Never Alone

by Josh Aterovis

  “Grandpa Allen,” I supplied.

  “Right. When I became closer to Fletcher, it just felt natural to call him that.”

  “Why didn't you see him as a child?”

  “Like I said, I think I should let Fletcher explain.”

  We fell into silence and soon after, Lily pulled into the driveway of what I assumed to be Fletcher's house. It was set well back from the road, trees liberally dotted the front yard and the forest seemed to crowd right up to the back of the small dwelling. With its weathered cedar siding and redwood deck, the house itself looked less like it had been built and more like it had simply grown from the soft mossy ground it sat upon. The landscaping could best be described as naturalistic. Sunlight beamed through the canopy above to create small pools of warmth where wildflowers and what looked to me like unattended weeds competed for attention. The total effect was quite enchanting. It looked like something from a fairy tale.

  We climbed out of the car and Lily once again popped open the trunk. We were lifting out the boxes when a huge red Harley Davidson roared into the drive with Fletcher astride it like a conquistador on his horse. My mouth dropped open as I took in the sight. At least now I knew why we'd taken the boxes. Lily grinned at my stunned expression.

  Fletcher pulled the bike up next to Lily's car and shut it off. He pulled off his helmet to reveal a grin that matched Lily's watt for watt in intensity. “Not what you expected, eh?” he asked.

  I shook my head “no” since words seemed to have failed me yet again.

  “Let's go inside. I'll brew up some tea while we talk.” He started off for the house with Lily and me trailing behind. I was surprised at the agility with which he moved. Both he and Grandma Allen had to be in their seventies, but he moved like a young man while Grandma Allen's movements were stiff and slow. He unlocked the door and led us into the house's interior. The first thing I noticed was the scent - somewhat spicy yet sweet. Then, as my eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside, I began to notice the decor. It was southwestern meets the Natural History Museum. The entryway led directly into the living room where an invitingly plump leather sofa and matching chairs provided seating, while pine end tables supported cast iron lamps and beautiful southwestern pottery. Cases on the walls displayed a vast collection of artifacts-everything from arrowheads to tomahawks. A deep bookshelf held more stone tools that I couldn't begin to identify along with an assortment of skulls and bones that I didn't care to look at any closer. Behind the oddments, the shelves were stuffed to overflowing with books.

  “I'll make the tea,” Lily offered. “You two can get started talking. Jacy has a lot of questions.” As she disappeared through a door, I caught a glimpse of a dining room table stacked high with papers.

  “My home office,” Fletcher said, following my gaze. “I don't have a lot of company. Have a seat.”

  I sank onto the closest chair, marveling at how comfortable it was. It was almost like getting a hug. Fletcher settled onto the end of the couch with a contented smile. “This furniture is my biggest luxury,” he confided. “Well, that and my Harley.”

  “The chair is very comfortable,” I mumbled.

  Fletcher grinned. “Yes, it is, but you're not here to discuss my furniture.”

  I stared back at him without comment.

  “You're not going to make this easy, are you?” he asked after a moment.

  “I don't even know where to start,” I said quite truthfully.

  He sighed. “That makes two of us. I guess the beginning's as appropriate a place as any.” He paused for a long time, then began to speak in a slightly sing-song tone, “I spent a lot of time with my grandfather when I was a child. He was what you might call a medicine man. He knew the woods better than any survivalist today. He knew every plant, whether it was edible or poisonous and what uses it had. He could tell what animal had passed by its tracks and droppings, identify birds by their calls - it seemed to me that he knew anything you could possibly want to know. I was just a kid at the time and didn't pay as much attention as I wish I had, but some of it still rubbed off. He also taught me a lot about respecting the land...and yourself. I wish I'd listened closer to his lessons about always being proud of who you are.”

  I wondered where he was going with this rambling story-telling style, but I didn't interrupt.

  “When I was a young man, I met and married Vida, your grandmother.”

  “Grandma Allen?” I asked.

  He nodded. “We had five beautiful daughters, but I still wasn't happy. I started looking into the Old Ways

  that my grandfather had tried to teach me and began to find myself there. It quickly became obvious to both Vida and me what we had to do. The divorce was quite amicable; there were never any hard feelings between us. I was thrilled for her when she met Bob Allen and they got married. It was the girls that had a hard time with it. We felt we couldn't tell them the whole story at the time, and they just couldn't understand. They felt very abandoned, especially Rose, your mother. She'd always been a daddy's girl and my leaving hit her especially hard. Later, when the whole story came out, it just further fueled her hatred for me. I'm pretty sure that's why she chose not to tell you of my existence.” He sat watching my face, seemingly waiting for a response.

  I thought for a moment. It was obvious that he was leaving a large part of the story out. Was I supposed to question him or just accept it? Was this some sort of test? I made up my mind. “What aren't you telling me?” I asked just as Lily came back into the room bearing a small silver tray laden with steaming tea cups and a sugar pot. She sat the tray on the coffee table and handed Fletcher and me our cups. Fletcher sniffed his appreciatively.

  “Clover catnip?” he asked.

  Lily nodded as she sat down next to him on the couch.

  “Good choice,” he said approvingly. Then to me, “Clover catnip tea has very cleansing, soothing qualities.”

  “You're avoiding my question,” I said somewhat impatiently. I sat the cup down on the table next to me, untouched.

  Fletcher and Lily exchanged another glance laden with subtext. Lily gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Fletcher turned back to me.

  “Jacy, the reason your grandmother and I separated, and part of the reason why your mother tries so hard to pretend I don't exist, is because I am two-spirited.”

  I stared at him blankly. “What does that mean?”

  He frowned as if he'd expected me to understand. “I see you truly do have a lot to learn,” he said with a sigh. There was no blame in his voice, but I couldn't help bristling. He quickly noticed. “That's not your fault, Jacy. You can't know what you weren't taught. This will be a simplified explanation, but our ancestors believed that most people are born with either a male spirit or a female spirit. However, some are born with two spirits, both male and female. These people were held in a very high regard because they were seen as being closer to the Creator. They often held positions of authority and respect within their communities - healers, mediators, shamans. They often had spiritual powers that set them apart.”

  My brain was racing to keep up. “Wait,” I blurted out. “Do you mean you're gay?”

  He blinked for a second, startled out of his recital. “Well, I guess some people might say that I am. Being a two-spirit is much more than just being gay or bisexual though. Not every gay person is two-spirited, but all two-spirited people are bisexual or gay with bisexual leanings.”

  “You're gay?” I repeated, just to make sure I understood him. He nodded. No wonder Mom wouldn't acknowledge him. Not only did he leave them when she was young, but he was gay. That would not go over well with Mom's religious beliefs. But according to Fletcher, our ancestors had not only accepted homosexuality, but respected it. Wait a minute! My grandfather is gay! As that thought struck me, all other thoughts fled. My grandfather is gay-the grandfather I didn't even know existed until less than an hour ago. My thoughts immediately went to Skye and the kiss he'd given me. Is it hereditary? I quickly skitt
ered away from that thought. I wasn't prepared to deal with it just yet-one thing at a time. “You're gay,” I said again.

  “Just to get it all out at once, so am I,” Lily added with an amused expression on her face. “But much to Fletcher's disappointment, I'm not a two-spirit, just your regular old garden variety lesbian.”

  My brain was on overload. “Does Mom know?” I asked numbly.

  “It's never come up in conversation,” she said drolly.

  We were all quiet for a few seconds. “Explain the difference to me again,” I asked after a minute.

  Fletcher beamed like I'd just passed some sort of test. “As I said, not all gay and lesbian people are two-spirited. The difference is that two-spirited people are given certain other...let's call them gifts for lack of a better word. These gifts bring with them a certain level of responsibility. In most Native cultures, people who were two-spirits had very specific roles.”

  “It wasn't just in our culture? It was also in other cultures?”

  “Oh yes! Almost all tribes were aware of the existence of two-spirit people, and most still have a name for them. The Navaho called them nàdleehé-one who is `transformed'. The Lakota Sioux called them winkte, the Mohave alyha, the Zuni lhamana, the Omaha mexoga, the Aleut and Kodiak achnucek, the Zapotec ira' muxe, the Cheyenne he man eh, just to name a few. They all believed that two-spirit people were born that way, and they not only saw them as normal, but as a necessary part of society. They almost always became spiritual leaders in their villages.”

  “You keep using the past tense; it's not like that anymore?”

  Fletcher's face grew sad. “Sadly, no. As in many other things, we've been too influenced by Judeo-Christian beliefs. There is some resurgence recently of the two-spirit tradition, but it is something of an uphill battle at this point.”

  “So our tribe doesn't accept it?”

  Lily laughed. “Fletcher hasn't given them a choice. He's been so active in tribal life since he came out that everyone has pretty much accepted it. Even the most conservative elders pretty much just ignore it. After all, no one can deny how influential Fletcher is in tribal matters. He's our unofficial medicine man.” Fletcher opened his mouth to argue, but Lily cut him off. “I know you hate the term, Fletcher, but you know it's true. You mediate conflicts, you help keep the Old Ways and traditions alive, you teach the young ones-heck, you even heal with your herbal remedies.”

  “I prefer the term Native Herbalist,” he said with dignity. Lily just grinned at him. Their little exchange allowed some of what I'd just learned to sink in and I discovered I had a lot more questions.

  “So are you saying that you have magical powers?” I asked suddenly. They both turned to look at me with surprised expressions.

  “Excuse me?” Fletcher asked.

  “You said earlier that two-spirit people had magical powers.”

  “No, I said they had spiritual powers.”

  “What's the difference?”

  “There's a huge difference. Magical powers imply that I cast spells and keep a pointy hat in my closet. I'm not Professor Dumbledore. The spiritual powers can come in many different forms. For some, it's just a heightened perception that allows them to see more clearly. Some are dreamers. Some are healers. Some are seers. Some are all or a combination of these and other gifts.”

  “What are you?”

  “A little of each.”

  “So...you can see the future?”

  He smiled. “It's not like gazing into a crystal ball. I get glimpses of what is to come, sometimes clearer than others. I see what the Creator wants me to see.”

  Lily was studying me closely. We made eye contact and I knew without a doubt that she was thinking about my vision of Skye getting hit by that car. I shook my head “no”, but she just lifted an eyebrow. I knew what she was trying to imply, and I was having none of it.

  “Look, this is a lot to take in. I didn't even know I had a grandfather before today, and then I not only find out that you exist, but also that you're gay and some sort of...psychic. I think I need to go home and think about all this for a while.”

  Fletcher nodded. “I can understand that. It was a lot to dump in your lap all at once. I'm here if you have any questions. Lily, could you get him one of my cards, please?”

  Lily left the room through the door into the home office/dining room again, returning less than a minute later with a cream colored business card, which she handed to me. In large letters across the top it read “Fletcher Snyder - Native Herbalist”. Under that was his address, phone number, and, to my surprise, his email address and website.

  “You have a website?” I asked.

  “That's how I make most of my sales,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I may practice the Old Ways in some things, but I'm very much a part of the twenty-first century as well.”

  “Are you ready to go?” Lily asked. “I'll give you a ride back to your car.”

  I nodded and stood up, slipping the card into my pocket. “It's been...interesting,” I said with a half-smile, which was as much as I could muster.

  “Don't be afraid to contact me with your questions,” Fletcher said.

  I nodded and followed Lily out to the car. Neither of us spoke for a while, but finally she cleared her throat.

  “You know you can talk to me any time too, Jacy,” she said gently, “...about anything.” There was a slight emphasis on the word anything, but I chose to ignore it.

  I nodded.

  “I'm serious, Jacy. Don't just close yourself off to Fletcher and me. You need to talk about all this with someone.”

  “I'm not really ready to talk yet,” I said.

  “I guess I can understand that.” She paused. “Are you okay with the fact that I'm gay?”

  I glanced over at her and shrugged. “I haven't really had time to think about it, but I guess that doesn't really matter to me. I'm not as hung up on church and stuff as Mom is. It's a little weird though; I've never known anyone who is gay and then I meet two in one day.”

  “Three,” she corrected absently.

  “Three?”

  “Skye,” she said, and I felt myself blush. I quickly turned to look out the window.

  “You can talk about that with me too, if you want,” Lily offered tentatively.

  “There's nothing to talk about,” I said quickly with what I hoped was a note of finality.

  We fell into silence as we drew closer to the powwow grounds. I could see campers and tents among the trees through my side window. I assumed that was where the powwow participants from out of town stayed. It looked like a traveling gypsy camp with clothes hanging outside, barbecue grills wafting smoke like ancient campfires, and children running and playing among the temporary dwellings. It might have looked something like this a thousand years ago, I thought, without the modern accoutrements, of course.

  Suddenly, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I looked forward in time to see a small child dart into the road in front of our car. I only had time to gasp and throw my hands out toward the windshield. I blinked and the child was gone.

  “Stop,” I gasped with an intensity that startled even me.

  “What?” Lily asked with confusion.

  “Stop the car.” Panic was squeezing my chest so tightly I could barely breathe. “Now!”

  Lily slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a shuddering halt just as a little girl no older than two toddled into the road in front of us, giggling, blissfully oblivious to how close she had come to death. A young woman, probably the child's mother, rushed out after the girl, scooping her up and waving apologetically to us, only marginally more aware of how close she had come to losing her child.

  Lily sat unmoving, staring out at the road and sucking in short, shallow gasps of air. A car pulled up behind us and honked its horn, but still Lily didn't move. The car finally pulled carefully around us, the driver staring over angrily at us as he passed.

  “Lily?” I asked
after few minutes. “Aunt Lily?”

  She turned slowly to face me, her dark eyes unreadable. “Jacy, we have to talk.”

  * * *

  Once again, I begged out of the big discussion by saying I needed to think about things for a while. Lily agreed, but very reluctantly.

  “You can't put this off forever, Jacy,” she warned. “Your gifts are going to keep manifesting themselves, and it's going to get harder and harder to deal with it if you don't understand them. Fletcher can help if you'll let him.”

  I simply climbed out of the car and waved goodbye. I avoided thinking about the whole messy subject for the rest of the night. It helped that I had some distraction in the form of Michael. He showed up at my bedroom door later that night with a hesitant knock.