Song of the Shaman (18 page)

“You said the orphanage was in Panama, but the symbols are clearly from the Nrvai,” he said, reflecting on her work.

“It doesn’t matter. The orphanage burned down long ago. I’ll never find an original birth certificate.” She hugged herself. The cold crept through her hat and froze her ears.

“The Nrvai have a strong oral tradition. Stories about the village shaman and his travels are passed down from generation to generation. If you’re a descendant there must be someone still living who might know what happened to your family.”

He was serious. Sheri shook her head.

“I doubt it, Miguel. With so many people and villages and stories, it would be impossible to find the right leads, and then there’s the language
barrier—”

“I can take you there. I know Costa Rica quite well. I was born there.”

Sheri stopped walking. She looked at him in surprise. He never mentioned where he was from.

“I was raised here in New York, but when my parents retired they moved back home to San Jose. I go every year for the holidays. I could show you and Zig around the country. Now’s the best time. It’s the dry season, and the Talamanca Mountains are so beautiful. Come with me—get firsthand answers to your questions.”

His smiling face was radiant against the stark November sky. Her first instinct was to decline. She hardly knew him. And what would Zig think?

“That’s a very tempting offer, Miguel. I’ll have to think it over,” she finally replied, “but it might not turn up anything.”

“You’ll have access to much more information and artifacts in Costa Rica. What have you got to lose?”

Everything I ever believed about myself
,
everything I’m used to feeling,
she thought. He looked sincere. It was possible to go, she had time. She could find the money. Nothing was holding her back.

Sheri tried not to show it, but she was excited. Miguel was knowledgeable about many things so far, and she could hardly believe he was from the very place she needed to explore. Most important, Zig liked him. So did she.

That night Sheri told Zig about their travel plans.

He jumped around the apartment like a cartoon character, totally elated. They hauled their summer clothes out of storage in the basement. She brought home glossy brochures and a Costa Rica pocket travel guide. Zig planned their itinerary, minute by minute, from Christmas Day to New Year’s Day. In a little over a month Sheri would discover the forgotten place where she was born.

1899

Panama City, Panama

FOR THREE NIGHTS LOUISE CREPT along the stone balcony outside her bedroom to meet Benjamin in his. They explored each other’s bodies in secret, eagerly and without a sound, but with a passion that left her physically and emotionally spent. Days were wasted as she thought of little else but midnight and Benjamin. He intoxicated her. Often she would become dazed at the slightest memory of his touch. No one cared to notice the change in her, and she was glad. Maud’s tutor came daily, as did the piano instructor. Since Maud had gained her health back Benjamin took less care of her in his last days. He spent time outdoors, helping to repair the damage done to the garden and staying within sight of Rosa, who kept one eye on him and the other on her chores. She slept every night in the parlor guest room; Charles had not yet returned from his business trip due to the flooded roads. Bursting with a need for expression, Louise immersed herself in art. She sat on her balcony at daybreak with a chipped wooden box of pastels at her side, comforted by its familiar oily scent. She chose a poppy red and began a different portrayal; her early sketches of Benjamin evolved into abstract renderings of passion and desire. The morning sun caressed her fingers as she drew, her hand gliding over the cottony paper, blotting out the reality in the back of her mind: in two days he would leave her. Now Maud was rushing over, an impish grin spread across her face.
Must she pester me?
Louise put down her pastel. She was in no mood for gossip or small talk.

“I have a grand idea, Louise! Since Benjamin is leaving Friday morning and we’ve been in this dreary house for so long, let’s plan a picnic for him!”

Maud loved picnics and would clamor for them as often as her health would allow. The thought was appealing. Louise pictured herself with Benjamin under the lush forest canopy, the way she did when they first met.

“Show him a bit of the countryside. It’s the least we could do. He’s done so much for us,” Louise replied guardedly. “What did Rosa say?”

“Well, I didn’t mention it to her yet. I thought we might ask together.” Maud searched her sister’s eyes for agreement.

“Travel should be tolerable now, and it is a lovely
ride—”

“Let’s go to El Valle! To our waterfall! It’s close enough and so beautiful. Rosa can pack sandwiches. We’ll take the carriage early tomorrow.” Obviously Maud had already planned the whole outing. Louise put away her crayons. Thinking about the forest trail lifted her spirits. The verdant valley floor rose to breathtaking views of the cloud forest. What would it be like with him, watching white billows drift through the moss-draped trees? And all the birds—the symphony of blue and yellow, red and green macaws that streak across the vale! They might even spot a golden-headed quetzal! Suddenly Charles’s image popped into her head.

“What if Father arrives while we’re gone?”

Maud tossed her pale head. “Papi won’t mind—we’ll only be gone half a day. Besides, the roads from Balboa are not likely to clear soon. Rosa said there’s still a lot of work to be done.”

Maud and Louise went looking for Rosa. They found her elbow deep in a washing tub, scrubbing laundry. Maud was expert at asking for things; applying her sweet lilting voice, however grating and phony to Louise, usually got her whatever she wanted. So she wasn’t surprised when Rosa approved of the outing and agreed to chaperone them to the waterfall in the morning. It would be Louise’s last full day with Benjamin.

THE NEXT MORNING they all ate a hearty breakfast and set out for the countryside. Louise had met in secret with Benjamin the night before, and though they sat apart in the carriage, she was aroused by the nearness of him. She kept her eyes on her hands in her lap. He looked out the window at the passing landscape, careful not to let their eyes meet. At last they pulled into the valley region and got out of the coach. Benjamin and Louise linked arms with Maud, and the three strolled briskly in the direction of the mountain trail, trampling over the thick green groundcover. Rosa struggled to keep up with them.

“Maud, do not rush! You will strain yourself!”

Maud ignored Rosa’s fretful orders. Heading upwards they climbed the mountain trail to the grasslands and on to the cloud forest. The varying air temperatures, vegetation, and views were exhilarating. When they had gotten a good distance from the carriage, Rosa insisted Maud stop at a boulder to rest.

“Slow down, you two!” Rosa warned while Maud fussed loudly. Happy to be alone for a few moments, Louise led Benjamin to her favorite place. When they became shrouded in a mist and Maud and Rosa were out of sight, Benjamin grabbed her hand.

“Look.
Bajareque!
”

Beyond the mist, as if by magic, a rainbow of pink, yellow, and green swept the sky.

“My, how beautiful!” Louise exclaimed. She threw her arms around his neck. They stole urgent kisses, the cool foggy air seeping into her nose and mouth.

“Louise! Where are you?” Rosa’s voice filtered through the fog. Louise pressed her lips to Benjamin’s ear.

“You must see these trees with their enormous square trunks!” She took a step forward. No sooner had she done so than she heard a loud crack.

“Aye!”

Something hit her ankle. She looked down to witness a red snake writhing away. Benjamin saw it too and quickly smashed its head with a stick. In the next moment he picked Louise up and carried her back, in long strides, to where Maud was resting.

“It’s just a little snakebite…I’ll be fine!” She had been bitten before—why did he look so worried? As he trudged with her down an incline her ankle began to get numb and hot. Maud and Rosa emerged from the haze. Rosa snatched Maud’s arm when she saw Benjamin approaching. An alarmist by nature, she gaped at the two of them with frightened eyes.

“What happened? Did you fall?”

Louise shook her head. “A snake bit me.”

Rosa covered her mouth. “Father Mother God!” she cried. Maud reacted to the housekeeper’s shock.

“Don’t worry, Benjamin knows all about snakebites—don’t you, Benjamin?” Maud rushed to his side, her voice had an uncertain edge. “She’ll be fine, won’t she?”

Benjamin said nothing. Rosa and Maud followed close behind him as he angled toward the boulder and placed Louise on it. When he hiked up her dress Louise was stunned to see her ankle had swollen to twice its size. With swift motions he yanked off her shoe and stocking and tied the stocking tightly around her calf. He pulled out the pocketknife he often used to whittle sticks. Though confused, Louise tried to reassure everyone.

“It can’t be serious! The dozen times I’ve traveled that path I’ve never once seen a snake.” Louise winced; Benjamin nicked her ankle just above the tiny tooth marks. Dark blood flowed over her heel. Maud drew back in horror, burying her face in Rosa’s shoulder. Louise watched Benjamin squeeze blood from her ankle before placing his lips on the incision. He sucked the blood and venom into his mouth and spat it out on the ground, repeating the action five or six times without a word, her blood staining his teeth as he drew long draughts from her flesh. At the sight of him cradling her foot, his lips pressed against her skin, she felt no pain or sense of emergency. Nothing could endanger her more than her wanting him. Gradually some feeling came back to her foot.

“Can you move your toes?”

Her toes were stiff but she wiggled them slightly. Benjamin snatched her up in his arms again.

“We must get back before the fever sets in.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and carried her to the carriage. Louise was not worried. She felt safe in his arms.

Maud and Rosa ran ahead to alert the driver. Rosa reproached herself, invoking all sorts of patron saints and angels. Louise looked up at the heavens. What could Saint Patrick, Saints Luke and Francis, Ruth, Rita, and Christopher do for her now? If she called on them, would they stop Benjamin from leaving her? Could they keep her heart from breaking? Louise rarely got sick, but in many ways it was the same as falling in love. She felt helpless, weak, and vulnerable, open to infections and even death. Laying her head in the crook of his neck, she surrendered.

“
Te amo
,” she whispered in his ear.

2006

Brooklyn, New York

A TONE FROM HER LAPTOP signaled a reminder. Sheri put a bagel in the toaster and went to check her Outlook calendar. Jackie’s e-mail from school had slipped her mind. In the subject line were three words: “Can we meet?” She clicked to open it again.

Sheri,

Are you available to talk tomorrow morning in my office after dropoff? I’d appreciate it.

Thanks,

Jackie

Why didn’t she say she was busy? Then again, delaying the inevitable might not be the best thing for Zig. Almost a week had passed since he’d made a mess of things at the museum. With suitcases flung open and half packed on the living room floor, all other issues took a backseat to the details of their travel. Zig was so wound up about the trip he could barely settle down to do his homework, and she could only image what he was like at school. She showered and got dressed before he stirred. Happily, their morning routine was getting easier. At dropoff she saw Jackie greeting parents in the lobby. When she spotted Sheri she immediately came over, not once glancing at Zig.

“Good morning, Sheri. Would you mind waiting in my office? I’ll be just a minute.” The headmistress glided across the lobby around the elbows of parents and children. Sheri kissed Zig on the cheek and hugged him tight.

“Go on up to class, sweetie. See you at three.”

She made her way to Jackie’s office and sat in the same blue velvet chair. She felt like a juvenile delinquent, being summoned to the principal’s office more in the past few weeks than in all twelve years she spent in school. Today the empty room reminded her of a highly decorated mausoleum. Jackie barreled in shortly after Sheri sat down, closing the door behind her.

“Sorry—I had to catch the Collins twins’ mother before she left for work.” Jackie smiled briefly at Sheri and scanned her desk for messages. Having found nothing of importance, she sat down; long lines formed in her forehead.

“I heard from Ellie what happened at the museum. Zig disappeared?”

“Yes and no.” For a second she thought about lying, making up some story about him getting lost on his way back from the bathroom, but thought better of it. “He got overly excited about some family research and lost track of time in the library.”

“The museum shut down the tour! Ellie said they had to leave less than an hour after they got there.” Jackie leaned on her desk. “Were you aware of the rules regarding students straying from the group?”

“I had a serious talk with him.”

“How’s he doing on his medication?” Jackie cut to the chase.

“Actually, I haven’t had time to get a prescription.”

“Oh! He didn’t see a psychiatrist yet?”

“I’ve been really busy and haven’t chosen one.”

“Sheri, I’ll be frank with you. Zig has to get help if he is to stay at Excelsior. He’s causing more trouble than our staff can handle.”

“I understand your position, Jackie, but he was
just—”

“I’m sure he had his reasons for leaving the group—all the more reason for you to follow through on our recommendations. Do you still have Bruce’s list of doctors in the area?”

“Yes, I was about
to—”

Jackie loudly ripped a sheet of paper off a notepad on her desk.

“Here’s one more. Dr. Pollock is excellent and he’s right here in Brooklyn Heights.” She wrote the phone number from memory. “I can fax him the evaluation today. His office will call you to set up an appointment. They are very prompt.”

Jackie stood up and walked briskly around her desk, pointing the piece of paper at Sheri. “Give his office a call after one p.m. if you don’t hear from them. Zig can get started on the medication as soon as he meets with Dr. Pollock. I assure you, it will make your life and his much easier. You’ll be very happy with the results.” Sheri took the paper and Jackie ushered her to the door with barely a moment to react. There was no stalling this time.

Dr. Pollock was swift, just as Jackie predicted. Zig had an appointment the very next day after school, and now she was on her way to pick up his prescription from the pharmacy. She tried to clear her head, tried to tell herself it was okay. Maybe this was what he needed to get by in school, to “fit in.” He was in the world but not of it—that was the problem.

Many things troubled her. The bird dream, her drawings, the Nrvai Indians—how Zig knew so much and she so little. Finally, it was clear to her what her son had been trying to get at for years, peeling away the thin layers of her life to reveal something deeper, something she had stopped yearning to know long ago—who she really was. There was that moment, it was unmistakable, the vision she saw in the mirror—who could that woman be?
Was it her mother? Grandmother? A messenger?
In a second there was hope, a glimmer of truth in her life. She couldn’t think her old thoughts anymore; intellectual certainty fell away like fine sand through her fingers. She felt emotionally naked. She was the one who’d needed changing, not Zig. But because of his curious behavior, he had to alter his ways, to be detached, out of touch with himself. To be more like her.

Rain poured on her miserably; gusts of wind almost blew the prescription bag from her hand. She couldn’t help feeling like she had let Zig down, betrayed him. Had she been a more sensitive mother, had she paid closer attention to his wild ideas she might have found a way to save him from the school’s bureaucracy. She kept walking until she found herself in front of Excelsior. She took the stairs up to his classroom, suddenly out of breath, shaking out her umbrella on the way. Through the glass-paned door she saw him sitting at the far end of the room, staring up at the ceiling, tilting his chair and head back a bit too far, while the other kids were packing up their desks. When he saw her he jumped up, grabbed his coat and backpack, and bolted out of the classroom. Ellie glowered at him.

“Hi, Mom! What’s in the bag?” His whole disposition brightened. She looked at the bag as if it had just magically appeared and pushed it into her jacket pocket.

“We’ll talk outside, Z. Let’s get out of here.”

She took him to the Court Street theaters in hopes of catching the latest Pixar movie, but the show was sold out. Instead, they saw
It’s a Wonderful Life
at BAM’s Rose Cinemas. She had seen it countless times. Growing up, she almost always watched it alone; it would inevitably be aired on the night of some client’s holiday party that her parents left her at home to attend. At first she thought the vintage black-and-white movie might be too old-fashioned for Zig, not pack enough action, but once it started he became absorbed in the story. Afterward they went to their favorite Japanese restaurant on Montague Street, the one she had been going to since he was a baby. The owner, Shirley, a warm and gracious woman, made a point of coming over to greet them, fussing over how much Zig had grown. He smiled proudly. He was in great spirits; the movie and dinner made Thursday feel like a Saturday. All the stores were pushing Christmas. Tinselly street decorations hung across Flatbush Avenue; evergreen garlands with mini lights glowed in windows; wreaths with red velvet ribbons swung over store entrances. On the way home Zig commented that if it were snowing it would almost look like Bedford Falls, the fictitious town where the movie
was set.

“What was your favorite part, Mom?”

“That’s hard, there are so many great scenes. When George tries to kill himself and the angel Clarence resuces him.”

“To show him what the world would be like if he hadn’t been born. I like that part, too.”

“It means everything you do, no matter how small, affects the lives of people you love.” She squeezed his gloveless little hand, which was surprisingly warm.

“Like your drawings and my finding where they came from at the museum.” He skipped out in front of her, walking backwards, his breath forming small puffs in the cold air.

“Those were drawn by a shaman, Z. They’re similar but not easy to understand.” They waited at a corner for the light to change. “I spent my whole life trying not to think about who I am or where I’m from…or if I even have a real family.”

“Nobody said you have to understand it. Just believe and wait.”

“For what?”

“For the rest of the story!”

He skipped in front of her again, changing the subject.

“So what’s in the bag?”

Sheri tapped her pocket and heard pills rattle in the bottle. “It’s the medicine the doctor prescribed.”

“The one that Kwami takes?”

“Yeah, that one,” she replied. “I just don’t want to cause any more trouble, Zig.”

“It’s no big deal, Mom.” He peered up at her, hat pulled low over his brow. His bright eyes still sparkled the way they did when he was a newborn. “I’ll take it.”

Their conversation took the chill off the night. Sheri went home feeling much happier than she had at the start of the day.

THEY BOTH WOKE UP LATE the next morning, forgetting it was Friday. Sheri rushed Zig through breakfast and ran out of the apartment when she remembered his medicine.

“I almost forgot to give you your
Ridden
!”

She unlocked the door and ran back in; the bottle was on the kitchen counter. She opened the childproof cap. Shook out two capsules. Filled a glass with water. Gave the glass and the pills to Zig. He downed them in one gulp and put the glass in the sink. They dashed out for the elevator again. At school the lobby was bare; they were ten minutes late. Zig kissed her good-bye and raced up the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. Sheri exhaled, glad the weekend was almost here. She pushed open Excelsior’s front doors and decided to revisit that Greek diner for some real breakfast. The diner was bustling today; plates clacked and piled up on every table. To her dismay, there were clusters of expats from Starbucks, plugging away on their laptops. The waitress who had served her before ignored her. She chose a booth this time, slid into the narrow seat and buried her bag, coat, hat, and scarf in the space next to her. No sooner had she done so than her cell phone started ringing. The muffled chime filtered through layers of her clothing. She decided to let it ring; she’d check her messages after ordering. Finally it stopped. Fingers still stiff with cold, she took out her
New York Times
and opened to the business section to catch up on the bad news. Her phone started ringing again. She dragged her coat off her bag and dug for the phone. An exterior shot of Excelsior was displayed on the caller ID screen.
What now?

“Hello?” she said, half expecting to hear Jackie’s drawl. A high-strung voice replied.

“Hi—I hope I dialed the right number…This is Sandra, the school nurse at Excelsior. Is this Sheri?”

“Yes, it’s Sheri. What’s the matter?” She got up, pressing the phone hard to her ear.

“Everything is stable. Zig had a seizure in the classroom a few minutes ago.”

“
What!
I just dropped him off! Where is he?” she shouted into the phone. Patrons paused with their mouths full of food.

“The ambulance is pulling up
now—”

“I’m at the corner diner. I’ll be right there.” She snatched her belongings from the booth and ran with the bundle in her arms between traffic, against red lights. Half a block away she saw the blinking ambulance in front of the school; a crowd had gathered around the open doors of the vehicle. She shoved through the crowd to the EMS workers lifting a stretcher into the back. Jackie stood next to the school nurse with panic written on her face. She saw Sheri and called out to the workers.

“Here’s the boy’s mother!”

Everyone turned around. Breathless, Sheri rushed up to a female paramedic.

“How is he?” Her lips trembled.

“His pulse is steady, but he’s still unconscious. LICH is the closest hospital.”

Sheri’s heart beat wildly as she climbed into the ambulance with the woman. The other paramedic, a man, shut the doors and got in front behind the wheel. Zig was pale and had an oxygen mask over his face. A bedsheet, tucked in on all sides, covered him up to his chest. She reached over to touch his forehead—he did not move. He felt cold and clammy.
Was he breathing?
She shook uncontrollably, lost her sense of what to do or think. She looked at the hard face on the woman across from her.

“How is he?”

The woman checked the oxygen monitor and his pulse.

“His breathing is a bit shallow. Has he ever had seizures like this before?”

“He’s never had a seizure! I just dropped him off at school!” Sheri flailed her arms.

The paramedic gave Zig a thoughtful look.

“Did he do anything different this morning? Was he upset about something?”

“No!” Then she remembered the pills. “Yes! I started him on some new medication this morning.”

“What was it?”

“A low dose of Ritalin.”

“Hmm. I’ve never heard of a child having seizures from a stimulant, but there are always warnings on those packages. Are you sure it was the right dosage?”

Sheri tried to picture the label on the prescription. She never checked to make sure the dosage matched the written prescription.

“God…I’m not sure…”

“Double-check the dosage. I’ve seen a lot of serious emergency situations because of wrongly dispensed prescriptions. It’s a major problem.”

The ambulance took a sharp turn. Sheri grabbed the van hand railings as it sped through traffic, siren blaring. What was written on the bottle? She remembered trying to read Dr. Pollock’s scrawl on the prescription note, wondering how anyone could read a doctor’s handwriting. She thought she knew the dosage, but they had rushed out this morning—did she give him one too many pills? Sheri burst into choking, wrenching sobs. She couldn’t remember. Zig lay motionless on the stretcher. God help me
.
She repeated the words in her mind, words she had never uttered until this moment. Shaking, she took his limp little hand in hers and kissed it, rubbing his fingers against her wet cheeks.

“Zig, sweetie, I’m so sorry!” she cried. “Please…please open your eyes…tell me everything’s gonna be all right. Please tell me you’re all right…”