“Maddie? Who are you talking to?” Judith’s voice came through the door.
“Crap.” Maddie muttered under her breath.
The door handle jiggled. “Now why’s this door locked honey? You know the rules. Those boys aren’t in there are they?
“God! No mom. Didn’t even know I locked the door. Just talking to myself.” Maddie jumped up, motioned to her friends to hide on the other side of the bed. She slowly opened the door, then quickly jumped back on her bed. “I’m tired mom. I told you I wanted to go on to bed.”
“Nearly twelve. I am certainly not going to let you usher in the New Year on your own.” Judith walked into the room and sat on the bed. “What’s going on?”
“Just … just talking to myself. Thinking about having to … to go to Colorado next week.”
“Colorado? Next week?” Steven’s head popped up. Maddie shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.
“Maddie. You said you sent him away. Why do you have to keep lying, Maddie? Why?”
“What was I supposed to do mom? Drag them through the party, humiliate dad and you? Supposed to tell dad I’m taking a couple of boys to my room for a while?”
“A couple?”
Joe sat up and nodded, “Well, I’m Joe.” His face burned and his heart galloped. Maddie’s mother smiled, then shook her head. She looked at her daughter. Her thin lips pressed in and her eyes turned stern – or were they desperate and worried? Joe wasn’t sure. Suddenly he felt he was watching a private encounter; a scene meant to be hidden, played out only within the secret fortress families must construct to conceal the reality of a their embarrassing and sometimes dangerous imperfections.
Judith took Maddie’s hand. “Well. Maybe you need to give your dad a chance.”
“A chance? I’m grounded for life. I can’t do anything, talk to anyone. He’s taken my life away. What’s the point? He’s just getting rid of me forever.” She paused and looked down. “He’s given up. So why should I care? Mom, can’t you change his mind? No. It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters.”
“He’s … we’re trying to help you Maddie.”
Maddie shook her head. Joe could see tears welling up in her eyes. Waves of jumbled emotions now swirled in his gut – desperation to run or better, just disappear; a longing to comfort, to save her, to love her; and a horrible fear he’d never be good enough for her, good enough for anybody. As Maddie spoke, her voice vacillated between defiance and hopelessness. “Oh I know. It’s for the best. It’s to save me. It’s to beat sense into my hopeless head. It’s to get me out of this house, this State, out of his life … because I ruined everything. I ruined everything by being honest, by finally telling the truth. Pack me up and send me away. Whatever mom. Whatever.” The clock struck twelve, excited shouts of joy echoed up the stairs. “Screw it all, I don’t’ care. I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere. And you can’t make me.” Maddie bolted up, grabbed a pair of boots and her coat and ran through the bedroom door, down the stairs. She was out of the front door before Judith reached the landing overlooking two dozen stunned merrymakers.
Judith ran after her calling out her name.
Steven and Joe sat silent for a moment. Then Steven jumped up and said, “Wow. We have to save her.”
Joe patted Steven’s shoulder. “Not our job, Littleaxe. Come on, we need to get the hell out of here. Better go the way we came. Her dad will probably call the police on us if he finds us.”
***
Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go. Maddie stood holding the icy cold iron bars of the gate protecting the exclusive and prestigious housing edition. Her tears felt frigid as a gusty north wind bit hard at her face. Why can’t I stop hating myself? Hating my life?
Secrets are secrets for a reason; they hide the unacceptable, unspeakable; they protect, they deny – they keep you safe. She told. Why did she tell? Her world shattered. Everyone knew, and everyone blamed her – no one believed her. Even at her illustrious private school, they seemed to know, to judge, to shun. She’s been in the hospital you know, the psyche ward, suicide attempt no doubt. Her poor parents, having to deal with such a disgraceful act of selfishness. Words never spoken by her teachers, but the looks, the tone, the disdain was there. Mr. Kingsbury pointed to Maddie in first hour English Lit. “Miss Bannister. Hester? Is her refusal to reveal the name of Pearl’s father an act of strength, or rather an act of cowardice?” Kingsbury smiled as he waited for her response. “Neither really. She really didn’t have a choice. She had to protect her daughter. She had to lie; she had to keep the secret.” “Yes indeed, Miss Bannister.” Indeed. Keep the secret to save the family. Bear the shame and guilt all alone for the sake of the family. Hester Prynne. A character Maddie didn’t know if she should love or hate. A sinner. An adulterer in a pure and intolerant world, pretending to be strong, invincible. How did Kingsbury describe her? “Miss Hester envelops a natural dignity, with a strong force of character; always determined to cast a proud smile toward her persecutors. But underneath, her fears and agony are there, always haunting her.” Hawthorne revealed her true heart and soul, the damaged and broken heart and soul, when he wrote, She felt her heart had been flung into the street for them all to spurn and trample upon. Put an ‘A’ on me. ‘A’ for abused. Abused and said nothing. Abused and liked it, wanted it. Abused. Flung into the street for all to spurn and trample on. At least Hester found the strength to pretend to be strong.
“Maddie? It’ll be okay. It will. Why don’t you just go home?” Joe put his arm around her shoulder.
“Why should I? Why should I?” Maddie said then turned and wrapped her arms around him and buried her face between his neck and shoulder.
“There you are!” Steve ran and jumped on Joe’s back. “Happy New Year. Happy freakin’ New Year.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Everything seems to be fine here.” The social worker said as she sat down and scribbled notes on a clipboard. She looked up and offered a feeble smile that seemed to declare she was not quite sure of herself. “Once the background check is completed we can make you Steven’s official foster parents. This has been a unique situation. Poor child. So good of you to take him in like this.” The too young twenty-something African American caseworker stood up and shook Sarah’s hand. “We appreciate what you’re doing here.”
“This mean I can call you mom now?” Steven said as he watched Sarah and the caseworker walk toward the front door.
Sarah laughed, a hesitant and rather worried laugh. “You can call me Sarah, Steven, that’s fine.” She opened the front door and stepped onto the front porch with the caseworker. In a hushed voice she asked, “How long do these things tend to be for? What kind of time frame are we looking at here? This is just so new to us. You will get him somewhere permanent soon, I assume?”
“We’re attempting to locate a great aunt in Texas, and there seems to be an uncle in Arizona. We always prefer a child to be with family. If no family members step up … well it becomes very difficult. The reality is, it’s almost impossible to find placement for a sixteen-year-old. And with his background … well, we’d be looking at level D group homes. There may be a chance that he could be placed in an Indian boarding school in Oklahoma. Unfortunately, finding a permanent placement is very difficult. And it’s impossible to know how long it might take.” She turned, took a step forward then looked back. “I will let you know when the coroner releases the father’s body. Their tribe will arrange for the burial on Indian land. He’ll need to say goodbye, I guess. If he wants to.”
Steven stood near the front door. He wasn’t supposed to hear Sarah’s question, You will get him somewhere soon? He knew it wasn’t really a question; it was a plea, a demand – ‘get him out of here as soon as possible; we’re only doing this for Joe’s sake. This needs to be temporary. I can’t bear having that Indian here too much longer.’ He knew exactly what that question meant. He ran up the stairs and slammed the door to Joe’s bedroom and fell onto the mattr
ess lying on the floor, which was meant to be his ‘temporary’ bed. I don’t give a flying crap. Just send me someplace else. Whatever. Whatever. I could tear the house up. Tell them I’m hearing voices, voices telling me to kill them. Just get sent back to the hospital. I don’t need these white people. Tears burst through; he wiped them away quickly with the corner of his sleeve and reminded himself he was a warrior.
“Everything all right? Did we pass? Are we good enough for you?” Joe asked as he came into the room ten minutes later.
Steven rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands and slowly pulled his fingers down his cheeks.
“You okay?”
“Yip. I’m great. And you’ll never be good enough, but I guess I can make do for a bit longer.” He shot up and lurched toward Joe. With his arms wrapped around him, he dug his head in Joe’s stomach, both fell to floor with a thud that shook the window. “And you call yourself a football player. What a wuss. What a pussy you are.” He licked his right index finger and put it into Joe’s ear.
Joe quickly threw Steven off him. “You are so gross. Grow up.”
“You two take it outside! Goodness gracious!” Sarah said as she walked past the open door.
Steven sat up. “You’ll go with me? To the graveyard. The funeral.”
“Yeah.”
“Maddie should be there. She should.”
“Yeah, she should. But Colorado’s a hell of a long way away.”
***
Cold, snow, six inches of it, and a cruel, ruthless north wind – just as it should be for a burial, a funeral. Steven stood tall by his father’s coffin at the graveside; a warrior burying the fallen with honor, with pride. He filled his lungs and pulled his chest back. The sweet smell of lavender anointing the body declared the unbearable yet wondrous reality that his father would now be welcomed into another world.
A Cherokee Shaman led the handful of shivering mourners that included Joe’s family, a couple that ran the convenience store next to the trailer park and an elderly neighbor, one of his father’s drinking and drugging buddies. “The sun rises and it shines, but darkness must overcome it. The moon reaches its fullness, only to fade away. Flowers bloom, only to wither. The wind blows, but will always give way to calm. And so it is, change will come, death will come. All things are destined to wither and die. But we know, though death may bite, all things that are bitten return and are born again.”
Steven felt a firm hand squeezing his right shoulder and a soft gentle hand resting on his head. He knew they would be here with him; but he dare not look back. His grandparents would be weeping, and though he knew their tears would soon find consolation, he could not bear to see them grieve – that would trigger uncontrolled sobs. He had to be tough, the warrior. The firm hand squeezed his shoulder gently, offering encouragement to be strong and declaring pride that his grandson was standing tall.
In Cherokee, then in English, the Shaman offered the closing prayer. “Great Spirit, Great Spirit, all over the earth the faces of the living shine and forever bring life. Look upon these faces of the grieving that they may face the winds and walk the good road to the day of quiet and the night of comfort. There is no death, only a change of worlds. Knowing this, we offer Red Deer back to the earth; the created is now embraced by his creator.”
Steven carefully placed four items on the coffin: his father’s motorcycle helmet; a box of letters his mother had written from prison, letters that begged his father to take good care of their son; a picture of himself at age five with his mother, father and grandparents standing proudly behind him; and lastly, an eagle’s feather. He waved as the wooden box slipped into darkness. He needed to embrace his grandparents. He turned with his arms outstretched – they were gone. Steven burst into tears. He had always felt so alone. Now he was all alone.
***
“Snowing again. Lots and lots of snow.” Steven stood motionless staring out of Joe’s bedroom window – He felt so alone. He willed away tears that begged to find life. Why does it hurt so much? Why? He turned and looked at Joe. “How’s it we keep loving someone who hurts us so much?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.” Joe said twisting and turning the hand controller to his PlayStation. “Damn it.” He tossed the controller onto the bed. “Your turn.”
Steven turned and stared out at the pure white flakes falling; peaceful, snowfall is always so peaceful. “So many days, so much time I spent hating him.”
“He deserved it. He treated you like crap most of the time.”
Steven’s heart pounded, an explosion of adrenalin shot through his body. He spun round and glared at Joe, his fist clenched and eyes burning. “No he didn’t! He was sick. An alcoholic. He couldn’t help it. He was sick man. I treated him like crap and he was a sick man.”
“Okay. Okay. I’m wrong. Sorry.” Joe stopped and shook his head briskly. “No. No. I’m not sorry. Steven you have every right to be angry, to hate your father. Hate him. And love him at the same time. Sometimes that’s the reality. Love and hate somehow rolled together. You loved him. You can hate him too, ya know.”
Steven scratched his head. Stupid, he’s so stupid. White people are so stupid. He shook his head. He had to scream, he had to make him listen. “No! Screw you! You can’t hate your parents. You can only hate what they do. I hate what my father did. I can never hate him.” He let the tears stream down his cheeks; words like a whirlwind, “He’s gone … forever. I can’t do … anything, to … to fix it … to fix him. I can’t have all those years back … years stolen by drugs and alcohol … and now there’s no hope of doing anything with my dad ever again. What should’ve been is gone … forever. And … and what could be is gone, forever.”
“It sucks. I’m sorry. It really sucks.”
He don’t get it. He’s stupid, blind. He tried to slow his words, but they came out quickly. They had to. He had to hear. He had to understand. “You should go downstairs and hug your father. Tell him you’re glad he’s back. Tell him you’re gonna be a great son and he’s gonna be a great dad. Stop treat’n him like a piece of shit. You have a chance to get back what you lost. It’s lost forever for me.” Steven grabbed both Joe’s hands and tried to jerk him off the bed. “Come on. Go tell him. Go freakin’ tell him.” He jerked harder until Joe fell off the bed. “Go! Screw you. Go tell him!” His father laughing and those words – words forever imprinted in mind to haunt him; ‘It ain’t loaded – don’t be scared – just mess’n with ya.’ Crack of the gun. Smell of gunpowder. Cruel thud of his body hitting the floor. Convulsions like he’s trying to get up. Blood. Bits of brain coming out the exit wound. Silence. Dead. Gone forever. Why? Why’d it happen? Steven tried to yank Joe up off the floor. “Joe you have to go tell him. Tell your dad you love him.”
“I can’t Steven. No way. I’m sorry for what happened to your dad. It’s sad. It’s okay to be upset. But you’ll be okay.”
Steven pushed Joe’s hands away and ran through the bedroom door. Joe’s words were faint, muffled, meaningless. “Stop Steven. Stay here.”
***
Joe rolled over on his front side and sat up on his knees. Tell him I love him? Why? Such an idiot. Damn him. Joe heaved himself up but his legs buckled and he fell on the bed. Unnamed and unknown emotions smothered him, sucking the breath from his lungs. They were suppressed desires and longings long ago hidden, locked away – had to be locked away. These desires and longings that would destroy him; because they could never be fulfilled. Go tell him you love him. No, stupid. I don’t love him. No. I won’t love him. I don’t want to. I don’t need to. He never loved me. Never. “Damn you Steven … oh crap, where’s he gone?” Joe looked out the window. Steven lay in the front yard, kicking his arms and legs up and down, making snow angels. He was stark naked.
***
Joe put a blanket around Steven and pulled him up. “You are crazy. You trying to get back in the hospital?”
“Yeah. Take me. The voices are telling me to blow up your house. You better t
ake me.”
“Geez, just shut up and get in the house. You’re not gonna keep running away. You're living with us. You’re stuck with us.”
“Oh yeah? For how long? Till they find someplace else so they can get me out of your hair?”
“What’a you on about? Get inside. You’re not going anywhere. God you’re so crazy sometimes.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Naked?”
“Buck naked.”
Braxton laughed. “What a sight indeed. Never a dull moment with Steven Littleaxe around. You’re a brave soul to take him in. And your family, your parents, good for them. It’s not easy to take a strange kid in, especially with the sort of problems Steven’s having to deal with.” Braxton leaned forward with that patented turn of the lips; his subtle but sure declaration of concern. Joe waited for the question that would follow; he knew its exact intonation and cadence. A question that so irritated him when he was in the hospital and, on his bad days, enraged him. But now he welcomed the question; he wanted the permission, the invitation to be somebody – that must mean he is doing better, is moving forward. Braxton nodded and said, “But what about you? How are you doing?”
“To be honest, Steven, he’s driving me crazy. It was the funeral last week. Steven’s dad. I know he’s upset and all, but it’s like he turned it on me. Made it about my dad. That’s what I can’t stand about him. He drives you nuts.”
“Yeah. We established that eons ago. What do you mean, turned it on you?”
“I don’t know. He just misses his dad and maybe he’s just jealous my dad’s still around. I don’t understand why he even cares about his dad. He was a terrible, horrible human being. I hate to say it, but that’s the reality Steven doesn’t want to see. He was so god-awful abusive. Treated him in horrible ways. And he … I don’t know.”
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