Shelley sat down at the table for another game of Anishnawbe Rummy, there was a slight noise, possibly from the direction of the front door, possibly not. Almost a scratching sound, like a tree branch rubbing against an outside wall. Or the cat trying to get in — if they’d had a cat. “Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what?” William was busy sorting out the cards before dealing them. Despite his talent with chalk, manual dexterity was not his forte.
“Ralph?”
“No. I didn’t hear anything. What did you hear? Maybe it was the furnace.” Shelley was about to answer him when the mysterious sound repeated itself, this time slightly louder. “I heard it that time. I think someone’s at the door.”
“What, a mouse?” snorted William, getting ready to deal. “I think I’m first, right?”
“Dealers are never first,” Shelley snapped. Leaving her hated enemy, Shelley went to investigate the mysterious noise. Curious, she opened the door to the front steps. Standing on the stoop was a little girl, looking very soggy and uncomfortable. It took a moment for Shelley to place her. She was from their school, but several grades back. All the kids from the reserve and a few from nearby settlements went to the school, and almost everybody knew everybody in one way or another. But not everybody was as unremarkable as Danielle. Somewhere in her almost thirteen years, Shelley had passed this girl on the street, in the hallway, or at some function, but she couldn’t seem to recall the tiny creature’s name. But at the moment it was a very wet and cold Danielle that was standing at their door. The two boys could hear her teeth chattering from across the living room. Even though the young girl was looking down, Shelley could tell her wet, stringy hair was plastered across her face. She could also see water running down the unfortunate girl’s neck. She was shivering with the cold.
“Hello,” said the puzzled Shelley. “Who are you?”
At first Danielle didn’t respond, and then when she did, her chattering teeth made her difficult to understand. The two boys put down their cards and listened, curious about who Shelley was talking to.
“Christ, that’s what’s-her-name. Danielle. Isn’t it, Ralph?”
“Yeah. What’s she doing here?”
Ralph shrugged as Shelley invited Danielle in out of the rain, though that move did little to stop her shivering. “Danielle, is that your name? Oh, you poor thing. You’re soaked through to the bone. Let me get a towel. You stay right here.”
Shelley closed the door behind Danielle and left the room. The little girl stood in the living room, a puddle of water growing around her feet. William and Ralph looked at each other, not sure what to say.
Ralph finally worked up the nerve. “Hey, Danielle …”
Nervously, she looked up and managed a small, slight smile before Shelley came back, towel in hand. “Take that coat off. Let’s get you dry. What are you doing out on a day like today? It’s horrible outside. You shouldn’t be out there.”
Danielle tried to answer, but quickly found a soft, fluffy towel being rubbed across her face, muting her response.
“Are we playing this game or what?” asked William, with a freshly shuffled deck. Shelley and Ralph ignored him.
“There,” said Shelley, taking another look at the now semi-drowned girl. “You look a lot better. Almost human.” She smiled at the tiny creature in front of her, but wasn’t sure if she got a smile back.
“Thank you,” said Danielle, too low to be heard clearly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.” Shelley took Danielle’s tiny jacket, heavy with rainwater, leaving a trail of water as she walked across the room. “What can we do for you?”
There was no response while Shelley hung the girl’s coat on the back of a chair over a hot air vent, hoping it would drip reasonably dry with some prodding from the furnace.
Danielle’s attention, however, was elsewhere. She had spotted the Everything Wall once the towel was taken from her face. Clearly visible from the front door, across from where she stood, was a black chalkboard with many dubious expressions of art and what appeared to be a welcoming space for one last attempt. Her eyes, unusually alive, almost eager, scanned the images that populated the surface. Near the bottom right of the Wall, close to the humming refrigerator, there was the only untouched space. The little girl smiled and turned towards Shelley. “The Everything Wall.”
Shelley nodded. “Is that why you’re here? You want to draw something?”
Danielle smiled even brighter. There was a brief and hesitant nod. “Please.”
“The chalk box is on the counter. Right there.”
Shelley escorted the little girl across the room. As the Wall grew closer, Danielle’s smile grew bigger. The tiny girl quickly grabbed the chalk. Shelley thought she heard her say, “Thank you” again, but was unsure. This little Danielle sure was a soft speaker. The older sister looked over at her younger brother, who seemed as puzzled as she was.
William looked impatient, eager to get back to the game he was winning.
“Come on! Are we playing or what?”
With the chalk in her hand, Danielle knelt down, facing the blank spot. Everything and everybody around her seemed to fade away, for at that moment in her life the universe consisted only of her, the expanse of painted plywood, and the chalk, which was her passport to what could be innumerable worlds of wonder. There, she stayed, kneeling as if praying, looking at the Wall.
Puzzled by the girl’s sudden appearance and her reaction to the Wall, Ralph watched her. To the young boy, it almost seemed like she was looking not at the Wall but into the Wall. In her left hand a white stick of chalk was clutched, but it didn’t move. Danielle was motionless. As if waiting for something.
“She’s weird,” whispered William.
Shelley glared at the sitting boy. “Shut up. Geez, you’re an idiot. She’s not weird. Just quiet. Ralph, who is she?”
She was weird, thought Ralph. Everybody knew that. But weird isn’t always a bad thing. Weird could simply mean different. And different could mean special. And special could mean extraordinary. But a lot of the time, William was right. Weird was weird. “She’s in our school. I think she’s a grade behind me. She comes from down towards Hockey Heights. Other than that, I don’t know much about her.”
Shelley asked the age-old question unique to Native communities. “Who’s her parents?”
“Oh, man. What’s their names? William?”
Unlike a lot of questions posed in school classes, this was one the boy could answer. “Yeah, let’s see, her father … I think his name was Albert. Albert Gaadaw. At least I think it was. My father knew him. He died, I think, about four years ago. Construction accident of some kind. And her mother’s name …”
“Hazel,” finished Shelley. Even though she’d been only eight, Shelley remembered the accident and everybody talking about it. Something to do with him being buried in a hole in the ground. Hazel Gaadaw. Practically everybody knew of Hazel Gaadaw. And not in a good way. Albert’s death had devastated her and had left its repercussions on the woman and, by association, his daughter. Looking again at Danielle, Shelley’s immense sense of compassion for anybody other than William became infinite.
“She’s awfully skinny,” Shelley mentioned, looking at Danielle.
“Yeah, and you’re awfully fat. Come on, are we gonna play this game or what?” William was no longer the focus of the afternoon, and that needed to be addressed.
“All right then, let’s play your stupid game. Honestly, Ralph, I have no idea how you put up with It. I don’t know how It’s family puts up with It either.”
“My mother tells me I’m adorable. That’s why.” Smiling, William disappeared into the living room, followed by his fellow Anishnaabe rummy players.
“And I’m not fat!” came Shelley’s voice from the other room.
Alone in the kitchen,
Danielle was forgotten, which was fine with her. Her eyes were riveted to the Wall and all its potential. She barely breathed. But there was more than the Everything Wall in her eyes. That was merely the door, hiding so much more. There was something else that hid beneath its surface. Something special waiting to come through. Most people saw what was. It was a precious few who could see what could be or even what should be.
Another second passed, then a few more. All the world was silent except for the hum of a fourteen-year-old refrigerator and the squabbling of kids in another room. Danielle raised her left hand to the Wall and slowly drew a curved white line. A second later, another line followed, then another. Faster and faster came the chalk impressions on the Wall, dust like small snowflakes slowly falling to the ground. Grabbing a handful of other chalk pieces, Danielle smiled as the image began to take shape. She could almost see the Horse.
More importantly, it could almost see her.
AFTER HALF AN hour, Ralph was tired of listening to Shelley and William bicker over the card game. At first it had been amusing how everything about one seemed to irritate the other. But by this point, it had become annoying. Every time all three got together — as Shelley would have absolutely nothing to do with William unless Ralph was directly involved — it was the same sequence of events. Shelley would say A. William would respond with a snarky B, usually resulting in Shelley’s annoyed C. William would ignore her and move on with D. As predictable as an election on the reserve. Despite Shelley’s insistence that he always be around, it was almost like Ralph didn’t exist when Shelley and William were together.
Ralph couldn’t understand why they bothered hanging around each other so much if they didn’t like each other that much. People didn’t make much sense, Ralph had wisely concluded, based on his ten, almost eleven years on the planet. His parents were a similar case. His mother, kind of unconventional in many ways. His father, so conventional in other ways. Yet, sixteen years and two kids later, they still managed to move forward in life together. Ralph wondered if his father would be bringing any presents home with him tonight. Sometimes he did and sometimes he didn’t, depending on where the trucking company sent him. Admittedly, not a lot of exciting things to buy kids when in Lethbridge for the night, or Hearst.
To give himself some peace, the younger brother quietly slipped away from the living room coffee table, as Shelley was now deeply involved in yet another spirited discussion over William’s occasionally unique interpretation of the rules to Anishnaabe rummy.
“You can’t do that!” yelled Shelley.
“Sure I can,” responded William. “I saw it in a movie.”
“What movie? How To Play Cards Stupidly?” And on it went. Shelley had a whole set of other friends she preferred to play anything with, but on such a miserable day, it was best to spend time staying home and dry and warm and being miserable with William and Ralph.
Ralph had a mild thirst that if properly exploited would have an additional beneficial effect. This manoeuvre involved moving away from the anarchy of the living room and obtaining water from the tap in the quietness of the kitchen.
The other two did not notice Ralph leaving the table as William practically shoved a seven of clubs into Shelley’s face, intent on proving his point, even if unsuccessfully. Part of Ralph was hoping the rain had stopped; this would permit his sister to go over to Vanessa’s, leaving him and William to get into their own brand of interaction. Boy stuff. Less bickering.
Once he crossed through the doorway into the kitchen, he saw Danielle partially hidden by the refrigerator. Still kneeling, chalk in hand and in motion. Oh yeah, Ralph thought, having completely forgotten about her, as had the other two. She had been so quiet and discreet in the kitchen, her appearance and eager participation in the Everything Wall had faded from their immediate consciousness. But there she was. Her hand fluttering against the Wall. Adding final touches.
When Ralph cleared the refrigerator, he stopped dead in his tracks. He was transfixed. All thoughts of his sister and William and that glass of water just evaporated. Ralph stood some six feet away from the little girl, staring at the Everything Wall and its new citizen. There are few times in a ten-year-old’s existence when time and space bend. When all their imagination has taught them no longer is relevant. A child’s imagination is powerful for sure, but on rare occasions, it can be overpowered. Augmented with new parameters. The Everything Wall swallowed up ten-year-old Ralph. He disappeared into it long enough for William and Shelley to wonder what had become of the third member of their awkward triumvirate.
“Hey, you playing this hand or what?!” asked William as he entered the kitchen.
Right behind him came Shelley. “I don’t know if I want to play cards anymore. It looks like the rain has stopped. I might want to go over to …” Shelley noticed Ralph’s fixed and unresponsive expression. “Ralph, what’s wrong?!”
“You got anything to eat?” said William, dodging around Ralph, aiming directly for the refrigerator. He hoped there might be some chicken left over from last night’s dinner with the Thomases. There were always leftovers in the Thomas fridge, unlike in his house. The definition of leftovers in the refrigerator at William’s home was condiments.
Then William saw the Everything Wall. “What? Geez!” Not many things took the tough boy’s breath away, other than a punch to the breadbasket.
Only Shelley had not yet set eyes on what Danielle had created on the Everything Wall, but it was obvious by the reactions of her two male companions that something very different had been added. Off the top of her head, she could not remember either of them stopping so suddenly dead in their tracks, so frozen. This was very un-Ralph and un-William. Curious, and a little concerned, she looked around her brother to the black wall where she had left the quiet little girl from their school to labour away.
“What are you two up …”
Now Shelley crossed over the border from the annoying and boring world of playing cards and rainy days into what was waiting for her on the Everything Wall. She, too, was silenced. The only sound in the kitchen was the slight, raspy scraping of chalk on wood. A darker tracing here, a thickening border there, defining an edge more clearly near the eye, adding more colour. Despite the reactions of Ralph, William, and Shelley, the Horse was still a work in progress.
All three stared at the Horse. They stood in their tracks, stock-still, taking in Danielle’s creation.
To call the creation a horse would have done it and every horse in Creation a disservice. It was the kind of horse every person on Earth would have wanted to ride, but never could. It looked like it was leaping across the Wall, blazing freedom somehow emanating from it. Out of four shades of chalk, Danielle had managed perfectly to sculpt the image of a magnificent steed, every muscle, every sinew, and every hair. The image was better than a photograph. A photograph rendered reality, and reality was sometimes lacking. Danielle’s drawing was much better than any artist they had ever seen or read about could have done. The creature on the Everything Wall seemed alive and conscious, real and powerful.
In the drawing of the animal, Danielle had managed to incorporate other images on the Everything Wall. In some cases, the Horse swallowed them up. The Horse was huge, covering the entire Everything Wall. The other images, drawn by Shelley and William and other friends, barely registered; they appeared between the Horse’s legs or beyond its back, as if standing aside, making way. It was unlike anything the three had ever seen or even imagined was possible, let alone on the wall of a house on the Otter Lake reserve. But there was the Horse on the Thomas wall, now staring back at them.
Ralph, the first to see it, had been immediately swallowed up by what Danielle had created; he was completely unaware of the arrival of William and Shelley. The creature appeared so noble, if that was the right word. It looked protective and strong, but also kind and caring. There was also wisdom and love captured in Danielle’s drawing
on that plywood wall. At first, Ralph wasn’t sure how he could have come to that unusual understanding — wisdom and love — then he realized it was the eyes. Somehow everything the Horse was, its very essence, poured out of its eyes.
And Danielle’s, too. There was an intensity, shining through brightly, Ralph noted, that was not normally seen in shy barely-ten-year-old girls. For a brief moment, Ralph could see through what some have called the crack between the worlds. Fleetingly, he saw what Danielle saw and what she was endeavouring to re-create on their wall. The Horse was everything the girl wasn’t. Everything she needed. Everything every person in that room, and perhaps the world, needed, all wrapped up in a chalk drawing. It was obvious, but not in a conscious manner, that what she was creating was the girl’s best friend, protector, father, and, were she older, lover. The Horse filled all the missing parts in her life. As the artist, she would call it forth with such mundane equipment as chalk, plywood, and black paint, and it would come. It was as real to her as anything was to anybody. And by some means, this registered on Ralph and the other two witnesses.
The Horse took Shelley’s breath away. She’d ridden a horse precisely once during a weekend stay the year before at summer camp. She’d done this with more fear than excitement. But her experience of the creature on the Wall was nothing like that. The Horse’s mane was like fire. The hooves like a ballerina’s delicate feet. The chest and shoulders massively strong, strong enough to ride into the night and through to the next morning without breaking its stride. Many have said there has always been a spiritual connection between girls and horses, and this animal was the Mount Everest of what that connection could be. Though it was just chalk, Shelley wanted to reach out and touch it, to make sure it really existed. But her arms couldn’t or wouldn’t move. She continued to look, her eyes doing what her fingers couldn’t.
Chasing Painted Horses Page 6