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Dad took the turns at full speed, and I did my best to follow him. He soon jerked his steering wheel and turned onto a country road, leading to the lake five miles away.
I knew exactly where he was going. He had a favorite drinking spot under a giant red oak tree. He’d park his truck and sit on the tailgate with a six-pack. “This tree is Choctaw,” he always said. “If you listen close, it even speaks Choctaw.”
I skidded the tires and took off after him, his red taillights blinking in the dust. I was shaking and sobbing and speeding way too fast. But I had him in my sight and he wasn’t getting away from me. Johnny’s car bounced up and down on the bumpy old road. I skidded from one side to the other to avoid a fallen tree.
Then I saw the lake. It was more beautiful than I remembered. The moon shone on the dark waters, sparkling yellow. My dad’s drinking spot, the red oak tree, lay across a two-lane bridge. I didn’t see any taillights.
Dad must be already there, I thought. I sped up again to cross the bridge, when my eyes caught sight of somebody standing by the side of the road. It was my dad. He’d parked his truck by the roadside, waiting for me.
And he wasn’t mad!
My new dad had returned. His arms lifted to the sky and he had a smile on his face. He sobered up, I thought. “Yes!” I shouted.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I reached out my arms to greet him and I let go of the steering wheel. The car smashed through a wire fence and rolled into the lake.
Chapter 21
Is This a Dream?
I loved my Choctaw grandmother so much. Of all the old folks in my family, she was my favorite. When I opened my eyes and saw her, I was so happy. She moved her lips to speak, but I couldn’t understand anything she was saying.
She wore her favorite dress, the one she was buried in. It was made of light-blue cotton and it moved with the slightest breeze. My mother said she ought to be buried in something more dignified. But Dad and his brothers and sisters all agreed.
“Mawmaw should be buried in the dress she loved the most.”
Grandpaw appeared, smiling and whispering, too. But I didn’t understand him either. Then Mr. Crocker showed up, the janitor from our elementary school. He was a nice man, pushing his broom up and down the hallway all day long. He died in a trailer house, all by himself.
Soon they were all there. All of the people I had known and loved who had died. They all showed up to welcome me.
“No,” I said. I think I was shaking my head. I tried to let them know. “I am not ready to go.” They floated away and I was left in the dark.
I don’t know how long I slept. When I woke up, Dad was standing by my bedside.
“What chance does he have, Doctor?” he asked. I could not open my eyes, but I knew it was him. He sounded so sad. I tried to speak, but all I could do was lie there and listen.
“Tell us the truth,” my mother said. By the sound of their voices, she was standing next to Dad.
How did she get here? I wondered.
“He swallowed so much water,” said the doctor. “We are doing all we can to revive him. That’s all I can say for now.”
“I am so sorry,” Dad said. “I know I was a terrible father, but I tried.”
“Whatever you tried, it didn’t work,” my mother said.
“I can tell you this,” Dad said. “If he comes back to us, I will never touch another drink as long as I live. You have my word on that.”
I wanted to leap high. I wanted to throw the door from my underground room and touch the sky! I wanted to lift my dad and toss him high, toss them both in the air and juggle them up and down till we all flew away to a place where we could be always happy. Always.
But I could not move a muscle. I struggled and lifted one eyelid. Not all the way, but enough to see where Dad stood. He was right beside me.
“I want him back!” Dad said.
Somehow I did it.
I rolled my hand off the bed and my arm touched his. He looked at me and I knew he saw me, the living me, the real me. Just like No Name’s dad, he saw me.
“He’s going to live,” Dad said. “He’s not going anywhere!” He leaned over to hug me.
“Careful,” said the doctor. “You’ll pull the tubes out!”
Dad hugged me anyway, slowly and carefully. So did Mom. When I saw them hug each other, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
The next time I woke up, I was surrounded by people, just like before—with one major difference. This time everybody was alive. I opened my eyes and everyone clapped.
Dad, Mom, Coach Robison, the entire basketball team, Johnny and his mom and dad, they were all there. I smiled big and flung my head back on the pillow.
But mine wasn’t the only head on the pillow. I caught the sweet aroma of rose perfume. I rolled my head to the left and a soft voice whispered, “Hello.”
“Whoooooaaaa!” I yelled so loud and jumped so far across the bed that everybody laughed. But not Mystery Lady Faye, the source of the perfume. She tilted her head to one side. She squinted her eyes and ran her fingertips across her cheeks, moving her hair aside.
I looked at Mom and Dad. I glanced at my coach and the team. They were all smiling and nodding, liking what they saw. This was supposed to be a private moment. What is she doing? I thought. She better not try to kiss me!
I looked back at Faye. She was standing by the bed with her arms wrapped around herself. Her face was glowing and she was laughing, too.
Finally I saw what was happening.
I hid my face in my pillow and wished this moment could last forever. I was alive. I had seen the other side and returned. I had my new dad and my new mom. I had my friends and I had my new girlfriend, Faye. I knew she wasn’t Mystery Lady Faye, not really. She was shy and scared and hiding in her own secret room, just like me.
Soon the doctor appeared at the door. “I hate to spoil the party,” he said, “but he needs his rest.” One at a time, everyone came to my bedside and told me how happy they were that I was hoke. Dad and Mom waited till everyone else was gone. They both knelt by my bed and hugged me so close, closer than ever.
“I am so proud of you both,” Mom said. “This is the beginning of a new life for us all,” Dad whispered, and I knew he spoke the truth.
“Will you come to my next basketball game?” I asked Dad.
“We’ll both be there,” Mom said. “I’m coming home.”
About the Author
Tim Tingle is an Oklahoma Choctaw and an award-winning author and storyteller. Every Labor Day, Tingle performs a Choctaw story before Chief Gregory Pyle’s State of the Nation Address, a gathering that attracts over ninety thousand tribal members and friends.
In June 2011, Tingle spoke at the Library of Congress and presented his first performance at the Kennedy Center, in Washington, DC. From 2011 to the present, he has been a featured author and storyteller at Choctaw Days, a celebration at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian honoring the Oklahoma Choctaws.
Tingle’s great-great grandfather, John Carnes, walked the Trail of Tears in 1835.
In 1992, Tim retraced the Trail to Choctaw homelands in Mississippi and began recording stories of tribal elders. His first book, Walking the Choctaw Road, was the outcome. His first children’s book, Crossing Bok Chitto, garnered over twenty state and national awards and was an Editor’s Choice in the New York Times Book Review. Danny Blackgoat, Navajo Prisoner, Tim’s first PathFinders novel, was a 2014 American Indian Youth Literature Award Honor Book.
Watch Tim Tingle’s performance of the traditional Choctaw story No Name at the National Museum of the American Indian: youtube.com/watch?v=vdweJ8_qyZE, or do a web search for “No Name Choctaw Film.”
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