by Thomas King
Latisha grabbed the pot of coffee and made the rounds.
“Say,” said Louie when Latisha got to their table, “what’s the story on the lake just west of here?”
“Parliament Lake?”
“That’s the one. How’s the fishing?”
“Probably very good.”
“Hey,” said Louie, “you guys hear that?”
“But you can’t fish. Court order.”
“Court order,” said Louie. “Boy, you guys really take your fishing serious out here.”
Latisha spent most of that first morning in the tepee with George, making coffee and stew. Almost as soon as the coffee was done, people began arriving. The flap of the tepee would open, and relatives and friends would come in without a word and sit down. Latisha would pass the coffee around, and after everyone had some, a conversation would begin. Sometimes it was about family. Sometimes it was about an upcoming marriage. Most of the time it was about children.
Just after lunch, George rolled off the bed and began taking off his shirt. At first, Latisha tried to ignore him.
“George, come on. I’ve got work to do.”
“Come on,” he said, unlacing his boots. “There must be some way to lock that door. God, these people don’t even knock.”
George was just undoing his pants when the flap was pulled to one side and four older women came in. George had just enough time to throw a blanket around himself and slide back against the side of the tepee.
The women hardly noticed him. They sat and drank coffee and ate stew and talked to Latisha about their grandchildren and the weather. Latisha had to keep from looking at George wrapped up in a Pendleton blanket for fear of laughing. By the time they left, George was scowling and sweating under the heavy wool.
“God,” he said, “I thought they’d never leave. Does this go on all day?”
Latisha told him that it did.
“Look,” she said, “why don’t you go on out with the men. Some of the older people need help setting up their tepees and there’s always wood to be chopped. You’ll feel better if you get out and do something.”
George had just gotten dressed when the next group lifted the flap and came in. George smiled and said hello to everyone, and then he slipped out. Latisha didn’t see him until later that evening.
“That man of yours is a funny guy,” Latisha’s father told her. “Got some interesting ideas.”
“Something wrong?”
“No,” said her father. “Wouldn’t say that. He helped Mrs. Potts with her tepee. Had a new way to get the poles up.”
“Did it work?”
“Nope,” said her father. “But he sure was sure it would.”
“No one got hurt, did they?”
“Nope,” said her father. “But it sure was interesting.”
Louie and Ray and Al were still bent over their map when Latisha came around with the pot again.
“Supposed to be a dam around here,” said Louie. “Guy at the Lodge said it was worth seeing.”
“It’s not working,” said Latisha.
“Sort of like the lake, huh?” said Al.
Latisha filled the cups right to the brim, spilling a little coffee into each saucer.
“It’s all tied up in court. They can’t use the dam, and they can’t use the lake.”
“Hey,” said Louie, “is this the place where people bought lakefront property figuring they would build houses and cottages, and now they can’t?”
“I guess so,” said Latisha.
“Yeah, it is,” said Ray. “Made the papers all the way back in Manitoba. There’s an old guy who lives in some cabin right under the dam.”
“My uncle,” said Latisha.
“Son of a gun,” said Louie. “Son of a gun.”
Later that night, as they lay in bed, George nuzzled up against her back and held her close.
“I’m having a great time,” he said. “How about you?”
“Sure.”
“How much longer is it?”
What George liked best was the men dancing. He sat at the edge of the circle with Harley and watched the dancers move in the late afternoon light.
“Why are they skipping?” he asked.
“Why are they holding hands?”
“What do they do inside the double tepee all day?”
“That man of yours,” her father told her, “is sure full of questions.”
“George is inquisitive, Dad.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” her father said. “His eyes okay?”
“Sure, why?”
“Guess his ears work, too.”
George talked about the Sun Dance for months after that, and the next year, just after Christian was born, Latisha went to the Sun Dance alone.
“It just wouldn’t be the same, Country,” he told her. “The first time is always the best.”
The guys from Manitoba finished their breakfast and left. Al bought a couple of postcards, and Louie bought a menu to send home to his daughter.
“If we come through Blossom on our way back,” Louie told Latisha, “we’ll bring you a trout.”
Latisha watched the men get into their station wagon. The rain had started again, and the sky was darker.
Billy stuck his head out of the kitchen. “When you going out to the Sun Dance?”
“Maybe later this afternoon, when the kids get out of school. Can you work both shifts?”
“Sure. Do it every year.”
“Thanks, Billy.”
Latisha loaded the dishes in the tray. As she wiped the table, she noticed a woman standing in the parking lot in the rain. The woman’s back was to her.
“Tourist?” said Cynthia, gesturing toward the figure.
Latisha laughed.
“Must like the rain,” said Cynthia, and she took the tray of dirty dishes to the kitchen.
There was something familiar about the figure, and as the woman turned around, Latisha saw that it was Alberta. Latisha smiled and waved Alberta in, and Alberta waved back. But she didn’t move. Under the lowering sky, Alberta waited in the parking lot, in the rain.
Eli eased the truck out of the parking lot and onto the road. The rain was falling again, not as heavily as before, but steadily, patiently. Eli turned his headlights on and waited at the corner for the light to change.
“What do you think, nephew?” said Eli.
“Probably just a weird problem with the tape,” said Lionel, looking up and down the street. “It happens all the time with electronic stuff.”
“No, I mean the weather,” said Eli. “For the Sun Dance. Norma’s going to be mad as hell if it doesn’t clear up.”
“You see those old Indians?” said Lionel. “They couldn’t have gotten very far.”
Eli rolled across the intersection and turned west. The sky was moving overhead, a gathering of clouds. “Sure doesn’t look good, but you never know.”
“If you see the old Indians, let me know,” said Lionel.
“I remember one year, it rained for three weeks before the Sun Dance, but when things got going, the sun came out and it was beautiful.”
“I can’t keep this jacket,” said Lionel. “I like it, but I can’t keep it.”
“When was the last time you were at the Sun Dance, nephew?”
“I mean, I don’t even know who they are.”
Karen got better. A remission, the doctors called it. Not a cure. Just a reprieve. If there were no problems for another four or five years, they said, then they could talk cure. Karen was weak for a long time, but each year she got stronger.
“Eli,” she said one day when he got home from the university, “why don’t you take early retirement. We could travel, do some of the things we’ve always wanted to do.”
“Like what?”
“Like France. Maybe go to Germany. We could take a cruise to the Caribbean.”
“Sounds good.”
“Since I’m
not going to die on you, and you’re stuck with me, we might as well do something with the rest of our lives.”
“Okay,” Eli said. “What do you want to do first?”
“The Sun Dance,” said Karen.
“You know,” said Eli, “I was a lot like you when I was your age.”
“No kidding.”
“Norma’s probably told you all about it.”
“Only four or five hundred times.”
“That’s Norma.” Eli laughed. “Got a real strong idea about how the world should look. Norma says you got plans.”
“Going back to school.”
“That what you want to do?”
Lionel shifted in his seat. They should have caught up with the old Indians by now. They couldn’t just disappear.
“It’s a big world out there,” Eli said. “Always seems like there are a lot of things to do.”
“That’s what I figure.”
Lionel pulled the jacket around him. It was nice looking but it wasn’t very warm. Maybe he’d wear it over a sweater when he and Alberta went out to dinner.
“Alberta and I are going out to dinner tonight,” Lionel said, watching the side streets on the off chance that the Indians had wandered off and got lost.
“That Amos Frank’s girl?” said Eli. “The one who teaches over in Calgary?”
“That’s right.”
“Norma says you want to marry her.”
“We’re just good friends,” said Lionel. “Like you said. It’s a big world. Lots of things to do.”
Eli slowed the truck and let it drift to the side of the road until it came to a stop. He turned sideways in the cab and smiled at Lionel. “That’s what I said, nephew. That’s what I said, all right. And I was wrong.”
“Don’t tell your mother or your sisters,” Karen said. “Let’s surprise them.”
Eli said sure, that it might be better that way. Just to show up. They could always go back into Blossom of an evening and stay at a motel.
“No,” said Karen. “I want to stay in the camp. You’re not worried about my health, are you?”
“No.”
“And you’re not embarrassed?”
Karen told all of their friends that they were going to go back to Alberta to the Sun Dance that summer, and Charlie Catlin and his wife organized a little going-away party.
“Charlie, we’re not going until the summer. It’s only February.”
“Sure, Eli, we know that, but it’s as good an excuse for a party as we’ll get.”
The night of the party, Karen picked Eli up from the university. The night was slippery and wrapped in snow and ice. Karen had the heater going full blast.
“I think I’m going to melt.”
“Just getting you ready for summer.”
As Karen worked her way through Toronto traffic, Eli tried to think of what he was going to say to his mother. It had been over twenty years since the last visit. He had no excuses, no good reasons why he had stayed away so long. Even Karen’s illness couldn’t cover over his absence.
“Are you afraid, Eli?”
“Of what?”
“Of going home.”
Eli shook his head and watched the lights of the city pool up on the wet sidewalks and slide across the road. “I am home,” he said.
Eli saw the car before Karen did, a dark flash of purple and black, glistening as it came, plunging through the intersection.
At first Lionel thought that Eli had seen the Indians, but as he looked around, Lionel saw nothing but empty streets. Eli leaned over the steering wheel, and for a moment Lionel thought his uncle might be sick. Or worse.
“You okay?” Eli nodded.
“You sure?”
“Just thinking,” Eli said, and he straightened up and checked the side mirror. “Tell me, nephew. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”
Lionel shrugged. “I’ve been to Salt Lake City. Don’t want to go back there again.”
“Anywhere you want to go.”
“The rest of the time, I’ve been here. In Blossom.”
“Okay,” said Eli, and he pulled the truck into gear. “That’s what we’ll do.”
Dr. Hovaugh stood in the parking lot and stared at the empty space where his car had been.
“Dr. Hovaugh.” Babo stood at the door to the lobby. “It’s raining.”
“Where’s my car?” shouted Dr. Hovaugh.
“Looks like it’s gone,” said Babo. “Maybe you better come back inside.”
“Not until I find my car,” said Dr. Hovaugh, and he pulled his collar up around his neck and marched up one end of the parking lot and stomped down the other, oblivious to the rain and to the puddles and ponds.
From where she stood, Babo could see Dr. Hovaugh sliding through the water, could hear him spitting as he thundered among the rows of cars. Until he came back to where he had started. Wetter. Angrier.
“Where’s my car!”
It took Babo a while to talk Dr. Hovaugh back into the lobby. He stood at the window, dripping, and watched the empty spot as if he expected that the car would reappear at any moment.
“It’s the country,” said Dr. Hovaugh. “Look around. Just look around.”
Babo held up the towel she had gotten from the front desk.“Same thing happened to me,” she said. “I know just how you feel.”
“It’s the Indians,” said Dr. Hovaugh.
“What about the country?”
“Same thing.”
Babo draped the towel over Dr. Hovaugh’s head. “Well, the good point is that whoever took it probably put the top up.”
Dr. Hovaugh snorted and turned away from the window.“I’m going to get changed. See if you can rent us a car.”
“Another good point is that a rental car will probably have more room, in case we find the Indians and have to give them a ride.”
“After that, call the police.”
“The bad point is a larger car will use more gas.”
Dr. Hovaugh ran the towel through his hair and wiped off his shoulders and chest. “Just get us a car.”
When Dr. Hovaugh returned to the coffee shop, Babo was sitting at a large table with a map and several brochures spread out in front of her.
“What’s all this?” he said.
“You want some tea?” said Babo. “They have some great cinnamon tea.”
“Did you get a car?”
Babo ran her finger along the map and then looked at one of the brochures. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” said Babo, looking at another brochure, “none of the rental places had any cars left. It’s a holiday.”
“What holiday? There’s no holiday.”
“In Canada there is. Everyone gets Monday off. It’s a three-day weekend. So there aren’t any cars.”
“So what did you get?”
“A bus,” said Babo.
Dr. Hovaugh bent forward and rubbed his forehead. His hair was still wet, and drops of water ran out on his neck.
“It’s actually a tour. I figured if we can’t get a car, we can tour around the countryside. Maybe we’ll spot the Indians that way.”
Dr. Hovaugh picked up one of the brochures. “A tour of a dam?”
“That’s the tour I signed us up for. See, it takes us near a real Indian reservation and then up to this place right here, Parliament Lake and the Grand Baleen Dam. The dam’s supposed to be something to see. It’s not working right now, but the woman at the desk said it’s a beauty.”
Dr. Hovaugh looked at the brochure, spread it out in front of him. And then he looked at the map.
“The dam!” he said.
“That’s right,” said Babo. “Tour leaves at eight in the morning. We get lunch at the dam itself. Should be a great trip.”
“Of course,” said Dr. Hovaugh, turning the map so he could read it. “The dam.”
&
nbsp; “Look,” says Coyote, “I haven’t much time. The old Indians need my help.”
“I thought maybe you would like to tell this story,” I says.“But if you’re too busy, I guess I can do it myself.”
“No, no,” says Coyote. “I want to do that. I’ll just tell it fast.”
“Okay,” I says. “Just get it right.”
“Okay,” says Coyote. “Where were we?”
“Well,” I says, “Old Woman just fell through that hole into the sky and then she fell into—”
“I know, I know,” says Coyote. “A whale!”
“We already had a whale,” I says.
“A fiery furnace!” says Coyote.
“No,” I says. “Not that either.”
“A manger!” says Coyote.
“Nope,” I says. “Old Woman doesn’t fall into a manger.”
“Give me a hint,” says Coyote.
“Old Woman falls into the water,” I says.
“The water?” says Coyote. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” I says.
“Okay, okay,” says Coyote. “Old Woman falls through the hole, falls through the sky, and falls into the water.”
“That’s right,” I says.
“Great,” says Coyote. “What happens next?”
“Well,” I says, “Old Woman falls into that water. So she is in that water. So she looks around and she sees—”
“I know, I know,” says Coyote. “She sees a golden calf!”
“Wrong again,” I says.
“A pillar of salt!” says Coyote.
“Nope,” I says to Coyote.
“A burning bush!” says Coyote.
“Where do you get these things?” I says.
“I read a book,” says Coyote.
“Forget the book,” I says. “We’ve got a story to tell. And here’s how it goes.”
So Old Woman is floating in the water. And she looks around. And she sees a man. Young man. A young man walking on water.
Hello, says Old Woman. Nice day for a walk.
Yes, it is, says Young Man Walking On Water. I am looking for a fishing boat.
I just got here, says Old Woman. But I’ll help you look.
That’s very kind of you, says Young Man Walking On Water. But I’d rather do it myself.
Oh, look, says Old Woman. Is that the boat you’re looking for over there?
Not if you saw it first, says Young Man Walking On Water.