Ellie's Crows

by MaryAnn Myers

  A sound in the hall distracted him, and he looked up to see an elderly woman enter the room, quivering, her arms outstretched like a Frankenstein. Drool slithered from her open mouth. “You’re doing good, April,” an aide at her side said. “Just a little bit further.”

  It was too much. He stopped at the nurse’s station, left a message, and vanished.

  * * *

  Though it was close to Grandma Betty’s usual bedtime, not to mention her declining state, she was enjoying a second wind. They weren’t a grandmother who was dying at a cemetery and a granddaughter holding on to her every last moment. They were children at the park, playing games with the wipers as they weathered the storm. Off… On… Delay… Low… And fast as they could go! It was euphoric!

  “Oh, look!” Ellie pointed to a perfectly straight bolt of vertical lightning out over the lake directly in front of them. Both jumped with the almost instantaneous boom! They’d known it was coming, and yet it startled them both.

  Grandma Betty laughed and then sighed. “I’m going to miss you, Ellie.”

  Ellie nodded, wanted to say, “Me, too,” but couldn’t trust her voice right then, couldn’t trust herself. She couldn’t imagine life without her Grandma. Her heart ached at the thought of it.

  “So what’s new with the Dildo?”

  Ellie laughed. Leave it to Grandma Betty. “Oh….” She hesitated. “He’s fine I guess.”

  Grandma Betty shook her head at the look on Ellie’s face. “You got it bad, girl. That’s so sad.”

  Ellie shrugged. It seemed like ages since she’d seen him, and yet it was only just yesterday. “He’s really nice, Grandma. Most of the time at least. I don’t know why you don’t like him.”

  Grandma Betty glanced away and winced.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded, but held her side. “I wish I knew what to expect.”

  “Me, too.”

  ~ 13 ~

  Abby sat down with a book Ellie had loaned her; the one with the chapter about “becoming a crow.” With the storm outside and her husband out of town for a few days, it was the perfect night to curl up with a good book. She contemplated the preface. The author seemed like a neat lady. “For as long as I can remember,” the woman wrote, “I have felt close to nature. I have felt the aliveness of each unique entity, whether holding a stone in my hand and feeling its warmth or coolness, drinking in a magnificent skyfull of sunset, or quietly watching deer moving alertly through the forest with indescribable grace and elegance.

  “Some years ago, these imageries started nudging me. Eight of them emerged, and then I set them aside, involved with other things in my life. Early last winter, they began nudging me again, only harder, seeming determined to be born into the world. Since then, they’ve been ever-present, calling me back if I’m too long away. This book you hold in your hand is the culmination of that birthing process.”

  Abby gazed again at the cover, a welcoming summer path in a lush forest. The book had been a gift to Ellie, the inscription reading, “For your birthday. I was there! Love, Grandma Betty.” Chapter Eight was about the crow. Abby sipped her coffee and started reading.

  “Become a crow…. Experience your body…. Black, with shimmerings of deep blue & purple…. Look around from your roosting place high in a pine tree…. You can see for a long distance…. On one side, the woods offer roosting trees and shelter for assembling…. On the other, farm lands open wide, with special opportunities for food…. And beyond, the noisy highways of constant movement, where animals often die….

  It’s dawning. You stretch your wings, and become aware of your hunger…. You take off from your roost, with a relaxed CAW CAW CAW, inviting others to join you in your morning search for food. Experience your wings as they move slowly and deliberately in flight, with regular even wingbeats against supporting air…. Feel the air parting as you move through…. Others of your friends are flying too, in a loosely-formed flock. You fly toward the cornfields. This is the time of seedsprouting…. No two-leggeds in sight. Only the still sticks dressed like a two-legged. You scornfully land on its hat, waiting for the others to gather… Now you all settle on the field, savoring the tender sprouts…. A sharp crack reverberates. A two-legged with a killing stick! CAW! CAW! CAW! CAW! Great danger! The dispersal call is given, and the flock scatters instantly. Your wings beat hard and evenly, carrying you away from the field….

  As you fly, you hear the call of a friend, and you both turn toward the highway… You settle together onto the dirt near the road. No newly-killed animals in sight here, but you feel the vibrations with your feet as the big, many-wheeled, noisy ones pass by. You exchange glances, and wait…. The ground surface near you stirs, and an earthworm emerges, brought to the surface by the vibrations. You and your friend feed, and wait…. Feed, and wait. Grateful for food…. When your hunger is appeased, you spread your wings, again committing yourself to the supportive air. Drawing your legs up under your body, you rise above the incessant and oppressive din, and again enjoy the loveliness of flying…. The subtle control of direction…. The sunlight on your wings…. You are aware of others from your flock, hearing their individual call as they forage for food….

  Your friend whizzes by, playfully inviting you to chase. You accept, increasing the force of your wings against the air, climbing, turning, diving, trying to anticipate your friend’s moves. Calling out in the challenge and enjoyment…. Finally, energy spent, you both settle onto branches in adjacent trees, cawing to each other…. Resting… In the meadow below, cows are drowsing. You decide to play some more. Launching from your branch, you swoop down over the unsuspecting cows, and tweak at the nearest ear…. Returning to your branch, you caw your mischievous joy. Your friend caws his approval, then leaves his roost, and duplicates your performance. Together, you caw raucously at the hapless cows….

  Suddenly, you hear the assembly call! Predator! Predator! Instantly you fly toward the call. A hawk has been detected in the flock’s territory, and is being mobbed, amidst clamoring cawing. You join in, as your family and friends, in great and persistent numbers, fly at the hawk, loudly threatening and harassing, making clear their territory and their intention that he leave…. The hawk, relinquishing, and deciding to try again another day, flies away from your roosting woods…. Across the fields…….

  You and the flock settle on your roosting places, victorious and self-satisfied…. There is some bickering, here and there, over a favored roost, accompanied by threat calls…. The young crows take this time to play.

  You decide to take one last flight in the fast-changing light of the setting sun. Your wingspan is wide and sure…. As you survey the ground beneath you, an object glints in the slanting rays of the sun. You fly lower to investigate…. Your inquisitiveness brings you to rest beside a round, sparkling object connected to a long, bright chain. You pick it up in your beak, and push off into the air. The chain comes loose and drops away, and you carry your glittering prize across to the edge of the meadow, to the base of a small fir tree. You look around to see if you are being observed…. It seems safe. You set your treasure down, pushing and turning it with your beak. It is beautiful! The sun is below the horizon, so you carefully bury your shiny new find beneath the small tree…….

  Your wings lift you smoothly in flight, and you enjoy the evening coolness as you soar and descend…. Now you return to the sheltering woods, and amidst your flock, find a comfortable roosting place for the night…. Your friend nearby sends you a soft, acknowledging CAW…. Your heart holds happiness at your place in the Universe…. You are tired…. And content…. You look forward to returning to your new-found discovery…. Your tiredness and contentedness blend, and you settle on your roost into a peaceful, quiet rest…….”

  Abby sat back and smiled.

  ~ 14 ~

  The storm vanished and in its wake, a beautiful calm descended. Ellie opened the windows. “I love the night,” she told Grandma Betty. “I often wonder why I wasn’t born at night.”<
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  “I was born at the stroke of midnight,” Grandma Betty said. “Can you believe that?”

  Ellie smiled. Yes, she really could.

  “My mother said right as the clock chimed twelve, I emerged, my hair curly as can be. She’d never had curly-haired children before. I was her eleventh and final child.”

  “How old was she?” Ellie had heard variations of this story before, but never tired of it.

  “Thirty-two. My father was forty-three. He was a mean son of a bitch. Always whipping us for something or other.”

  Grandma Betty was the last of her brothers and sisters alive.

  “How did your mother…?”

  “How did she keep him away?”

  Ellie nodded.

  “She slept with a shotgun by her pillow.”

  “You sure it wasn’t a revolver?”

  “Nope, it was a shotgun. Full of salt and buckshot. I watched her load it myself.”

  “Did she ever shoot him?” This was always Ellie’s favorite part.

  “Yep, once.” They both recited the end of the story. “And he didn’t sit down for a week.”

  The two of them laughed. Ellie didn’t know if it was a true story or not, at least not all of it, but she always laughed at its familiar ending. She’d only ever seen one portrait of her great grandfather, and he indeed did look mean.

  Ellie checked her watch; it was getting close to ten o’clock. “Grandma, I don’t think we can stay here too much longer.”

  “No?”

  Ellie shook her head. “Did you have a particular reason for wanting to come to the cemetery?”

  Grandma Betty sat for a moment, thinking. “I’m sure I did.” Memory loss was one of her few regrets. “I knew I should have made a list. Now why can’t I remember? What was it?”

  Ellie gave her a moment.

  “Oh forget it,” Grandma Betty said. “I can’t remember. Let’s go.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Ellie started the car and glancing out her side mirror, noticed a set of headlights coming from the far side of the mausoleum. Oh no, probably a cop on patrol, she thought. Or worse. Would the nursing home have reported her grandmother missing by now? Had someone made note of her license plate number? No. Why would they? Was the patrol just routine? Probably. Even so, how would she explain the reason for their presence?

  They had to get out of there fast.

  “Shouldn’t you turn your lights on, dear?”

  “No,” Ellie said. “I see really well in the dark.”

  Ellie maneuvered the narrow, winding roads perfectly, much to Grandma Betty’s delight. “We could be grave robbers. Gravediggers. Sin eaters.” They were invisible, a blanket of night covering them; a shroud of black. They were all the way to the entrance and pulling out when her grandmother remembered. “Wait!”

  “I’m sorry, Grandma. We can’t.” The patrol car had taken a right at the last crossroad, and instead of heading toward the back of the cemetery, was winding its way toward the front, toward them. “We have to leave.”

  Grandma Betty was silent until they got to the first intersection and Ellie had turned her lights on. “I wonder if I’ll still be around in the morning.”

  “Why?” Ellie hadn’t thought that far ahead. “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Grandma Betty peered over the door out the side window, so small, so child-like.

  “Grandma, come on. What?”

  “Well, it’s just that I think I really have to go back.”

  “To the nursing home?”

  “No, to the cemetery.”

  Ellie suppressed a sigh and paused. When Grandma Betty didn’t say anything more, she reached over and gently squeezed her hand. “Okay.”

  She turned the car around, approached the cemetery cautiously, and kept right on going. The cop car was still there and, if she weren’t mistaken, on the lookout.

  “Shit!”

  Grandma Betty strained to see. “Maybe if we wait a while.”

  Ellie glanced at her and couldn’t help smiling. She was on an adventure. She was having fun.

  They pulled into a parking lot about a block away, and watched and waited. The cop car never budged. “He’s probably one of those slackers Diablo talks about. I’ll bet he’s just going to sit there till the shift change.”

  Another cop car pulled in and parked.

  They’re on to us, Ellie thought, and was just about to make a break, when suddenly both cop cars pulled out and went the other way.

  “Oh what luck,” Grandma Betty said.

  Ellie wasn’t so sure. She’d been around Diablo too long. “If they think we’re teenagers….”

  “Then they’re mistaken,” Grandma Betty said, and laughed. She was indeed having fun!

  “Maybe I should get a hold of Diablo.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But I don’t think we should go back there on our own.” Nor did she want to get arrested for trespassing. She was pretty sure they were still in his precinct. Wouldn’t this be fun to explain.

  Ellie looked around for a phone booth, and spotted one on the other side of the lot about twenty yards away. She pulled up fairly close to it and though she probably could have reached it from inside the car, she got out to make the call. She leaned back in. “Are you warm enough, Grandma? Do you want me to turn the heat on?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Ellie dialed and after leaving a message and phone number, sat inside with the door open to wait.

  “Will he call you back?”

  “I hope so.”

  “How long?”

  “I don’t know.” No sooner said than the phone rang.

  Ellie loved the sound of his voice, even when the tone was contrary.

  “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight,” he said. “Your grandmother’s dying tonight and you two need an escort back into the cemetery.”

  “Yes.”

  “I see….” When he paused and cleared his throat, she could almost see him nodding to himself.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but she really wants to go back. There’s something she needs to do.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Silence.

  “So will you come?”

  Diablo sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

  Grandma Betty looked at her as she got back in behind the wheel. “Did I hear you right? Does he think I’m crazy?”

  “No, he thinks we’re both crazy.”

  * * *

  While they waited, Ellie used the ladies room at an Arby’s restaurant and then hurried back to the car. “You sure you don’t want anything, Grandma?”

  Grandma Betty shook her head. She’d dozed for a few minutes while Ellie was gone and was feeling a little groggy. Disoriented. The pain in her side was back. She drew a breath and tried to right herself with the world. It wasn’t happening. All those clouds….

  “Ellie….”

  “Yes, Grandma.” Ellie leaned close, emotion pouring over her like a flood. Oh God, she thought, this is it. She’s dying. “Grandma, are you in pain?”

  “A little.”

  “Oh, God,” Ellie gasped, pressing her hand hard to her mouth. “Don’t go, Grandma,” she wanted to say. “Don’t leave me.” She touched her grandmother’s face, touched her hair. “Oh, please…please…” she begged. “Please….”

  As Grandma Betty closed her eyes and leaned her head back, a swirl of images began to go round and round in her mind. Dutch, on his knees, ring in hand. The earthquake. The snowstorm and the chains, the tree down. The baby crying. It’s a boy. Did you want a boy? Yes, I want a boy. Harold, dear sweet Harold. A father. A funeral. A hearse. David. I take this man, David. I do. Dearly beloved….

  Ellie scrambled to reach over the seat for something to cover her; she was shivering. Why hadn’t she brought the patchwork-quilt? A horse blanket. It was all she had; it would have to do. She covered Grandma
Betty as gently as she could, tears flowing, hands shaking. “Don’t call her back,” she kept saying to herself. “Don’t call her back. Don’t call her back.” Oh, Grandma, I love you….

  Grandma Betty gripped Ellie’s hand and held it tight, tighter, and tighter….

  And then the images stopped.

  The pain that ravaged her, ceased. It was gone.

  She could breathe again.

  “Grandma? Grandma, are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I think so. What is that awful smell?”

  Ellie laughed nervously and wiped her eyes. “It’s Damian’s blanket. It needs to be washed.”

  “I should say so.”

  They both laughed. A reprieve, they’d been given a reprieve. Grandma Betty pointed out the window and Ellie turned to look. A police car had just turned into the cemetery.

  Diablo.

  Ellie tossed the blanket into the back seat and pulled her car in behind his. He sat for a moment, talking on the scanner, then got out and with a veteran touch of his hand to the gun on his hip, walked toward them.

  Grandma Betty shook her head in awe. “None too hard on the eyes, now is he?” They watched his every move, the way he walked, the way he glanced around…the way he didn’t glance around. He was all business when he approached Ellie’s door.

  She put her window down.

  “Diablo, this is my Grandma Betty. Grandma Betty, Diablo.”

  Diablo nodded, but in such a way, Grandma Betty would have sworn it was a bow. A very gentlemanly bow, rather Zorro-like.

  Ellie feared from the smile on her grandmother’s face that she was about to call him “the Dildo” and diverted her attention. “Where is it that you want to go in the cemetery, Grandma?”