Even As We Breathe

by Annette Saunooke Clapsaddle

  She began to speak, but I interrupted her. “I’ll take her. If it’s okay with Lee and Mrs. Parks. I will bring her back after the funeral.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be a problem. I’ll make sure Mr. Jenkins and Mrs. Parks know your plans.” I could tell Peter felt uncomfortable in the room as he waved off my offer for him to sit, eat, or have a cup of coffee before he left again. He only scanned the room, as if deliberately trying not to see it, glancing sharply to his periphery without moving his head. “No, thank you. I appreciate it, but it’s best I get back on the road.” He shook my hand another time. I was relieved he chose to leave. He stiffened an already stiff room.

  “I told him I could hitchhike, but he wouldn’t hear of it,” Essie said, sitting on the hearth beside me.

  “Thank you for coming,” I responded. “You didn’t need to—”

  “I know. I wanted to.” Essie turned to me and laid her hand on my shoulder. She searched my eyes. “Cowney. I am so sorry. I know how close you were to her.”

  I tried to speak, but my throat tightened. Essie was likely the sixtieth person who had offered condolences that day, but hers sounded different to my ears. It wasn’t the words. The words were the same. I didn’t want to cry in front of her. She still did not deserve that from me after all that had happened. I wondered if she understood exactly what she had done or if everything, every emotion, resided within me alone. I wasn’t sure she was really sorry about what she needed to be sorry about. Sometimes it’s just something people say when they don’t know or don’t want to say anything else.

  “Who do you think you are?” Our awkwardness was broken by a commotion on the front porch. We walked toward the screen door. I heard Bud’s voice first, but it was in competition with another man’s.

  “Do right by that boy.” The white man flung a pointed finger in my direction. He looked familiar, like the kind of familiar you know from photographs or crowd scenes.

  “It’s none of your business.” Bud turned his back to the man. “Who called you anyway?”

  “Someone’s gotta speak for your brother.”

  “You have no right—”

  “Why? You think you have all the rights to him? Shit. You’ve always thought that, haven’t you?”

  “Get the hell off our property.”

  I wanted to quiet Bud, remind him of the solemnity of the day, but it was clear he was too far gone, maybe had already started drinking again.

  “It’s not your place to tell me to leave.” The man was walking over to me now. I sat back in the chair. “Son, you can tell me to leave. It’s your house now, too.”

  “Mister, I’m sorry. I don’t even know who you are.”

  “I served with your father and your uncle.” The man shot a glare at Bud, who had lit a fresh cigarette. “I just wanted to pay my respects, see if you need anything. I ain’t blood, but if you ever—”

  “Oh, go on.” Bud blew the command out with the smoke.

  “Son, you call if you need anything.” The man pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to me. He nodded to Essie and walked down the steps, as Bud turned and went back inside, allowing the screen door to slam shut.

  I followed Bud into the kitchen and tried to appear calm by pouring a cup of coffee. “And what the hell was that about?” I whispered.

  “Just another white man that thinks he knows everything,” Bud mumbled.

  “He said he served with you and Dad.”

  “He did.”

  “Was he there when—”

  “Yeah,” Bud acknowledged. “But he doesn’t know what he thinks he knows. I’d like to know who the hell thought to call him.”

  “But he knows something.” I held out the card he had given me.

  “Maybe …”

  Bud grabbed the paper from my hand and held it up to the butt of his cigarette.

  I knocked the card and cigarette from his hand. Coffee splashed, searing my skin.

  Just another secret I will never know, I thought and left the half-charred paper where it had landed in the sink.

  I stood silent in the kitchen looking defiantly at Bud, who refused me eye contact. I held the cup of coffee in my hand and let its heat nearly burn my hands.

  “Let’s get some air.” Essie was beside me. Her whisper broke my gaze.

  I agreed, more willing to leave with someone who had blatantly and swiftly broken my heart than stay with the man who had slowly and selfishly broken my will.

  I set the cup on the kitchen table, plucked the scrap from the sink, and tucked it into my pocket before Bud could notice. I ushered Essie out the front door. Mourners in the living room certainly took note of the scene, but were too polite to stare or interrupt their vigil.

  Essie was likely unfamiliar with my area of the woods, and she had already taken the first step, so I motioned for her to follow me. I knew exactly where I was going, even though night shadowed the forest before us. Had I not been so tired, emotionally and physically, I probably would not have chosen to lead a young woman through dark woods to the waterfall and the cave beneath it that housed an injured black bear. But this was my choice. No one could advise me or betray me there. Essie had to trust in me on the journey, even if I could no longer trust her. After replaying the image of her and Andrea a million times in my head, I wanted to replace it with an image of my choosing—of Essie and me at the water.

  “Where were you?” I gathered the courage to ask as we made our way down the beginnings of a trail I hoped to wear away between the cabin and the waterfall.

  “What do you mean? I had to finish my shift—”

  “No. Last week. I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

  “Oh. I didn’t make it to breakfast much.” Essie dug her hands into the pockets of her cotton dress and feigned interest in the treetops.

  I sniffed a laugh. “Well, I know that.”

  She must have been comforted by my laugh and shot me a look. “Okay, Cowpie. Didn’t know you were keeping up with me.” My face warmed. “Well, I mean after—”

  “Geez, I had to follow you all the way back to Cherokee to find you. Where have you been? I must have checked 447 a dozen times. You owe me a rematch in dominos. Don’t think I’m going to let you crown yourself champion that easily.”

  I smiled. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to be cold, reserved, indifferent, but I never could be any of those things with Essie. Maybe I had made too big a deal out of the whole scene, the letter. Maybe we had just missed each other after all and she wasn’t avoiding me. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stopped and grasped her elbow, turning her so that we faced one another. “You know I kept putting you off, right? Bringing you here.” I looked up at her, my smile subsiding as hers grew.

  “Yes, I know! Why?” From the curiosity in her eyes, I knew she had no inkling of how I really felt, and in that moment, with Lishie now gone, I needed someone still living on this earth to know how I honestly felt. I think I needed to hear myself say it, too—to admit I still wanted to believe loving someone was a possibility. “Tell me.”

  “I was afraid I would kiss you.” The words didn’t sound like mine. I couldn’t pull them back, as badly as I immediately wanted to.

  The pause that came next grew a canyon between us. I so desperately needed to hear her say: I wanted you to kiss me, though. I want you to kiss me now. Hard and long, soft and sweet. Kiss me like I am the last person you will ever kiss.

  A breathy sigh rose from Essie’s chest. And I couldn’t distinguish whether it was a sigh of pity, like when someone sees an injured animal limp away, or if it was a sigh of relief and release—that she was somehow grateful that some boundless truth had finally been revealed.

  But I couldn’t bear to wait for her to distinguish. I opened my mouth to deny or twist or do whatever I had to do to change what I had just said.

  Essie placed her hand on my arm. “Cowney, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Andrea. I thought I was protecting you.”

  “Protecting me
? From what?” I thought I knew what she meant, that she was protecting my heart, though I had no intention of admitting that to her.

  “Protecting you from the soldiers, management. I know I’m not supposed to be with a guest, and we both know if I got caught, I’d be gone. And we both know they’d send you home as well if they found out you knew about it.”

  I had not expected her to say that, to think that was the only thing she should protect me from. I was surprised at how it saddened me that she could so easily ignore my feelings. And still, it was an easy excuse for her. It made her reticence look courageous.

  “You should have told me.” I pulled my arm away and faced her eye to eye.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I just—I just wasn’t even sure how long it would last. And I do care about you. You’re my best friend. But Cowney, I want you to know it’s worth it.”

  “Worth it? Worth nearly getting us both fired?”

  “I mean—that is why I wanted to keep you as separate from it as possible.” Her eyes dropped from mine. “So it wouldn’t affect you. I just mean it’s worth it for me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I’m sorry—it would have been lovely to kiss you at the waterfall. I’m sure of it, but I think this place is meant for another girl—a really lucky girl.”

  I knew she was telling the truth about Andrea. She likely hadn’t felt that way before. But the words of Andrea’s letter were still fresh for me and I knew, out of jealousy or not, that this relationship was most certainly not a “first” for him. At that moment I knew that I needed to set aside my own broken pieces. It would not be long before hers would mingle among them and there was nothing either of us could do to stop that. I needed a friend and she would likely need one soon as well.

  We made it to the waterfall just before nightfall. Clouds and the returning smoke periodically concealed the moonlight. Dusk rustles reminded us that we were far from alone, yet still inconsequential to the life of the forest. Tiny pops of lightning bug bulbs dotted our path. I chose not to tell Essie about the bear, fearful that she might be too scared to stay. I would not be able to explain to her how I knew that the bear was no longer inside the cave. I just knew somehow that we were the only two beings there.

  We swam, fully clothed, under the moon’s watchful gaze, which fought its way through the stubborn overcast, and we reclined on the same log where I had that morning. My work clothes were still filthy from earlier, as I hadn’t had time to pack any clean clothes, so I didn’t mind the opportunity to wash them as I swam. Essie’s summer dress skirt floated up periodically with the water’s ripples, forcing her to modestly pat it down. As the moon glowed soft in the distance, we talked about family, the inn’s gossip, my attempt to speak Japanese, and our theories about what Bud and the stranger had been arguing about back at the cabin.

  “There’s one thing I’ve learned,” Essie offered. “There’s something about war buddies that ties them together forever. It’s not friendship, exactly. It’s almost like they’re bound by blood or something.”

  “You know many of your brother’s buddies?” I asked.

  “Sort of.” Essie shrugged.

  “What do you mean, sort of?”

  “He sent a letter not long after he left. He mentioned a few guys, where they were from, how swell he thought they were. So, I guess I kind of picture what they look like, you know. But I’ve never met them. Probably won’t.”

  “He’s not serving with anyone from home?”

  “No. He was at boarding school when he enlisted. Guys from all sorts of different reservations, but none from home. In fact, he didn’t mention that anybody else from school was in his unit either.”

  “He’ll probably come rolling in here with them when it’s all over. Heck, couple of them may even give old Andrea a run for his money once they lay their eyes on little sis.”

  Essie blushed. “I don’t expect so.” She looked down at the ground.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s not coming back here.”

  “Oh, gosh, Essie. I didn’t know. I’m sorr—”

  Essie looked up again. “Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. He’s not dead or anything.” She laughed. “That sounded terrible. I just mean that he already told us that he wasn’t coming back from school either. Said he was moving to a city when he graduated. Chicago, maybe.”

  “I see.” I scooted my feet in the dirt. “Can’t blame him, I guess,” I said.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “It’s just so hard to get by around here. No matter how hard you’re willing to work. Shit. Between the two of us, Bud and I can barely afford a headstone for Lishie.”

  “Are you going to have to use your school money?”

  “Don’t know yet. Bud’s got this plan, too. He wants me to try to sell bear parts for him.”

  “Why you?”

  “It’s who he wants to sell to. Thinks the Orientals, the Japanese in this case, would buy them for a pretty penny. Use them for medicine or something.”

  “What do you think? I mean, we’re not supposed to even really talk to the guests, let alone trade with them. Is that why you’re trying to speak Japanese?”

  “Yeah. But I wouldn’t even have pursued it if this hadn’t happened.”

  “You be careful. After all those stories you told me about missing children and bones, I can’t help but wonder if someone didn’t just cross the wrong path at that place.”

  “Ah, I was just storytelling,” I assured her.

  “There’s always at least an ounce of truth in storytelling. Sometimes I wonder if you haven’t seen more than you tell me.”

  “Me? I’m the absolute last person to know anything. I mean, look at what you’ve been getting yourself into.”

  Essie blushed. “Yes, but he’s the only one I’ve spoken to. I don’t know. I just trust him for some reason.” She paused for a moment to knead her toes into the ground. “Anyway, I get it. I can see why you’d take the risk. You really should make sure you can still afford your schooling.”

  “You want to stay around here? I mean after college. Or you heading straight to New York?”

  “I’m not sure. And I don’t think I’ll be going to college either. So yeah, probably I’ll be around … Well, unless Andrea has other plans.” She raised her eyebrows.

  I forced a smile. “Why do you not want to go to college? I thought that was your plan, why you were working at the inn and all.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to; I just don’t think I can. Since my brother left, my family … Well, the money is just not there to send a daughter to college. And while I appreciate a little pocket change this summer, it won’t likely cover the cost of books, let alone tuition.”

  I wondered if Essie was telling me the whole truth. I wondered if meeting Andrea had changed her mind about college. Both reasons were plausible. “Well, hopefully this summer will do it for me. I can’t wait until I don’t have to see that son of a bitch Sol anymore.”

  “Really? He’s been giving you a hard time still?”

  “Yeah, he’s just a fathead. Thinks he’s better than me or superior because he’s white, but he has the same job I have. I don’t think even Lee likes him as much as he pretends to.”

  “Oh, Cowpie, don’t worry about Sol. He keeps giving you a hard time, you just ask him about Carol.”

  “Carol? The redhead you work with?”

  “Yes, that’s her. Sol has a real crush on her. Haven’t you noticed him following her around in the dining hall? He’s like a silly puppy dog.”

  We laughed together for a bit and let the air easily fall into a peaceful silence. Stars occasionally darted through the parted canopy, and we tried to keep count of unspoken wishes we were both collecting. I’d never seen so many falling stars in one night’s sky; then again, I can’t remember spending so long in patient wait looking upward.

  As the morning descended around us, I knew that I needed to get back, but as each minute passed, I became more and more resistant
to move. Essie could tell from my sighs and increased fidgeting.

  She broke the silence after some time. “What’s bugging you, Cowpie?”

  “I don’t want to go home. Too many people. Bud’s probably got a whole list of chores for me by now.”

  “What is it between you two?”

  “He’s hated me since the day I was born.”

  “Now, I find that hard to believe.”

  “It’s true. If Lishie were here, you could ask her. I think he blames me for both Mom and Dad dying.”

  “How so? Didn’t you say that your mom died just after your birth? You couldn’t have helped that. And your father, Lord have mercy. That was war. That certainly was not your fault.”

  “I know. I didn’t say it made sense.”

  “Maybe you just remind him of them. I mean, look at how he treated your dad’s army buddy. Seems like he has a real problem with reminders of his past.”

  “I guess that makes sense. You know he wouldn’t even write to Lishie during the war? After the funeral, he wouldn’t even talk about what happened to Dad. Wouldn’t answer anybody’s questions.”

  “What kind of questions did they have?” Essie asked.

  “Just details, you know. I mean, I guess we know the basics but … I just can’t picture what they say happened.”

  “Why not?” Essie scowled inquisitively.

  “Something to do with the shots and who was where and why.”

  “That sure does seem like more than ‘nothing,’” Essie prodded.

  “The guy he was trying to save was a sleepwalker,” I began. Essie leaned into me, really listening to the words I formed, piecing them together from memories of Lishie and the letters. She listened as I told her everything I knew. When I finished, she leaned back on the log and nodded.

  “The army recovered the two guns?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now I know why you have questions and why Bud’s not saying much about it.”

  I wondered if she thought the same as I did, but was afraid to confirm my own questions with her suspicions.