Blue Birds
Page 6
Alis
“Alis,” I say,
pointing to myself,
for after everything
that has passed between us,
it’s only proper she know my name.
She touches her head,
holds a hand over her heart.
“Kimi.”
Alis
KIMI
This must
remain secret.
My people
would not understand.
We share
no language.
She does not
know our customs.
Because of her tribe,
we live in fear.
The English
tried to destroy us.
Yet she’s shown
me kindness.
She knows
beauty.
She is Kimi,
a Roanoke Indian.
Alis,
an English girl.
She has
become
my friend.
KIMI
Alis
So many things
I want to share,
so much I want to know.
If only
the sun would stand in place,
time might stretch
and
slow.
Alis
We point to objects,
name them
with the speech we were born into.
We trade sounds,
collect them
as Joan kept pretty buttons.
I practice Kimi’s words,
strive to make the vowels dance as she does.
She follows the curving of my lips,
trains her mouth to utter noises
it never has before.
Her sounds in trying English
are like a child’s babble.
When I test her phrases on my tongue,
she tugs her ear to say
I must speak just as strangely.
In this way we communicate,
a stilted mixture
of two languages,
one that’s
ours alone.
KIMI
We stretch out in the sunshine,
point to the clouds skimming the trees.
“A fox,” I say,
and make my hand
a sharp-nosed creature
opening his jaws.
She looks above,
holds her palms together,
weaves them like a fish
thrashing in the waters.
I see a snake,
its slender body
streams across the sky.
She finds a bird,
a puff of mist,
a gauzy veil
with outstretched wings,
that swoops and stretches
with the wind,
breaks apart and forms again.
I tug my ears,
use my eyes to tell her
to look above.
Alis sees the rabbit cloud.
She crouches,
hops,
holds back laughter
with her hand.
Alis
I have my bird.
I know her name.
The girl,
she is my friend.
It is so strange
returning to the village,
coming back to the familiar.
Perhaps this is why
I signal to George
when I see him passing.
He leaves the other boys,
a shovel in his hand.
He pushes back his dampened curls.
“I see you’re hard at work again.”
I wave his words away.
“I have something to tell you.”
My voice drops to a whisper
as he draws closer.
“The Indian girl,
I saw her
when I was in the woods.”
Saying it is such relief.
“I’ve told no one else.”
His eyes grow round.
“You’ve left the village
though the Governor has forbidden it?”
Too late I realize
I should have kept my secret.
“Not recently.”
I search his face to see
if he might catch me in my lie.
But all I find is sadness.
How could I forget his father,
what happened just a week ago?
“It’s too dangerous out there,” George says.
This place that captivates me
is where his father died.
I want to tell him
I understand his loneliness,
but the words stick in my throat.
He checks to see no one else is near.
“It is best to keep the girl between us.”
Alis
Throughout the early hours,
I think of all the day might hold.
When the afternoon is mine,
I sneak away,
I rush and run,
but doubt creeps in
as I near our meeting place.
Perhaps now that my bird’s returned
she will not come again.
Perhaps her happiness yesterday
was only just pretend.
Then I see her waiting—
her dark eyes bright,
a warm smile on her face.
My footsteps quicken,
until I reach her side.
Alis
“Eight days and no response
from the Indians,” Father says.
Mother’s head is bowed.
Her breakfast remains untouched.
“Two days are left.”
“And then?” I ask.
He doesn’t speak for a long while.
Deep creases cut between his brows.
“That is none of your concern, Alis.”
He thinks
I’m too young to understand,
too childish to see
this mess we’re in.
Alis
Later that morning,
I walk with Ambrose and Tommy past the shed,
hear the clear notes of Father’s hammer.
He stops his work,
steps outside.
“How are the little ones?”
The boys settle in the dirt,
kick their legs until it swirls about them.
“Troublesome. Mischievous.”
A smile grows across his sun-browned face.
He pinches my cheek.
“Similar to a girl I’m acquainted with,” he says.
“How are you, my Alis?
It cannot be easy as the only girl.”
It is lonely
with no one here
like me.
“I’ve spoken with George Howe.”
I would never tell of Kimi.
“George.
I hope to train him to work
with iron
alongside me in the forge.
Poor boy,
a bit of guidance is what he needs.”
Alis
“Hurry, Alis,” Mother says from the doorway.
Father and the other assistants
have gathered in the clearing.
We flock with others to the bonfire,
where the light overpowers
the sun’s first hint of morning.
“The morrow marks ten days
since we asked for peace,” the Governor says,
“with no answer from the Roanoke.”
They are the only tribe
living on this island.
Surely their promise
is the one we most need.
“Have the Croatoan sided with us?” someone says.
The buttons on Manteo’s doublet
flash in the firelight.
The buckles on his shoes gleam.
“My people trust the Englishmen.”
Manteo’s home is on a nearby island.
Father says it’s easier to remain friendly
with a bit of distance between.
The Governor and his assistants form
one solemn line.
Father’s eyes take in everyone,
but refuse to find me.
I cling to Mother’s elbow,
wish for the Governor
to steer this meeting elsewhere,
hope the fear bubbling inside me is unfounded.
Governor White speaks:
“The Roanoke have
in their silence
asked
for
war.”
The assembly shifts and murmurs,
moves like the ocean that brought us here.
Father stands with George,
the boy who has no father now.
“Tonight we go,” the Governor says.
Alis
The Roanoke have caused us harm.
They have killed,
forced us to live in fear.
But there is Kimi—
Alis
She must know.
All morning I think of nothing else.
Once time’s my own,
I take no care in hiding
but flee the settlement in haste.
My mind is flooded with one image:
Kimi lying in the forest,
injured and alone.
She must learn
what is planned.
“Go!” I say,
though she’s not in our meeting place,
and my word is nothing to her.
I journey deeper
through the trees,
rush past brambles
that scrape my hands,
catch my sleeves.
“Go!”
Only the forest hears me,
and it keeps silent.
KIMI
I kneel by the stream.
Water flows over my hands,
loosening my tired fingers,
washing away
a day’s labor
in the fields.
From behind me
there’s a sound,
but I
see nothing.
Mother and her sisters
stand together,
laughing as they cup the water,
letting it run down their arms.
I watch them
crowded about Nuna,
the first baby born to us
since the English illness
killed so many.
Do English women
gather together
after work is done?
Do they form ties
with one another
that cut as deep as rivers?
If their women are like ours,
are we so different after all?
Again I hear it,
a voice
repeating
one frantic word.
Could it be Alis?
To come this close,
to risk discovery.
What would bring her so near?
Mother and her sisters are occupied,
absorbed in one another.
I slip away.
KIMI
Through the cedar grove I race.
“Go!”
The word is louder now,
comes from somewhere
near the walnut trees.
“Alis?”
My voice just a whisper.
Near my village,
no one must hear me
call to the English girl.
Alis
Doubt licks about my middle.
Kimi will not understand,
and what am I doing,
trying to warn
the very ones
who killed Mr. Howe,
took Uncle from me?
As quickly as I came,
I race back to the village
before anyone discovers I’ve gone.
KIMI
Far ahead,
I glimpse
a flash of blue
soon swallowed by the trees.
Alis.
I should have shouted,
shown her I was near!
KIMI
Go.
What it means
I do not know,
but there is montoac
in the sound.
KIMI
Rushing,
I enter my village.
“Wanchese!” I shout,
where he and his men assemble.
This time
I need
no permission
to approach our leader,
for Wanchese
must listen.
He rises,
arms crossed,
peers down at me.
“Go,” I say.
I do not know the word,
but my uncle does.
“Where did you hear this?” he asks.
“Go,” I say again.
Wanchese takes my hand
as he did when I was younger.
“Why do you say
this English word to me?”
“I heard it.”
I must be careful,
guard what I tell him.
“Where?”
“In the forest.”
His roughened fingers
remind me how I miss him.
In this moment,
he is not weroance,
but simply Uncle.
“What does it mean?”
“It means to leave,”
Wanchese tells me.
“Move away.”
He drops my hand,
lifts my chin with his fingers.
“Have you seen the English again?”
I do not deny this.
There is no need
to tell him more.
Wanchese rests his other hand
on the quiver at his waist.
He calls to the others:
“Go to the English village
and learn what happens there.”
The men scatter as ants.
He leans in close to me,
our weroance once more.
“We are not done.
We will speak of this later.”
KIMI
The sun is gone.
Wanchese’s men race back,
form a tight circle about him.
“Gather
the women and children,” Wanchese says.
"We depart for Desemunkepeuc
immediately.”
KIMI
Desemunkepeuc,
our mainland village,
where all my people live together
for the hunting time.
My family is one
who dwells on this island,
where the shellfish are abundant.
They feed us
during the earing of the corn,
as we wait for crops to ripen.
We return to Desemunkepeuc after harvest.
If we go now,
we leave our corn untended,
abandon these rich waters.
“We were not prepared
when they came for Wingina,”
I hear Wanchese say.
“This time
the English
will not touch us.”
Alis
I keep my own counsel,
and my silence eats away at me.
I should have tried to find her,
somehow made her understand.
But I left before she heard me.
I have failed her in this way.
Alis
The cottage is empty
with Father gone.
Sleep is slow in coming,
like the night Uncle told us
he would sail to Virginia.
He went to serve his Queen,
but the Governor’s watercolor paintings
are what truly led him here.
That night,
Mother pressed her cheek to mine,