“You’re bad,” Shane says.
Tara lets her hand slide down his chest. “Everyone already thinks we’re fucking.”
“How do you know?”
“Ashley teases me sometimes. They just assume.”
“You don’t tell them we’re not?”
Tara shrugs. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Well, I don’t wanna knock you up and get stuck here.” It sounded like a joke in his head, but it might have been too true to be funny.
Tara sighs. “Could be worse.”
He feels the creep of her hand moving under his waistband. Shane turns to his side. “I better get home. I’ve got to get up early and clean. The house is gross.”
“She shouldn’t still be making you do everything. It’s been a couple months already.”
“Six weeks.”
“Still. Don’t you get tired of being good? It wasn’t your fault.” Tara touches his hair. Shane swats her hand away, but then regrets it. She didn’t do anything wrong. She deserves better. He pulls her in, spooning her from behind. It feels intimate but it also prevents her from kissing him or taking off any more of their clothes.
“Can we just go to sleep? I can get home before my mom wakes up.”
“Sure.” Tara leans over and snaps off the light.
*
The morning sky is a flat gray. Soft light comes from all directions, dissolving even the thought of shadows. Shane takes one last look at Tara still asleep in bed and slides the window open. He could probably walk through the living room and out the front door, but for all he knows Tara’s dad and his date are sprawled out on the ripped pleather couches. Or even worse, he could be awake and trying to be charming, teasing his date about how loud she got last night, about how his legend will carry on in the tales she tells. And he might be right. One night, Shane walked into the living room to find Glen and his beer-can dick passed out naked with a half-eaten burrito in his hand. Later, Evie overheard him and David laughing about it. She puckered her lips and said, Don’t matter what you got in your pants. Nasty is nasty.
Shane drops down out of Tara’s bedroom window. The cool morning air is sweet and green. He turns his face to the sun like a spring vine drinking in the day.
chapter nine
Shane flaked again. Or he chickened out. I don’t know if anyone has a word for it when a guy avoids having sex with his girlfriend. I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong. Other guys want me, all I have to do is walk down the street to know that. Sick. But I know Shane loves me. You can’t fake caring about someone without the other person knowing it. I hope not anyways. And even if Shane might be faking it, the only reason guys play those games is to get girls to sleep with them. It doesn’t make sense. The only reason he would have come over last night is to have sex, or because he loves me. Right? But if he loves me then he shouldn’t have gotten all weird when I asked him about going to Toronto. Maybe he was planning to invite me and I wrecked the surprise by inviting myself. But I have a hard time believing that one. So maybe he loves me, but not enough to want me to go with him. He loves me, but not enough to have sex and get saddled with a kid. He loves me enough for right now but not enough for forever. Sounds like my mom.
Sometimes I open my eyes and I wonder if Mom is opening hers too. I feel her there like a mirror or an echo of myself. Like everything I do in the day, she’s doing it at exactly the same time in exactly the same way. Just in a different place, in a different body. Older. Today is one of those days. I swing my legs out of bed and see her doing it too. I think of walking into the kitchen and she walks there with me, layered on top of me almost, like two universes stacked on top of each other. Doing everything in unison but unable to touch. I picture the two of us sitting cross-legged on my bed, face-to-face. I tell her all the things that I need to say, but when I do, her mouth opens at the same time. Problems spill out where there should be answers. Even in my dreams of her, she isn’t enough.
Same shit different pile Dad says
Talking about Mom
and me
See how that worked out
Last we saw was the black
Sweep of her ponytail
Sun behind
Dazzling the air
Baby powder floating
Fairy dust stopping time
How can it be
That the smell of home and
the smell of lonely are the same?
chapter ten
Uncle Pete’s truck is parked at an angle, blocking off Shane’s driveway. Marking his territory. Good thing Pete can’t see when Shane takes a kick at the bumper; Pete’d lose it for sure. He used to be friends with some other guys around town, but whenever they got serious about a girl and stopped hanging out with him as much as he wanted, Pete would find some excuse to slash their tires or beat them up. After that, Pete would pick a new best friend and the whole thing would repeat itself. Jackie has tried setting him up with women over the years, but he’s never showed much interest.
Shane closes the front door behind him, counting down the seconds until the inevitable run-in with his uncle. He kicks off his shoes and lines them up on the mat beside the others, keeping one eye on the broad hump of Pete’s back straining against the wooden slats of a dining room chair.
Pete’s voice booms from his seat, “So you don’t come home at night now?” Shane uses the moment it takes to walk from the kitchen to the dining room to figure out how to respond. Jackie is sitting at the table with Pete, slowly ripping a paper napkin into downy shreds.
“I was at Kyle’s,” Shane lies. “Mom, you eat yet?”
Jackie doesn’t look up. “Not yet.”
Shane gives Pete a sour look. Would it have killed him to make her some food? Shane steps back into the kitchen and hunts for the cereal, shoving aside boxes of half-eaten crackers and slamming cupboard doors. His movements are jerky, more desperate than he wants to seem, but he can’t help it. Why is Pete even here!? Maybe he needs money, or maybe Jackie asked him to come. Or he could be worried about his sister and decided to swing by … No. All of that is impossible. Whatever brought him here is bad. It’s always something bad.
Shane swings a cupboard door shut with a bang. No cereal. He turns back toward the dining room and there she is. Destiny. She’s standing there with the cereal box in her hand, just like she used to. He could swear she hid it on him sometimes, just to make him crazy. Looking for this? she would say with an impish little smirk.
There’s no smile today though. Shane takes the box from her hand, then pulls a bowl out of the cupboard and pours the cereal inside. His heart slows down like it used to during a smudge. Like he has Destiny home again where she can be protected by their daily routine, where they’re circled by an armor of small habits that over time become rituals. Prayers that keep them safe. Because Mom said that as long as they got their homework done and brushed their teeth and did the laundry, nothing bad could happen. Turns out lies don’t become true even if everyone believes them.
When he sets the box down, Destiny is gone. The anger has gone too, leaving him hollowed out. Ready for battle.
Uncle Pete starts talking even before Shane makes it back into the dining room. “I just came from the store. Janice wants to get paid up front for the shit you guys ordered.”
Shane sets the bowl of cereal down in front of Jackie. She mouths something, but if she actually spoke, it was too quiet to hear. “Just ask the band,” he says. “The roof’s halfway falling in already.”
Uncle Pete shakes his head. “They’re broke. They’re always broke.”
Shane wraps his arms around himself in a hug. “Well …”
Pete holds out his hand to stop him. “It’s gonna be fine, Shane. Your mom’s got enough left over from when your dad died, so …”
Shane does a quick mental calculation: his inherit
ance could cover either tuition or nearly all of the roof repairs, but no way it would cover both. And even if he uses it for university he’ll still need to pay for housing, utilities, textbooks, food …
“That money’s for school,” he snaps. “If I don’t pay them this month I’m fucked.”
“Maybe you should be thinking about taking care of your mom here instead of trying to run off.”
Shane’s vision goes streaky for a moment. “I’m not running anywhere. It’s for school!”
Uncle Pete’s chair scrapes against the plywood floor as he stands. He’s a big guy and he’s used to using his size to make sure he gets his way. Shane shrinks back a little. Uncle Pete notices and softens his voice. “You don’t know how good you got it. You’re smart. People like you. You could get a job on the council, do something at the mines …”
Shane looks to Jackie for some kind of support, or even an indication that she’s aware of what is happening. Her eyes are empty. She’s somewhere else entirely. The only sign that she’s still with them is the pile of shredded napkin that she’s slowly building in front of herself. Why isn’t she doing something? There’s no way she would let Pete do this if she was normal. After a lifetime of watching Jackie fiercely defend him and Destiny, it feels as though someone has stolen Jackie in the night. His real mother is somewhere else, screaming and tearing out her hair while he’s left here with this pale husk. He’s seen a Nish woman on TV talking about “stolen sisters.” He knows she wasn’t talking about this kind of theft, but still … no one can argue that his mother and sister are gone, and at least one of them is never coming back. The TV woman’s words repeat over and over in his head like waves crashing on a shore: stolen sisters stolen sisters stolen sisters stolen sisters stolen sisters …
“Hey. I’m talking to you.”
Shane closes his eyes and inhales deeply, wishing that a Drift would come for him in this moment.
Uncle Pete gestures to Jackie. “You better look around and figure out where your responsibilities are.”
Shane snaps back to attention. “What about you? Maybe you should be taking care of your sister instead of putting it all on me.”
Uncle Pete crosses his arms and looks away. “That’s not my job. I’m just here ’cause Janice asked me.”
Shane’s eyes pass over Jackie and Uncle Pete. He tries to imagine what it means that the two of them lived a whole together life as brother and sister before Shane even came into the world. He wonders if there was a moment when their connection to each other broke, or if this chilly distance between them has always been there.
“All right, Pete, thanks for that. Message received. We don’t need your help anyways. Get the fuck out of here.”
Pete’s eyes narrow into black slits. “Careful now.”
Shane holds his eyes. “Or do you want to stay and cook lunch while I clean this place up?”
That does it. Uncle Pete grumbles and goes to the door. “Good luck finding the cash anywhere else.” The door slams and the whole house shudders as though it’s relieved he’s gone.
Jackie rips the last bits of the napkin and lets them fall to the table. Her eyes drift up from the mysterious spot on the wall that’s occupied her at least since Shane arrived, and maybe for some time before that. She’s looking at Shane now. Her lips move like she wants to say something, but no sound comes out. Shane reaches forward to take the untouched cereal bowl from the table, just so he doesn’t have to sit with her anymore. It makes him feel sick to be so close to her and so far away at the same time. In his mind the waves keep singing: stolen sisters stolen sisters stolen sisters stolen sisters stolen sisters …
*
Shane doesn’t have any idea where he’s running to, but knows he has to leave the house or else burn it down. Right now. He races down the dirt road on foot, feeling like a bullet or maybe a heat-seeking missile, hurtling toward an unknown target. He imagines the world smearing suddenly into a flash of green and brown streaks like when they go into warp speed in Star Trek. Birches, gravel, ragweed, and thistles all whip by in a blur of color. His feet drive into the ground one after the other. His blood pounds in time, his whole body made of rhythm. Energy pulses through him like the thrashing of a terrified snake. The only way out is to keep on running. So he does. He runs on and on, past the powwow grounds, past the store, the band office, and the youth center. His feet pick up speed until the air seems to shimmer and he rockets off the ground and into the sky.
He’s on a Drift again, floating above the rez in a foggy bubble. He looks down and watches the movement below. The predictable flow of people picking up gas and buying smokes, the couple of families out on the water to check how high the rice has grown and maybe catch a fish or two. The secretaries at the band office pushing paper from one place to another, waiting for their next coffee break. Shane can see it all, and imagine their voices. He’s heard them his whole life. When you’re caught in the eddy of a place this small, you can’t help thinking that every day will be the same as the one that came before it. You forget that life is moving forward whether you notice it or not. And then when something happens that’s as final, as irreversible and messed up as Destiny’s suicide … you get burned. Burned alive, burned awake.
Shane’s eyes snap open. He’s on the ground, drenched with sweat. The inside of his mouth is almost painfully dry. He isn’t sure where he is, but the comforting sound of water lapping against the shoreline sounds pretty close. He lifts his head off the ground and looks around. It’s an old dirt track, with grass and wildflowers bristling between the ruts. Shane pulls himself up. The woods surrounding him could be anywhere on the lake. He listens to the water and the trees, looks at the line of the shore. His gut, trained by a lifetime on this land, is telling him that he is somewhere on the other side of the lake, probably more than an hour’s walk from home. But he’s not going home. Not yet.
*
Ashley is standing outside the store with a poster for Girls’ Day and a staple gun in her hands. She glances behind her disinterestedly when she hears Shane approach, then swivels back around to focus on her job. She staples the corners of the poster over layers of advertising for community events like the annual fishing derby, and homemade ads from people selling boats, snow machines, and wild rice. Ashley smiles at the solid thunk and twang that come when she pulls the trigger on the staple gun.
“Seen Janice?” Shane asks.
Ashley puts in another staple: thunk-twang! She answers without turning around. “In the office.”
Shane nods his thanks and pushes past her to get inside the store. It’s quiet today. It used to be that you could go in and get free coffee, but since Janice stopped doing that a few weeks ago, people have felt a lot less like going down to the store to chew the fat.
Shane breezes past the bags of chips and over to the door of Janice’s office. Her mouth sets in a firm line when she sees Shane.
“I already talked to Pete. Your mom ordered all that stuff on credit. I’ve gotta send it back or sell it to someone else.”
“You know what happened to my family, Janice. Mom’s a mess. How am I supposed to get the money?”
Janice attempts a sympathetic smile, but it doesn’t come across. “You’re a smart kid, you’ll figure it out.”
“Come on, Janice. I know you make a shitload off this place. Just help us out for a little while. We’ll get you the money eventually.”
“Oooooh, eventually. Well that solves everything.” Janice clasps her hands together. “Do you know what it costs just to have this stuff shipped up here? No? Of course you don’t, because that’s my job. You’ve got a month. That’s all I can do.”
Shane thinks: Can he do it in a month? He can pick up a bit of work here and there, but there’s no job that’s going to pay a kid seven grand for a month’s work.
“It might as well be tomorrow,” Shane says, then takes off before J
anice can respond. On his way out, he pulls a bag of chips off the shelf and stuffs them into the pocket of his hoodie. Just let her try to stop him.
Shane ducks around to the back of the store, tearing into the bag of chips and trying to figure out what to do next. He sits on a pallet and looks up at the sky. The chewed-up chips form a paste that sticks to his teeth and the dry insides of his mouth.
The back door opens with the croak of a busted frog. Janice’s eyebrows jump up so high they might have come off her head for a second when she sees Shane. “Geez! I didn’t think anyone was back here.”
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Shane says. His tongue worms around in his mouth, picking bits of stolen chips from between his teeth. Should have snagged a pop too, ha ha.
Janice pulls a pack of smokes out of her purse and lights one up. She closes her eyes and takes a long, thirsty drag.
“What, did somebody stress you out or something?” Shane tries a smile.
Janice shakes her head and exhales a stream of smoke. “Just some stupid kid.”
“Got an extra one of those?” Shane asks. He’s never smoked anything in his life, so most people think he judges them for it.
Janice eyes him carefully, then slides a long, skinny cigarette out of the pack for him. Shane reaches for it and she snatches it away with a grin. “Don’t tell your mom?”
Shane nods. “I definitely won’t.”
Janice slowly passes the cigarette to Shane. When the cigarette gets close, Shane reaches out and grabs it before she can change her mind.
“Thanks.”
Janice touches the flame of her lighter to the tip of Shane’s cigarette. He takes a few tentative puffs, trying not to choke.
Fire Song Page 6
