by T. Isilwath
She frowned and dropped the plastic bags on the living room floor. “What did he tell you?” she asked carefully. No matter how much she might despise him right now, she wouldn’t reveal his secret.
“That your evening ended in tears for both of you,” the old woman replied, standing and walking slowly to the kitchen.
She followed. “What else did he tell you?” she pressed.
Elisi did not answer right away. Instead she put on a kettle for tea and began heating up some soup. “That you had returned his ring,” she finally said.
She grimaced at the regret in her grandmother’s voice. Elisi had loved Michael as the son that she had lost.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“I feared it would not go well. I tried to warn him that you would not take kindly to his deception, but he would not listen,” Elisi admitted sadly.
Her grandmother’s words surprised her and she shook her head.
“Wait a minute… you knew?” she blurted, stunned.
“Why do you think I did not cut my hair?” her grandmother answered.
“When you were gone, I thought that you were lost to me. I thought that it was the end, that the last of my grandchildren had been taken from me, and I grieved. I asked myself what lesson I was to learn for Spirit to challenge me so harshly in this life, to leave me alone while my children and grandchildren all Passed before me.”
As she spoke, Elisi brewed tea and poured the heated soup into a bowl, setting both down on the small kitchen table.
“If the tsu-la gi-ga-ge had not shown himself to me, I would have shorn my hair to the ears,” the old woman added, using the Tsalagi words for red fox.
“You should eat, Child. You are weary and your color concerns me.” She slumped down into one of the chairs at the table, her exhaustion and upset finally catching up with her.
“He took off the fox choker?”
Elisi nodded and pushed the tea and soup towards her. “Yes. To be honest, I have long suspected that he was not all that he seemed. I even believed that he was connected in some way to the Little People. But the truth was far more strange and frightening than anything I had ever imagined.” She took a sip of tea and ate some of the soup. Elisi was right; she needed to eat or her blood sugar would crash from all the stress. The tea was an herbal blend meant for soothing and easing troubled thoughts. She hoped it worked because she needed all the help she could get.
“Did he tell you everything?” she asked, fishing for more information.
Could Akihiro really have revealed all of his secrets to her grandmother?
“Everything he felt that he could.”
“I still can’t believe that the man I loved so much could hurt me so deeply,” she said, her fox’s betrayal still fresh.
Elisi sighed and sat down with her own cup of tea.
“It was a bad situation,” her grandmother commented.
“Bad situation?” she blurted, the tears rising again. “Elisi, he lied to me.
He’s been lying to me all this time.”
“And yet he could not tell you the truth either,” Elisi pointed-out.
She gasped, starting to tremble. Elisi’s words were reasonable, but she was in no mood for logic and reason.
“I can’t believe it. You’re on his side!” she accused.
“I am on no one’s side. I am saddened by a terrible situation involving two people I love, and I fear for both of you if you cannot see this through.”
“See it through? There is nothing to see. He lied to me. He deceived me.
He let me go on that trip knowing what I would face and said nothing! How can I ever trust him again? How can I look at him knowing what he has done? I know I am supposed to forgive, but how can I possibly forgive that? ”
“I don’t know, Child. Only you can answer that question.”
“Would you forgive him? If you were in my place, would you take him back?” she challenged.
“I don’t know. I am not in your place. I have not walked in your moccasins.”
Having an old proverb thrown at her did nothing to improve her mood, and she clenched her teeth.
“That’s right,” she stated. “You haven’t. So you can’t possibly know how I am feeling right now.”
She took another bite of her soup, then pushed it away. “I can’t eat any more of this. I’m really tired. I’m going to go to bed.” Her grandmother was completely unruffled. It was one of the things she loved most about the old woman. Absolutely nothing seemed to shake her.
“Sleep well, Child. I hope a decent rest will help you find some answers.” She snorted and stood up, taking her dishes to the sink. She moved to put the remainder of her soup in a container, but her grandmother stopped her.
“I’ll take care of that. You go get some sleep.”
She softened, feeling guilty for having been so short with her. She came close and kissed her on the temple. “I’m sorry I’m so crabby. It’s been a bad day.”
Elisi smiled. “Understandable.”
“I’ll see you later this morning. I’ll probably sleep late.” Her grandmother gave her a wry look. “Me too.”
She laughed. “So you’ll sleep in and get up at eight instead of six?”
“Seven at least,” Elisi countered jovially.
She laughed again and her heart felt lighter, at least until she got back to her room. As soon as she closed the door, however, it all came back, and she sobbed into her pillow like a child.
She spent the next two days sequestered in her room. A “decent rest” had done nothing to ease the feelings of betrayal, and if anything she felt worse.
Everything she and Michael had ever done together, even the very moment of their meeting, had all been a carefully planned production directed and put on by Akihiro. It hurt to know that he’d been pretending to be Michael for eleven years, but she had to admit that he had delivered a stunning performance.
But almost as much as the feelings of betrayal were the feelings of loss.
Since she had returned from Feudal Japan, she had known that she would probably lose one of them, but she had never imagined that she would lose both. Knowing that Michael was waiting for her had been one of the things that had kept her going while she was in the past, and the anticipation of seeing Akihiro again in her time had been a source of fear and joy. Now she felt bereft, and there was no one but Elisi to comfort her. But she couldn’t confide in her grandmother because that would mean breaking her contract with the government, and she couldn’t take the chance that someone might be listening.
She wanted to scream and rant. She wanted to run into the forest and let herself get lost in the darkness. She settled for cutting her hair. On Sunday night, after almost two full days of weeping, she emerged from her room, went directly to the kitchen, took out a large pair of scissors, and chopped her hair up to her earlobes. Then she took the shorn locks and burned them in a fire she built in the fire ring in the back yard. Her grandmother watched but said nothing.
She would not speak his name. If he called, she didn’t know because she had told Elisi that she did not wish to talk to him. At some point what few things he had been keeping at her grandmother’s house disappeared. She tried not to notice the complete absence of him, and if her grandmother disapproved, she kept her own council.
She was grateful that her neighbors were not huge gossips, but it was impossible for them not to know that something had happened. Cherokee women cut their hair in mourning and she had cut hers. It was only natural for them to want to know who she was grieving. In the close community her grandmother lived in, the death of a neighbor was known by all, and they knew no one among them had died. She was just lucky that they were too polite to ask, and even if they had asked, she didn’t know what she would tell them. She didn’t know if she was mourning Michael or herself.
She missed Michael. For so long he had been her rock in stormy times; without him she felt at the mercy of the coming gales. She had depend
ed on him, relied on him to see her through the worst of times. There were things in her early grieving that she could not tell her grandmother (and would not tell her therapist), but she had told them to Michael and found healing in his arms.
She had shared all the ugliness that shamed her, all the darkness in her soul, the blackness of her despair, with him, and he’d listened without reproof.
In the worst of it, she’d beaten him, flailing at him with her ineffectual fists, screaming her rage at the world, and he’d taken it. No. He’d encouraged
it. He’d tell her to put it on him, to give him her pain.
“You can’t hurt me. You can’t hurt me,” he would tell her over and over, goading her to come at him with all her fury.
Oh, if only she had known how right he had been. If only she had known what he’d really been telling her. Now he was gone and she was lost. She fumbled around like a child in the dark, all the while knowing that she would have to find her way out by herself.
On Tuesday she had to go to Duke University for her appointment with the ophthalmologist, but she wasn’t supposed to drive herself. Normally Michael would have taken her, but, of course, he was no longer an option. Elisi didn’t drive so she wasn’t able to do it, and she wondered how she was going to get there. She had to go. The floaters in her eyes were getting worse, no doubt in part to how upset she had been the past few days. Emotional upset raised blood pressure, and higher blood pressure caused more bleeding.
Luckily, Elisi’s neighbor, Dan Three Feathers, agreed to take her. It was no small favor. Duke University was in Durham, some five hours away, but Dan was retired and had the time, so they would make a day of it. Elisi was coming too, and she was grateful for her grandmother’s support.
Dan Three Feathers was a true old Cherokee. He spoke only Tsalagi, although she knew he could speak fluent English, and she’d known him nearly six years before she’d learned his last name (Campbell). He’d been born and raised on the Qualla Boundary, and had only left it when he joined the military.
She had once asked him why he had enlisted, and he had answered that it had either been that or be drafted, and enlisting gave him options that conscripted men didn’t have. It didn’t keep him from being sent to Vietnam, but he did come home alive. He didn’t talk about his time overseas. Like most veterans, he didn’t speak of the war unless directly questioned about it.
Dan pulled up around 7am and they all set off for Durham. She was riding shotgun because she had the directions, and Elisi rode in the back with a bag of yarn so she could work while they traveled. Elisi was a member of a group of women who made caps for newborns at the hospitals, and a five hour drive was a good opportunity to make a few for the project.
Dan turned onto Route 19 and headed for I-40 that would take them east to Durham. All was quiet in the Chevy Blazer after the first few greetings and usual small talk. Elisi had packed a small cooler with sandwiches and fruit for breakfast, and Dan had a thermos of coffee, and they parceled out the food.
When breakfast was finished, Elisi turned to her knitting, and she took to staring out the window while Dan drove. Her mind was in turmoil for a number of reasons, and watching the trees and passing cars gave her a distraction.
“You cut your hair,” Dan said in his deep voice, breaking the silence.
The statement shocked her because it wasn’t like him to pry into her personal life. A glance to Elisi in the back seat earned her a little shrug.
“Yes,” she answered, keeping her voice neutral, and her eyes on the road.
“Who has died?”
She took a long moment to answer, considering her words carefully.
“Me.”
Dan’s reply was a soft huff through his nostrils, and a short nod. The look on his face told her that he understood better than she thought, and a realization struck her. Perhaps he’d died in Vietnam, and he knew all too well what it was like to die inside yet still live. He did not broach the subject again, and she resumed looking out the window.
At Duke University’s Eye Center she was taken into an examination room where an assistant put drops into her eyes to dilate her pupils, then a dye was injected intravenously to fluoresce the blood vessels on her retinas. When all was ready an Indian man (from India, not a Native) who introduced himself as Doctor Rao came in to do the examination of her eyes.
“Well, Miss Tindall,” he began in a lightly accented voice when he was finished. “I am sure that you were told that you have diabetic retinopathy.”
“Yes,” she replied.
“I have just confirmed the diagnosis. The bleeding is not extensive, but you do have a number of areas on your retinas that need attention. You should schedule laser surgery to cauterize the blood vessels as soon as possible.” She swallowed and managed a nod. “What is the prognosis?”
“If we can stop the bleeding, you shouldn’t suffer any further vision loss.”
“Can I expect to regain any of the vision I’ve lost already?”
“There are some treatments, some medications that can be used to help restore some of the vision lost by the clouding of the vitreous fluid, but those are usually reserved for cases much more severe than yours. If we can’t get the bleeding under control, then your eyesight may deteriorate to the point where those treatments become an option.”
She nodded. “I see. Thank you.”
“I’ll send in the intern to escort you to the reception desk. They’ll make your appointment there.”
“When can I expect my eyes to return to normal?”
“The drops should wear off in about an hour or two. All the same, you shouldn’t drive until the effects wear off completely.”
“I had someone drive me here.”
“That was a good idea. Do you have any further questions?”
“No.” What else was there to ask? She knew the prognosis if the surgery failed.
“Very well, then. I’ll tell the intern to come get you.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Good luck, Ms. Tindall. I’m sure we’ll see you soon.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
He exited the room and she was left alone to wait for the intern to come in.
She’d been given special sunglasses to protect her eyes while they were dilated, and she put them on in anticipation of the intern turning on the lights. It took a while for someone to come get her, and she sat in the dark by herself, dealing with the news and her worst fears. Had Michael been there, he would have bullied his way into the examination room and stood beside her while she was there. He would have held her hand and told her jokes to ease her anxiety. But he wasn’t there, and he wouldn’t be there ever again. She was just going to have to get used to it.
The intern did come, eventually, and he walked her out to the reception desk. With her eyes still completely dilated, it was hard to focus and everything was too bright even with the sunglasses, but she managed, and her appointment was set for December 14th. She made her way out to the waiting room where Elisi and Dan were sitting on the uncomfortable chairs. They stood as she approached, and Dan took her arm to guide her out to the Blazer.
“Thanks,” she said to him, hooking her arm in his.
He gave a grunt of acknowledgement, but otherwise did not respond. She waited until they were in the Blazer before telling them what Dr. Rao had said.
“So, you must have laser surgery?” Elisi asked when she was done relaying what Dr. Rao had told her.
“Yeah. My first is on December 14th.”
“First?” her grandmother repeated.
She gave a shrug and tried to sound unconcerned. “The intern warned me that sometimes it takes more than one treatment to stop the bleeding.”
“Ah.”
“We will pray that one treatment is all you need,” Dan promised.
“Thank you,” she said, genuinely grateful.
They stopped in Greensboro for an early dinner. Dan knew a small, local place that served great food for chea
p prices, and they ate there. She didn’t know how he’d known about it, but she guessed that it had been a place he had gone to when he was in the military. After they were finished eating, they got back in Dan’s Blazer and headed for home.
Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t speak as Dan drove, and there was peaceful silence in the Jeep for almost an hour. She watched the road, knowing she wouldn’t relax until they had returned to the forest.
“I have heard you returned Crow Dancing’s ring,” Dan said suddenly.
She looked at him, surprised, then cast a glance to the back seat where Elisi was sleeping.
“Spider-Weaver Woman sleeps,” he confirmed. “But you have not answered. Is it true that you have returned Crow Dancing’s ring?” It wasn’t any of his business, and he really shouldn’t have been asking her such questions, but Dan Three Feathers never did anything without good reason so she trusted him and answered.
“Yes.”
“Hmm. Is that why you cut your hair?”
“Partially. That’s not the only reason, but it is one of them.” Dan nodded.
“Have you talked to Michael?” she asked, wondering if that was why he had asked her about the ring.
“No.”
She breathed sharply through her nose and looked out the window. Even though it was only 6pm, it was almost full dark, and the looming foothills of the mountains looked like darker blobs against an already dark background. The dilation drops had worn off, but she was still suffering some aftereffects.
“Crow Dancing is a good man. He is loyal and faithful, and a good provider. He suffered much when you were missing, but he took care of Spider-Weaver Woman as if she were his own grandmother,” Dan told her.
Why was he telling her these things? Why was he even getting involved?
Had Michael put him up to it? She hadn’t remembered Michael and Dan being particularly friendly. Dan kept to himself and, usually, minded his own business, which is why it seemed so odd that he would be trying to talk to her.
“He lied to me. He kept secrets from me. I can no longer trust him,” she replied, her voice devoid of all emotion.
“We all have secrets, Sings in Winter. I am sure there are things you have kept hidden, and all of us tell some form of untruth in our lives, especially if it is to protect one we love.”