“You bagged that... what’s her name? Little girl?”
“Little Bird?” he said, smiling from ear to ear. In three months, he’d never told Brandy Tiar’s name, as if saying it would make her disappear by some horrible magical incantation.
“You gave her your class ring, didn’t you?” she charged. She had never seen him without it on.
“Does that make me safer?” he asked, still smiling.
“It makes you the most old-fashioned dork I ever met,” she said, laughing. “But we already knew that.” Brandy shook her head. Max was only a year behind her in school, but he seemed so young and innocent, as though he had walked out of a time portal from a more polite, unworldly generation. It made Brandy, a Chicago native, wonder if everyone in New York was this guileless. “So, what is this divine creature’s real name?” Brandy asked finally. Max didn’t bother trying to explain that Bird was her real name.
“Tiar,” he said happily. “My girlfriend’s name is Tiar.”
Two weeks later and several hundred miles away, the St. Jude’s Lady Cardinals filed into the girl’s locker room after beating the North Hampton Hound Dogs 76 to 62. Tiar, on her way through the corridor, spotted Max behind a trophy case. Looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was around, she walked over to him. Despite his old worn out jeans and his St. Jude’s jacket, he looked much older than when he had graduated just six months earlier. They dodged behind some nearby lockers and kissed each other briefly, afraid of being discovered.
“Did you see me?” Tiar asked excitedly.
“Yes,” he said, beaming. “My silly little bird.”
“How long have you been in town?”
“An hour,” he replied. “I came straight here.”
“You didn’t stop at home?” Tiar asked, seeming concerned. “Your mom is probably freaking out by now.”
“I don’t care,” Max said. “Well, okay. I do care. But, I had to see you first.” He fingered the small round lump in the middle of her chest, obscured by her nylon basketball jersey. She was wearing her silver chain, the one with the St. Francis medal on it Max had bought her when she started working at the animal shelter three years earlier. It now held a second gift. She never used to wear the necklace to games. Max secretly delighted in the fact that only he knew why she had it on now. “I had to make sure that I didn’t imagine all this.” She smiled at him.
“No, you didn’t imagine all this,” she said sweetly.
“Are you coming over later?” Max asked. “Mom made cookies.”
“I don’t know,” Tiar teased. “She never makes me oatmeal raisin when you’re around.” He squinted at her in mock consternation. “Of course, I’ll be there. Just let me take a shower first.”
“Ugh!” he said, laughing. “Why must you make me wait?”
“Because I stink!” she protested. He grabbed her in both arms and buried his nose in her hair, breathing in deeply.
“I think you smell wonderful.”
“I think they’re giving you crazy pills at that college of yours.” Casually blowing him a kiss, she turned away and disappeared into the girls’ locker room.
Tiar hadn’t told anyone about the change in her relationship with Max. Being teammates with two other girls who had dated him in the past year, she feared making either of them envious. It soon became clear that it didn’t matter what they did or said. Just as no one believed that they were not dating before Max left for college, no believed that they were dating now. Everyone in town was used to seeing them at the ice cream parlor, the movie theater, the church, and the Franklins’ back yard. They were old news, completely uninteresting.
Not even Jack and Eleanor, for whom Tiar was a weekly fixture in Max’s absence, suspected anything had changed. Their relationship was easy to conceal since there was very little physically to hide. Seeing each other so infrequently, both were hesitant to rush anything physical between them. They found this made the details of their bodily encounters even more significant. Every brush on the hand or stolen glance communicated between them a surreal bond. Their infrequent kisses were sublimely genuine as they were not just the prelude to other hedonic entanglements.
The spring semester rushed by quickly for both of them. Over the summer, when they were not working at their respective summer jobs, their weekend adventures got more varied as they explored an ever widening radius around their home in the western tail of New York. Whether she was more confident in age or more confident speaking her mind in their new relationship, Tiar was increasingly apt to make suggestions about their destinations and bargain for including natural, wild places among their historic pilgrimages. Max accepted her new role as a perfect traveling companion and was surprisingly willing to abandon his conciliatory follower. Thus, on a visit to Seneca Falls Museum of Women’s Right’s, they took a detour to walk in the Montezuma wildlife refuge. Max even agreed to take an extra day on their camping trip to the Revolutionary War era Newtown Battle field to swim in the natural pools of Buttermilk Falls State Park. Max had to admit that Tiar’s influence, though sometimes silly, made him feel alive in ways books never did. And, in the dark peaceful silence of these natural havens, he felt safe to slide his hand over hers as they walked along or stop in a shaft of sunlight slicing though the trees to kiss her.
12
By mid-August, Tiar’s college applications were sent out and the two teens were engaged in preparations for their most ambitious summer journey. During the spring semester, one of Max’s professors had learned about a new archeological site opening in Canada. While digging the foundation for a new hotel near the Quebec-Ontario border, artifacts were found that suggested French missionary activity predating any previously recorded in that area. The builder, wanting to quickly dispatch the archeological mitigation and proceed with his own digging, had arranged to have the site open to anyone with a student ID who wanted to participate. Kenny and Tony invited Max to go with them and he agreed on the condition that Tiar join them. Tiar did not hesitate to sign up. She had barely sent off her last application when she began packing up her camping gear and outdoor clothing. Now that it was safely stored in Max’s trunk with their maps, guidebooks, and food, Tiar and Max took advantage of their last night in modern civilization and went to the movies. They waited in line at the Emporium, the independent movie theater downtown. They weren’t there more than two minutes before Tiar spotted Jen. Tiar hadn’t seen her friend for over a month. She was standing on line with a tall, thin, brown haired boy Tiar didn’t recognize. When she tapped her friend on the shoulder, Jen’s face lit up.
“Hey!” she said, giving Tiar a hug. “I want to introduce you to someone. This is Jay. Jay, my friends Max and Tiar, but we just call her ‘Ti’.”
“Nice to meet you,” Max said, extending his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Max,” Jay said. His grip was firm.
“Jay just moved into town a month ago. His father bought the department store on Lexington,” Jen explained.
“Well, I’m glad someone is doing something with that space,” Tiar replied. “It’s too nice a building to leave empty.”
“What are you two going to see?” Jen asked as they neared the ticket window. “We’re going to see Casablanca. Want to watch it with us?” Tiar scrunched up her nose.
“I don’t know. That’s such a date movie,” she said with mild disgust.
“Oh, come on,” Jen insisted. “It will be fun. Besides,” she said, lowering her voice and turning her head away from the boys. “You need a little romance in your life.”
By this time, Jay had paid for their tickets and was awaiting Jen at the double glass doors. Once Jen and Jay were inside, Max and Tiar looked at each other and laughed together surreptitiously. Max paid for their tickets, and they walked into the high ceilinged lobby, robed in rich, though faded, red velvet curtains. Finding Jen and Jay, they took their seats just as the lights began to dim.
Max and Tiar had been planning to see Casablanca all along—eve
r since the Hectortown Herald had announced it was coming soon to the historic movie theater. It wasn’t their usual fare—which consisted almost exclusively of horror and adventure movies which in some way incorporated archeology, possession, exorcisms, and highly dramatized and inaccurate religious cleansing rituals. If there wasn’t some physical battle between good and evil, they usually found movies boring. If the climax included some comic book weapon that looked like a large silver machine gun bearing a crucifix, they usually found them cheesy. Finding that rare middle ground was for them like finding the Holy Grail itself.
Yet, these two celluloid crusaders were finally in need of a break. They had lost their taste for religious suspense thrillers two weeks earlier when they had spent a gluttonous weekend overdosing on demonic possession and sugar. Tiar had managed to sneak a four pound box of malted milk balls into her uncle’s cart at the warehouse store, and the thought of that much candy gave Max an idea. He rented all three Exorcist movies and the Omen trilogy on the same night. Sixteen hours later, the two queasy, bleary eyed teens had a new appreciation for why gluttony was one of the seven deadly sins.
The four teens watched Casablanca with rapt attention. Max and Tiar had never seen it before. Max enjoyed it, telling himself it was a history lesson. The fact that the events were current events when the film was made just made it all the more fascinating. Jen, who had a definite flare for drama, had seen the movie roughly twenty times on video and had been waiting for years to see it on the big screen. Tiar had to keep elbowing her to keep her mouthing the words silently instead of out loud.
By twenty minutes into the film, Tiar wasn’t the only one trying to keep Jen quiet. She was just about to assist Humphry Bogart with his famous line, of all the gin joints in all the cities in all the world, and she had to walk into mine, when Max flicked a piece of popcorn and hit her squarely between the eyes. Jen turned in the direction from which the offending projectile had originated and gave Tiar a dirty look. Tiar shrugged, and Jen looked past her in shock at Max who was watching the film dutifully, trying to suppress the urge to laugh. What gives? she thought to herself. You didn’t used to be this playful. Jay just giggled nervously. He was starting to really like Jen, but he was happy to have someone else pick on her for her annoying habits so he wouldn’t have to.
Jen managed to stay quiet for most of the rest of the movie until Ingrid Bergman snuck into Humphry Bogart’s apartment, insisting he decide if she stay with him or leave Morocco. With Ms. Bergman’s elegant form thrown dramatically on the sofa, Jen again felt it necessary to assist. You’ll have to do the thinking for both of us. She whispered. Tiar elbowed her again, more because she took objection to the line than Jen talking over it. Max reached his arm around Tiar’s seat and flicked Jen on the ear. Task completed, he didn’t move his arm. Jen interpreted this lurking hand as a silent threat that he could and would flick her again if necessary. Jay sank lower in his seat, trying to look innocent in the whole affair, but obviously amused.
When the movie was over, Jen and Jay had to leave quickly to meet up with Jen’s dad for dessert at his country club. He never tired of showing his daughter off to his business associates, which was how she and Jay had met. Tiar and Max went to the ice cream parlor for some milk shakes.
“You were being pretty brazenly affectionate,” Tiar said. “You must have had your arm around me for twenty minutes.” Max laughed.
“It wouldn’t matter if I ripped your clothes of in the middle of the movie theater, Little Bird,” he said. “Jen still wouldn’t have caught on that we’re dating now. I bet she tries to set you up with someone within the next month.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Tiar agreed with a sigh. “Still, I have to admire the slickness of your moves. What do you call that one, the flick and hug?”
“It’s my own variation of the yawn move.”
“Convenient for getting rid of one girl and picking up the next in one fell swoop. Very efficient.”
“What did you think of the movie?” Max asked after their drinks were delivered.
“It was pretty good for a pro-war propaganda film,” she answered between sips.
“Propaganda film?” Max objected. “Casablanca is one of the best love stories of our age.”
“It’s not of our age, and how can you say it’s a love story? Bogart sends the girl away at the end!”
“He sends her away because he loves her,” Max insisted.
“Would you give up on me that easily?”
“He didn’t ‘give up’ on her. He was trying to protect her,” Max protested. “Didn’t you listen to the speech at the end at the airport?”
“Yes, in two part harmony,” Tiar commented sarcastically. “Jen Caponata and Humphry Bogart, for a limited time, at the Emporium.”
“And you didn’t think he was being noble? She was being chased by Nazi’s.”
“Nobility and Love are not always the same thing,” Tiar conjectured. “For Pete’s sake, Max. There are always Nazi’s—figuratively, I mean. Everyone has their challenges, whether it’s a war, or social prejudice, or religious differences, or an evil uncle who doesn’t let you use the phone.” She blew bubbles into her milk shake, watching them very slowly rise to the top and pop. “Would you send me away in that situation?”
“What situation,” he asked.
“If we had to be separated for a few years, and then I walked into your bar, would you really send me away to protect me just because society didn’t agree with us being together? Wouldn’t you fight to keep me with you? or go with me?”
“There would be no point in me trying to send you away,” Max predicted. “You wouldn’t listen to me anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Tiar asked incredulously.
“You would never tell me that I should do the thinking for both of us like Ingrid Bergman did.”
“Should I let you do the thinking for both of us, Max?” Tiar asked innocently.
“Oh, my tiny Little Bird,” Max said with a sigh. “I’ve known you for almost half your life. What thought could I possibly think that you wouldn’t already know about?”
13
Max and Tiar left Hectortown at nine the next morning heading northwest. By lunchtime, they had rounded the western tip of Lake Ontario and headed back east to meet Tony and Kenny at a fast food restaurant in Toronto. It was the first time Max’s college friends got a chance to meet the mystery girl who they knew filled Max’s life when he wasn’t with them. Over her Korean War vintage army surplus green fatigue pants, she was wearing her faded burgundy Free Tibet T-shirt, her long brown hair covered by a dark blue bandanna. Dressed to get her hands dirty and prepared for physical labor, she was nothing like the girls they knew from St. Andrew’s. They liked her immediately.
The foursome got to the campsite just over the border in Quebec around dinnertime. After setting up camp, they drove back the way they had come over Allumette Island back into Ontario. In the city of Pembroke, they bought some fried chicken from a fast food drive through and found a park that looked like a promising picnic location. They ate sitting on a blanket by the river where preparations were being made for new gazeboes that would premier the following summer. After eating, they stretched their legs on the water front trail that lead from the Pembroke Marina to the Cockburn Pointer Boat Monument which jutted oddly out of the ground atop a tall pole like a gigantic letter “T”. Eventually, they collapsed onto the soft grass next to the trail. Max regaled the group with tales of the rapids that exploded into this point in the river, thrust forth by its passage past the island. He told of how these rapids had stymied such mighty explorers as Jacques Cartier.
It was at this point that Tiar began to wonder why Tony and Kenny, religion majors, were vacationing at an archeological dig. Max had described their two traveling companions to her previously as guys from one of my history classes. As their conversations over lunch revealed that they were pre-selected for the seminary program, Tiar took the news in stride w
ith merely a raised eye brow in Max’s direction about this omission. Reflecting on it now, she puzzled over why two future priests would be interested in spending two weeks of their summer sifting through Canadian dirt. She also wondered what else Max might have omitted about the archeological site, which he advertised to her as part of her French Canadian roots. She took the news far less phlegmatically when Kenny explained they were personally interested because it may be part of the trail of French Jesuit missionaries moving west and spreading Catholicism for France after being ejected from Acadia by British Anglicans. Tiar began to bristle at the glorification of antidisestablishmentarianism, whether Anglican, Huguenot, or Catholic. She argued that the native people of North America should be left to find God for themselves without interference from the French or British crowns. Max quickly appealed to Tiar’s love of animals by arguing that the Huron and Algonquin people of the area participated in dog sacrifices, including ritually burying live dogs with their dead human owners. He pointed out that converting these tribes to Christianity would ban such a practice. Tiar listened dubiously with her head cocked to one side and thought it over, her conviction wavering. Tony, meanwhile, observed in awe both that Tiar could correctly use the term antidisestablishmentarianism and that she was willing to openly argue with her beloved over the merits of evangelization. Not such a lamb after all.
To smooth the air and prevent the ember of that argument from rekindling, Tony got his guitar out of the trunk of his beat up Honda and started playing. He attempted to cajole Max into singing harmony for him, but Max protested, claiming that he sung like a manatee.
“That’s total BS,” Tiar insisted, laughing. “He sings like an angel.”
“That was before,” Max said shyly.
“Before what?” Kenny asked.
“Before puberty,” he added plainly. Tiar rolled her eyes at Max and giggled.
In the next twenty four hours, the four young adults spent a full day out at the archeological site. After stooping over all day meticulously sifting dirt, they were weary and sunburned. For their labor, they had the satisfaction of having helped discover a spoon that may or may not have been from France in the 1600’s. They also unearthed beads that may have been part of a rare and priceless example of an early rosary fashioned by the missionaries from local materials… or it may have been a common example of a necklace belonging to an Algonquin child. The artifacts were quickly packed up for inspection by an archeologist at McGill University who would determine this definitively. Max was thrilled about the discovery, his enthusiasm obvious to his fellow travelers. Their weariness, compounded by their relative lack of experience with reconstructing lives from shards and scraps, limited their capacity to mirror his emotion. Limbs heavy, they stumbled to the common shower facility at the campsite and then collapsed into lawn chairs in the space between their two tents. Eventually, Tony and Kenny summoned enough energy to leave Max and Tiar to get some take out food for dinner. Max looked over at Tiar as she slapped a mosquito off of her arm which was already polka dotted with bites.
The Paper Shepherd Page 12
