by James Bird
We exit the forest and arrive to the bluff that overlooks the green field. My mom pulls over and stops.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Ronnie and my mom, and I hop out of the truck.
The wind pushes against me as I walk toward the edge of the bluff. It’s hard being here. The last time I was here was with Orenda, and the moment I picture her in my mind, I begin to taste her peachy kiss on my lips.
I stop at the edge and look out at the beautiful green clearing of grass and flowers before me. There’s the colorful garden. It’s just as breathtaking as it was when I first saw it. I feel the annoying buildup of salt water rising from the gutters of my eyes. But I don’t want to cry. I just want to be here. I just want to know.
“Orenda?” I shout as loudly as my lungs will allow.
I hear her name echo off of every blade of grass below, bouncing off every rock and ricocheting off of every animal-cloud in the sky. I listen to my voice until it gets so far away and so faint that it disappears completely.
I drop to my knees. If I was a weak man, all I’d need to do is lean forward. That would end it all. I’d plummet to my death and never have to cry over Orenda again. But I’m not weak. Not anymore. Orenda made me strong. Orenda taught me how to be brave.
So I stay upright, raise my head toward the garden, and shout her name again.
As her name trails off to oblivion, something changes. There is a shift in the air, and an invisible wave of calmness rushes past me, causing all the tiny hairs on my body to stand. I look back at the truck. My mom and Ronnie must see what I feel, because they are both wide-eyed, staring past me.
I turn around to see what they see, and before my eyes, the beautiful kaleidoscope of butterflies launches up from the bed of flowers and flutters toward me. I stand perfectly still as they dance around me, circling me, greeting me.
I stretch out my arms and let the butterflies rest on my skin. Soon I am fully covered by them. They don’t speak to me, but I don’t need them to, I know what they are telling me. After all, it’s why I am here. They are telling me Orenda is coming. I know this because I truly believe it now.
I am exactly where she said I would find her. I am here. And her butterfly family is here with me. Now all I need is her.
I’ve always needed her. I needed her to not fix me, but to change me. And not into a butterfly, but from a scared little boy with counting issues into a brave Native American warrior who is no longer afraid to live life to the nth degree.
In perfect unison, the butterflies covering me all lift off from my body and flutter above me. They form a circle above my head, like a swirling rainbow. I feel like I weigh nothing. Like I’m a cloud or maybe just part of the cold breeze. At this very moment, I am a part of nature, just like everything around me. I am one with this world. And it’s beautiful. I see beauty. I hear beauty. I smell beauty. I even taste beauty. All around me.
From the garden rises a single butterfly. Its wings shimmer red, then black, then yellow. She dances through the air toward me. I hold my breath.
She reaches me and hovers in front of my face, staring directly into my wide human eyes. I know it’s her. I know this beautiful butterfly is Orenda, the girl I love. I reach out my hand, and she floats onto it, resting on my fingertip. We stare at each other, and I can feel the love between us. It’s the same feeling I had every time I was near her.
“Orenda,” I say.
She flaps her wings six times. I smile. Clever girl.
And as we gaze deep into each other’s eyes, I feel my broken heart slowly begin to piece itself together. Right then and there, I know everything is real. Our love. Magic. Everything she said. Everything I felt. Everything.
After my heart is fully repaired, she lifts off of my finger, dances her way up to my nose, kisses it, and flies up above me to join her butterfly family.
They circle me one more time, then the entire kaleidoscope flies back down to the garden and disappears into the colorful flowers. I stand and watch the flowers sway with the breeze for another minute or so, and when I turn back to the truck, I see Foxy standing directly behind me, watching me. In his hand is a bag full of peaches.
“You know what this placed is called?” he asks.
“Twenty-nine. No.”
“Memengwaa.”
I don’t know how to count this word. And I’m not even going to try. He must see the strain in my eyes as I wrestle with my brain.
“Nine,” he says. “It means ‘butterfly’ in Ojibwe.”
“That makes sense,” I say, which causes him to smile.
“Did you see her?” he asks.
“I did.”
He smiles and walks up to me and pats me on the back. “Good,” he says, and stares out toward the garden.
I look past my mom’s truck, but don’t see his. I don’t see anything but forest in the direction he came from.
“Do you need a ride home?” I ask.
He doesn’t turn to me, he just keeps his eyes forward, waiting.
“No thanks. I’m meeting my family soon,” he says, and takes a bite of one of the peaches from the bag.
I’m not really sure what to say after that, so I decide to say nothing and leave him there, awaiting his family. I walk back to the truck and see my mom and Ronnie, both staring at me, smiling. I hop in the bed and give them a tap on the side of the truck. I’m ready to go home.
As the truck begins to pull back onto the road, I look back and see two butterflies rise from the bluff and land on Foxy’s outstretched arms. He drops to his knees and howls up to the sky. His voice is strong and loud. He’d make a great wolf.
We enter the forest and head home. As we pass tree after tree, I can’t help but realize that I once thought all these trees were the same. They were normal. They weren’t special. But now I see everything differently. Maybe I stare through Native American warrior’s eyes now. Everything looks different to me now. And everyone looks different to me now. Like these trees. Each one is unique. Some are thick, some are thin, some are smooth, some are rough, some are strong, some are weak, some are old, and some are young. We are just like these trees. And right now, I feel like an entire forest. I was sad, but now I’m not. I was afraid, but now I’m brave. I was alone, but now I have a family. Orenda was a human girl, and now she’s a butterfly … But she’s still Orenda.
She may look different now, but that’s okay. Orenda was always different. That’s why I fell in love with her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE WOLF WITHIN (29)
They say you shouldn’t mourn someone’s death but celebrate their life. I always thought that saying was mostly crap. But I totally get it now. The Native Americans had it right all along. Death isn’t the end, it’s just a graduation to the next world. Death is just a staircase. A step toward a new life, a new chapter. It’s genius if you think about it. It is a truth most people have forgotten. Our family members die and return to the earth in new bodies. It should force us to treat all people and animals like family, with kindness. After all, we will be them, and they will be us.
The moment I walk into the house, the phone rings. I believe this is the first time I’ve heard it ring since I’ve arrived here. I have to follow the sound just to know where the phone is located.
“Hello?”
“Collin?” a familiar voice asks.
Whoa. It’s my dad. I go speechless for a few moments, and I’m not really sure why.
“You still there?” he asks.
“Nineteen. Yeah. Hi, Dad.”
“How are you?”
“Nine. I’m … really good.”
“Really good? Wow. That’s really good.”
We both stay silent. The awkwardness between us floods back. We never knew how to communicate with each other.
“Twenty-eight. How are you?” I ask.
“You know me. I always fall, but I always land on my feet,” he says.
“Forty-two. I like it here. A lot.”
&nbs
p; “That’s great. Told ya you would,” he says.
“Twenty-four. Seven’s getting fat.”
He laughs. “Listen, I wanted you to know that I made a lot of changes in my life. I quit drinking. And I’m trying this whole online dating thing. I guess what I’m saying is, I want to be a better person,” he says, and knowing him, this was not an easy thing for him to say.
“That’s awesome, Dad. Good for you.”
“And to be a better person, I’d like to start with being a better dad.”
“Fifty-two. Okay. That should be a lot easier for you with me being over here and you being over there.”
“I’m sorry, Collin,” he says. “For everything.”
“Twenty-six. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. I didn’t know how to be a dad. I didn’t know a lot of things I should have,” he says.
“Sixty-four. Apology accepted. Really. Moving me here was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Great! So … I did something right?”
“Twenty-five. You did. I’m happy. I box now.”
“What? You box? Like jab-jab-cross box?”
“Twenty-eight. Yep. I’m pretty good too.”
“That’s great, Collin. And I was hoping … that maybe us being farther apart, can maybe bring you and me closer. I’d love to finally get to know you.”
As his letters bounce around my head and morph into numbers, something in the backyard catches my eye. It’s a squirrel. Not any squirrel, but a smaller version of the squirrel from my dream. It’s Aji.
I walk over to the sliding glass door, and Aji leads my eyes over toward the fence. He stops at it and stares back at me, batting his tail, telling me to follow him.
“Collin?” my dad says, snapping me back to our conversation.
“One hundred and seventeen. Dad, that sounds good. I’d love for us to get to know each other, but right now, I need to call you back,” I say, and hang up the phone.
I slide open the door and walk out into the backyard. Seven is there, lying on the ground, being all fat. Aji is now on the fence, looking at me, making little squirrely noises.
“Aji?” I say, and he darts into Orenda’s yard. I try to follow, but I can’t. The opening I made when I first arrived has been fully repaired.
I approach it and feel the wood, just to make sure I’m not losing my mind. Nope. It’s fixed. I know Orenda’s dad couldn’t have fixed it. I just saw him miles away at the butterfly garden. I rush back into the house and go to my mom’s room. The door is shut. I now know better than to barge in, so I tap on the door.
“Mom?” I shout through the door.
“Just a minute,” she says.
Ha! They were naked, I knew it.
My mom opens the door. Her hair is disheveled, and she’s wearing one of Ronnie’s tight shirts, which is so large on her, she could swim in it. Ronnie stands behind her, shirtless and wearing a victorious grin.
“Did you guys fix the fence?” I ask.
“No,” she says, and looks at Ronnie.
“Don’t look at me. I fixed one last week.”
I point at her: “Two.” And point at him: “Twenty-nine.”
“Did Grandma?” I ask.
“It wasn’t her,” my mom says.
“Where is she? I’ll ask her,” I say.
“Oh, baby, she went home,” my mom says, and touches my arm.
“What do you mean? This is her home … isn’t it?”
“She visited us to meet you. She’d never pass on the chance to meet a grandson,” she says.
“Visited us? Where does she live?” I ask.
My mom looks at Ronnie, then looks back at me.
“Collin. My mother died many years ago,” she says.
What? That’s impossible. I know that word doesn’t mean much nowadays, especially here in Minnesota, but there’s no way I’ve been hanging out with a spirit this whole time. I mean, she’s been taking my dog out for walks!
“No. You’re joking,” I say.
“I would never joke about such a thing,” she replies.
“But how … I mean … I saw her … I talked with her…”
My mom smiles. Ronnie sidesteps her and puts his hand on my shoulder. It’s kind of his go-to move with me.
“Collin, you should have seen me when I first found out. It was over dinner. She was sitting right next to me. I tell you, our people are unpredictable. They’re wild and absolutely beautiful, and sometimes beautiful things don’t always need an explanation,” Ronnie says.
I don’t know what to believe anymore. I mean, I am fully certain that Orenda has turned into a butterfly, so I don’t know why my grandma being a ghost is that far of a stretch for me.
“Are you two real?” I ask, which causes them both to burst into laughter.
“Everyone is real. But yes, Ronnie and I are both alive,” my mom answers.
“So has Seven been walking by herself this whole time?”
“No. My mother’s spirit walked her. You know us Native people, we love our animals,” she says.
Ronnie laughs and plants a kiss on her cheek.
“You are both so strange.”
“The best ones are,” Ronnie says, and kisses her again.
I need to get out of here before their kissyness gets out of hand.
I turn to leave, but my mom grabs my arm. “Don’t forget about your test tonight,” she says.
I almost did forget. So much has happened since last night. I have a date with the old man in a teepee.
* * *
My mom, Ronnie, Seven, and I are all piled into the pickup truck on our way to my test. We drive through the pitch-black forest and enter the dirt lot. I’m nervous. I hope I don’t fail the test again.
There’s no crowd this time. No fire. No dancers. No rows of cars. It’s just us.
As we all exit the car, Seven hops down and takes off running into the darkness.
“Seven!” I shout, but she disappears into the blackness.
“Let her go. She’ll be back,” my mom says, and takes my hand.
“Nineteen,” I say, and walk with her.
Ronnie takes her other hand. When we get to the teepee, Ronnie and my mom wait outside of it, which is my hint to venture in. So I do. And just like last time, the old Native American man sits cross-legged before the fire. I take a seat on the other side of the flames. His eyes are open, but he doesn’t look at me yet.
“I’m back for my test,” I say.
He smiles, which adds twenty more wrinkles to his face.
But also, just like last time, instead of responding, he claps his hands together, once, loudly.
And within seconds, the same four robed people enter the teepee, each holding a pair of tongs. I now can’t help but wonder if these four people are ghosts. Am I surrounded by spirits? And just like before, gripped in each tong is a different color stone. I remember all of this perfectly. They kneel down beside the fire and place each stone into the fire. The stones sizzle and send clouds of smoke into the teepee. The heat engulfs my body. It feels hotter this time.
Then, the four spirit people leave us without saying a word. Silence ensues.
“There is still a battle within you,” he says.
“Twenty-eight. It’s really hot in here. But I bet you’re just gonna tell me to become the heat again, right?
“Yes,” he says.
“Three. And that still doesn’t make sense.”
And like clockwork, he waves his arms in front of me, mixing his hands with the orange flames. I still haven’t figured out how he is not burning right now.
“Close your eyes,” he says to me.
“Thirteen,” I say, and close my eyes.
“Do you see the battle inside you?” he asks.
“Twenty-six. I see nothing. Just…”
As I look through the familiar blackness, I find myself standing inside my mind again. This time, I know what to do. I’ll repeat my steps from last time a
nd go find that wolf waiting for me somewhere deep in my mind. I take a step forward.
“Hello?” I shout, and hear my own voice echo through my mind.
As I walk forward, I hear the same faint whimper. So I break into a run. And as I get closer, it gets louder—and louder. And then I see it. The wolf. It still looks just as large and just as angry. It growls and drools when it sees me approaching, locking its black eyes onto mine. Its fangs, coated with saliva, shine white through the darkness, revealing how sharp each tooth is.
I stop and feel my heart beating through my chest. I was hoping I wouldn’t be as scared this time around, but I am. I try to breathe slowly, but fear keeps my breaths uneven. The thick heavy rope is still tied to the wolf’s back leg.
This is where I’m supposed to look down and see that Orenda’s knife is in my hand. So I do, and so it is. The wolf growls and steps toward me. As it moves, black numbers and letters shimmer in its fur. Last time I failed this test. I need to think differently this time.
“Fear ceases to exist once you confront it,” I say to myself.
I study the wolf closely. Am I afraid of this wolf? Yes. But that’s okay. I remember what Orenda told me. It’s okay to be afraid; it’s even okay to be very afraid, but it’s never okay to be too afraid. I need to be brave. I need to focus more on my courage and less on my fear. That’s it. I will not be afraid of this wolf … Then it hits me. Maybe it’s not actually the wolf I’m afraid of, but the numbers it’s covered in? I’ve been afraid of those numbers my entire life. And in my dream, where I saved Orenda … I was the wolf … In fact, I was this wolf! The wolf covered in numbers. That’s it! It all starts to make sense to me. The battle within me. I am the wolf.
“I am the wolf,” I shout as loudly as I can.
My voice drifts far out into the sea of black. And as soon as I say it, the fear inside of me is gone. I know what to do. I need to free myself from this prison in my mind. I’m not supposed to fight the wolf. Being brave doesn’t always mean fighting. I’m supposed to help this wolf. I need to free it, to let it go. I take a step toward the wolf. It snaps its jaws.
“I’m not afraid—that means you’re not afraid,” I say to the wolf.
