and Thing Two?" That's what Noelle and I used to call
them. It was a joke. But a bad one. I can see Mrs. Saunders
filing it away to tell the lawyer. "It's from The Cat in the Hat,"
I tell her. Just then, I finally catch a glimpse of my boys' faces.
They're both staring at me like they have no idea who I am.

Jake, my older guy, is five now. Way taller than I remember, and so serious, so skinny. Where'd his baby fat go? No
smile either. Just arms dangling in a white dress shirt. Khaki
dress pants and shiny shoes. They're wearing shoes inside?
No wonder they sound like elephants. Kids should be playing,
skidding around in bare feet or socks. They should be hugging
their dads. They should be something.

Tommy. Tom Thumb. Two and a half, always our little
smiley baby-at least that's how I remember him. But same
as his brother, hair combed back like a '50s throwback, same
white shirt and khaki pants and black leather lace-up shoes. He starts to put his thumb in his mouth and I smile cause at
least that's the same, it's even his left thumb, I remember-

"Thomas!" Whip voice again. "What did I tell you?"

Tom's face crumples up. Jake stands a bit in front of him.
Tom drops his eyes and says, "Sowwy."

Still can't say his Rs. At least I haven't missed that.

"Pardon me?" from the Ice Queen.

"Pa-don me," Tom parrots, and it just breaks my heart.

I'm not a big fighter. Hell, most addicts would rather hurt
themselves than anyone else. But I'm willing to beat up this
old lady who's been sucking the life out of my boys. I take a
step forward and something must show in my face, because
Mrs. Saunders squares her shoulders, plants both feet, and
smiles a little. A knowing smile. An I-knew-this-was-coming
smile.

"She:kon skennen kowa ken?" Shana's cool voice drifts in
between its.

I stop right there.

"Shay-cone?" repeats Mrs. Saunders, as if Shana has just
sworn in Martian. Of course she doesn't know this most basic
Mohawk greeting, but I'm too busy checking Jake's face to see
if he remembers. I was no hell at Mohawk, but I did say a few
nursery rhymes to him and stuff. Even for Tom, I sang lullabies
before I got locked up.

Jake looks blank. Tom's staring at the ground. My throat
chokes up, but Shana's already explaining. She squats right
down on the porch too. She doesn't care if the white woman
doesn't ever let its into her house. She gets down on their level
so she can look them in the eye and she says to them, "It's our
language. We say that instead of `Hello, how are you doing?'
A lot of people just say `She:kon,' like your grandma just did,
but that's like saying `Hey' instead of the whole greeting. And I wanted to say the whole thing the first time I met you two
very important people."

Jake stares at her like he can make some sense of it through
the steadiness in her eyes. Tom hovers closer to her, like he
doesn't get it but he likes her open face and lightly balanced
feet.