Fire Song

by Adam Garnet Jones

  Shane nods. Lucky.

  They pick up their paddles and push deeper into the rice. Shane sits at the front of the canoe, slowly pulling them through the marsh, while the heads of rice nod above them. David sits in the back, humming and clacking the sticks in time to a powwow song that Shane only half-remembers. He’d like to join in, but it makes him shy to admit when he doesn’t know the traditional stuff. It feels like he should have been born knowing it. David keeps singing and gently pulls the rice toward the canoe and taps along the stalk. Long green grains drop into the bottom of the canoe with a soft rattle like rain on dry leaves.

  *

  Shane and David lie together, hidden in the lengthening shadows of the high grass. The sun sinks low, throwing lurid splashes of color over the water. David leans down and brushes a stem of rice over Shane’s cheek.

  Shane closes his eyes. “Tell me a story.”

  David traces the shape of Shane’s eyelids with the fine whiskers of the manomin. “I’ve been thinking about our ancestors. Where we came from. Nookomis says that the Anishinaabe originally lived on the east coast. But they left everything to come here when a prophet told them it was their destiny to move until they reached the place where food grows upon the water.” David taps Shane’s nose with the rice. “It’s the manomin that told them they were home.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “Can you imagine? Leaving everyone and everything you’ve known for the vague promise of something that you don’t even know exists? Crazy.”

  Shane doesn’t know what to say. “What do you think I’m trying to do with school?”

  David furrows his brow like he doesn’t understand or doesn’t want to hear. Shane continues. “It’s not really a prophecy, but I’ve been told my whole life that if I want to get an education and do something meaningful, I have to leave. Whether they’re right or not, I have to try.”

  “It’s still different.”

  “Is it? I bet there were Anishinaabe back in the day who thought the prophecy was stupid, who thought they were idiots to go off looking for food on the water. I bet there were people who wanted to stay home and stick to their traditions.”

  “Even if you’re right, I don’t have a reason to go.” David’s eyes follow a bird crossing the sky.

  “How about because I’m asking?”

  “I’m not your dog.”

  Shane stiffens. David isn’t even trying to understand. “Don’t you want a chance to be yourself without a couple hundred pairs of eyes on you all the time?”

  “I am being myself. Mostly. I don’t tell everybody everything, but that doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Hiding and lying are pretty much the same.”

  David is quiet. The sun dips below the edge of the lake. A haze of light hangs in the air like smoke. Shane takes his hand.

  David lets out a long breath. “If I come with you, it doesn’t mean you’re right.”

  A little bird flutters in Shane’s chest. “Okay.”

  “It doesn’t mean I’ll stay.”

  Shane chooses his words carefully. “You don’t have to. I might not either. I don’t know what’s going to happen any more than you do.” Shane hesitates before asking, “What changed your mind?”

  David laughs. “You used my teachings against me!”

  Shane laughs too. Laughing feels good.

  “If our ancestors were brave enough to leave the place they came from in order to find something that feeds them, I can give it a shot.”

  Shane nods. “But … ?”

  “You shouldn’t have to sell drugs to get us there.”

  “No, I shouldn’t. But there’s no other way. What Janice gave me from the church ladies, plus what I’m making from Evie isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

  David thinks for a moment. “I won’t help you do it.”

  Shane squeezes David’s hand. So he’s willing to come, but it’s all on Shane to make it happen. Figures.

  “If you’re coming with me, I’m gonna need to tell Tara. It’s not fair.”

  David’s leg tenses under Shane’s hand. “Just wait until we have the money.”

  “She deserves to know,” Shane says.

  “It won’t be much longer.”

  Shane lets it go. There are only a few precious minutes of light left before they need to go home. He runs his hand up David’s shirt and rests it in the small of his back. They breathe together and listen. Birds, insects, the wind rushing through leaves: the sounds of the world rise around them like the whir of a timeless machine. It eases something between them, as though all their troubles have been wrapped up in a cloud of spider silk and harmlessly suspended just out of reach.

  *

  Shane uses the noise of the motor as an excuse to stay quiet for the boat ride back home. It’s taken a long time to get David to the point where he’s even willing to talk about leaving. Shane doesn’t want to push him too hard about Tara, but he can’t sit around waiting for the right time much longer. There will never be a good time to hurt Tara and expose themselves. Shane leans forward in his seat and sets his eyes on the glow of home.

  It’s dark when they round the corner of the bay, way past sunset but too early for moonrise. David cuts the engine and lets them drift in. One bare lamppost casts a halo of greenish light from the dock like a cat’s eye in the shadows. Shane jumps out of the boat and ties off the bow and stern with a rough scrap of rope. David lifts the heavy sacks of rice onto the dock.

  With every step away from the lake, a chill enters the silence between them, reminding Shane that who they were out there on the water is not who they can be here. All around them, black smudges of trees form an uncertain line between the land and sky. Shane stops walking. If they can’t go forward together, and it’s impossible to go backward …

  David adjusts one of the bags in his arms. “What?”

  Shane smiles. “I’m gonna miss you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “It’s different when it’s just us.”

  “Don’t worry about right now. Once we get to Toronto, we’ll be together all the time.”

  “Promise?”

  David smiles and leans in to kiss him. Their tongues touch, and it’s almost too much, like the second before you burst into the kind of laughter you can’t stop. It passes between them like something sacred, like a teaching about truth that doesn’t sink in until you live the goodness of it. The moon rises over the treetops, as though unable to leave Shane and David in the dark for another instant. It shines on them like a spotlight, painting traces of silver in their hair.

  A crack of gravel goes off like a bomb. The boys whirl around and scan the shadows for the source. “Hey guys.” Tara steps into the light, which only moments before had seemed like it was shining just for him and David.

  Shane tries on a smile, but it twitches like a turtle flipped on its back. Shane tries to make up for it by rushing in for a quick kiss on the cheek. Tara pulls him into a hug and keeps him there. The vodka bottle in her fist presses hard against his back.

  “I saw you,” she whispers.

  Shane tries to pull away, but she holds on to him like he’s in danger. David is edging sideways like a crab, ready to make a break for it.

  “Don’t look at him.”

  “Tara, I—”

  Tara loosens her arms and lets them fall to her sides. She’s not even looking at him anymore. “You were kissing him! Right here.”

  David forces a laugh and steps forward. “Holaay, Tara, looks like you got the party started early. How much did you drink?”

  “I’m not drunk!”

  Shane puts his hand on her arm. “Why don’t you come with us for a bit? We’ll grab a 40 and talk about stuff.”

  Tara jerks away. “Don’t touch me!”

&nb
sp; Shane raises his hands helplessly at David, looking for help. “David, maybe we should—”

  “No!”

  Shane’s eyes plead with him. “We talked about this.”

  “You said we were gonna wait,” David says.

  Tara's eyes are wide, looking more and more like something that’s been in a cage too long. “Wait for what?”

  “See, she already knows!”

  Tara’s hands fly to her face, and she freezes. Tears run out between her fingers.

  “C’mon, we’ve got to get this rice home.” David pulls at Shane’s sleeve.

  Tara speaks quietly, her hands still over her eyes. “You can’t just leave me here. You have to talk to me.”

  David pulls at Shane again. “We gotta go. Talk to her when she sobers up.”

  Tara lifts her head and looks at Shane. “Why are you listening to him?”

  David backs away, ready to leave with or without him. This is the moment. One way or the other. Forward or back. Home or away. Dead or alive. Shane makes a bet on the future. “I’m sorry, Tara.” Shane steps away.

  “Please don’t leave.”

  “Lemme call you later?” Shane walks up the hill and away from her, knowing he’s hurting Tara to help himself. Knowing he’s doing the wrong thing but not knowing what the right thing to do would be. Putting one foot in front of the other until he’s far enough away that he can convince himself that shoving her aside was unavoidable. When Shane looks back, all that is visible of Tara is the winking of the moonlight on her bottle between the trees.

  *

  They flip up their hoodies and duck their heads down, their view a mass of blurry asphalt and beat-up sneakers. It would be some kind of miracle not to bump into someone on the way back to David’s. Tonight’s the kind of night when the terrifying prospect of being an unknown face in the city might actually give some comfort. To know that you could stand in a group of hundreds, even thousands of people, and still be invisible.

  “You should have let me tell her.”

  Shane watches David’s profile, hoping for a word, a nod, even a change in the pace of his walk. David’s face is locked up tight. Shane wonders if it is worse to lose hope in a sea of strangers, or to lose hope surrounded by the people you love the most.

  *

  They enter David’s place through the back door, careful not to make any noise. David goes to show Evie the rice and see about getting Shane’s money. Shane slips into David’s bedroom unseen. He closes the door behind him, hovers in the middle of the room, feeling his wet socks seeping into the braided rug. His heart is pounding hard. Tara’s face flashes in his mind. So much pain. Shane digs his nails into his arm to have something else—a bright kernel of hurt to focus on. Her face again: She knows. Soon everyone will know. And no money to get away.

  The air in the room is tight, but he can’t open the door. He can’t make any noise.

  Shane’s eyes move over the walls. Small twigs of cedar are pinned above the doors and windows. A poster from Roberta hangs above David’s bed. It has cheesy photographs of animals with a list of the seven grandfather teachings with descriptions of each. Honesty, Truth, Humility, Love, Wisdom, Courage, Respect … A photo of Destiny sits on the nightstand smiling at him like she’s asking, What are you gonna do now, big brother? Shane looks back at the poster and repeats the teachings to himself, spinning them into a desperate prayer: Honesty,Truth,Humility,Love,Wisdom,Courage,RespectHonestyTruthHumilityLoveWisdomCourageRespecthonestytruthhumilitylovewisdomrespect …

  And then Destiny is there. She’s in the room, just beyond sight, beyond the reach of his fingers, but he knows that if he turns his head she’ll be gone. Shane repeats the prayer again and again for as long as he can, remembering the sandpaper edges of Destiny’s laugh, the little scar from her homemade lip piercing that their mom made her get fixed, the way she could never see someone cry without breaking into tears herself …

  Honesty,Truth,Humility,Love,Wisdom,Courage,RespectHonestyTruthHumilityLoveWisdomCourageRespecthonestytruthhumilitylovewisdomrespect …

  A touch behind his ear makes him turn. But of course Destiny isn’t there. She’s nowhere. Shane looks down. His socks are still wet from the boat. He pulls them off and grinds his toes into the rug. He used to duck his head in here to say hi when he came to get Destiny, but he has never been in David’s room alone. It should feel like home, but his body won’t relax. His smell is everywhere. Normally it would settle him down but right now he can’t imagine looking at David without seeing Tara’s face.

  Honesty,Truth,Humility,Love,Wisdom,Courage,RespectHonestyTruthHumilityLoveWisdomCourageRespecthonestytruthhumilitylovewisdomrespect …

  Shane pulls open the top drawer of David’s dresser and roots around for a fresh pair of socks. The glossy corner of what looks like a magazine pokes out from underneath the pile. Shane shoves the socks aside, wondering how David would have gotten his hands on a real porno magazine up here. Shane reaches inside and pulls it out, but it’s not a magazine. It’s the Toronto guidebook. David has highlighted sections about the city’s gay village and circled the spot on the map where the Native Canadian Centre is. Shane smiles to himself and slides the book back into the drawer.

  There’s a creak and the sound of feet from the hallway. David slips back into the room and closes the door softly behind him. Without a word, Shane wraps his arms around David’s waist and nuzzles into his neck. Seeing that book has cracked open Shane’s doubt and fear, for the first time allowing him to consider that maybe loving David won’t lead to more pain. Maybe lasting love between two men is possible, even if there is no one in his life to prove it. Maybe they can find a way to figure it out together. Come morning, they’ll have to.

  David lets out a long breath. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

  Shane shakes his head.

  “Do you think Tara’s telling people?”

  “She’ll be fine. I’ll go over there tomorrow and tell her everything.”

  “Everyone’s gonna know.”

  Shane presses his forehead to David’s. “Once we’re gone, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” Shane pulls David close. David’s lips move along the bristling hairs at the back of Shane’s neck.

  In a whisper so soft that Shane almost believes he’s imagining it, David says, “I love you.”

  He’s been waiting so long to hear them, the words don’t feel real. He hoped it would anchor him somehow, but he’s still adrift.Shane pulls back so he can see David’s eyes. “I love you too,” he says. And that’s when it matters. Saying it makes him feel rooted, like he’s finally planted his feet on solid ground.

  *

  Jackie’s eyes dart back and forth beneath her eyelids like panicked minnows. Her head is wrenched over the arm of the couch like the stop sign in front of the store that’s been bent over since Tara’s dad ran into it with his truck last year. It’s a wonder that she can sleep that way in the heat of summer, all bundled up like a baby on a cradleboard.

  Shane runs a finger along the edge of her cheek. “Mom. You shouldn’t sleep out here, Mom.”

  Jackie moans softly, still halfway inside the world of dreams. Shane wonders if Destiny is alive for Jackie in that place, or if it is actually worse than here in some unthinkable way.

  “The phone kept ringing and ringing,” Jackie says.

  “Shhh … Let’s get you into bed.”

  Jackie leans on Shane and they shuffle toward the hall. “She must have been so sad. How come we never saw how sad she was?”

  chapter twenty

  Like a heel in a boot.

  Like soup in a bowl.

  Like a fist in a palm

  You fit into me.

  It burns like hell.

  But I don’t mind.

  If you asked me I would let you

  Do anything.

>   Open me up and crawl inside

  My skin.

  So I can have all of you.

  Even the soft parts.

  I can be your home

  If it means getting more

  Than just the hardest part of you.

  Ignore that. I can’t believe I wrote it. I can’t believe I was that stupid. All those times imagining our new life. All that time spent worrying about how to make him love me. What a joke. He doesn’t give a shit. He never did. I was like some ugly rock that he was hiding behind.

  What do you do when the only person you trust enough to cry with is the person who broke your heart?

  chapter twenty-one

  Shane lies in bed with his face pressed against the pillow. Soft light spills in through the window, palest blue. A wave of dark hair washes over his cheek. Tara. Shane lets out a long deep breath and rolls onto his back, but his eyes stay closed.

  Tara whispers in his ear, “Shane. Don’t wake up. It’s the only way to win.” He feels the soft press of her lips against his.

  Shane opens his eyes. The room is empty. He throws off the covers and jumps out of bed. His breath comes in gusts, like he has been doing sprints in his sleep. A trace of Tara lingers in the room, a sweet smell that follows her even though she swears she never wears perfume.

  His phone blinks from the nightstand. Shane looks at it strangely, until the memory of last night comes barreling through the room like a pickup. She knows. He looks at his phone: fifteen missed calls and a string of texts from Tara. He tries to imagine how she’s feeling right now. But he’s never had anyone leave him like that. He’s never been tossed away. And she’s had a lifetime of it. He gets dressed and heads out the door, trying to ignore the dull knocking of his stomach, like a pair of sneakers in the dryer.

  *

  Colorless gray clouds hang dangerously low, like they’re pushing against the air, trying to break loose. When Shane gets to Tara’s, the squat little trailer is still dark inside. No sign of life. Tara and her dad are probably sleeping it off in different corners. Shane walks through the yard and climbs the stack of boxes to her window. He raps on the glass and looks inside for the tangle of Tara’s hair spread over her pillow. The room is still full of stuffed animals and crap from when they were kids, but no Tara. There’s a hollow at the foot of the bed from when she last sat there.