Tilly and the Crazy Eights

by Monique Gray Smith

  “Wow, Mom. Never thought you had it in you.”

  “I know, right? Me either, but here we are. I’m leavin’ in a couple weeks for the only trip I’ve ever taken. I sure could use your help gettin’ ready. Think you can do that?”

  “Sure. What do you need?”

  Following that simple conversation on the way home from the Bingo hall, Sarah’s family got on board to get Sarah ready for the trip. Cherie replaced missing beads on her grandma’s regalia and helped smudge it and prepare it for being danced again. Her daughter helped her get everything ready for the passport application, her son took her down to Walmart and they picked out a new suitcase. She was thrilled when they brought it home. “Look, Annie. The wheels turn every which way and it rolls real easy.” Anne broke into fits of laughter as she watched her big sister dance around the kitchen twirling her suitcase.

  On a cold Saturday in early April, Sarah’s children held a garage sale. She and Anne stopped by and indulged in the Rice Krispie squares her grandchildren were selling. Later that evening Sarah’s family came to visit and her youngest grandchild presented her with a gift. The card attached simply said, “Pocket money for you, from us, ’cuz we luv you.” Inside was a new wallet containing the $347.40 they had raised at the garage sale.

  Sarah blinked hard to hold back the tears, but when her youngest grandson said, “I even sold my Legos, Granny,” the tears could not be contained. Her family came over one by one and hugged her.

  Sarah was ready.

  9

  My Girl, Are You Prepared?

  ON THE NIGHT before they were to leave, Grandma Tilly visited Tilly in her dreams. It had been a long time since this had happened. Actually, Tilly couldn’t remember the last time Grandma had visited her like this. It was soothing to be with her again.

  In the dream, Tilly was back in Grandma’s barn in Saskatchewan. Grandma Tilly looked at her for a long time before reaching over and tucking a few wisps of hair behind Tilly’s ear. “Are you prepared, my girl?”

  Tilly tilted her head and looked at her Grandma, knowing she didn’t mean prepared as in, “Do you have your toothbrush? Underwear? Deodorant?” Rather, something more meaningful.

  As Grandma Tilly reached over and ran her weathered brown hand along Tilly’s jawline, Tilly leaned her head into her Grandma’s hand and closed her eyes.

  “My girl, are you prepared?”

  With that question, the comforting feeling of the dream was yanked away like a warm blanket on a chilly night. Tilly’s eyes sprung open, her chest heaved, sweat broke out above her upper lip, and her body tingled. She was no longer in the dream. She pulled the covers up close to her face. Grandma’s question flooded every ounce of her being. “Are you prepared?”

  After a few moments of attempting to calm herself, Tilly slid out of bed, opened her bedside table, and removed her medicine bundle.

  Mick turned on the bedside light. “Till? What are you doing?” He looked over at the clock. “It’s four in the morning.”

  Her response was hasty, “I have to make tobacco ties. For the trip. I dreamt about Grandma Tilly.” How could she explain to him the trepidation she felt as a result of Grandma’s question? There was no way to explain the panic rising in her chest. “I need to make tobacco ties.”

  Mick sat up, saw that his wife was clearly unnerved. “Would you like some help? Or do you want me to come sit with you? I could make you some tea.”

  Great, now he’s decided to be caring, ran through Tilly’s head as she responded, “No.” She shook her head in short, quick movements. The last thing she needed now was Mick to get up and help. “No, no thanks. I…” she pulled the bundle close to her chest, “I think I need to do this by myself.”

  “’Kay, but if you change your mind, come and wake me.”

  “Thanks.” She turned away from him, closed the door behind her, and headed downstairs to the kitchen table.

  She laid out the red material, tobacco, and white ribbon, then unwrapped her smudge bowl and sweetgrass. She removed her rings and, in the palm of her hand, held her wedding band and the ring Mick and the twins had given her to honor her twenty years of sobriety. Tilly closed her fingers over them for a moment before placing them on the material.

  She lit the sweetgrass and allowed the smoke to fill her lungs and envelope her. After four deep breaths, Tilly could feel the change, every cell in her body was vibrating at a higher level. She began to pray, “Great Spirit, creator of all things, my name is Beautiful Light Woman and I come before you in a humble manner. I offer thanksgiving for the safe passage through the night and for the gift of living another day.”

  Tilly moved the braid around her head, asking for good and clear thoughts, around her ears so that she might hear what she needed to hear, around her mouth so she would say kind words that are medicine to those who hear them, and along the length of her body so that she might walk the earth in a good and respectful way. She smudged her rings and then the material, tobacco, and ribbon. The smudge left a trail of sweet-

  smelling, prayer-filled gray smoke weaving its way through the kitchen, into the family room, and upstairs toward the bedrooms. Tilly placed the sweetgrass in her smudge bowl and got to work making the ties.

  With each tie, Tilly placed a pinch of tobacco in the center of the red material and offered the same prayer. A prayer of gratitude. “Thank you for watching over me, guiding me, protecting me, and for keeping my family safe and healthy.” Tilly made a tie for each of the days they were to be away and placed them into a baggie.

  “There.” She took a deep breath and let it out with a long slow sigh that caused her cheeks to puff out. “Now I’m prepared,” she whispered.

  However, the queasiness in her stomach came rushing back as soon as she remembered Grandma Tilly’s question, “My girl, are you prepared?”

  10

  Road Trip Rules

  EARLIER THAT MORNING, Tilly had said good-bye to her family. Her mother’s guilt was already pumping through her blood like a raging river and she wasn’t sure she was strong enough for a public good-bye.

  Tilly had offered to take the first driving shift of the trip and she was adjusting the rearview mirror when Chuck opened the passenger door and heaved himself into the seat beside her. “Don’t you know, Tilly, there is no word in any of our languages for good-bye? Only ‘see you’.”

  Tilly looked over at him, lifted the corners of her mouth, and thought to herself, Well there it is, the first teaching of the trip.

  He pulled a pouch of tobacco out of his chest pocket and opened the glove box. Just before putting the tobacco in, he motioned toward Tilly. “Want some to make an offering?”

  She wasn’t sure what Chuck was talking about.

  “You know, take a pinch, hold it in your hand, and offer a prayer of thanksgiving for a safe journey for us and all others who are traveling today. Then as we drive, let it fall from your hand out the window.” Chuck unfolded the pouch and held it open for Tilly.

  She reached in and removed a small amount of tobacco and held it in her palm. She remembered now how she’d seen her dad make offerings like this whenever they drove to Saskatchewan.

  “You know how sometimes you get an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach?” Chuck asked.

  Tilly nodded. She was all too familiar with that uneasy feeling. Somewhere over the last year, it seemed to have taken up permanent residence. She wondered if any amount of tobacco or prayers would provide relief.

  Chuck’s voice brought her back. “Sometimes when I get an uneasy feeling about a trip, I’ll put a pinch of tobacco on each of the four tires.”

  Tilly looked over at Chuck, the tobacco now warming in her palm, and wondered how she could put tobacco on the four tires of her life.

  “’Scuse me, ’scuse me,” Poncho said as he made his way to the front of the bus. “Before we leave, I need to
hang this from the rearview mirror. I always travel with sweetgrass in my truck. Keeps me protected.” The braid of sweetgrass had been folded into a circle with the two ends wrapped together with red string. Poncho hung it around the rearview mirror. “There, now our bus is protected too.”

  Tilly smiled at him. “Thanks, Poncho.”

  “You betchya,” he replied as he turned to make his way to the back of the bus and the seat he shared with Rose.

  “Before we head out, I have a something for everyone,” announced Rose. She leaned forward and reached into her purse, pulling out eight packages of antiseptic wipes.

  “Oh my gawd, Rose. You didn’t!” Lucy was exasperated.

  “Yes, I did...” replied Rose, jutting her shoulders back and her chin forward. “Now listen everybody…” she scanned the bus to make sure she had everyone’s attention before continuing, “…these are wipes for your hands and for the hotel rooms.”

  “Hotel rooms?” inquired Sarah.

  “Yes, hotel rooms. Use them to wipe things down when you first get in. Like the door handles and, most importantly, the remote control. Don’t even get me started on what’s on those remote controls.” A look of disgust came over her face.

  “Eeewwww,” came the chorus from the bus.

  “Yes. Ew. That’s exactly my point. And since we are stuck on this bus together for the next two weeks, if one of us gets sick, we’re all going to get sick. So take precautions. Use…the…wipes.”

  Rose passed the wipes forward and back for everyone to receive a package. “I have plenty more where those came from, so if you run out don’t be afraid to ask for more.”

  Lucy stuffed hers in her fanny pack. “Thanks, Rose, for takin’ care of us, in your own weird way. But we aren’t really stuck on this bus together. We’ve all made a choice to go on this trip, even you.”

  “Whatever, Lucy,” snarked Rose in response, “just use your wipes.”

  Poncho piped up, “Speaking of this trip, what ya say, driver? Let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tilly responded. She tucked the wipes into her backpack and started the bus. Slowly they merged onto East Hastings Street and headed toward the Trans-Canada Highway. Once on the highway, they followed it out to Abbotsford where they turned off and made their way to the Peace Arch border crossing. The sun shone brightly and steam from the previous day’s rain still floated in the fields. Before long the smell of cow manure seeped into the bus.

  “What is that stench?” asked Anne as she covered her nose with her cardigan.

  “That’d be cow…” Lucy’s voice trailed off as she considered what to say. After all, Anne was not like all the rest of them. She was from the city. “That’d be cow poo.”

  Poncho inhaled deeply. “Ahh, that has got to be one of my most favorite smells in the world.”

  As they neared the border crossing, Tilly could feel tension fill the bus. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was that many of the elders had never been into the United States and were uncertain what to expect. Perhaps it was the history of fearing those in power, or perhaps it was the unknown. Whatever it was, it heightened as they eased along in the slow-moving line toward the border.

  Tilly followed the lane specifically for buses. It was then that Mabel announced, “’Kay, listen up everyone. They’re going to make us all get off the bus and go in. It’s what they always do, so don’t worry. Just make sure you take your passport in with you.” She looked around the bus and could see the fear on almost every elder’s face. “It will be okay. We have nothing to hide,” she paused for a moment, “and we’ve done nothing wrong.”

  As it turned out, crossing the border was a breeze. It was one of the first signs they were being watched over. The border security officer they were assigned to had been to the Gathering of Nations Pow Wow the year before and understood their reason for traveling.

  When they got back on the bus, Poncho removed his cowboy hat, wiped his sweat-laden brow, plopped down in his seat, and let out a big sigh. “Whew! Funny how even if I ain’t got no reason to be afraid, authority figures still get to me. Cops and guys like those ones back there, they stress me out.”

  “Me too,” added Chuck.

  “Me three,” chimed in Lucy.

  11

  Kindred Spirits

  AS THE ELDERS disembarked from the bus and prepared to explore Tulip Town in Mt. Vernon, Washington, Mabel said, “What do you say we all meet back here at one?” Before anyone had a chance to respond, Mabel looked directly at Anne, since this was her bucket list stop, and asked, “Do you think three hours will give you enough time to see everything?”

  “I think so,” replied Anne.

  “Good enough then. Everyone have a good morning and remember Tilly’s booked us motel rooms in Pendleton, Oregon for tonight, so we’re going to have to leave on time. Today and tomorrow are long travel days, but then we’ve got three days to rest in Las Vegas.”

  Lucy inhaled loudly and everyone turned to see why. “Rest and Vegas do not belong in the same sentence, Mabel Billy.”

  Mabel chuckled. “Right.” She was in the midst of doing up her fanny pack when she remembered one more thing. “You’re on your own for an early lunch today.”

  “Geez. We’ve only been traveling for two hours and already we’re on our own for lunch,” Poncho teased.

  “You betchya, Poncho ol’ man. You’re on your own for lunch and if you give me any more sass, you’ll be on your own for dinner, too.”

  Poncho laughed, reached for Rose’s hand, and said, “Let’s go see us some flowers, wifey.”

  “I’m coming too,” Lucy piped in, and off the three of them went.

  Tilly pulled her phone out, hit the message app, and wrote a text message to Piper and Grayson. “Miss you already, Love Momma, xo” She also sent a reminder text to Mick, “our turn 4 oranges at Piper’s b-ball 2night.” She looked at the completed message and wondered if she should add “Love Tilly,” or “I love you,” or at least “xxo.” Instead, her forefinger pushed send. She knew Mick would take her text as her being bossy and sending him more instructions.

  She leaned her head back against the seat, trying to figure out when she’d become such a cold wife. It wasn’t like there was one incident or occasion, at least not that she could pinpoint. Maybe Mick could tell her, but that wasn’t going to happen because she wasn’t about to ask him. Tilly exhaled deeply and rubbed the inside of her eyes with her thumb and middle finger. She looked out the side window and saw Poncho standing there. He tipped his cowboy hat to her and grinned. Tilly raised her hand and gave him a slight wave. Poncho motioned with his arm for Tilly to join him.

  She opened the door and climbed out of the bus, hopeful some fresh air and a walk amongst the tulips would help get her out of this pity party. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her Levis and made her way over to Poncho.

  “Care to walk with me, Miss Tilly?” Before she had a chance to answer, he took her hand and tucked it under his arm, leading them off to explore the tulips.

  “I thought you were with Rose and Lucy,” Tilly said.

  Poncho looked at her. “Oh, I get to spend plenty a time with those two, but you, I don’t know you yet, so thought I’d come walk with you.”

  Tilly cocked her head. “Thanks.” She’d only met Poncho once, but had instantly felt his protective, loving, teasing uncle ways.

  After meandering for a bit and talking about the flowers, Poncho looked over at Tilly. “So, Miss Tilly, why don’t you tell me about yourself.”

  “Mmm, well I’m a mom. I have twins who are ten.”

  “Boys? Girls?”

  “One of each.”

  “You got lucky there, didn’t ya?” Poncho teased and squeezed her hand.

  “Totally.” She leaned into him affectionately. He was familiar in a way that words couldn’t describe. S
he loved that he always wore his black cowboy hat with the turquoise band and eagle feather hanging from it, except at the table—he was a gentleman after all. Poncho was a cowboy through and through. He proudly wore polished cowboy boots, ironed cowboy shirts, and a big silver belt buckle that helped hold up his Wranglers, which had a permanent line down the front where Rose ironed them. His face displayed years of working outside in harsh weather conditions. When he smiled, which was often, the lines around his mouth formed crescent moon-like crevices on his cheeks. Poncho’s deep brown eyes had a cloudy film over the lens, a result of living with diabetes for twenty years.

  “Any other kids?” he asked.

  “Nope.” Tilly remembered how desperately she and Mick had wanted children. All their plans about the future revolved around having a family. A big family. But that wasn’t in the cards. The miscarriages had been beyond painful. Each time, they named the child and held a ceremony. Each time, it felt like they buried a piece of themselves, of each other, and of their relationship.

  Tilly was always surprised how the grief hung about, not quite ready to leave. It sat at the table with them like an unfamiliar and unwanted dinner guest. Their grief caused them to choose their words cautiously, or not at all. It always seemed to Tilly that Mick was afraid to ask her how she was because she’d start crying and she was afraid to ask him how he was for fear of being dismissed.

  But Poncho didn’t need to know all this, so Tilly filtered what she shared. “We had some challenges getting pregnant. Piper and Grayson are our little miracles.” She could feel him listening to her, really listening, so she continued. “They are, without question, Poncho, the greatest gifts I’ve ever been blessed with.”