by D. S. Elstad
Leah craned her neck to look over at Hawk then stared back at me in disbelief. “Why would you go off on that?!” she exclaimed.
I shrugged. “It just felt kind of weird, like he was stalking me.”
Sam finally looked at Leah and me. “That dude is hot,” she observed casually. “Who the heck is he and how come I’ve never seen him before?”
“Like I said, his name is Hawk Redwing. He just moved here from Taos. He’s only been here for three days. He seems nice but he also seems kinda like a player. I don’t know…he’s different.”
We sat for the next fifteen minutes trying to figure out this newer-than-myself new guy and how he already knew who I was. When I looked over at Hawk’s table again a gorgeous blond girl had planted herself in the seat next to his. I chuckled to myself and decided that’d probably be the last conversation I’d have with Hawk Redwing now that the cover-girls had spotted him.
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. This fifth week of school found classes getting harder and teachers losing their sense of humor. But, at least I was making friends and beginning to feel less out of the loop. School is always much more bearable if you have good friends waiting there to share it with you.
As I visited my locker for the last time of the day, I said good-bye to Leah and Sam and looked around for Hawk, but didn’t see him anywhere. Oh well, I thought, maybe tomorrow. I had to admit I was curious about the guy.
I rushed out to Mom waiting in the car. “Hi Willy, good day?”
“Sure,” I answered, hoping for a quiet ride home. I wasn’t much in the mood for chit-chat and wanted to mull over mentally the events of the day. Mom must have read my body language because she turned on the radio and just let me drive without any conversation. When we did get home, I saw Dad’s car in the driveway. “Dad home already?” I asked.
“Dad didn’t go to work today,” Mom answered as I turned off the engine.
“Really? Dad never misses work…is he sick?”
“No. I’ll let him explain, he’s inside.”
Chapter Two
I flashed on Dad’s comment of the morning, saying he needed to talk to me. Dad never really needed to talk to me about anything. He’d ask me about school and friends and Mom; needing to talk to me was something new. That set off my curiosity big time as I rushed into the house.
Glancing around the kitchen, I didn’t see him but heard his voice in the living room. I tossed my backpack on the counter, hurried in and sat beside him on the couch. He was on the telephone and from what I could tell, was making some kind of reservations. I waited patiently until he finally ended his call.
“Hi Dad, is everything ok? Mom said you didn’t go to work today.” My dad never missed work. He owned his own landscaping business and would crawl there on hands and knees if he had to, so the fact that he stayed home all day told me something big was going on.
“Everything’s fine kiddo…I’m fine that is,” he answered, writing on a piece of paper. After he finished he turned to face me. “I have something to tell you, Wils.” His expression was stern and his blue-gray eyes were missing their usual spark. Mom joined us and sat beside Dad, placing her hand on his back, rubbing it the way she would when she was trying to be supportive.
“What is it?” I asked moving closer.
“I received a call last night, from my dad in Ireland.”
Immediately, I sat up and focused my attention on my father. In all my life, I’d only heard him speak of his parents one time. After that, he said never to ask about them again, despite the fact I was dying to know them. I mean, they were my grandparents, for Pete’s sake. All I knew was that they still lived in Ireland and that Dad had moved away at a young age. I got the impression that he and his father had some kind of a falling out. Any time I’d try to ask questions about them Dad would either just leave the room or glare at me with that, don’t even go there look.
“You got a call from Grandpa?” He shot me a stare suggesting he wasn’t happy with me referring to his father as “Grandpa” even though that’s exactly who he was.
“Yes, and I’m afraid I have some sad news. Your grandma, Shannah, has passed away.” Dad’s voice cracked and his eyes grew damp as the words spilled out. It was almost as though, by saying it, the unbelievable became real. For me, this was the first time I’d even heard him speak my grandmother’s name…Shannah.
“Dad, I’m so sorry.” I sat closer and clutched his arm. He was quiet and motionless for several minutes, staring at the tablet that lay on his lap. I looked over at Mom who was resting her head on Dad’s shoulder. She glanced my way then closed her eyes. Dad finally spoke again. “The funeral for your grandma will be in three days and I’d like you to go with me.”
I didn’t move for a minute and thought about what he’d just said. “Of course, we’re all going, right?”
“I don’t think so, Wils. It’s very expensive; plus, your Mom has her showing at the gallery. We’ve discussed this and feel it would be good for you to go.” Dad looked over at Mom, and then grasped her hand in his.
I wasn’t sure how I was feeling about everything. After all, I never met my grandma…knew nothing about her and, until today never even heard her name. I knew I should be sad and all, and I was for Dad but…this was just so confusing. "What about school? I'm just starting to get comfortable there and making friends. How long would we be gone?"
He ran his hand through his graying hair and frowned. “I can't be away for any more than a week. That should be more than enough time.”
“I spoke to the head of school, Willow. Your teachers are putting together your assignments so there’s no problem there. Luckily it’s so early in the year you won’t be missing much,” Mom added.
I thought about all the things coming up at school in the next week...the plans I’d made with my friends. A week didn't sound long, but when you're trying to fit in somewhere, every day makes a difference. I glanced at Dad, who suddenly looked very old. He stared at the floor and then again at the tablet with the flight plans. After a long silence he stood up and walked toward the kitchen. "Better start packing, Willow, we leave tomorrow." His footsteps slowly faded away as he walked out the back door.
I stared at Mom. “Tomorrow?” She stood up, reached for my hand and led me to my room. Already sitting there on my bed was a suitcase.
"This is important, Willow. Your father needs you more now than ever. He’s hurting so much. Too many years have passed without him speaking to his mother and now to have her gone…it’s just very sad.” Mom unlatched the suitcase then stepped over to my closet and opened the door.
"What’s the story there, Mom, all I've ever heard is not to ask, or speak about them. What happened between them and Dad?" I wondered, opening the suitcase and laying it across my bed.
"That needs to come from your father. All I can say is his anger never was towards his mother. It’s out of love and respect for her that he’s even going to the funeral."
As we talked, she went through my closet and held up different clothes tossing me the “yes’s” that I packed all the while listening to her speak about Ireland. She’d been there one time with Dad after they were first married, when he tried to reconcile with Grandpa. But, according to Mom, he left feeling more alienated from his father than ever. Whatever happened between the two of them was still unresolved, after so many years.
“That’s even more reason why you should go, not me,” I insisted. “I mean, how can I be of help when I’m in the dark about everything?”
“Willy, I just can’t leave right now,” Mom answered with a calm, soft voice. “You know how hard I’ve worked to get my art showing in a gallery. It’s important that I’m there for the opening this weekend. You of all people know what this means to me. We talked it over and it’s decided.” She came over and took hold of my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. I held back and just shook my head. A hug wasn’t going to help and it wasn’t going to give me any answers.
I placed the last pair of socks in the suitcase, closed it, and flopped on the floor, resting my back against the powder-blue wall and watched as Mom continued rifling through the closet. Max, my gray tabby cat, climbed onto my lap and began his purring ritual. Most times it was annoying when he did that, like when I was doing homework or trying to read, but this time I was happy to have him with me. I scratched behind his ears and felt the vibration from his underside grow stronger, relaxing me with each purr. Looking down into his green eyes I thought how simple and easy his life was.
“Well, that should take care of it,” said Mom as she tossed a coat on top of the suitcase. “The flight is tomorrow at 10 a.m. It's a long flight, Wagmu; put a couple of books and whatever else you want in this other bag to carry on the plane.”
She lowered herself to the floor beside me draping her arm over my shoulder. She hadn’t called me “Wagmu” for a very long time. It’s Lakota for pumpkin and she pretty much stopped calling me that when I started driving. Thought it was too childish, I guess.
“It’d be nice if I could join you, and it’d be nice if we were going for a different reason, but, well, it is what it is. And as hard as this is, it’s still an opportunity for you to connect with family you've never met, a chance to see where you come from. This may sound strange, Willy, but we all have memories of places from our past locked up deep inside of us. Most of us never get the chance to return to those places. Voices of our ancestors become quiet in the busyness of our modern lives. Keep your eyes and ears open to the sights and sounds of this place. Your history is there, and, who knows, maybe your future.” Her eyes sparkled while she spoke, pushing back loose strands of hair behind my ears; she seemed excited for me and this trip, which was weird considering I was going to a funeral.
“But Mom, you should be the one going with him. I’m not sure I’d even know what to say or do to support him now. It just all feels so… awkward,” I repeated as I stroked Max’s neck.
“It’s meant for you to go, Wagmu. The reason for that will become clear, maybe while you’re there or maybe not until sometime after, who knows. Trust that your father and I know what’s best for you now, ok?”
“Will Dad even let me meet Grandpa? You saw how he reacted just now when I called him Grandpa.”
“I’m sure you will, though I can’t say how much time you’ll get to have with him…knowing how your father feels about him.” Mom leaned back against the wall.
“But that’s just it, Mom; I don’t know how he feels about him! I don’t know what’s going on, why he won’t talk about him or tell me anything about either one of them. Why can’t you tell me?” My voice shrieked in irritation.
Mom reached over and stroked Max on the head, “It’s not my place to tell you, Willow. This thing with your Dad and Conor can only be explained to you by him. There are things that even I don’t know.”
“Conor? That’s Grandpa’s name? Finally, after sixteen years I hear my grandfather’s name. That’s just… awesome.” I flopped back against the wall and threw my arms up in frustration. Max dug his nails into my legs before jumping off my lap, adding his own insult to injury.
“Dad won’t even say his name and now we’re going to the funeral of my grandma who I’ve never even met,” I said in frustration rubbing my scratched legs. “And you tell me I need to go and support him. I’m the child here you know and you’re expecting me to behave more like an adult than he is! If you’re confused about this, how do you think I feel?” I felt my face flush and my eyes began to sting.
“Willow, I know it feels like we’re putting you in a very uncomfortable position–”
“Duh, ya think?” I blurted out, then eyed her nervously.
Without blinking an eye she wrapped her arms around me and continued. “A very uncomfortable position, but you know we’d never ask anything of you that we weren’t completely sure you could handle. As I said, you need to look at this as an opportunity to meet some amazing people and visit an amazing country. Leave the other business to Dad; it’s his battle, not yours.”
We sat quietly for the next few minutes, the only sound being the low rumble of a neighbor’s lawn mower. She then stood up and brushed the cat hair from her jeans. “I need to finish fixing dinner; I’ll call you when it’s ready.” I nodded and rested my head against the wall.
Dinnertime was like an awkward first date with feeble attempts at conversation. Even Chance skipped his annoying begging and lay asleep under the table. The quiet was beginning to make me extremely uncomfortable.
C’mon somebody say something, I thought, while I took a bite of salad. Looking up at my parents I caught Mom’s eye and quickly glanced back down at my plate.
“Willow, would you like some more potatoes?”
“No.”
“Jack, more potatoes?”
“No.”
The clock on the wall was ticking so loudly I could swear that it was some kind of a bomb. I’d never even noticed that clock before but now it was the only sound I could hear.
“Ok you two, enough of the silence,” Mom said as she began clearing the dishes away. “You’re going to be together for the next week so you better start figuring out how to get through this. Jack, go ahead and show Willow that picture.”
Dad frowned then looked back over at me, reached into his denim shirt pocket, and pulled out an old photograph. “This is your grandma, Wils; she was probably about twenty-two at the time this picture was taken.”
He handed me the photo. The black and white picture was faded with torn edges. It was the image of a young woman standing beside a horse. In the background was a barnlike building resting on top of a hillside. The woman was dressed in what appeared to be riding gear and had wavy, long hair draped over one shoulder. She had a trace of a smile and was very pretty. As I studied the picture I could make out some of Dad’s features on the face of my grandmother; similar eyes, the shape of the face and the smile. That smile I’d seen many times before on my father.
“She’s so pretty,” I said, without taking my eyes from the picture.
“Yeah, she was lovely; a kind woman, but strong also. She trained that horse in the picture…it was her pride and joy.” He tapped on the photo pointing to the horse.
“That is so cool.” I’d worked with horses a few years ago as part of a volunteer program for rescue animals. I admired anyone capable of training them. “Do you have a picture with Grandpa?”
Without so much as a blink he grabbed the photo and his cup of coffee and walked out of the kitchen. I looked up at Mom with raised eyebrows, drawing her attention to what I was going to have to deal with. She tilted her head to one side and frowned and motioned for me to join her at the sink. As we did the dishes together in silence she would nudge me every so often; I guess to let me know she was there.
I wasn’t able to sleep very well that night, didn’t get a chance to go back to my dream with the wolves. I guess I was too worried about everything else, so when Mom came into my room to wake me up I was already dressed and making my bed.
“Wow, Wagmu, you’re up already?”
“Yep, didn’t get much sleep so I thought I might as well get ready.”
“Nervous about the flight?” she asked as she tossed me my pillow.
“That and everything else.” Just as I said that I realized I hadn’t had a chance to get in touch with my friends and let them know what was going on. “Ah, crap…”
“What is it?”
“I didn’t even call Leah or Sam last night to tell them I’d be gone and now they’re at school.”
“Don’t worry, I have a surprise for you” said Mom as she reached into her pocket. “Here, it’s time to retire that old one of yours.” She tossed me a brand-new phone.
“Awesome,” I quickly opened it up and entered my friends’ numbers into the address book.
“So now you can text them and let them know; also, I want you to call me when you get to Ireland, and Wagmu…call me anytime, for anything, ok?
”
“Ok, Mom,” I said as I hugged and thanked her. I quickly texted my friends and told them what was going on.
The hour-long drive to the airport was just like last night’s dinner, quiet and uncomfortable. Dad said maybe three words the whole trip and Mom just kept nervously talking trying to fill in the quiet. When we finally got there, the butterflies in my stomach were choking me off at the throat. I’d only been on a plane twice before in my whole life and those were pretty short flights. This one would be overnight. Suddenly, boring times at school looked a whole lot more inviting than what was facing me now.
As we walked to the boarding gate Mom held my arm tightly. She kissed my cheek a couple of times while we walked. It was uncomfortable and comforting at the same time; weird how that works.
When we reached the gate she grabbed me and whispered, “Willow, call me when you get there; please, be there for your Dad, but also try and make the most out of this trip. Techi ila.” That was Mom’s Lakota way of saying I love you.
She then held onto Dad and pulled him close, whispering. I watched as he sank his head onto her shoulder. One thing I could always be certain of was how much my parents loved each other. After one last hug he looked my way and reached out his hand.
“Ready, Wils?” he asked. Then we boarded the plane together.
Chapter Three
Hours had passed and we still had hours to go before we would land in Ireland. The long overnight flight was beginning to take its toll, cramping my legs and dampening my spirit. I stood and carefully moved past the elderly woman next to me making my way to the darkened aisle. I paced up and down the walkway a few times in an effort to work out my constricted muscles. Relief finally set in so I returned to my seat.
“Where exactly are we going, Dad?” I asked quietly so as to not disturb the woman, who was now sound asleep.
“Where exactly?” he repeated in a low voice as he stared out the small window.