The Birth (The Black Wing Book 1) (3 page)

T
he Okanogan Forest remains protected by specialists in biogeography, landscape ecologists, firemen, and restoration strategists. Occasionally, I see government vehicles parked on the roadside of the forest. Sometimes, they’ll flag me down, and ask me where I’m going. I had a long time explaining to them that I live here, and had to carry proof at all times. No one was pleased to know that a pregnant woman is living in a protected environment. My saving grace is mentioning my relation with the previous owner, Ms. Clarisse. Only by her last name were they convinced of my legal documentation. Now they wave at me with a warm greeting, seeing that I’m not a threat to the forest and all.

When I noticed a familiar withered sign, my truck came to complete stop, I pulled to the side and stared at the letters that read.

The Mable Resort

Pass the sign, is an old dirt road, smaller than the two lane freeway I spent 3 hours on. The suspension of my truck squealed from the bumps. Ahead, is the entrance to the cabin, landmarked by two large spruce trees. My truck shook, beat from the long trip, but willing to enter the narrow gravel path. A row of pacific yews compressed against one another. As I passed, my truck scraped and brushed against the branches.

Wild plants have grown in undesired parts around the property. Sprouting young trees are growing in areas that may harm the cabin. I looked into hiring a contractor to trim and clear the plot, but the cost is outrageous, they wanted me to cover the cost it will take for them to drive to the cabin and back.

Ms. Clarisse’s former property has a lot of history, it served many generations. The cabin itself is called ponderosa, it was named after the ponderosa trees in the region. Ms. Clarisse’s family purchased this lot of land for family gatherings, and camping. The tradition in their family, was to pass the cabin down from mother to daughter. Ms. Clarisse should have passed it to her daughter, but that’s a story of its own.

The two level cabin is a story high, lifted by bricks of stone. The red wine paint is a few months fresh. The roof is slanted by a long peeked ceiling with two long windows. The bricked chimney shyly peeks from behind.

Every six months, Ms. Clarisse has hired a group of contractors to rebuild any wear and tear. Now I’m responsible for keeping this place in perfect condition. The porch upstairs, is decorated with my coffee table, stacks of books, and magazines. My favorite wool blanket hangs on the rocking chair, waiting for my return.

I parked next to the footpath, near the borderline of the lawn. The faster I can get inside the cabin, the sooner I can stay warm. The engine clicked off, bubbling with exhaustion. I inhaled the fresh pine scent of the forest. Before entering, I looked towards the back end of the cabin, I fell under a sour sight that made me regret my return. The kitchen that leads to the back exit of the cabin, naturally, my garbage can would follow. There, the raccoons—the culprit creatures of the night, have paid me another visit. My trash can has been tossed on the ground for the hundredth time! In two short weeks of moving here, those dumpster divers have become my mortal enemy. To fend off my neighbors, I tried adding heavy rocks on the lid of the can, but it resolved nothing.

Apart from the irritating raccoons, my common visitors are often groups of white-tailed deer, and a few elk. These are peaceful visitors, my worry is attentive on the dangerous animals, like the black bears, wild cats, and wolves. The black bears should hibernating by now, but that only leaves me with two dangerous predators. So far, none have taken interest in me.

I followed the slaps of stone, the wide front yard looks lonely as usual. An old picnic table aged next to a barbecue grill. I stopped to imagine Ms. Clarisse running around the yard as a child, and later as a woman, tending to her children. Walking up the stairs, the view of the forest expanded. This area is equally surrounded by a mixed family of pine trees and their evergreen needles. Most of the golden leaves belong to the birch trees. My favorite tree of all is the large oak that glowing tones of yellow and orange leaves. The best part about having a lifted porch is the sense of security. I feel at peace here, no house has ever felt like home, none, except this cabin.

As usual, I came home exhausted. I can’t drive comfortably for three hours, with a baby pressed against my swollen bladder. About every 30 minutes, I had to pull over, get off my truck, crouch, pee, and repeat for the road ahead. I shed my feelings of shame when it comes to relieving myself. There’s no cars to worry about and so what if the wild animals saw my butt. Releasing pee is as satisfying as succumbing the urge to scratch an itch.

Every time I enter the cabin, I expect to see the walls made out of logs. Instead, I’m reminded that Ms. Clarisse detested the interior cabin-style look. The interior of the cabin is renovated to look like a regular modern home with plastered walls, tile floor, and plush carpeting. According to Ms. Clarisse, this isn’t how the cabin originally looked, she mention there was countless remodeling throughout her family’s generation.

The living room is two steps down with a double panel window facing the north end of the forest. The first floor has a small bathroom, kitchen, living room, and laundry room. Upstairs leads you to a long hall leading to an open study room with tall windows exposing the stunning scenery of the Okanogan Forest. Three bedrooms, and a large bathroom occupy the second floor. When I first arrived, I had to keep my jaw from dropping. Ms. Clarisse refurnished the cabin like it was prepared for a catalogue shoot, not my arrival.

As soon as I enter the kitchen, I receive a warm welcome from a black tuxedo cat. Around her dark fur are white paws and a white furry chest. 

“Kinoki.” I acknowledged. “I thought we made a deal to keep our distance while I remained pregnant."

She raised her tail, signaling that I have her attention, but didn’t care about what I have to say. She just wants to eat. The crinkling bag of cat food alerted Kinoki, and she sat next to her bowl, watching me scoop out a cup of kibbles.

If Dr. Graham knew I live with a feline, he would find another way to torture me. I didn’t plan on keeping a cat during my pregnancy, in fact, cats are my least favorite animals. I often found them annoying in the suburbs. There’s nothing more disturbing the street fights of wailing, and yowling cats.

My encounter with Kinoki was not only a random event in my life, it was around the time I worked for Ms. Clarisse. Kinoki was a stray, prancing around the parking lot, and scavenging the trash compactor. The little ball of fur would dash into any bush if she caught a sight of humans. Every morning she was sighted walking on the empty lots alone, motherless, and worse—unsupervised. The manager was offended by Kinoki, who took a five star residential home as her territory. The animal control agency tried to capture her, but Kinoki was too small and too agile for them.

The staff found her presence in the parking lot as cute and adorable creature. I found her presence a nuisance because she had something I didn’t. The strong will to survive on her own. Back then I couldn’t do that, so I envied her.

The day Kinoki decided to become domesticated, was not out of my efforts to win her trust. I was in the parking lot, dragging my feet from the long hours of the graveyard shift. There, I caught Kinoki frisking around my truck, I assumed she was going to scurry off as usual, but she didn’t run from me. When she noticed me, I sluggishly urged her to hurry up and leave. At the time, Kinoki didn’t like two-legged creatures, so I reminded her by stomping my foot on the asphalt, but she didn’t flinch. She was only a kitten back then, her baby fur made her look like she had white socks and a bib around her black coat.

Her buttery eyes gazed at mine, searching for something in the deep premises of my soul. Her confidence amused me, to the point where I dropped my guard. My heart soften, surrendering to her cute courage. Kinoki must have noticed my defeat, that instant, she cried to me. The closer she got, the lower my knees bent. As if I was bewitched, I found myself lifting her from the ground, wondering how I got the wildest cat to cradle in my arm. But I wasn’t out of her spell yet, not until I heard her purr. That’s when I decided that Kinoki will no longer have to live in the Gilia’s parking lot. I know nothing of cats, so I thought Kinoki was making a dumb mistake. Then again, she was on her own, just like me. That’s what made us connect, that’s how we knew we needed each other.

Kinoki is no longer a furry kitten, but a lady who has joined a solitary life with me. Thankfully, having Kinoki around the cabin saved me a trip to the asylum. I was used to the sound of my home in California, the sound of engines driving by, clanking metal, sirens from the police, voices of strangers, and barking Chihuahuas. The wilderness made me appreciate the city, but going back, is out of the question. To return to a civilization, and live in a modeled house, will only remind me of the times I spent as prisoner at my own home. It would only bring up memories of my fights with my husband. Memories when he often locked me in our bedroom, where I had to endure an empty stomach for a maximum of two days.

I need to stop thinking about those awful times.

There’s no reason to bring up these bitter events, it’s not worth reminiscing on that life. I rather live this far, and drive for hours to see another human. Dr. Graham, and this town will never understand. I’m who I am today, because of them.

I spent my next morning on the porch. The sun seeped through the trees, the orange leaves dance in the air, and the fresh pine scent filled the cabin. I often sip hot cocoa and try to hum with the migrating birds. My little child often moves around my belly during these joyous mornings. Almost as if my cheerfulness is a rarity, and it’s true.

Whenever the sun sets and the trees grow dark, my mood dampens into the miserable woman I am. At dark, the birds are no longer singing, the deer that roam in the front yard have abandoned me. To me, the nights are concentrated with one ingredient, desolation.

Anyone would think twice about living so far away—especially alone. Dr. Graham is right, living like this is dangerous. I'm not stupid—I know if anything were to happen to me, no one would know about it for months, maybe years. Sometimes, I’m frightened by that idea, but I have no choice. When I think of the hurt I faced as a child, the humiliation and betrayal I endured as a woman, there isn’t any room to decide if I made the right decision. I choose to live far from anyone that could hurt my baby and me. In solitude I will remain—even if most of the times, I have to feel like crap. If the sun sets, if Kinoki decides to leave for the night, I’ll cope with it. It’s better than the life I had.

Back home, I used to live in what people nicknamed the landfill, the poorest suburbs in the city that are owned by slumlords. Every city in America has a ‘landfill’, they were nothing but duplicated homes—congested with people with two dilemmas, pay your bills or eat.

I have felt a sense of pride for owning this cabin, then I let reality sink in. In legal paper, this cabin is mine, but it really isn’t my own. A woman who worked her way through school or hard work can say it’s rightfully theirs. I cannot. Ms. Clarisse made me keep her cabin, she gave it away like it was nothing to her. I’m not even related to her. The only rightful title I own is my old truck, the clothes on my back, and the food I eat.

Ms. Clarisse, I don’t deserve it—why did you give it to me?  Was I…that important to you?

I forced a gulp of hot cocoa, my body absorbed each milligram of sugar, and my memories with Ms. Clarisse returned. I will never forget my first encounter with her. This is how it all began…