The crust crunched, while the inside gave way to soft yeasty bread. Gabriella put her hand to her heart and nodded. No words came out, or needed to, as they all ate heartily. She truly did not know what to say. Who were these people? Only Jeremy had children, and Mia and Jeremy were the only married ones among them.
“Where did you grow up?” asked Dee. Pink streaks wound their way through a few strands of her hair. She played with them sometimes, twirling the pink in spirals on her finger.
Gabriella swallowed her bites of chicken. “Fairport.”
“But that’s right around the corner, practically.” Dee’s eyes became round and open. “How did we not cross paths?”
Gabriella shrugged.
“But shouldn’t you have gone to festivals and powwows at least?” Dee’s voice sounded shocked. “No. Why would I?”
The siblings exchanged glances. Their bodies shifted in different ways. Gabriella could tell they were mirroring the same emotion, but she had no idea why.
Nathan’s silverware made more noise against his plate as he flipped food into his mouth. He did not look at or talk to Gabriella throughout dinner. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. But she recognized anger simmering, and it overflowed in his eyes when they didn’t move.
Jeremy passed her more bread, and she took another large slice. His silver bracelet shined under the chandelier above them.
Their chatter both enveloped her and overwhelmed her. They had a way of talking that rang of those familiar with each other, those with a history. One might finish another’s sentence or even a memory. Then someone else would start a conversation that clearly had begun another time. And the names, she could not keep up with all the names.
“Linn decided to put up a vendor table at the festival for next year,” said Mia.
“It’s about time. Her baskets will add something different from all the sweetgrass ones.” Dee spooned more Three Sisters Salad onto her plate. “Did she talk to Janet?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure that went well.”
“She has to learn to make nice. Janet can help her.”
“Sam’s cousin found that cave they’ve been looking for,” said Jeremy.
“Yeah? About time,” said Dee.
Jeremy nodded. “Some weird stuff in there.”
Charley joined in here and there, but was the quietest among them. He simply sat back and listened, nodding. Mia touched his arm several times. Maybe that was how he was included.
Dessert was similar. Strawberries and their juice ladled over biscuits did not seem quite like fall. The sweet liquid slid down her throat. Someone mentioned a sacred fruit. Conversation rolled over her head. Any noise became just that. Noises she was not really deciphering. She could not keep up, and after an hour and half, she was exhausted. Her room and quilted bed sounded good. They hadn’t even noticed that she slid out of the conversation. Maybe was never really even in it.
“We must be boring you,” said Dee.
Gabriella shook her head no.
“It’s getting late,” said Mia.
They all rose from the table and began clearing the dishes and food—putting leftovers in multiple containers. Mia handed them out to each sibling as they left.
“Do you want some tea?” Mia asked.
“No, thank you,” Gabriella said.
“Goodnight then.” Mia put her hand on Gabriella’s shoulder.
“Night,” said Charley. His voice rang high.
Gabriella noticed Charley put an arm around Mia. It was not merely the typical arm-to-waist, but protective.
Mia took a step forward, then back.
Gabriella stepped away and walked back to her room.
Gabriella tossed around in her bed, getting tangled in the sheets. The wind made its way across the fields and hills, howling over the house. Or sometimes it sounded like whispers, as if it were human. All would become quiet, and there would be a voice.
She undid herself from the sheets and blankets and plunked her feet down on the floor. The wood pulsed cold into her veins. A light at the small desk in the corner haloed the area. She did not remember turning it on. A picture of her siblings stood at the corner of the desk, a deep wood frame surrounding it. They were children and standing in a bare yard. Quilt squares sat on the other corner. In the middle of the desk was a plastic brush, one of those you might have seen in the fifties or sixties. Brown hairs wove around the bristles.
Gabriella moved to the window and pushed the curtains aside. Everything lay in darkness. Shapes melted into one another. Gray cloud cover kept the moon from showering much light.
She heard whispers again, words, but nothing she could make clear. She thought she should be scared, but was not. Some feeling kept her safe. Blankets of black blocked any movement outside, if the whispers were in fact the wind. Still, she knew those sounds existed as words. They floated around spaces and corners, entering her ears, then flying out again.
Back in bed, Gabriella wrapped the sheets partially over her head, and she fell asleep to a voice which began to hum.
The crisp air bit Gabriella’s nose and ears. She climbed into the passenger seat of Mia’s car. The social was about half an hour away on 490. She didn’t feel she could ask questions about the event. They even acted as if she should already know.
“You’ll meet some of our cousins and friends.” Mia switched her eyes from the road to Gabriella. Gabriella could tell from her faux cheeriness that she was concerned. Cars and large trucks with Wegmans or the Democrat & Chronicle scrawled across the side passed them on the left. The highway moved from trees to concrete and back to trees once they finally got off the exit.
She always liked the Park Ave and Eastman area. Ornate houses lined the streets along with oak and maple trees. Although the houses were quite different, they matched the largeness of the area, the history, and the wealth. Some were Victorian with turrets, some like her rental, large enough as if two families might fit, but they only ever held one family. Scattered around, there might be brighter colors on the houses themselves. But mostly, the landscaping served to brighten, while houses remained gray, cream, steel blue, or pale yellow. This time of year, the leaves’ colors took over everything, covering sidewalks and lawns, while spindly branches waved in the air. The dusk falling across the sky lit everything in blue. No matter which part of the day, these streets remained in a quiet that only the cars’ engines penetrated. It was like time held still there, even with the contemporary touches.
The Planetarium’s parking lot appeared half-full. Mia parked in an open area away from the building, explaining, “The large grapefruit trees by the Science Museum, at least that’s what they appear to be, will drop their fruit onto the car in this breeze. It’ll chip the paint.” She opened the back driver’s-side door and pulled out Wegmans bags filled with cakes and brownies she had made that afternoon. They sold them to raise money. “The socials are put on generally to help with some need. Tonight’s money goes to the Cultural Center.” Mia had explained this to Gabriella as she convinced her to mix the brownie batter. “Be sure you buy a raffle ticket or something. There’s always great pieces someone donated.”
But even while making brownies, Gabriella could not find conversation. Those moments were foreign to her. She was used to Lucia and Stacy’s chatter filling spaces. In fact, they usually did most of the talking.
The domed white building emanating with light surprised her. The light filled the night as the sky darkened. She had only visited the Planetarium during the day a few times back when in college.
Once inside, they wound their way down a hall toward a gym, and Gabriella could hear a few voices. Outside the entrance, a table sat covered with pamphlets about things she had not heard of: White Corn Project, Native American Cultural Center, Dream Catcher Scholarship, and so on. The woman sitting there nodded at her.
The ceilings in the gym rose to heights covered in metal and fluorescent lights. Chairs and bleachers wound around the gym’s walls, and a nu
mber of chairs stood in the middle. She noted what appeared to be a drum or two lying by those center chairs. Cakes, cookies, brownies, and pies sat on one table, and other tables held items with brown-paper lunch bags in front of them. “You put raffle tickets in the bags based on what you like. See anything?” asked a lady behind a table. A woman with long brown hair and dimples walked up and purchased an arm’s length of tickets. Tearing the tickets off one by one, the woman dropped a few into a bag in front of a drawing of three women. Then she put a few more into another bag next to a large shirt with ribbons hanging from the front.
Gabriella sat down at the far corner. Crowds were making their way in. People stopped and talked to others at each step inside. She watched them laugh and lean in close to listen.
Dee entered the gym and waved at Gabriella. She talked to a few people as she made her way over. “You okay over here?”
“Yeah, fine.”
“Join in. Check out the goodies.”
Gabriella put her feet under her to stand.
“Dee,” said an older woman. Gray bouncy hair enveloped her face. She hugged Dee.
“Regina,” said Dee.
“How’s that new sister of yours?”
Dee’s eyebrows went up and her shoulders went down with her hands in her pockets.
“Oh.” Regina looked at Gabriella. She held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
The woman’s hands felt clammy.
“Everybody’s curious. We’re all happy you’re back,” said Dee. Gabriella leaned into her chair and pressed her back against the cushion.
The people milled about and filled spaces. Eventually a man picked up a microphone and asked people to take their seats. He greeted them in another language and then spoke what she thought he called the “Thanksgiving.”
Men sat in the chairs in the middle of the room and picked up drums and sticks. The music began, and other men lined up to dance. They all wore jeans, with some in tee shirts, some in flannel, and some in polos. The man at the microphone explained the dances as they went along. But Gabriella could not catch everything. When the women lined up behind the men, Dee nodded her over. She shook her head no.
People danced past her. It was not a slow movement, or truly fast. Colors blended though as she stared into the circle. The men drumming all swung their hands in unison, and a few opened their mouths wide to sing. Others closed their eyes.
The beat of the drum vibrated in her body and through the floor to her feet. Others seated around her nodded along, tapped their feet, or wrangled children, leaving no time for the beat. There must have been nearly a hundred people there already.
“It’s a lot to take in,” said a woman next to her. Gabriella had not noticed her before. Her long gray hair was streaked with darker gray, and her black eyes seemed so dark.
“Maria Jimerson,” she said. She held out her hand.
Gabriella shook it. “Gabriella.” She felt like shouting was necessary. Between the music and so many people, the sound pockets filled.
“Yes. I heard you were back.”
Back? Why is everyone saying that? She had never been there to begin with. They were a confusing lot.
“You should join your brothers and sisters.”
“No … Dancing was never my thing.”
“It’s not really about dancing. Though it is.” Maria patted her hand on her knee to the beat and bounced her head along. “This one’s the women’s dance. Go. Go.” She put her palm on Gabriella’s arm and pushed.
Gabriella could not believe how strong the woman was. Dee saw her and her face beamed.
“Come on in.” Dee took Gabriella’s hand and pulled her behind her. “Watch my feet for a while. You’ll pick it up.”
Gabriella watched. Dee’s feet shuffled. They moved back and forth without lifting fully off the ground. She tried to move in similar ways. She could not hear the beat that Dee seemed to glide in. Dee’s whole body found the music and turned and bent and swayed. As they circled, people watched the dance. Gabriella kept misstepping and picking up her feet from the floor. Her body did not sway; it jerked. She noticed a few children pointing and some adults laughing, she was sure at her. Women dancing were smiling, maybe talking or laughing. Some women in the front showed serious faces without smiles. But they were not unhappy, more absorbed. Her head became light and images swirled, much like when she drank wine. They all merged.
She could not keep up.
The music kept going and going, with small breaks in between songs where they merely walked until one of the men began singing again. All she heard now, or rather felt, was the vibrations. None of this made sense. When one of the breaks came, Gabriella left the circle and left the gym. She wove through the hallway until finding the women’s bathroom, and she almost fell over. She couldn’t keep her balance.
Gabriella stood in one of the stalls, the door closed and her head leaning on it. Her body shook and tears rolled down her cheeks. She did not sob or curl into a ball. She simply let the tears come. No sound came out. She wanted to stop, to pull the tears back in. This was not her. None of this. So she held it all in, forcing her breaths in and out. A trick to get the tears to go away.
A few minutes later, Mia called out her name.
“Are you in here?”
“Yes.” Gabriella dotted her forehead with toilet paper and wiped her face.
“Mom loved to dance,” said Mia. “She said the dance lived in her feet and moved her each time the drummer drummed and the singer sang. I think the dance existed in more than just her feet.”
Gabriella heard the sink turn on, water gliding down the white porcelain. The paper towel dispenser rolled out its brown paper with a squeal.
“Mom thought it was great when someone from the outside tried a dance.”
Mia’s feet appeared under the stall door. She must have been right up to the door.
“We learn when we’re little. It’s so ingrained then. This must be hard for you.” She waited. “The women’s dance is one of the hardest … We’re out in the hallway.”
The door made its swinging sound, and then shut.
All of Gabriella’s siblings and Charley stood outside the bathroom when she made her way out there minutes later.
“She looks tired,” said Jeremy.
“We still need to ask,” said Nathan. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall.
Dee threw Mia a look that Gabriella could not read.
“Didn’t your parents teach you about us?” Nathan asked. His voice was steady and calm. But his face had grown stiff and his eyes black.
“No.”
Her siblings held identical looks of disappointment.
“They didn’t take you to powwows or festivals?” he asked.
“No.” Gabriella shifted her feet, allowing her to stand taller.
“Did you ask them why?” Mia whispered the words. She stood out against the white wall behind her with her dark hair, olive skin, and blue top. She didn’t let Charley touch her. Or he was staying away. Gabriella couldn’t tell.
“No. We … No, I didn’t ask because I didn’t know. Why is the Native part so important?” Gabriella put her arms over her chest and held them close.
“What?” said Nathan. His face contorted, and she was sure he was upset.
Jeremy put his hand up to Nathan as if to hold him back. “Do you want to know about being Seneca?” he asked. “Do you want to know us?”
“Of course I want to know you.”
“Give her time,” said Mia. She reached out and placed her hand on Nathan’s shoulder. He let her hold it there for a moment, but then walked back toward the gym. Mia remained, while the others followed him. Charley brushed her arm with the tips of his fingers.
“Are you overwhelmed?”
Gabriella nodded.
“I get it.”
She backed toward the bathroom again.
“You need to know us. That’s why I wrote to you.” Mia placed h
er fingers together, intertwining them, and then pulling them apart. “But ultimately you have to make that decision. Here.” She handed Gabriella her keys. “Take my car home if you like. I’ll be back when the social is over.”
Gabriella grabbed her coat from the rack and walked out.
Once back at the house, she passed the kitchen and headed to her bedroom.
The curtains waved in ripples from unknown drafts. They stood open. She had closed them before leaving. A gentle murmur floated into the room and sounded familiar. Gabriella pulled the curtains across their rod until they closed again, and she left the room.
A fireplace stood at the center wall of the living room. Around it hung pictures of people, presumably family. Gabriella stepped closer to them, leaning until she could make out facial expressions. One black-and-white photo of a woman, her back against a tree, drew her to its frame. The woman’s eyes looked straight into the camera as if staring down life.
When Gabriella heard a car door slam that night, she put on hot water.
The front door lock turned, and then metal hit some kind of pottery. Mia pulled off her coat and tossed it across the couch. Charley took off his shoes. He headed upstairs, waving goodbye to Gabriella.
“It’s getting cold at night now,” said Mia.
“Tea?”
“That would be great.”
The two sat down at the kitchen table, mugs in hand, blowing on the hot water.
“We just want you to feel at home,” said Mia. She stirred a small amount of sugar into her tea. “Who’s your family?”
“I have parents and a few aunts.”
“We’ve got cousins and an aunt. But our mom, she was our main family.”
Gabriella sat back and pushed her tea forward. She didn’t want to hear about her mom. She thought maybe she would. But she didn’t.
Mia’s eyes went dark. “Maybe it was too much all at once.”
“You know, I had a good childhood.”
“They promised us.” Mia stared into her mug.
“I was fine.”
“Mom only let you go knowing you would have both a better life and a good upbringing.” Mia drank a few sips.
The wind blew outside, enough to scrape the windows.
Living on the Borderlines Page 9