The Secret North

by Ka Newborrn

  Emmaretta pulled the half shirt over her head and softly shook her hair out of her eyes. She grasped Calvin’s hands and cupped them onto her swollen breasts. Octavia slid her fingers down lower, stroking the length of his erection. H.B. observed from a distance and chuckled.

  A bittersweet tidal wave laced with bloody undertones flooded Calvin’s nose, mouth and stomach, causing him to lose his footing and sink helplessly into the arms of Octavia. The buoyancy of Emmaretta’s cream dollop breasts rocked him gently up and squarely back down into the harbor of Octavia’s hot velvet wetness. An intense procession of spasms ensued as Calvin shuddered violently with release.

  Martini glasses laced with traces of syrup and half eaten apple slices littered the bar. The sun peeked voyeuristically from the depths of the eastern horizon, intent upon stealing a glance of adventure.

  Floating, H.B. placed his arm around Calvin’s shoulder. Calvin stood in peaceful silence and watched as Emmaretta and Octavia glided through the air in synchronized unison.

  Cartwheels melded into splits as they rolled from their backs onto the soft pads of their stomachs. Peacocks merged into somersaults, breaststrokes into scorpions, and ultimately, swan dives into flights of freedom.

  Octavia dove first, swept onward out of the open window by cottony pillows of wind. True realization of wingspan unveiled itself as she shed her skin, metamorphosed into a butterfly and gracefully fluttered away in the direction of the fast approaching dawn.

  Emmaretta was next, lingering at the base of the window to lightly caress Calvin’s cheek and kiss him softly on the mouth. The clouds graciously deferred as she closed her eyes, outstretched her arms and fell backward into the trusting arms of the sky. Disappearing momentarily beneath the boughs of the oak trees bordering the side of the mansion, she reappeared as a silken, black and yellow bumblebee. She paused at the morning glories in Jana’s garden before flying away, happy and drunk.

  Crystal tears fell from Calvin’s eyes and spilled onto the windowsill. H.B.’s arm patted his shoulder reassuringly. “No time for tears, baby,” he said soothingly. “Home is where the love is. It’s all about love, baby. It’s all about love.”

  He placed his fedora onto Calvin’s head before diving and emerged as a stately blue heron soaring evenly through the air, eager to start its morning with a hearty catfish breakfast along the river. Calvin removed the feather from the fedora’s velvet band and traced the outline of the fading stars before hurling it into the blanket of sky and quietly diving in.

  PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA

  1991

  Russell

  He picked up a photo from the edge of his desk and tapped it softly with his fingers, laughing out loud at the memory of his horrified, seven-year-old son attempting to remove the hook from the bleeding sunfish he caught during their boating trip at Lake Superior.

  Another photo captured a wild-eyed Calvin clutching Jana’s arm in terror atop the American Eagle rollercoaster at Six Flags. His image was a direct contrast to that of the other children, arms thrust boldly into the air, gaping mouths distorted with laughter.

  “What’s really scary,” a stocky, badly sunburned boy holding an enormous cone of blue cotton candy had said to Calvin and Jana as they waited for their turn in an hour-long line on that sticky August afternoon, “isn’t the descent at all but the way the stray chunks of wood and cotter pins pop out of the foundation and fly up into the air and the seats go rickety rickety rickety right up to the very end.” The boy gnashed his teeth, extended his elbows and curled his fingers into claws to accentuate his point, causing Calvin to recoil and drop his double dip strawberry cone on the asphalt.

  When the tears came, he buried his head in his hands and sobbed at his desk for what seemed like an eternity. When his throat was too hoarse to make any more sounds and his body too dehydrated to produce any more tears, a hummingbird fluttered to the edge of the desk and came to rest upon the edge of a silver frame. His eyes trailed to the opposite end of the room, where Paul sat on top of the window seat.

  “This can’t be real.”

  Paul brushed off his suit. “It only seems that way because the ceremony was closed casket."

  “I meant you. I must be hallucinating.”

  Paul gazed at his luminously buffed fingernails before clasping his fingers together. “That’s up to you. As stated before, I am a beacon of clarity to be revealed at various crossroads in the life of you and yours.” He paused. “Sometimes I am available for counsel.”

  The hummingbird fluttered from the picture frame and flew out of the open window. “What counsel are you here to give me?”

  “He's free. That's all.”

  He closed his eyes and bowed his head against the desk. When he lifted it up, Paul was gone.

  TRANSIT

  1991

  Calvin

  Calvin lost track of the butterfly, bee and heron after diving out of the window, but he didn’t care. He was too busy enjoying the rolling waves of the wind carrying him forward. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the feeling. The more he surrendered to the sensation, the faster the locusts that had plagued him for so long began to fly away, one by one, until he was finally alone with the clarity of his thoughts for the first time in as long as he could remember.

  His senses heightened, the layers of the atmosphere were visibly distinct. A thin metallic taste formed at the base of his tongue and coated his throat and lungs. Corporeal sensation ceased there; the rest of his body seemed weightless. He shouted into the sky. His voice was as sharp as a razor and as deliberate as a foghorn. He continued to shout with pride, piercing the morning with candor as he sailed into the sun and gently drifted to a landing, swathed in pillows of blinding light.

  When the light diminished, he was standing in front of a house. It was small with a thatched roof and brown crossbeams that reminded him of a countryside European villa. Honeysuckle blossoms lined the path to the blue painted front door. The welcome mat was made out of flower petals and bird feathers. Calvin knelt down and popped a honeysuckle blossom into his mouth. The flavor exploded with the scent of something baking in the oven inside that wafted from an open window. An attractive young woman stood at the window waving.

  She was skinny with joyful brown eyes and brown hair arranged in a neat updo. The sleeves of her white blouse were pushed up at the elbows. She opened the door and beckoned Calvin inside. Her calf length skirt gracefully swished around her legs in a way that reminded Calvin of the actress from the movie Roman Holiday. She wrapped her arms around Calvin and squeezed him with all of her might, breathing a small sigh of relief.

  “There you are, Calvin,” she exclaimed, with a hint of Mississippi drawl. “We’ve been waiting for you all night! I thought you’d be here a bit sooner, but better late than never. Come on in!” She stepped out of the way and beckoned him inside.

  Calvin wiped his feet on the mat and shyly ducked into the low doorway. He found himself standing in an open, breezy kitchen space with a red brick hearth at the center. Wooden crossbeams lined the white walls. Bunches of flowers were hung from the crossbeams to dry. Baskets heaped with heirloom tomatoes, sausages, an assortment of olives and pungent hard cheeses wrapped with string surrounded a rustic oak table. A variety of floral seedlings were spread out on the table. The aroma of something baking grew stronger.

  Birds sunned themselves on various perches throughout the room. Some of them whistled at Calvin in greeting. Others ignored him and greedily munched on a snack of shelled walnuts and millet. Calvin identified a cockatoo, a parrot, two parakeets, a robin, an owl, and a jackdaw. He glanced at the hearth. His stomach rumbled.

  “Let me get a good look at you,” the woman said. She looked at Calvin’s hair wistfully. “May I?” she asked. Calvin nodded and stooped down a bit.

  She stroked his hair, tentatively at first, timid in discovering a new dimension of texture and softness. “Beautiful,” she whispered, “absolutely beautiful.” A tear rolled down her face as
she rubbed her cheek against his hair. “A first kiss,” she murmured. “It feels just like a first kiss.”

  “A first kiss, a first kiss,” the cockatoo mocked. It squawked at Calvin and cocked its head to the side. Gladys continued to hold Calvin. He started to respond, but she brought her soft fingers to his mouth.

  She wiped back a sudden spill of tears and fought to take control of her trembling voice. “You know I never wanted it to turn out this way. I wanted to get to know you before, but what I wanted didn’t matter. My husband’s fate was to deny the truth, and I couldn’t compete with it because I was a part of it, you know?”

  She looked away in pain for a few moments and then brightened up considerably. “Look at you. You’re here now.” She fingered his locs. “And you’re so beautiful! We’ve got so much catching up to do!” She snuggled in closer to Calvin and wiped her runny nose against her sleeve.

  Calvin continued to hold the woman, patting her on the back in politeness. “Ma’am,” he said gently, “I’m sorry. What did you say your name was, again?”

  Surprised flooded the woman’s face as she straightened up to look at him and saw the confusion in Calvin’s eyes. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I thought you knew. It’s Grandma! I’m your grandmother, Gladys!”

  “My grandmother?” Calvin snorted in disbelief at the young woman standing before him. “No, you're not! First of all, you’re not old enough. Second of all, my grandmother is dead! Mom said that her last letter to Mississippi was returned unopened and postmarked deceased.”

  Calvin’s voice trailed off as he remembered the events that led up to his diving from the third-story attic bedroom window. Trembling, he sat down at the kitchen table, covered his mouth with his hands and stared at the floral seedlings spread out in front of him. Gladys looked away graciously, leaving him alone to solve the puzzle. Even the birds quieted down in an apparent display of politeness.

  “You must be hungry,” Gladys’ voice was uneasy as she broke the silence. “There’s sheep’s milk cheese, heirloom tomatoes and fresh bread. Sausage, too. Do you eat meat?”

  “Sometimes,” Calvin answered truthfully. Relief washed over Gladys’ face as she busied herself by preparing a plate. “I’ve been meaning to get to the vegetarian books, but I’m still getting the hang of the basics.” She laughed. “Audrey Hepburn I never was, but my peach pie is divine.”

  She hummed as she sliced up tomatoes, cheese, sausage, bread and olives. She loaded up a plate for Calvin and set it down in front of him. He brought a piece of cheese to his lips and nibbled. Gladys smiled as Calvin took a big bite of tomato and licked his lips. “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked.

  She opened the refrigerator and took out a martini glass and a pitcher. “I’m not hungry, sweetheart,” she said, pouring herself a drink. She stole an olive from Calvin's plate, dropped it into her glass, and took a large swallow. She waited until he had finished eating before standing up and removing a peach pie from the oven. Cutting a generous slice, she placed it on a fresh plate and set it down in front of him.

  Calvin raised his fork and slowly took a bite. An explosion of peaches and spices spread through his mouth like brushfire. Calvin closed his eyes. “This is the best pie I’ve ever tasted,” he remarked.

  “Audrey Hepburn I never was,” the parrot squawked.

  Gladys gave the bird a dirty look. “Thank you, Calvin,” she blushed, holding up her glass in salutation.

  The sound of the doorknob turning diverted their conversation. “Did someone mention peach pie?” a gentle voice asked. “You know it was your peach pie that made me fall in love with you all those years ago, Gladys.”

  A square-jawed man with tightly curled, shoulder length blond hair and blue eyes walked in, carrying a birdcage that housed two doves in one hand and a large bunch of purple flowers in the other. He wore jeans and sandals. He looked at Calvin and smiled in welcome. “Hey there,” he said, eyes smiling. “We were just beginning to worry.”

  “Who are you?” Calvin was puzzled as he watched the man’s brawny hand set the birdcage down at the edge of the table. He stared at the man’s casual attire.

  “Grandson!” The man’s youthful voice rang out with love.

  “What’s going on?”

  Gladys stood up suddenly, wobbling a bit from the martini. “Out of the mouth of babes,” she giggled nervously. Changing the subject, she eyed the purple flowers at the edge of the table. “Those are pretty. What are they?”

  “Eichornia Crassipes,” the blond man recited proudly, “More commonly known as hyacinth.”

  “Isn’t it amazing?” Gladys purred with admiration. “Ask him about any flower, Calvin. He knows everything there is to know about every type of flower or bird that you can think of!”

  A confused Calvin attempted to piece the situation together. “Harlan?” he asked.

  “Linden,” the blond man chuckled, holding the bouquet towards Gladys in offering. Mildly agitated, she held it for a few moments and set it down on the table.

  Calvin looked to Gladys for an answer. “Grandma?"

  Gladys threw her head back, downed the contents of her martini glass and smiled brightly. “I’ll explain later,” she said, plopping a second helping in front of Calvin before he could refuse. “Just eat the pie,” she hissed.

  He raised his fork obediently and watched as Linden unhinged the cage door and encouraged the doves to roam about the house. A hummingbird hovered in the open kitchen window. Calvin pushed his empty plate away and walked over to the window to get a closer look. “Hey, hummingbird,” he greeted her shyly. He cupped his palms and held them out to her.

  She was timid as she approached his open palms, but his heartbeat won her over. She glowed as Calvin stroked her iridescent feathers and tenderly kissed her miniature beak. She would stay with him, he thought to himself. He would never let her out of his sight again. He had never stopped loving her and would take care of her for the rest of her life. He would do anything he could to protect her.

  Giddy with the buzz of the martini and a nerve pill, Gladys sat down next to Calvin. She kicked off her shoes and propped up her bare legs on the table. Picking up the bouquet of hyacinth, she twisted away until a purple crown rested in her hands. Linden sat down, placed the crown atop his head and stretched out his arms towards his lover. Gladys tumbled into them and eyed the peach pie.

  She reached into the pie tin with her fingers and scooped up a bit, holding it out to his lips. Linden licked the pie slowly from her fingers, lingering there even after they were quite clean. He tickled her. She shrieked. The hairpins slid out of her tidy hairdo, sending her pin-straight brown hair cascading down her shoulders. She placed her hands inside of Linden’s shirt. They kissed passionately while Calvin looked on, mesmerized by their infectious energy. Soon he was scooping up pie with his fingers and cramming it into his mouth. The three of them laughed and scooped up pie until the pie tin was empty and their fingers were sticky.

  The hummingbird watched the exchange from the windowsill. When she was ready, she flew away and never came back. A chill crept into the space where she had lingered and spread through the windowsill. Calvin’s breath was frosty as he watched as the silver threads at the window fade into crystal dust. The rejection stung like a wasp.

  Linden put his hand on Calvin’s shoulder. “Some birds keep flying. It used to make me sad, but now I just enjoy the company of the ones that hang around. You know what I mean?” He blew a kiss to his lover. “Gladys?”

  “Let’s go upstairs,” Gladys answered wickedly. Linden raised a lascivious eyebrow. He stood up and held out his hand as Gladys clasped it and stood up. They walked towards the edge of the room to the base of the staircase leading to the second floor. Linden scooped up his lover over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Gladys laughed and held her arms out towards Calvin. Her hair was in her face. She looked like a naughty child. “Come on, Cal!” she squealed. Calvin walked to the base of the stairway. He hesitated.

&n
bsp; Gladys’ eyes grew sober when she sensed his fear. “Put me down.” Linden nodded and gently lowered Gladys to the floor. “Go on ahead. I’ll be up in a little while.” Calvin watched as Linden turned and started up the steps. The blond man’s figure grew transparent as it ascended and eventually vanished into the frosty clouds.

  Calvin twirled the stem of the martini glass with his fingers. “It's perfectly fine to take your martini upstairs with you if you want.” Gladys motioned towards the drink reassuringly.

  “Stay away!” Calvin warned. “You’re trying to rush me! I’m starting a music center with Tony for the kids! I finally got rid of the voices! I have to bring Aunt Alice her snacks! I have to be there for Mom and Dad!” He downed the contents of the martini glass and threw it against the wall. Shards scattered in the air like fireworks.

  Gladys was patient. “I can't rush you. Your time is when you want it to be; it’s not my decision to make.” She tucked her blouse back into her waistband. “But you’ve been through so much I figured you’d be ready to rest by now. I’m going up now. Linden’s waiting.”

  Calvin let go of the big picture and allowed himself to focus on the surrounding negative spaces, where clarity is often overlooked. “Linden." He shook a finger accusingly at Gladys. "You had an affair with him."

  "Linden is your real grandfather, the man I should have married, the man I’ve always loved." She reached out to touch Calvin. He flinched.

  "How did you find me?"

  Gladys remained patient. "Blood instinct leaves a trail. I smelled it the moment I held you. You smell like Jana. Jana smells like me. Did you smell it, too? Maybe that's what led you here."

  Calvin’s fingers gripped the icy banister. His feet were planted firmly on the ground. His eyes blazed.

  “Your husband was a murderer! He was in the Klan! You abandoned Mom! You abandoned me!"