Fire Song

by Adam Garnet Jones

  But all that is too much for Shane to say. That darkness is packed hard inside him like a wad of wet leaves in a drainpipe. If he pushes to get it all out at once, the words will spew out in a tangle of pain that’ll only do more damage. He’ll have to take his time, letting it out piece by piece.

  “I … can’t go. Not right now.” Shane speaks without looking up. “Maybe next year or something but …”

  “You don’t have to decide right away.” Jackie puts her hand on his. “It’s your money either way.” Shane can’t remember the last time her hand covered his like that. Shane’s body relaxes. The warmth passes in a wave from David’s hand on one side and his mother’s on the other, filling him up like a transfusion of blood.

  Evie shuffles away from the stove with a pan of eggs. She clears her throat loudly, and David yanks his hand away from Shane’s.

  “I just heard scrambled, so everybody gets scrambled,” Evie says as sits down next to David. Jackie takes the handle of the pan and dishes some eggs onto their plates. Shane takes one and passes it down to Evie. When all their plates are full, silence settles over the table. Steam rises off the pale eggs. Butter melts into slabs of blueberry bannock. Soft light seeps greenly through the leaves of the birches outside. No one moves to eat, as if they’ve all lost their appetites at once.

  Shane gets up and crosses the kitchen. The others watch him open the cupboard and lift down another plate. Shane returns to the table and offers it to his mother. “Can I do a spirit plate?”

  Jackie takes it from him gently and scoops a bit of eggs, a piece of bannock, and a slice of orange onto the plate.

  “Shane, put a sausage on there,” Evie says. “Your sister loved those.”

  “Should I take it outside?” Shane asks.

  “You can take it to the water after. I’d like it here with us for a bit.” Jackie sets the plate in the middle of the table.

  Evie picks up her fork and smiles. “Let’s eat.”

  chapter twenty-eight

  Drugs Lead to Rape Arrest

  After reports of gunshots, police arrived at the residence of Deb-bie Maanendan (35) and Kyle Maanendan (23) of Ishkode Ojibwe Nation. When officers arrived on the scene, they found Mr. Maanendan bleeding from a gunshot wound. A search resulted in the discovery of a hidden stash of illegal narcotics with a street value of over $20,000. An undisclosed sum of cash was also found at the scene. Both Debbie and her nephew Kyle Maanendan are in police custody and are expected to be charged later today.

  Kyle Maanendan has, how-ever, already been charged with sexual assault causing bodily harm against a 17-year-old local girl, who later committed suicide. Police say they were tipped off by the girlfriend of the accused, Ashley Chandler, after she found an article of the victim’s clothing in Maanendan’s bedroom. Police would not confirm whether Maanendan is a match for the attacker’s DNA sample, but they have taken him into custody and charges were laid early this morning.

  chapter twenty-nine

  There are deep furrows in the carpet that outline the place where Shane’s desk and bed and bookshelf used to be. Shane crouches down to lift the last box and carries it out of the room. There will be space for most of their things at David and Evie’s house, and the rest can get donated. It didn’t take long for people to calm down once the cops took Kyle and Debbie away. A few of Kyle’s cousins made noise about coming after Shane and David, but when most of the community came to their defense, the cousins backed off.

  Shane breezes through the bare hallway and out the front door. He’s walking taller and his back is broader, as if coming out to his family has given his body permission to grow. Jackie picks up a bin of odds and ends from the kitchen and follows Shane down the driveway. She looks stronger, steady. Her eyes never stop moving, as though taking in all the little things still left undone and making lists in her head.

  Pete gives Shane a long look up and down, squinting at him from the back of his truck. “Only one box? Man, what kinda load is that!?”

  Hot red splotches spread up Shane’s neck and into his cheeks. Pete knows how to get to him every time.

  “Aw, leave him alone.” Jackie laughs.

  Shane wipes at a bit of sweat running down his temple. David takes the box from Shane and gives him a peck on the cheek.

  “Still sleeping alone, Uncle?” David grins and passes the box to Pete. Pete squirms, but he keeps his mouth shut. It’s incredible—a month ago Shane would never have imagined they could joke like that in front of his uncle.

  Evie teeters down the steps behind them, her arms loaded with boxes. “Ever lazy, Pete!” Evie calls out. “Just organizing things while the women and boys haul boxes.” Shane and David leap forward to take boxes from her. Evie brushes her hands off on her skirt and gives the boys a wink; she’s just giving Pete a hard time.

  “Jesus. That better be the end of it.” Pete slams the tailgate closed.

  Jackie pulls a twenty-dollar bill out of her pocket. “Why don’t you head down to the store to grab some lunch? We’re gonna clean some things up here.”

  Pete takes the money. “It’s a waste of time, Jacks. Nobody’s moving in.”

  “You just go eat. Let me do it my way,” Jackie says.

  “You’re the boss, I guess.” Uncle Pete slides into the cab of his truck and pulls away. Jackie turns around and walks back to the house alone.

  “Mom?” Jackie doesn’t stop. Shane, David, and Evie pass uncertain glances between themselves.

  Shane takes a deep breath as he crosses the threshold into the kitchen. Everything is gone—all the dishes and baking pans, even the smells that made the place belong to them have disappeared. What’s left is the anonymous scent of kicked-up dust and mold that every abandoned house has. Like when a noisy pile of Aunties and half-asleep kids leave a party, and suddenly the low hum of the fridge and the creaking joints of the building grow louder, filling the space that the people have left behind.

  Shane’s footsteps echo off the walls, unnaturally loud. The living room looks smaller with nothing in it. His mom is standing at Destiny’s door. Shane slips his arm around her waist and looks into her room. It’s untouched. The rest of the house is like a skeleton picked clean by animals, but her room is like a zombie—alive with the memory of Destiny’s life and death. A still-open wound, made worse by the fact that half of it is still strewn across the backyard. No one picked it up after Shane threw it out. It’s been heating up in the sun during the days and gathering dew at night. Shane rests his head on his mother’s shoulder.

  “Do you want us to box up Destiny’s stuff until we do a giveaway?” he asks.

  “We’re not doing a giveaway,” Jackie says.

  Shane nods, but it doesn’t make sense. Every time he thinks his mom is back to her old self, she says or does something that doesn’t seem like her. A giveaway is a chance for people to grieve and to remember, to take a piece of Destiny with them, something to remember her by. A giveaway is what people want; it’s what they expect. And it’s what Jackie needs. She hasn’t spent time in ceremony in too long. Shane can’t help feeling like she would come back to herself if she could only find a way to pray again.

  *

  The chipboard at the back of Destiny’s bookshelf slaps loosely against Shane’s knuckles. It’s hard to get a good handhold. He and David maneuver it down the hallway and out into the yard, stopping several times to adjust their grip. They would both have splinters by now if it weren’t made of only sawdust and glue.

  “Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” David asks.

  Shane isn’t sure. “Why? Are we going against some serious Nish teachings or something?”

  “I don’t think so but …”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  They set the bookshelf on the ground and David pushes it over, letting it settle on top of a pile of things fro
m Destiny’s room. They had started with her mattress against the grass, then heaped on clothes, jewelry, posters, drawings, birthday cards, and books. They added little things Destiny made, gifts she was given and forgot about, school assignments and toys from when she was small. They piled it piece by piece until her room was empty and all the physical evidence of her life was stacked so high it spilled out over the sides of the mattress. Seeing his sister’s things dragged outside feels wrong, as though Destiny might come running out of the house any second, pissed at him for messing with her stuff.

  David rests his head on Shane’s shoulder. Shane keeps an eye on the house. He can see Evie through the open window of Destiny’s room. Evie shuffles past the naked walls, saying a prayer in Anishinaabemowin and fanning the smoldering medicines with an eagle feather. The smoke wafts up, drifting through shafts of honeyed light. When Evie finishes her prayer Jackie steps inside the door. Evie offers her the sacred medicine, but Jackie shakes her head. Evie knows better than to offer again. She touches Jackie’s shoulder and leaves her alone. Jackie stays there for a moment before she moves to the center of the room. She crosses her arms tight and keeps her eyes fixed on the floor. It hurts to watch. After a moment, Jackie raises her head. Her hands reach out for the bald walls, caressing the thumbtack holes with her fingertips. When she steps back to the middle of the room, Jackie slowly turns, taking in the emptiness of Destiny’s bedroom, gently circling the space like a dancer searching for her partner.

  “Hey.” David squeezes Shane’s hand. The contact brings him back to himself. David brings Shane’s head to rest on his chest. Shane closes his eyes and leans into it. Until now they’ve been careening from one crisis to the next. It’s hard to imagine what being together will look like without fireworks and pain. The quiet feels uneasy.

  Evie picks her way carefully over the grass. She focuses on her shuffling feet, careful not to trip. David releases Shane’s hand, leaving him alone and adrift.

  Evie squints up at them and pushes her glasses higher on her nose. “Boys.”

  Uh-oh. Here it comes. She hasn’t said anything about them being together yet, but she doesn’t have to. It’s in the way she puckers her lips when they sit too close, and the way she clears her throat when she sees them looking at each other for too long. And they both heard her the night they broke in to Debbie’s. We don’t do that here, she said. Creator made men and women different for a reason, she said.

  Evie fixes her eyes first on Shane, and then on David.

  “Nookomis.” David looks like he might cry. It takes everything he has to both honor her and stand strong with Shane.

  “Shhhhh…” Evie reaches up to David’s neck and pulls him down to face her. She kisses his forehead gently, then lets him go and steps over to Shane. He bends down so she can press her lips against his brow, gentle and dry as the brush of a bird’s wing. Evie takes both of their hands in hers. She closes her eyes and a tremor flutters over her face, the kind of trembling that begins deep underground before the earth moves. She squeezes her eyes tight and presses Shane’s palm into David’s. Evie holds them there together, letting their bodies disappear into each other at the place where their skin touches. When she opens her eyes, she looks at them for a long moment. I see you. Your ancestors see you, and they’re happy. Tears burn Shane’s eyes. Evie lifts their clasped hands high into the air and holds them there. All at once the trembling stops, and a smile opens Evie’s face.

  Shane doesn’t know how long his mom has been watching, but suddenly Jackie is there with them. She puts her arm around Shane’s waist and steps out of her shoes. Shane and the rest of them follow her lead. It feels right. And all at once they’re in ceremony, connected to one another, with their feet in the soft earth. Something is beginning.

  Jackie steps forward and nestles a photo of Destiny on top of the pile. It’s a rare photo of her with a real smile. Jackie must have snapped it mid-laugh, just before Destiny’s hand came up to cover the crooked tooth she always tried to hide. Staring down at the picture, Shane thinks that nothing has ever felt so enormous and looked so tiny at the same time. Shane takes a photo of Tara out of his pocket and places it beside Destiny. In the picture, Tara’s hair has been swept to the side, and her chin juts out like she’s been given a dare she isn’t ready for. Shane takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know if he can do this. It’s too much to ask. He takes a step back and joins his family for a moment. There is always a chance that Jackie will change her mind about the plan. Jackie strokes his head, then passes him a box of matches. Shane looks up at her. Jackie nods. It’s time.

  Shane crouches down low. He pulls a match out of the box and rolls its rough square edges between his fingers. He scrapes the match against the sandpaper. The match flares with a crack that cuts through the sound of the wind and the waves. Shane watches the orange light travel toward his fingertips, blackening and twisting the wood as it moves. He touches the match to the corner of one of Destiny’s drawings and the fire passes out of his hands—no longer his. The flame creeps its way over clothes and furniture, slowly nuzzling her things as if asking permission before consuming them. And she must give it, because within moments the flames seem to be everywhere at once. The outside of the cardboard boxes darken and peel back. The flames rise.

  Jackie presses her head against him. Both their faces are wet with tears. When his mom told them she wanted to burn Destiny’s things, he didn’t think it was right. It seemed angry, destructive, not our way. But all prayers can have their place, if they come from a feeling that’s real and comes with good intentions. And if nothing else, Destiny’s life deserves an event to mark its end. Not a ceremony that the elders would do; not a droning sermon at the church; not a celebration of life at the bingo hall. Something that Destiny herself would be proud of. Something fierce and reckless and free.

  They stand watching the fire grow, holding their ground even when wave after wave of heat tightens their skin and stings their faces. The pain is part of bearing witness.

  Jackie takes a deep breath before she speaks. “Shane—you can do anything, you know.”

  Her voice vibrates in his chest and spreads through his whole body. Shane nods. She’s right. For the first time since he can remember, he isn’t terrified of what the future holds. He doesn’t have a plan and he doesn’t need one. For once, all paths are open and there is no pressure to choose.

  He tilts his head to the sky, imagining the cool touch of Destiny’s fingers on his cheek as the ashes are lifted, curling into the clouds. Something inside him has come loose, like a red leaf in fall.

  Goodbye, sister. For a moment it feels like he might pull off on a Drift. It would be so easy to disconnect from his body and follow those ashes as far away as they will take him. But he doesn’t need it anymore. Shane lets out a breath and leans into the warmth of his mother and David and Evie. A pulse drums through all of their bodies as they stand by the fire, rooted together, strong. Shane pushes back on his heels and digs his toes into the warm dirt. He is exactly where he needs to be.

  acknowledgments

  This book would not have been possible had it not been for the army of people involved in developing and producing the film, Fire Song. The film took years to get off the ground, beginning with development support from Sarah Kolasky and Elke Town. The film would never have gone a step further without Laura Milliken, PJ Thornton, and Michelle Derosiers, who were there in the trenches throughout production and are still helping to get Fire Song out in the world. Thank you most of all to the communities of Fort William First Nation and Wabigoon Lake Ojibway Nation (particularly Donna Chief and the whole Chief family) who opened their doors and allowed us to tell this story on their territory. And thank you to Donna for reading the book and giving me your thoughts. To the cast of the film, thank you so much for letting your spirits shine through and giving these characters life. I heard your voices in my head every day while I wrote the book, so you ha
ve continued to inspire me long after the film was complete. Many thanks to Eden Robinson, Lee Maracle, Thomas King, and Richard Wagamese, who gave me the confidence at the Banff Centre for the Arts to try writing prose. Thank you to the Ontario Arts Council’s Writers’ Reserve Program for supporting this project, and to Sheldon Suganaqueb for helping me come up with the name of the community where the story takes place. Thank you so much to Rick Wilks and Katie Hearn at Annick Press for suggesting that I write this book. I will be forever grateful for your support. Lastly, thank you to my husband Ryan and my stepdaughter Rose for all that you give me every day. I met you in the hazy days after wrapping production on Fire Song and I’ve been in a haze of love ever since.

  © 2018 Adam Garnet Jones

  Fire Song by Adam Garnet Jones is based on the film Fire Song produced by Fire Song Films Inc. and Big Soul Productions Inc. and written and directed by Adam Garnet Jones.

  Designed by Emma Dolan

  Cover images courtesy of istock.com:

  Night Sky © Jamesteohart; Friends © Antolikjan

  Fire Song takes place in Canada and as such Shane refers to the land he lives on as the 'reserve'; in the U.S., the more common term is 'reservation'. Commonly used Anishinaabemowin words and phrases that appear throughout the story are set in italics.