The Lesser Blessed (9 page)

“Yeah,” I said, watching the brothers. Johnny took a long drag and handed me the smoke. “What else?”

The Boxer threw his brother on the ground and proceeded to smash his sneakers into him. The younger man began to scream. I started to run towards them, but Johnny grabbed my jean jacket and held me with sudden tank force.

“Never fuck a friend,” he said, looking into my eyes. “That’s the golden rule.”

I looked back towards the two men. “They’re ghosts, Johnny.”

“Wha?”

“Nobody’s told them they died.” I took a big swallow. “Nobody told them they’re dead.”

Johnny and I had been walking for a while when we came to the church. Johnny howled to the moon, and I could hear the scrape of claws on steel as a thousand ravens on the church roof steadied themselves in the wind. I thought to myself, “This is how death must feel, with its claws cold and sinking.”

The ravens snapped their black razor bills like a million crabs in battle. I couldn’t see the ravens but I bet they were sharpening their beaks and watching us, their life-steam rising like a thousand tangled arms. Johnny was walking ahead of me. I started to talk to myself so that anything out there would know we were coming. I just gave in to what I felt and started to free-fall inside. I guess I was babbling for quite a while, ’cause when Johnny stopped suddenly I bumped into him.

“What’s that?” Johnny asked. “What’d you say?”

“What?”

“You were singing.”

“I was?” I felt so incredibly tired and wanted to go home.

“Yeah, you kept singing, ‘In her tongue is the law of kindness, in her tongue is the law of kindness.’ ”

“It’s from the Bible. I can’t remember where.”

“You said Ewoks looked like burn victims. You said you hated their teeth.”

“Guess I’m just tired.”

“You guess? Man, you’re something else, you know that?”

“Whatever,” I said.

“You don’t remember any of this, do you?”

“No.”

“You said the devil lives in a church.”

“That’s what they say.”

“That’s fuckin’ freaky, man. Explain that.”

I thought of my father. “Can’t say.”

“Shit, man. You’re a poet or something.”

Then why can’t I have Juliet? I wanted to ask.

We went back to Johnny’s apartment and I collapsed on the couch. I dreamed that night of stunt men doing cartwheels with dry assholes, ripping themselves in half, and ravens, all the ravens watching, their beaks spread, open.

The next morning, when I opened my eyes, Donny was watching me. He was wearing a black Guns and Roses T-shirt and a green gonch.

“Chief,” he said, “you got purple eyelids.”

It was true. Nobody else had noticed till now, thank God.

“What’s your point?” I asked, sitting up.

“My point, dick-smack, is you got purple eyelids and gum in your hair.”

I found a lump that tugged at my scalp when I tried to pull it out. “Fuck.”

“Classy, man,” he said, “real classy.”

I heard the clank of dishes in the kitchen. I thought it might be Johnny’s mom but it was Johnny. He was wearing the same clothes as last night, and his hair was wet.

“Wanna shower?” he asked.

“Naw,” I said. “I gotta go.” I stumbled around looking for my jacket.

“Over here,” Donny said, pointing. Shit. It was on the floor in the corner.

“You okay?” Donny asked.

“Yeah.”

Johnny didn’t say anything. I pulled my shoes on. “What time is it?”

“Dunno,” Johnny answered.

“You gonna come by today?” Donny asked. “Maybe we could play some cards.”

“Don’t think so. I got a lot of homework to do.”

“Yeah,” Johnny added, “and a lot of thinking.”

I was up and out the door, sniffing the back of my hands for hash smoke. I needed a shower.

I stood outside, blinded for a minute by the cold red sun. It was windy, and snow was glittering on the grass. The ravens were out and I watched them. They climbed the sky, climbed it to the top. They allowed themselves to be held, to be blown back, let go.

There was the terrible stuck of Bubblicious gum in my hair, the chocolate stain of Jazz’s blood on my fist. There was a rash on my face where I had shaved, and the words “I’m a boxer” bounced around my twisted skull.

School dragged on. My marks dropped, but I didn’t tell my mom. She worked hard and didn’t need to worry about me. She’d ask, “How’s school?” and I’d say, “School’s school.”

We took a cab when we went to pick up Jed at the airport. I was excited. While we were waiting for him to get off the plane, my mom told me, “I don’t know what happened, but Jed’s in rough shape.”

It was true. Jed was different. I could see it as he walked along the runway to the building. He wore his greasy Husquavarna Chainsaw cap over his salt and pepper hair, but he kept his eyes down. He hadn’t been off the plane for five seconds before he lit up a smoke, holding the butt too close to his face. This was crazy. He had quit about three years ago, and it didn’t look good on him. When Jed got into the
terminal, my mom walked up ahead of me and hugged him. I stood back. Something had changed.

For the first time, I noticed how short he was. He stood about five nine, but I was getting taller. Then I noticed he had cut his hair. He used to be so proud of it streaming down his back. Whatever had happened since he left sure had taken its toll. His gargoyle nose bulbed beneath his slow watery eyes, and he looked tired. He must have felt me watching him ’cause he turned and looked at me.

“Excuse my Slavey, Lare, but I feel like six pounds of shit stuffed into a five-pound bag.”

He shook my hand and handed me a big brown bag of dry fish.

“Well, I’m glad to see you, Jed,” I beamed.

He nodded. He turned and hugged my mom again. “Verna,” he said. “Baby, I missed you.”

She hugged him for a long time while I kind of looked away. When they finished, Jed called, “Look at the champ, he’s started shaving.”

“Take it easy,” I blushed. I couldn’t wait to have some dry fish.

“
Negha dagondih
” he said.

“
Neghadegondee
” we answered.

In Slavey, in his language, this was how he always greeted us.

“You remembered,” he said, and hugged us both for a long, long time.

Jed’s orange safety vest in the closet, Jed’s huge green gumboots in the porch, Jed’s two rifles in moose-hide sheaths behind the couch, two Buck knives on the counter, one skinning knife on the fridge. Jed’s sun-yellow rain gear on a hanger, his two sleeping bags rolled out to dry, his tent in its tiny little bag, his
Birds of North America
and
Plants of North America
books on the table, his moccasins being worn in the house, his binoculars on the bookshelf, big gobs of dry meat in the butter, the smell of the bush in every room in the house. Jed is back ! Jed is back ! Jed is back !

“... here that ole-timer thought it was toilet paper he wiped his ass with, but it was fiberglass!” Jed roared. “You should have seen him on the boat when we were hitting those six-foot waves! Just ouch! ouch! ouch!”

We laughed and shook our heads. We were at the Chinese restaurant, the classiest place in town.

“But boy,” he said, wiping his eyes, “no one told us about the killing we’d have to do.”

Mom and I stopped laughing and listened.

“You know, after a fire, there’s lots of animals that don’t make it. They’re burned bad and die slow. I lost count of the bears I had to kill, the deer, rabbits, all them animals that suffered. I started to carry a gun with me in the bush just for that. Before, I just used my shovel.”

I winced when he said that, and Mom saw. We didn’t say anything about it but it was on our minds. My mom sure looked pretty sitting there next to Jed, and I could tell they wanted some time to be alone.

“Hey, little buddy,” Jed said, “I noticed that woodpile’s pretty low.” He eyed my mom. “Hon, you want us to go out and chop six cords?”

“What? The last time you and I went out and tried to cut six cords we ended up setting half the park on fire,” I teased.

“How was I to know it was gas in that jerry can?” he said. “I thought it was water. Here I try to put out the little brush fire we got going for tea and the next thing you know I’m hopping around with smoking eyebrows and a bald spot!”

My mom began to laugh, which was surprising. She hadn’t been too happy when the park warden had showed up to take our statements and issue Jed a fine. “You guys are a couple of sad Indians.”

I studied Jed when he wasn’t looking. He had these huge arms he called “the pythons.” He sure got his jollies showing them off in shirts with the sleeves hacked off. He was wearing his classic “Denendeh: One Land One People” T-shirt, and it needed a wash.

“Speaking of which, did you start taking drum lessons?” he asked me.

“No,” I said. “I don’t know any instructors.”

“Well, what about the Friendship Centre? Just go and ask. They’ll show you.”

“Naw, Jed. I don’t know. It’s not my thing.”

“Well, pardner, what about jigging? Didja learn how?”

“No.”

“Dja try?”

I shook my head.

“Well, what’s it gonna be ? The fiddle or the drum ? You gotta take a side. It’s just like the old-timers say, ‘How can you know where you’re going, if you don’t know where you’ve been?’ ”

My mom watched for my response. I remembered my dad taking me in the shed to teach me how to play the drum. I got a chill in the expanding second and scrambled to divert the attention away from me.

“So what happened up in the barrenlands?” I asked.

“Jesus,” Jed said, taking a big breath. “Where do I begin? How’s my coffee? I ain’t tellin’ this until I have a full cup.”

The woman who had served us was having a smoke in the corner. We tried to wave the other waiter over but he didn’t see.

“Hey, Bruce!” Jed yelled. “Hey, Bruce Lee!”

The waiter looked and Jed raised his cup.

We all started giggling. Man, he was fearless.

The waiter came over. “Hey, Jed,” he said.

“Howdy, Thomas,” Jed said and shook his hand.

“How long you in town for?” the waiter asked.

Both my mom and I looked at Jed for an answer.

“Well,” he placed his hand over Mom’s, “as long as she’ll have me.”

Wow!!

Thomas filled our cups. “Dessert?”

“How about some apple pie with ice cream? You want some, Larry?”

“Sure.”

“Verna?”

“I’d love some.”

“Ice cream?”

“I better not.”

“Come on, baby. Winter’s coming. You got too skinny without ol’ Jed around.”

“Oh, all right.”

It was so great to see him. I missed him so much. I could feel the weight he was carrying, and it sure was heavy.

“Let’s hear this story before we get our pie,” I urged.

“Okay,” he said, taking a sip of coffee and holding the cup with both hands. “Okay.”

“Verna, you remember how you told me about that Dogrib woman who drowned her girls?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Does Larry know the story?”

“No,” I said.

“Well.” He took a deep breath. “Dogrib woman, I guess. I don’t know which community she was from. Her old man took off on her. Said he was going to go on the land and get her some caribou or musk-ox, but he never came back.”

Jed took a sip of his coffee and pulled his cap off. He ran his fingers through his hair, put his cap back on, took another sip on his coffee. He flicked a match for his smoke and tried to cover his shaking hands.

“That woman,” he continued, “she went crazy waiting for her old man. Her six kids were starving. I guess she got tired of hearing them always asking, When’s Daddy coming home ? When’s Daddy coming home? So one day she lost it. Maybe the devil whispered to her. She took her girls down to the edge of a lake. I guess the water hadn’t frozen over yet. She pulled them all into the water and she drowned them. They tried to run away, I guess, but when a woman’s crazy, she’s strong. She drowned her girls. She drowned them.”

Jed did the whole thing again with his hair, cap, coffee and smoke. My mom just nodded.

“Well,” he said. “Verna, you wanna know what happened?”

“What?” we both asked.

“I found her husband.”

“Where? What was he doing?”

“No,” he said, “I found his body when I was on Ranger patrol. Up in the tundra. He was dead. He really did go hunting for musk-ox and caribou, but he died.”

“Oh, Jed.” Mom covered her mouth.

“He was killed by a musk-ox. I guess he was hunting and he got charged. It got him in the back with its horns, pierced his heart and lungs from behind. Holy shit, he was hit so fast that musk-ox couldn’t pull out and they were stuck together. They died together. That man must have bled to death. The musk-ox couldn’t eat. They died together. That woman killed her kids for nothing. That man’s bones and that musk-ox are still together. I found them.”

His voice was shaky, and he took a deep breath. I wondered if he had cried when he first told this story.

“The whole summer was like that, just awful experience after awful experience.”

“Jed, man,” I whispered. My mom made the sign of the cross.

We were quiet for a bit and Jed looked at us. He was so quiet when he said, “Partners, I’m just glad to see you both.”

I looked at my mom. Her eyes were huge. We all took a sip on our coffees.

“Shit,” Jed said and ran his fingers through his hair. “Holy shit.”

I remembered a song Jed used to sing to me when I had my fire nightmares. There were always flames roaring from room to room. The song was so I could sleep. It went like this:

“How far is heaven?

Let’s go tonight

I miss my daddy

and want to hold him tight.”

That night, as I lay in my bed, I heard Jed talking to my mom. Sure enough, even after a nice supper, they started arguing.