One Arctic Summer

by Dani Haviland

  X sat down in the chair next to Joe, and Rocky joined her, the trio enthralled with Grandma’s exhibition. Gradually, people of all ages began to file in, their boisterous outside-voices quieting to a whisper-level of respect for her performance as they entered the hall.

  Just before the music ended, Rocky stood up and went to the record player, ready to shut it off before the next song came up.

  X stood up and clapped when Grandma was done, the rest of the villagers joining in as they always did when they were treated to one of Krista Rachmaninoff’s performances.

  “That was inspirational,” X told her, then sat down next to her. “I could just about see the keys under your fingers as they flew across the table.”

  “One day, maybe I’ll have a real piano. When the missionaries took me away from my parents as a child, telling them they couldn’t care for me properly, I was sent to the Indian School. The nuns there taught me how to play a simple piece on the piano. When they saw that I could play by ear, they let me have more piano time as a reward for speaking the English. I was a fast learner. I didn’t like not being able to speak Inupiaq but did like to make music. The other children and I used to hide under the covers and talk to each other at night, so the nuns wouldn’t hear us. They were tough on us, but we were tougher. I learned how to speak English and how to play the piano, but I never forgot my Inupiaq words.”

  Rocky placed a chipped coffee cup filled with pennies next to X, another one just like it in front of him. He pulled out the laminated bingo cards from his jacket pocket, then hung the coat on the back of his folding chair. “How many cards do you think you can do at once?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t played bingo since I was a kid.”

  “Start her off with eight. She’s a smart girl. Clever and fast, and has red hair like me, too. I like you, Alexandra.”

  X found herself blushing at the compliment, then looked to see if Rocky had seen it. If he had, he wasn’t making a big deal out of it like she had when she had caught him blushing. Cool! A real gentleman.

  Rocky kept his grin contained. The more he was around this woman, the more he found likable about her. She may have had an icy exterior when they first met, but it was melting fast, very fast.

  He counted out eight cards, then set a dozen cards out in front of himself and his grandmother, ready for the rapid-fire game that had been the only entertainment in the village until video tapes came out. He looked up and saw the caller was ready, her thick glasses perched on the end of her snub nose, her red calico kuspuk almost as bright as her cheeks.

  “Why did you bring your own cards? Don’t you get new ones when you come in?”

  “Nope. We’ve been using the same ones since I can remember. I almost don’t have to look at them to see if I have the numbers. Use the pennies to mark out the spot. And don’t forget to call out if you win. Or rather, Grandma wins. We’re not playing. We’re just marking the cards for her.”

  The next two hours were full of shouts of ‘bingo’ and ‘only one more…’ before the caller raised her hand. “Last game. Then we have dessert.”

  “What did she win?” X asked when they were done, the number of buttons the winning cards had earned almost as plentiful as the pennies.

  “The buttons,” Rocky said. “Or she can trade them in for trim or fabric. She and the other ladies barter for what they need, donating their extra goods as winning prizes. They’d swap with each other anyhow, but this is more fun.”

  The caller was now shouting, but not bingo letters and numbers. Her husband was getting chastised for something, her words in Inupiaq, not English. She looked over at X and saw she had a new audience for her bedevilment and continued her rant, now in English.

  “My husband…” Marla kept on ranting and raving, peppering her English with Inupiaq words that didn’t have a translation, screeching about her ‘no good, worthless husband.’ At least she did until Rocky walked up to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s not nice to berate someone, especially in public. Isn’t that what you taught me in Sunday School? At least, that’s what I remember you saying.”

  Marla scowled, huffed in what she felt was righteous indignation, then brought up her leathery index finger and started in on Rocky. “Yes, maybe that’s true in the Bible, but this is different. My husband drinks and doesn’t come home when he’s supposed to and…and…”

  She paused, Rocky’s hand on her shoulder again as he walked in front of her and squatted down to her petite height so she couldn’t help but see him. He shook his head back and forth then spoke softly so only she could hear. “The Bible is for all of us. Not just men, not just righteous men, not just for women, not just for Americans, Russians, fishermen or sinners. All of us.”

  “Yes, but…”

  Rocky put his hand up in front of her mouth and shook his head again. “Would you want to come home to a man who shouted at you and told the whole village about your faults? A man’s home should be his castle. Even if it’s a seal-skin covered dugout, he should feel safe. If he has a wife, she should welcome him with open arms. Remember how it was when you were first married? When he came home after a long hunt?”

  Marla’s mouth turned up into a sly smile as she remembered the amorous days and nights that resulted in three babies in three years. Her smile quickly disappeared when she remembered that after the third child, he hadn’t spent as much time with her and she was lonely. When he did come home after working his second job and only wanted to eat then go to sleep, she was angry and lashed out. It wasn’t much later that he took to drinking homemade alcohol, making it at his bachelor friend’s home.

  “But then he started drinking…”

  “And why did he start drinking? Was it because you stopped being the loving wife you had been? After hunting and fishing with the others, he worked at the hotel, cleaning rooms to make money for electricity so you could watch your television shows. He did it out of love for you. And what did it get him?” Rocky shrugged his shoulder and grinned.

  Marla scowled again. “Maybe you’re a little bit right,” she said, her thumb and finger close together. I give him one more chance.”

  Rocky shook his head. “No, you give him more than one chance. You give him one chance for every mean word you’ve said to him for the last three years. Or more. Love him like the man you married, not the man you forced him to become. I’d say do it for me, but I want you to do it for you. And him. And for your three daughters. They should see how a wife should treat her husband. You do this? Yes?”

  Marla sighed in frustration, but she knew he was right. “Yes. I do it for him and me and my daughters.” A smile suddenly bloomed on her face. “And if he’s a good man again and stops drinking, maybe I let him try for that son he always wanted.”

  Rocky rolled his eyes, then planted a quick kiss on the top of her head. “More men in the village would be nice.”

  Chapter 4

  “Have you ever had Eskimo ice cream?” Rocky asked, nodding to the table where Marla was now dishing out desserts, her husband at her elbow, all smiles at the prospect of a new beginning for his strained marriage.

  “No, is it any different from any other ice cream?” X asked, accepting the dish of the berry-infused frozen concoction Marla’s husband handed her.

  “Just berries for me, please,” Rocky said, nodding to the tray behind the pair.

  Marla suddenly squeaked as her husband moved behind her, his one hand holding the cup of berries, the other down low to sneak an appreciative pat on her bottom.

  “Thanks,” Marla whispered to Rocky and handed him two spoons. “I think you give good advice.”

  “You’re very welcome. I learned from a good teacher.” He turned to X. “Don’t eat it yet. Let’s go sit over here.”

  “It looks delicious,” she said as she leaned in to inspect it. “Are those blueberries?”

  “Some are blueberries, but most are crowberries. I’d say dig in, but if you’ve never
had Eskimo ice cream, you might not like it.”

  “Why?” X asked, spoon poised in front of her mouth to take a big bite.”

  “Did you see any cows around?”

  “No. What difference does that make?”

  “There’s no milk in it. We call it akutaq—a mix or blend of something. It’s made from berries…”

  X nodded, eager to eat the purplish concoction, but obeying his suggestion to wait.

  “And snow…”

  “How long is this going to take? I don’t want it to drip on me and soil the kuspuk.”

  “And seal oil. This blend has some ground up white fish in it, too. It tastes great to me, but I don’t think you’ve been around long enough to appreciate the taste of seal.”

  X set the spoon back in the bowl and grimaced, her stomach growling at the loss of sustenance. “Does your bowl of berries have seal or fish in it, too?”

  “Nope. Do you want to trade?”

  “I think you know the answer to that. Thanks for looking out for me and my chechako belly.”

  “Anytime.”

  ***

  X tried stifling her yawns, turning away so they weren’t as obvious, but her twenty-four-hour day was catching up to her. She didn’t want to be rude and ask to leave while the others were still socializing, so quietly moved away from the table and got comfortable on the bench near the door, resting her head on the coats hanging on the wall.

  “Hey, sleepyhead. Let’s go back to Grandma’s house,” Rocky said, gently moving her shoulder forward.

  “Wait. What? Did I fall asleep?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question?” Rocky asked, trying to keep from laughing at her.

  “You and your big words, small town boy.”

  “I take exception to your remark, big town girl…”

  “Oh, shoot. I insulted you again. I didn’t mean to, though. It’s just that small town and man don’t go together,” X said, rubbing her forehead, trying to make some sense out of her crazy day and how she had wound up at a church bingo game instead of catching z’s in a hotel room, recuperating in solitude from the long flight from the east coast.

  “You may not think it’s very big, but Barrow is the biggest village in northern Alaska. Up here in the North Slope Borough, I’m from the big city.” He laughed and offered his hand to help her stand. “Come on. Grandma already left with her new boyfriend. Or old boyfriend. I’m not sure which one he is this month.”

  “And she’ll probably never tell you. I know I wouldn’t. I think that’s one thing that women the world over share: they don’t kiss and tell. Well, at least with folks of the opposite sex.”

  “I didn’t bring a coat, or I’d let you wear it. Are you warm enough?”

  X took two steps away from the door and felt the goose bumps rise. “How about we walk close together. I hope I don’t ruin your reputation by being so bold.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about that,” Rocky said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, her arm reaching around his waist at the same time. “People around here have their own lives to think about. They’re not concerned about me. That is, unless you were holding a knife to me or something.”

  X spun halfway around Rocky and poked the index finger of her free hand into his belly. “Stick ‘em up! Give me all your muktuk!” she said, then laughed, gave him a quick squeeze, then kept walking toward Grandma’s house, sporting a smile of contentment and peace in her new surroundings.

  “I don’t remember when I’ve had so much fun. If you had told me last week—shoot, even this afternoon—that I’d be having a blast playing bingo for buttons with a bunch of old folks and stroking a man’s penis bone, I’d have asked for a head examination.”

  “Well, I suggest you keep the last part to yourself. Your college friends might not understand the joke, and then someone might get in trouble. Speaking of trouble,” Rocky said. “We’re here. Let me go inside and make sure Grandma and Joe aren’t inside. Or at least, aren’t playing around. I don’t think she forgot you were spending the night…”

  While he was inside scouting for improprieties, X noticed something sparkling in the tall grass next to the steps. She moved the blades of grass away with her boot and saw what looked like a small bowling ball of glass.

  “That’s a float,” Rocky said. “Go ahead and bring it inside where you can see it better. Oh, and Grandma’s not here. Looks like you get to sleep in her bed anyhow and I get my couch back. I’ll go grab some clean sheets.”

  X bent down and picked up the reflective glass and held it close as she came back up the wooden steps. Stepping over the threshold, her boot snagged on the edge of the floor mat and she tumbled forward. One hand shot out to try and break her fall, the other clutched the glass globe close to her belly in a vain attempt at keeping it safe.

  Splat! Crash!

  “Aiyee!”

  Rocky rushed out of the bedroom and saw the young woman face down on the floor, her back arched as she tried to keep from getting glass shards deeper into her belly.

  She pulled her extended arm close to her body and tried to lift herself up.

  “Wait! Let me help you.” Rocky straddled her prone figure and grasped under her armpits, lifting her up from the floor, the blood and broken bits of glass confirming his fears. “Bring your knees up and help me get you to your feet.”

  Whimpering from fear rather than pain, X did as he instructed, her legs heavy and sluggish as shock began to set in. “I’m scared,” she said when her feet were finally beneath her.

  Then she puked. Frothy purple berries mixed with the darkening blood on the floor, the eerie glow of the incandescent light in the corner made the room feel like a scene from a B horror movie. Her body began to shake uncontrollably, another indication of shock.

  “I’ll take care of you,” Rocky said firmly. “It’s what I do. Can you make it to the bedroom? I’ll help support you, but I don’t want to carry you if I don’t have to. That might move more glass into your belly or what’s in there, deeper.”

  “I can walk,” she sobbed. “But I’m scared.”

  “You never have to be afraid if I’m with you, okay? Like I said, I’ll take care of you.”

  “But my job! I’m supposed to start to work day after tomorrow…” she wailed, and her sobs continued.

  “First things first,” Rocky said. “I have to take off the kuspuk and your shirt and see what’s happening.”

  “Oh, shit!” X said, holding up her bloody right hand.

  Rocky grabbed the flashlight by the side of Grandma’s bed and examined her hand. A large shard of glass was embedded in it. He knew that as soon as he pulled it out, the blood would be free flowing. “Lie down.”

  X looked behind her and saw she had made it to the front of the double bed. “Huh?”

  “Don’t ask. Do.” He held her by her elbows and lowered her onto the bed, glad that he hadn’t had a chance to strip the sheets. This was going to be messy. It looked like he’d have to buy Grandma new sheets after this ordeal.

  The whimpers continued, but the protests stopped. “Hold your hand up here,” Rocky said, positioning her right arm so it was bent at the elbow, fingers pointed toward the ceiling. “I don’t want the blood to start flowing again. This is going to be tricky. I have to see what’s going on with the other cuts before I work on your hand. And don’t fall asleep! I want you to look at me.”

  She watched his hands as he lifted her tank top and kuspuk to examine her bloody belly. He noticed her look of terror and reworded his order, “Look at my face, not my hands and what I’m doing. Or look at my hair or ears, but don’t go to sleep. Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes, doctor,” she said, sniffling back the tears. “You have pretty ears… I mean, you have handsome ears.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, then stood up. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” and gave her a mischievous smile and a wink, doing his best to cover his concern. This wasn’t going to be easy or painless.
/>   When he came back in the room, her eyes were shut, her breathing slow and regular, her right arm gently swaying back and forth as she continued to hold it upright despite being asleep. He felt her pulse. Strong and even. The mess on the living room floor was ugly, but not too widespread. She hadn’t lost much blood. It would be better for them both if she stayed asleep. He took one of the towels he had brought in the room and rolled it up and set it on her upper chest, supporting the wavering arm. “You can relax your arm now,” he whispered, then felt her tension ease, her hand now resting on the bundled terrycloth bolster.

  While she slept, Rocky split the kuspuk up the front with the shears, then pulled out the loose pieces of glass, dropping them into the stainless steel bowl. He hated to cut into her ribbed tank top, but she’d have to make do with one of his tee shirts as an undergarment until her luggage came in. There were dozens of small pieces of glass in the fabric and lifting it away from her skin pulled many of the shards out at the same time. If only they were ferrous, he could use a strong magnet to remove them, and his task would be easier. Not today.

  He could sense when she had awakened. She didn’t say a word, but her breathing rhythm changed, her flesh tensed at his touch. He looked up and smiled at her. “I have the glass out of your belly, at least as much as I can see in this light, but I still have to work on your hand. I was afraid to start on it while you were asleep. There are so many little tendons and muscles in there that if I was removing a piece of glass and you jerked, it could… Well, it could make a difference in the outcome.”

  “Why don’t you just take me to the hospital?”

  “We don’t have a full-time doctor. The nurses are good, but they haven’t sewed up as many cuts as I have. Besides, with all the new rules and restrictions, I don’t know if they’d even work on you. They’d probably call in an air evac and ship you to Fairbanks or Anchorage. Since you’re not Native and wouldn’t be getting free medical, you’d have to have some mighty good health insurance to cover the cost of a charter flight.”