“I said, did you like it?”
She glared. “I’m not having this conversation.”
“Why not? Because you’re a liar? Because you fucked him? I can smell him on you!”
It seemed pointless to continue. Was he even listening? Or did he just want to repeat the same things over and over, punishing her because he couldn’t stop feeling so bad? She thought of Annie who had gotten a beating simply because she went to Jacqueline for diapers. Joanasi had more sense. He would never work himself up into such a lather that he would attack her.
When they reached her place, he pushed her and she stumbled, hitting her shin on the porch step. She dropped the grocery bags, food spilling everywhere. “Get up,” he ordered. She could hardly believe what was happening. “And pick all this up. Now!” His face told her he meant business. She reached down to retrieve everything. He strong-armed her up the steps.
“Joanasi, stop,” she begged. “You’re ruining us.”
“I’m ruining us? I’m ruining us?” He twisted her arm behind her back and held it there. “I’m not one of your hamsters that you can tell do this and do that. I’m my own boss.”
He was out of control and she knew it. “Joanasi, you’re hurting me.” It horrified her to hear those words out of her own mouth. She knew she had to get away from him at least until he calmed down. It was her only option. She didn’t stop to think what could happen if she bungled her escape, if in a moment of dithering he caught her by the scruff the neck, angrier than ever. She gathered her courage and shoved him as far away from her as she could and ran inside and bolted the door, thankful they had left it unlocked. “Come back when you’re rational!” she shouted from inside the house. Her hands trembled. Her breathing was shallow and quick. The more she tried to calm down, the less air she got into her, until the room started spinning.
Blam, blam, blam.
He pounded on the door. Trying to drown out the sound she talked to herself, rambling on about nothing, until the idea to sing “Climb Every Mountain” came to her.
He kicked and hollered and kicked again. “Quit fucking around!” he screamed. His aggression triggered her animal instinct for survival. She tried to forget that the only thing that separated them was a cheap, hollow door that anyone could put a fist through, the way Tommy had. The vomit was rising in her. She stuck her fingers in her ears and sang louder, another verse and another, until she was hoarse, making up words as she went: “Fol-low all the mad-ness—la, la, la, la, laaaaah!”
Eventually his fury subsided. She put her ear up against the door but couldn’t hear him anymore. She wondered whether he was sulking or if his ego was just recovering, taking a short break before firing up again. Sweat trickled down her neck. She thought of his tattooed initials on her skin, a forever reminder of him no matter what happened between them. She remembered their baby, Joanasi’s son, and thanked the gods it hadn’t made it to term. Was he even ready to be a father? She slid down to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest and rocked herself, humming a tune her mother used to sing to her. She stayed this way, rolled into a ball and barricaded inside, for a long time, until she heard his retreating footsteps over the granular snow.
TWENTY-THREE
Dear Morgan,
Nothing grows here. Not trees, not grass, not hope. If anyone says it does, they’re lying. My father was a liar. He lied about everything. He lied to himself. He lied to me. I know you always thought that he was A-okay. But here’s the thing—that sweet, A-okay guy, my father, he spent his entire life encouraging me, saying go for it, don’t give up, don’t look back, reach for the stars, and then he goes and kills himself. I mean, he didn’t actually do it physically or anything, he fucking drank himself into a stupor and just never woke up again. He never woke up! What kind of truth is that? I think people—all of us—are born liars. We lie to each other. We lie to ourselves.
Okay, what am I trying to say here? That I’m losing my mind, that you might be right after all?
The people here are fucked up. Sometimes they’re the most beautiful beings in the world. They’re the truth of what humans are, what we could be. But other times, they’re animals. I include myself in that. And I’m afraid. Of them, of us, of myself.
M, I need your strength to pull me through this. I don’t think I can do it alone. I’m exhausted. Mostly I’m tired of living with all this shit.
Y
•
There was an urgent knock. Yasmeen had been expecting it. She squinted through a gap in her door and when she was positive the coast was clear, she let him in. Elliot stood with his hands on his hips, coat unzipped to his waist.
“What happened?” she said.
“We talked.”
“How was he?”
“What do you think? He had a bottle in one hand and a joint in the other.”
Yasmeen sighed. “What did you say to him?”
“Never mind that, it’s what he said first. He looked me square in the eye and said, ‘You don’t like me, do you?’”
“And you said?”
“Damn straight. I don’t like you, and you don’t like me.”
“So?” She could hardly breathe. The walls were closing in on her.
Elliot laid a hand on her shoulder. “I told him he should consider himself warned. And you, Sweetheart, much as I love having you around here—and this hurts to say—you should probably think about getting a transfer next year.”
Yasmeen looked away.
“He’s never going to be the guy you want, you know.”
She didn’t want to believe him. Elliot didn’t know the Joanasi she knew, the provider who wanted her to make his babies, the lover who fell asleep with his hand resting in the small of her back. Elliot had always disapproved of their relationship. She instantly regretted asking for his help. He probably wasn’t the best person to consult. She needed someone more objective, someone who could see the big picture. “I think you should go. If he finds you here, it’ll only make everything worse.”
“I know. I’m done here, anyway. Except to say one last thing.”
“What?”
“I’m not too sure how to say this, so I’ll just go ahead and say it.”
She waited.
“You know, Yasmeen, I care as much as you do about the work we’re doing here.”
“I know.”
“It’s just that sometimes, well, it’s just that I see things and I don’t always know how to deal with it, so I say stupid things without thinking them through.”
She shrugged. “You’re a good person.”
He stopped looking at the floor and focused on her instead. “I wondered whether maybe … I wondered if it’s possible that you might feel, well, like we have something in common.” He rested a hand on her shoulder.
She took a step back. “I appreciate your friendship,” she said as neutrally as she could. “I know where to find you, don’t worry.”
After he left she leaned against the door and crumpled to the floor, tired of Joanasi, tired of Elliot, tired of school, tired of everything. She twisted off her polar bear ring and threw it across the room.
Yasmeenaapik,
I’m very sorry I got a little mad at the Co-op the other day. It’s hard to believe that you’re doing this to me. It hurt a lot that you said those heartbreaking words and slammed the door on me.
I’ve been very down. I never cried from missing anyone before. Last night I was crying a lot and praying too. But I don’t know if prayers work. I never missed anyone this much before. You made me a very happy person, like I’ve never been happy before. You turn me on more than anyone ever did. I hope someday we’ll have our children. Please say you feel that way too. Please, please. Aippaq, I want to keep going. Paingupagit. I miss you. I would like to come back. My bed is too big without you.
Kiss inside this circle, fo
r I also kissed it.
Your Joanasi
•
It was late when he showed up at her door, hands in his pockets, no jacket, no boots, just his contrite self. After eight long months of snow and ice, it was strange to see the rosy blush of sky at night, to hear the piercing cries of schoolchildren splashing through puddles with their hockey sticks when they should have been fast asleep.
Joanasi didn’t walk in unannounced. He knocked lightly on the door. Uncombed, stubbly, looking as though he hadn’t slept in days, he refused to look at her.
“Look me in the eye,” she said. She made him wait a long time before asking him in. She wanted him to see that she had the upper hand.
Opening the door to him so soon after he had been so rough with her would mean that the slate had been wiped clean, that she forgave him, and did she really? She didn’t think that enough time had passed, wasn’t convinced he understood the full repercussions of his actions, how his unchecked rage had destroyed the underpinnings of her faith in him. These were the thoughts chipping at her as he looked deeply into her eyes, trying to make her forget everything. The thing was, although the little voice inside her was skeptical, she really, really wanted to be with him again. She wanted his animal presence. She wanted his hands on her as he whispered the thing he always whispered into her ear: “Aippaq, I want to put a baby in there.” When she stepped back and waved him inside, he flew into her arms.
“We have to start again,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder.
Without wasting another minute he carried her to the bedroom and undressed her. She cupped his shoulders while he rose over her and down and up again. As the bed creaked, she felt the pleasure of motion, felt the rocking sensation of water and the pure bliss of light. The two of them floated in and out of sleep until morning.
“Maqailaurluuk,” Yasmeen whispered in his ear. “You’re best when you’re out on the land.” She kissed his mouth. “Let’s go. Let’s go hunting again like we used to.” It had been months since the night in the igloo when it was only the two of them for hundreds of miles. When he told her how much he loved the snow.
He blinked up at her, eyes full of sleep, and said it was the best idea she had had in a long time.
“I really think if it’s just us for a while, away from everything ….”
“Yeah.” He nipped her with his teeth, first her upper lip and then her lower and then both at the same time. He sat her up and climbed behind her, stretching his legs out on either side of her. He began braiding her hair. “You know what?”
“What?”
“Your Inuktitut is improving.” He turned her head so she could see that he was smiling.
“It must be the teacher.” She could see the sparkle of her reflection in his eye.
“Must be.”
She had never heard him make such an effort at small talk. She kind of liked it. “You’re babbling.”
“I’m happy,” he said. He apologized again for putting her through what he did. He promised he’d get his old job back at the radio station and that everything would go back to the way it had been in the beginning. “Auka,” he corrected himself. “It will be better.”
She said she believed every word out of his mouth and that she would never doubt him again. Desire was stirring in her and she veered the conversation in that direction. She hinted that he was making her wet and horny, that she was a very bad girl, a slut even, for thinking of sex while they were having such an important discussion. She reminded him that sluts were usually punished. They were punished hard. They were spanked or their tits were pinched or they were licked and fucked in small, dirty places where hardly a finger could fit. She waited for him to pin her down but instead he held her tenderly against him.
•
Spring breakup officially arrived, the estuary heaving in a jigsaw of ice and melt water, colossal chunks dislodging and charging against the shoreline, forcing the old snow upward into the shapes of winged gods. The ephemeral sculptures shimmered in the sun while feathery clouds drifted overhead.
Joanasi went back to doing all the things he did best. He studied the weather and kept tabs on the wind’s inflection, affirming his connection to the natural and spiritual worlds of his people. Yasmeen was exuberant. She could hardly wait for the black, open water to carry them away together. All she wanted to do was be alone with him in the stillborn quiet, away from all that had gone wrong, the melancholy of being apart, the foul slop of spring, the conjoined stink of dog shit and diapers and rotting carcasses. She wanted him all to herself, away from everybody and everything.
She opened her eyes one morning and Joanasi was sitting on the bed, dressed and ready to go. A soft apricot light pulsed on the horizon. They paddled out, everything fresh, new, unbegun. Listening to the gentle whoosh of the canoe cleaving the water, she fell into a trance, watching him with awe, the strength in his shoulders, the perfect rhythm he kept with the paddle. He had a beautiful face. Elliot was dead wrong about him. He was a just man with pure needs and desires.
Yasmeen had thought a long time about what Elliot said the day he weakened and professed his love for her. His arguments were convincing: “We’ve got fingers, opposable thumbs, the ability to reason. It’s not just hunger and lust and Neanderthal displays of affection.” It was true that Joanasi had knocked her into the stairs. It was true he had ordered her onto her hands and knees to pick up their groceries. He had humiliated her and it would have been a mistake to let him get away with it. Elliot made perfect sense. But then Joanasi came back with his tail between his legs. He made promises he intended to keep. No more booze and no more dope, he vowed. He promised her a real life. How could she refuse after all she had invested in him?
A flock of geese fluttered overhead as a single cloud slid across the sun, casting everything in a bluish light. Joanasi laid the oars down on the floor of the canoe and they drifted aimlessly, water lapping against the boat. After a while he removed his dark glasses and inspected the water around the hull. He squatted behind her. She felt his warm breath on her shoulder where the tattoo was. The cloud moved away and sunlight poured over them.
“Over there, do you see it?” he asked.
She shrugged. All she could make out was a swift current of energy.
He signalled ahead to a dark outline skimming underwater and handed her his rifle, fitting it against her shoulder like an appendage of her body. She gripped it awkwardly, its wooden stock digging into her. Joanasi repositioned her arms and told her to relax and just get a feel for it. Her finger caressed the trigger as she looked down the barrel into the thin black crosshairs the way she had seen people do it in the movies. She trained it on the small point of life in the distance.
“Shoot,” he whispered into her ear.
The seal’s glistening head broke through the surface of the water. She watched it glide into range, the rifle weighing in her arms.
“Don’t think, shoot.”
His words reverberated. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. There was only the immediacy of the moment. A deafening bang roared through her ears. It was over. She dropped the rifle onto the floor of the canoe, the aftershock of the explosion rippling through her body. The animal skirted away. “Damn,” she said, rubbing her shoulder. She turned and looked apologetically at Joanasi, his eyes dazzling in the sun.
“Good try.”
“I didn’t realize how hard it would be.”
“For you, maybe.” He put his sunglasses back on and kissed her on the nape of her neck. He reached for the oars and continued paddling.
By late morning they made it to a small island patchy with snow. Joanasi pulled the canoe up onto the beach while Yasmeen unloaded their supplies, the sun spanking her face. They hunted for a dry spot to lay down the blanket.
“Back in a minute,” he called over his shoulder. He picked up a musk-ox skull, bleached from years of wind
and sun, and pretended it was his own head. It was out of character but she liked it. He clowned around, dancing light-heartedly with it until she laughed out loud, and then he put it back down on the ground and continued on his way. She watched while he disappeared over the hummock.
Her stomach was growling. She knelt on the blanket to lay out the lunch they had packed that morning, sliced apples and cucumbers, cold cuts and bannock and a full box of Whippets. She set the thermos on a flat rock just as Joanasi arrived back from his short walk with a handful of something. She saw that he was smiling.
“What?”
“Dessert,” he said. “For later.” He tucked it into the knapsack and cuddled up with her on the blanket. He took a slice of cucumber and circled her lips with it. He bit off a piece, rolled it around in his mouth and tongued it back into hers.
They laid on their backs and gazed up at the sky, reading animal shapes into the clouds.
“I see a whale,” he called out.
“That’s no whale, that’s a caribou!”
“Qallunaaq, you know nothing.”
“I feel like I could sleep here until next summer,” she said, sprawling across the blanket. She kicked off her boots and popped open the button of her jeans. What she really wanted was to be naked with him under the beautiful blue sky. She wanted him to mount her in nature, out in the open. She imagined Adam and Eve as they bit into the apple, swelling with the knowledge of what they were about to do. It made her want to touch herself.
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