We stroll into the yard like we’ve been there for hours. Jackie slips in with Pechi, Stick, Sally, Roxy, and a group of girls hanging by the fire. D punches Junior Odemein in the arm and clinks his beer into Junior’s protein shake or whatever the hell he’s drinking. Aces goes and stands by the fire. Man, he must have it bad for Jackie-O tonight. Meanwhile, she’s totally ignoring him. Mukwa is looking this way and that with his eyes as big as a friggen bush baby’s, as that rude bastard from American Idol might say. He’s sheepishly taking sips from the 40 pounder. I see Tiny go stomping towards him.
Better run interference. I step in front of him.
“Hey, bro, how’s it hanging?” I throw my arm over Tiny’s massive shoulder and pretend to be more drunk than I am.
“Good, man,” he says his eyes still firmly on Mukwa who has finally noticed and is making his way towards us.
“Cool,” I say, swaying a little—finally, 10th grade theatre arts class is really paying off. “Mukwa’s been looking for you all night, dude.”
I can feel Tiny’s muscles unclench.
Mukwa stops just to the right of me—and just out of arm’s reach to Tiny.
“Let’s have a toast!” I yell. “Woohoo.”
Mukwa hands Tiny the bottle then steps back out of arm’s reach again. Tiny wipes off the mouth with his sleeve. I smash my bottle into his, and we both guzzle.
“Happy New Year!” I yell again, for dramatic effect. Damn! I am really good at this acting shit.
“Yeah!” Tiny yells, getting into the spirit of it. He takes another drink and hands the bottle back to Mukwa who takes a granny sip.
“Gimme that bottle,” Tiny says to me. I gulp the last mouthful and hand it to him.
He pours rye into it and hands it to Mukwa. Mukwa looks like a kid who has just dodged a beating. Which he has.
Mission accomplished. I fake stumble away, grinning a dazzling grin that lights up the sky and melts hearts for 500 square miles. Hah! Take that Adam Beach. Dude.
And the Oscar goes to…JELLY J! *thunderous applause*
I’m living my dream, I say clutching the gold statue of the naked neutered guy. And even though I’ve spent my career giving Hollywood the finger… You like me. I say. You REALLY like me!
Just then Betty the Bomb saunters past.
“Wuh,” she says and rolls her eyes. “Get a life.”
I know she wants me.
“My people will call your people, babe!” I say, pointing my index fingers at her and pursing my lips Zoolander-like.
Adam who?
Over by the fire, Cole is strumming on his guitar. He’s got the blues. The lowdown Anishnaabe blues. Lorene K. strolls over. Now that girl can sing. She listens for a few minutes then she’s off.
Got the blues, neechee…
“Oh yeah,” we yell.
Got them ain’t-had-no-bannock-in-a-long-time blues…
“Eh-henh!”
I said I got the blues, baby. Got them no-bannock-in-a-long-time blues…
“Tell us!” Duck calls out
Well, you take a piece of dough and you roll it to and fro
Then you take it in your hand and you put it in your pan
‘Cause you know I like it hot and you know I like it slow
Yes, I said I like it hot, I like every bit you’ve got
We laugh. John-john wolf whistles.
But tonight I got the blues
Got them no-bannock-in-a-long-time blues
How do I like it?
“Hot!” we yell.
Yes, I really like it hot, I like every bit you’ve got
But tonight I got the blues
Got them can’t-get- me-no-bannock-in-a-long-time blues…
Lorene’s buzgim Reuben yells out, “Don’t panic girl, I’ve got you a big piece of bannock!”
We all crack up. Lorene throws her beaded buckskin glove at him but keeps singing.
I don’t want some little crumb or bannock smaller than my thumb… She wags her thumb at him. We all laugh and hoot and holler. And keep on singing.
A few minutes before midnight all the couples are looking for each other and the rest of us are jostling to find someone kissable to stand beside. At midnight we yell and clink our bottles together and kiss the cutest person around us. DJ and Aces set off some firecrackers.
After that, the music gets progressively louder. Voices get louder. The drinking gets louder. Everyone is trying to score something. Drugs, more booze, or a snag.
I talk to Lorene and Reuben for a while. They’re leaving before things get crazy.
“I just wanted to hang with the cuzzies on New Year’s for a bit,” Lorene says. “Have a couple of beers and toast the new year.”
“Yeah,” says Reuben. “The baby’s over at Dad’s. I just want to go chill out with her and Lorene for a while.”
Sounds like a good way to start the year, I tell them. Although I can do without the baby thing for a few years. But I don’t tell them that.
After they leave I wander around looking for D and Aces. They’re always pulling some prank and having a good time. I can’t see them by the fire so I shoot the shit with Jack, Winona, and Fizz for a while then head towards the house.
Inside, people are arguing or making up. Some are just trying to stay warm. Couples are sneaking into the bedrooms, closets, and dark corners. So many people are staggering and wavering on their feet that I feel like I stepped onto a boat or train. A few people have passed out. Beneath them the floor is wet with tracked in snow and spilled beer. A heavy cloud of smoke is hanging above everyone’s heads. The stereo is blaring Breach of Trust at eardrum-breaking levels.
There’s a tension in the air, like just before the big storm hits.
I drift back outside. When something happens, and it usually does, I don’t want to be trapped in the house. I look for Jackie-O. I wanna make sure that when the shit comes down she’ll be out of harm’s way.
Outside I see that Tiny and Mukwa have polished off the 40 and are now drinking someone’s beer. They’re totally off their faces and acting like pricks. Tiny throws his empty beer bottle into the fire, sending sparks flying.
“Hey!” someone yells.
He spins around and swaggers towards the fire with his shoulders back, ready to wage war.
Jackie-O pipes up from across the fire. “Hey. You’re spraying embers everywhere.”
Tiny glares at everyone then lets his shoulders droop when he looks at Jackie. “Sorry, Jacks.”
She glares at him. “Watch it, eh? This is my new jacket. Geeeezz.”
He turns back to Mukwa and strides off with his back real straight and his arms flexed. He sure is one big mutha-fukka.
Everyone breathes a sigh of relief. Jackie’s the only one who dares talk to him like that. Her mom took Tiny in when he was a kid and his dad was drinking and beating on his mom. Noko said it was probably the only time in his life Tiny felt safe. He was a bully and troublemaker everywhere else but around Jackie’s house he was golden. Jackie would put ribbons in his hair and get him to have tea parties with her. And he would! Us little kids would play hide-and-seek and Tiny would pick up Jackie and run with her. Guess who always won? Yep. Whatever Jackie wanted, Tiny did. Still does.
Anyway, now I know where she is. I walk over. Stand beside her with my thumbs in my pockets. She looks at me and nods her head.
“Hey,” I say. She nods at me. “Colder’n hell, eh?”
“Yeah.”
“Party’s starting to turn,” I say jamming my hands in my jeans pockets and standing tall.
We look around. Someone’s puking in the bushes. DJ and Aces are pantsing the drunk guys who are still standing. Reuben’s ex, Lulu, is bawling like she does at every party around this time. A few guys are arguing about something that doesn’t make any sense to anyone else.
“Were you inside?”
“Yeah. It’s worse.”
“I was gonna head out soon anyways.”
“I’ll wal
k ya.”
“Okay,” Jackie says. “But I wanna say goodbye to Tiny first so he doesn’t worry.”
We take a couple of steps away from the fire. A pair of headlights turn in the driveway. Right away we know it’s not one of us. But who? The cops probably. We’re all ready to run. We hold our breath and wait. Then we hear guys arguing and a girl screams. Everyone at the fire runs towards the driveway.
“That’s Tiny,” says Jackie. “Hear him?”
“Yeah. He sounds pissed.”
Jackie takes off running. I run after her.
Tiny and some guy are screaming at each other in front of an old Lincoln. Mukwa and the guy’s two buddies are glaring at each other.
“What the hell’s going on?” I ask Duck.
“Oh, it’s really bad,” he says. “We better get outta here before someone gets killed.”
Typical Duck response. I turn to Fizz.
“I dunno, man. I think that’s the guy who ran over Bobcat last year.”
“But Bobcat was drunk and stepped in front of his car.”
“Tiny said ‘dead is dead’ and took a swing at him.”
“Not necessarily,” Cole mutters.
“But anyways, aren’t they from The Lake?” I say. “Those guys are our cousins.”
“No one is even sure he was really the one driving,” Fizz says.
“I heard he took the blame to protect his girlfriend,” Cole says.
Cole always seems to know what’s really going on before the rest of us.
Jackie yells for Tiny to stop. “Go home,” she tells the other guys. “Get the hell outta here.”
There’s a moment of stillness. Then Tiny lunges at the guy. The poor guy manages to get off one or two punches before Tiny takes him down. His friends try to pull Tiny off. Mukwa jumps on them. While those three are thrashing around Tiny sits on the guy’s chest. His fist is a sledgehammer. A young woman cries out, “Wigawaykee!” and takes a run at Tiny. Her friend grabs her arm and struggles to hold her back. Just then Jackie runs forward. She’s screaming, “Stop it! Tiny! Stop!”
The guy is barely moving now.
Jackie grabs Tiny’s arm. He swats her away and she goes flying. He’s never done that before. Ever. Now we’re really scared.
I run over to help Jackie up. “I gotta get you outta here,” I tell her.
“Kawee!” she yells, pushing me away and running back to Tiny. He pulls his massive arm back to throw another punch. She wraps her arms around his arm and digs her heels into the snow. Tiny is furious. She keeps repeating something in his ear. He hesitates just long enough for a bunch of us jump on him and pull him off the guy. He bellows and fights all of us but we manage to hold him down. Aces and D tackle Mukwa and pin him to the ground.
“Get outta here!” I hear Jackie yelling to the guy’s friends. They run over and pick him up. He’s like a rag doll. They shove him in the back seat. The girls they brought with them are sobbing when they jump in with him. The car speeds off. Us guys look at each other, nod our heads, one, two, three, and then at the same time we all jump off Tiny. He sits up like King Kong bursting free of his chains. He looks this way and that, ready to pulverize anything that moves. After a few seconds, he relaxes slightly. We stare at him. His knuckles are scraped and he has some other guy’s blood splattered all over his jacket. Then he sees Jackie. He falls back and lays there, chest heaving, running his hand through his hair.
Jackie is sitting in the snow, crying. I sit beside her. Jackie throws her arms around me. I hold her and help her to stand.
A small group is milling around the spot where Tiny was beating on the guy. Even from here I can see the blood flowers seeping into the snow. There’s a thick, sweet smell in the air that makes me want to gag.
DJ, Aces, and I drive Jackie home. We all stare out the windows. Cedars, leafless maples, and pastel-coloured houses roll in and out of frame, like images on a movie screen that flicker for a moment, then are gone. When we get to her place, I walk Jackie up the lane way to her front door. I give her a hug. For just a moment, she rests her head against my shoulder and exhales slowly.
The house is dark when I get home. I close the door as quietly as I can, tiptoe to my room, and sink into the bed. I feel like a stone, sinking into sand.
When I wake up the next day, my mouth is dry and sticky like I’ve eaten paste. I open one eye. Jims is standing there staring at me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” I wonder how much he knows? I stare back at him.
“Tiny and Mukwa got arrested. That guy’s in a coma—he almost died.”
“Shit,” I say.
“Assholes,” he says. “I know, I know—cousins. But assholes.”
That damn kid is always right.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” he says. We stare at each other for a few moments. “I hear Jackie is okay too…”
I raise my eyebrow. Now what?
“… since you took such good care of her.” He winks and backs out the bedroom door. “Wooo, woo…” he calls. Nothing gets by the little brat.
I throw back the covers and sit up ready to give chase when all of a sudden, it hits me.
A water balloon. Right in the crotch.
Jims covers his mouth and laughs then goes tearing out the door and down the hall.
I jump up.
Holy hell my head hurts.
“You better run,” I yell.
“Ooooh,” he calls back. “Quiver! I’m sooo scared.” Then he laughs and I hear his footsteps as he runs through the kitchen.
I can’t help but smile. Little bugger. I run out into the hall. After taking care of Jims, I’ll give Jackie a call.
Calcified Horses
MY TEETH ARE LITTERING THE SIDEWALK IN FRONT OF MY NOSE. They’re the first things I see when I come to. I can’t remember if I broke them when my face hit the concrete or if it happened before I plummeted to the earth like a US spaceship. All I know is it’s a horrible feeling waking up with pieces of yourself strewn about you.
I stay stretched out like that breathing through the pain. My gums are bleeding and my jaw hurts like hell. The sidewalk is ice. I raise my head but it only lifts a few centimetres. The teeth still left in my head are chattering. Spikes of pain stab straight into my skull until I pass out again.
Someone steps over me. Then another person. Friggen drunks! I hear a young man’s voice say. A woman laughs. Les indiens!
Drunk? Drunk!? Screw you! I try to yell out to them but I can’t seem to move my jaw. How did I get here? I can’t remember falling.
“Please,” I hear a familiar voice saying. “She needs to go to the hospital.” It’s my cousin Fritzy.
My body is a giant net of pain. My guts and hips are on fire. My head is throbbing. It’s as if a herd of wild horses stampeded across my torso then rose up on their hind legs before slamming their front hooves into my head.
“Fwwshheee,” I call out. My voice is a thin reed, wavering on the small breath I can send through the holes in my now-clenched teeth. I groan.
People are arguing. I float in and out of this world. I see herds of palominos racing across badlands, the shifting shadows of storm clouds moving over their outstretched necks and legs. Hear waves of sound: “drunk” “hit crossing” “squaw” “move her” “needs help”. Most of the voices are angry. A few are whispers spit at me as people walk past. I hear a flock of geese, wake, and realize they are cars with horns honking. I see geese flying. Some of them fall from the sky and land with a splatter around my body as if making a chalk outline with their blood.
When I come to again, I’m on my back with my head in Fritzy’s lap. Her face is a contortion. I see outrage, fear, and a world of grief I’ve never seen in her face before. It scares me. I want to comfort her. I feel a tear roll down my face. “It’s okay now,” she says. “It’s gonna be okay. We just need to move you, okay?” I blink my eyes.
I don’t remember getting up. I must’ve passed out.
; The walk to the car is excruciating. Two women are helping us. Fritzy and one of the women have me under each arm and are half carrying, half dragging me towards a dark sedan. It’s cold. So cold. I feel like concrete setting. Snowflakes land on my eyelashes, melt and run down my face like tears I can’t wipe away. Another woman is running ahead. The one helping me walk says she’s a nurse. “Everything’s gonna be okay,” she tells me in that soothing voice nurses use. “We’re taking you to the Civic Hospital.” When they lay me down on the leather of the back seat she looks at my eyes and holds my wrist. Her face is tight, as if a stocking is pulled over her head. I can see the veins in her temple bulging when she leans over me. Her face is soft but there’s a slow simmering in her eyes. What’s happening? My thoughts are a scrambled TV signal. I see Fritzy stepping out of a cab and remember sliding across the seat and stepping onto the snow-covered street. It’s New Year’s Eve.
I see snow falling and a snow-covered street.
Fritzy laughing.
The nurse’s lips are moving but they’re out of focus and float around her face.
At dinner Fritzy and I had laughed about the New Year’s Eve when we were teenagers on the rez and each had two dates. We ran back and forth between two parties where the two sets of guys were waiting to ring in the New Year with us. We tried to cover for each other, made up elaborate stories, pretended the other was in the bathroom or kitchen or outside smoking when really she was at another party altogether. I see our New Year’s party dresses flying as we sprint from one house to another, shoes in hand, running in bulky winter boots through slush and mud. By the end of the night, however, we’d both been caught, not only by our two sets of dates, who all immediately dumped us, but by everyone at both parties.
“The shame!” we cried, laughing. But it was the most fun New Year’s Eve either of us had ever had and we’ve talked about it every New Year’s Eve since. I smile a crooked broken-toothed smile at the memory. Even slight movement shoots arrows of pain into my skull. Tears roll down the sides of my face. I know they’re mine because they’re warm and leave little trails of salt on my face before being absorbed by Fritzy’s coat.
The Stone Collection Page 5