Blackbird: an Online Romance

by Fran Seen

  “Are you alright?” Charlie peered down with concern.

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  “Is it your behind?” he inquired, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Your limp is worse than it was this morning.”

  “Yeah,” I winced, not being completely dishonest. This morning, I’d soaked in the hot tub until I was as wrinkly as a prune, but the scalding water did little to improve my condition. I was paralyzed by fear of meeting Charlie’s family, and my butt pain was not helping the situation. I’d worn a dress because squeezing into my jeans brought a tear to my eye. Even my panties served as a constant reminder that the bruise on my derrière was not a joke.

  Charlie gave me a lopsided smile. “I’ll find you some Tylenol after we’re finished with introductions,” he promised, urging me forward. Behind Charlie’s cabin stood an older cabin, with tons of a character and an array of colorful yard ornaments swaying in the wind. Charlie’s heavy boots echoed off the front steps, announcing our arrival. The scent of roasted vegetables and meat met my nostrils as soon as we crossed the threshold leading into the cozy kitchen. With cast iron skillets nailed to wall, a hand-carved, ornate kitchen island sitting at the center of the room, and heavenly scents of savory food teasing my senses, I decided right then and there that the Blackbird house was way cooler than my own.

  Charlie stole a wrapped sweet from the glass dish on the kitchen table and popped it into his mouth. “Etsi,” he leaned forward and planted a kiss on the cheek of the woman stirring a pot of beans. She hugged him, and when her amber eyes caught sight of me, her brow shot up. She untied her maroon apron with white stitching across the chest, reading Etsi, and assessed me with familiar calculating gaze. With his arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulders, Charlie introduced me, “This is my friend I was telling you about over the phone. Dolly, this my mother, Lily, or who I call Etsi—Cherokee for mother.”

  Lily stepped forward and gave me a firm handshake, clasping her other hand over the top. “Charlie tells us many things about you.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I managed, picking apart her statement, which was neither positive or negative. I shrunk a little under her intensity but maintained my practiced politeness.

  “Grandma, there you are. Charlie has brought us his friend,” Lily grabbed my elbow and spun me around so I was eye to eye with an elderly woman. Her braids draped freely over her shoulders, and she grunted with a sternness that made my breath catch. “Come, sit with us. We would like to know more about you,” Lily wasted no time. She started to lead me into the living room before Charlie interjected.

  “No, Etsi. Dolly can’t sit. Her butt’s bruised from her tumble down the mountain,” Charlie said as he widened his eyes at Lily and inclined his chin to me. “Remember?”

  Lily tried to suppress the grin on her face. “Oh, yes. My apologies, dear,” she nodded, casting a sideways glance at Grandma, who also to Elisi (“Grandma” in Cherokee). “There will be a great deal of sitting tonight, though. I expect Dolly will be uncomfortable.”

  Grandma mumbled something in Cherokee. She and Lily went back in forth, flicking their eyes between me and Charlie, who seemed to understand their conversation, if his snicker was any indication of competence.

  “Grandma wants you to lie down on the couch, so she can see the beating the mountain gave you,” he told me with gold flecks of amusement dancing in his eyes. I opened my mouth to protest, but Charlie interrupted, “They are both highly respected medicine women. Healers—as their mothers were before them. They’ll be offended if you refuse their care.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “I know from experience, my mother will swarm you over the tiniest scratch. I recommend you do as they say, otherwise they’ll be buzzing in your ear for the rest of the night.”

  Grandma motioned to the couch and barked an order in a language I didn’t understand, but her message was universally clear. I bit my lip and laid down, belly-first. The soft leather groaned under my weight, and the cushions cradled my achy body. Grandma sat on the ottoman beside me, and Lily took a seat beside her. I swatted at the hand that tugged at the hem of my dress, exposing my purple backside. My protest was met with a spew of Cherokee scolding from Grandma. Lily and Charlie roared with laughter.

  “What’s she saying?” I directed the question at Charlie, who wiped a tear from his eye. “Elisi, um, I mean, Grandma says Anglo women’s paleness is a symptom of their modesty. The flesh cannot absorb any sunlight if it’s covered in cloth.”

  “If I see something I’ve never seen before, I’ll throw a dollar at it,” Grandma piped up in English, leveling her gaze at me, then scolded Charlie. “Ogin tsutsayosdi doesn’t want you admiring her bare bottom. Beat it.”

  Charlie obeyed, his laughter following him out the door. Grandma turned to me, her leathery skin wrinkling and bunching at the corners of her eyes, and shook her head, “Men.”

  Half an hour later, my ass was completely numb. Grandma balanced a frozen ribeye on my bruised buttcheek after chanting some sort of prayer and exchanging banter with her daughter. She rubbed eucalyptus-scented oil on the bruise. “It will reduce the swelling, and, hopefully, lessen the pain. If you are still hurting, I’ll prescribe a spoonful of whiskey.”

  I nodded, thankful for the relief. Charlie poked his head through the front door, asking if he could come in, but Lily shooed him away. Moments later, Wayah burst through the door and ran over to the couch, trying to sneak a taste of eucalyptus oil.

  “My son tells us you’ve never visited the Qualla Boundary before,” Lily prompted me.

  “I’m from Chattanooga, but I haven’t really been exposed to much Native culture,” I admitted.

  “I see,” Lily nodded. “Charlie mentioned that you two met online,” she said, and I was glad she didn’t pause or wait for me to explain. Grandma set the ribeye back on my rump. “He said that you’ve been friends for several years, but that he cut off communication rather suddenly—and you came looking for him, afraid he might be hurt.”

  “We’re not sure how you falling down a mountain fits into the whole story,” Grandma chimed in. “Our minds are slow with age, so we’re still trying to piece this together.”

  “Have you ever heard the tale of the Rainbow Crow, dear?” Lily asked before I could answer Grandma.

  I shook my head and rested my chin on a throw pillow. Wayah laid down on the floor beside me, and I buried my hand in her soft fur and rubbed her ears. “No, I’ve never heard it.”

  Lily pulled her dark hair, streaked with gray, into a ponytail, cleared her throat, and began:

  “Long ago, the world was in a state of perpetual winter. Ice and snow covered every surface, wilting every flower, frightening all of the Earth’s creatures. They’d never endured such harsh snow before, especially snow thick enough to bury the little animals and worry the larger ones. Soon, all would perish if winter prevailed.”

  “The wise owl said, ‘We must send a messenger to God, to ask Him to warm the world again.’ The animals agreed with the wise owl’s plan, but the wise owl was unable to serve as messenger, for his eyesight failed in the sunlight. The coyote preferred trickery and mischief over duty and responsibility, so he could not be trusted. The turtle was trustworthy and steady, but too slow for the formidable conditions. All of the animals decided Rainbow Crow would be their messenger, with his shimmering rainbow feathers and angelic voice.”

  “The journey took its toll on Rainbow Crow. He ascended the heavens for three whole days, past the trees and clouds, beyond the moon and stars. Though he grew tired from days of no rest, he flapped his wings until he reached Heaven, not once complaining. Rainbow Crow called out to God, but God was busy caring for all of his creatures. In attempt to capture God’s attention, Rainbow Crow began singing his most beautiful song. God heard the enchanting melody and asked Rainbow Crow what gift he would like in exchange for his lovely song. Rainbow Crow wished for God to thaw the Earth, so that his fellow animals would not freeze and die.
God shook his head, saying the snow and ice had spirits of their own and could not be swayed or halted.”

  “‘We will all freeze,’ cried Rainbow Crow.”

  “‘You will not freeze,’ God calmed him. ‘For I will create fire, something to warm all of my creatures in the cold.’”

  “God stuck a branch into the blazing sun. The end smoldered and popped with flame, radiating heat. ‘This is fire,’ God said to Rainbow Crow, handing him the branch. ‘Return home as fast as you can before the branch burns to ash.’”

  “Rainbow Crow thanked God and flew as fast as his wings would flap. For three days, Rainbow Crow descended the heavens while the fire kept him warm. But as he drew closer to Earth, the fire burned closer to his feathers. As he flew past the sun, his tail feathers ignited, transforming his shimmering feathers to black. By the time he flew past the moon, all of his feathers turned black from the soot, and as he emerged through the clouds, the smoke filled his throat, strangling his melodic voice.”

  “Rainbow Crow landed, and blackness had claimed his entire body, and instead of singing beautiful songs, he could only caw. He delivered the fire to the animals, and the snow melted and their bodies thawed. The animals rejoiced, but Rainbow Crow was too ashamed to join them. He was saddened by his unremarkable feathers and raspy voice.”

  “He felt a gust of wind and saw God approaching. ‘Do not fret,’ God said. ‘The animals honor you for your sacrifice. When the hunters come, they will not hunt you, for your flesh tastes of smoke. Man will never entrap you, for your hoarse voice and black feathers will not enchant him.’ God motioned to Rainbow Crow’s black feathers, and before his eyes, he watched his feathers transform from dull to shiny on the inside of each one. ‘This will remind everyone who sees you of the service you have been to your fellow creatures,’ God said. ‘And the sacrifice you made that saved them all.’"

  “That is a beautiful story,” I met Lily’s twinkling eyes. “Bravery and selflessness.”

  She smiled back and cleared her throat, “Whenever I hear the tale, it reminds me never to judge anyone without knowing their full story.”

  The Cherokee Rose

  Lily led me behind her home, into the backyard where the massive bonfire popped and crackled, enclosed by hay bales covered in patch quilts. Off to the side, picnic tables were adorned with a full spread: buttery cornbread, venison stew with boiled potatoes and sweet carrots, roasted green beans and brussels sprouts, and bubbling strawberry cobbler served beside a whirring machine churning homemade vanilla ice cream.

  Charlie approached and started fixing me a plate without asking me what I wanted. If any other man on the planet administered such a domineering action, I would’ve been offended, but Charlie was attempting to be sweet and accommodating. We claimed a seat by the fire, and I focused on my delicious supper. Unfamiliar faces dissected me from head to toe, exchanging looks between me and Charlie.

  “Is she your girlfriend?” a short boy with red cheeks appeared in front of Charlie. His face was round where Charlie’s was sharp, but they shared a likeness with their golden eyes and full mouths.

  Charlie dodged the question and rolled up the sleeves of his red and white flannel shirt, “Quit staring, Flynn. You act like you’ve never seen a girl before.” A wide grin grew on Flynn’s face, and he took a jab at Charlie’s side. Charlie lifted the kid off of his feet and knocked him to the ground in one swipe.

  “My brothers are idiots,” a brown-haired girl spoke beside me, tugging down the bottom of her white, flowy blouse and offering me a red solo cup of sweet tea. “I’m Lissa,” she inclined her her head my way and smoothed down her braid. “You are?”

  “Dolly,” I introduced myself, giving her my thanks for the tea, which was just sweet enough to pucker my cheeks. We directed our attention back to the wrestling brothers. Charlie rubbed Flynn’s face in the dirt. Flynn whipped around and spit in Charlie’s eye. “Are they always so—”

  “Violent? Disgusting? Foul? Immature?” Lissa finished for me, scowling in disgust, but then turned and smiled. “Yes.” She stood and extended her hand, and we stepped over the cursing brothers. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the Bird clan.”

  The entirety of the clan consisted of twenty members who were all related in some way. Lissa introduced me to Falcon’s wife, Sarah, and their lovely children. A young girl about four-years-old, with cherry popsicle-stained lips and glossy pigtail braids, told me her name was Taddy, and that she’d sell me her baby brother, Finn, for a piece of chocolate and a piggy-back ride to the mailbox and back. Though impressed by her sale’s pitch, I declined her offer. Taddy stomped back to Falcon, and Sarah passed Finn around the group so she could grab a bite to eat.

  Lissa handed the crying baby to me. Finn felt like a wiggly sack of flour in my arms, and as soon as his big brown eyes looked up at me, his belly wobbled with a deep chuckle.

  “You laughin’ at me, chub?” I asked, tickling his adorably pudgy arms. His doughy hands wrapped around the feather of my bracelet, and he continued to shake with laughter.

  Charlie sat down next to me on the hay bale and played peek-a-boo with Finn before stealing him from me. “You’re hogging him,” Charlie teased, cradling the baby in his arms. The sight of the mountain man beside me, holding a tiny, precious baby was enough to send me into heat.

  “Babies smell so good,” I distracted myself and leaned over to see Finn’s eyelids growing heavy.

  Charlie cast me a lopsided grin, unhooking his finger from Finn’s grip, careful not to wake the sleeping child. Sarah murmured her thanks, scooped Finn up, and tried to get him to breast feed before he fell in too deep of a slumber.

  “I’ve always wondered what my future children will look like—goofy, like me?” Charlie mused, sweeping his gaze down my bare legs. “It’s weird to think about—a little person who is a combination of two people. Am I making any sense?”

  I nodded. It was strange that my sister and I were a combination of the same people, but we couldn’t be more different, both in looks and personality. I was fair and unremarkable, whereas Minnie was dark and sultry. My sister enjoyed being loud, and I cringed whenever I had to speak up. She was a commanding force, and I was a summer breeze, barely noticed in the humidity.

  “Your family is wonderful,” I said, staring into the fire, watching the flames dance. Charlie opened his mouth to reply, but Grandma whistled to gather our collective attention.

  “Tonight, we celebrate the peace of mind that has been brought to us through Ol’ Smokey’s capture,” she announced, raising her cup in the air. “It is a blessing to have one less worry when it comes to our children. We have our new friend, Dolly, to thank for our peace,” Grandma motioned to me.

  I whipped around and hissed at Charlie, “ Why did you tell her it was me?” His only response was a devilish grin. Grandma approached and beckoned me to my feet.

  “God bless ogin tsutsayosdi,” she said to the group, and held a cup filled to the brim with brown liquid resembling Coca Cola to my lips, urging me to drink. I looked between Grandma and Charlie’s expectant faces.

  Ah, what the hell. This couldn’t be any worse than spring break 2010 when I downed a handle of Goldschalger. I swallowed the bitter liquid, which tasted like a mixture of coffee dregs and peppermint tea. “All of it,” Grandma instructed when I stopped after one sip. I complied, wincing after downing the last drop. The group cheered when Grandma raised the empty cup.

  “God bless ogin tsutsayosdi,” the clan repeated, drinking from their own cups.

  Grandma leaned in and revealed the drink was sassafras tea, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Blushing under the intensity of the group’s stare, I lowered myself beside Charlie, brushing his thigh on the way down.

  “What is ogin tsutsayosdi?”

  “Etsi’s name for our new bearslayer,” his voice, like low thunder, echoed in my ear. “It’s Cherokee for a wild rose with thorns. Ogin means wild rose—a beautiful sight but will draw blood if you ge
t too close.”

  “I saw the fat bear stalking the little blonde girl!” the waitress from the pancake house relayed to the group. The woman animated herself with jerky hand movements. “Me and Charlie were standing inside, and I saw the whole thing happen through the front window.” Her account drew ooh’s and ahh’s from the listeners, and a hoard of questions followed. Charlie stood, pacing around the fire, recollecting the tale of fallen Ol’ Smokey. He embellished the story, saying that I’d shot the bear point-blank with the tranquilizer dart, and then lured him away from the restaurant for the safety of all the diners. The wolfish smile he gave me through the popping and crackling fire, watching me carry on with his family and answer questions about Ol’ Smokey, was enough to send an involuntary shiver down my spine.

  “So, what do you do, Dolly?” Lisa asked once the commotion died down, handing me a scoop of hot strawberry cobbler crowned with melty ice cream. I couldn’t help myself—the cobbler was borderline appealing to me sexually. I shoveled a bite into my mouth before answering, which gave Charlie an opportunity to answer for me.

  “Dolly’s going to be a lawyer,” Charlie said loud enough to meet everyone’s ears. He almost sounded like he was bragging. “She’s just graduated from Vanderbilt and is enrolled in law school for the fall.”

  “How do you know I’m enrolled? I never told you I was accepted to law school,” I cut my eyes at him. My gaze, trained on maintaining eye contact, faltered and flitted across his veiny forearm. I regained my footing and jerked my eyes back up to his amused face.

  “Come on,” he sat down beside me, and grabbed my spoon, diving it into the cobbler. “When you decide to do something, you’re successful. Always have been. When we first started talking, you were trying to get your grades up enough to make the dean’s list. Then, you were polishing your application to Vanderbilt. A couple of months ago, you told me you were applying to graduate school. Your track record of success made me assume you got accepted. Tell me I’m wrong,” he scooped another bite onto the spoon and brought it to my mouth.