War of the Eagles (14 page)

“Good night.”

I watched him walk away into the darkness. He was invisible within a few dozen steps, but the sound of his footfalls echoed for a few seconds.

His words echoed on in my head much longer.

.9.

“Okay, spit it out,” Naani ordered.

“Spit out what?”

“Not your food. The only thing you done with your fork is push it around the plate. None of the food has found its way into your mouth.”

I glanced down at my meal, still all there but piled up high at one side of the plate.

“Something's eating you so hard you can't be eating anything else,” she continued.

“Can't a guy just not be hungry?”

“Maybe, a guy, but not this guy. Besides it's more than eating. Your spirit's been all wrong since you came back from Tadashi's house last night.”

“My spirit?”

“Yep, your spirit. You got something hurting inside, I can see it right through your hide.”

I held up my arm and turned it around. “You must be seeing things, all I see is skin.”

“You're looking in the wrong place. I wasn't thinking it was your arm that got hurt but your heart. What hap–pened? Did you and your friend get in a fight?”

“Well, yeah, a disagreement, but that all got settled … more or less.”

“Then what?” she persisted.

“Nothing.”

“Nothin, or nothin you want to talk about?”

“Nothing … it's nothing important … it's stupid.”

“If it was stupid, you could eat, your spirit wouldn't be wrong,” she reasoned. “Must be important.”

“Well it's just … I can't understand … It just doesn't make sense. I don't know where to begin or how to do this.”

“Start at the beginning. You talk. I listen.” She smiled and placed an old wrinkled hand on top of mine. “I'm here to listen. Remember, whatever it is, I probably been down the same path some time in my life.” I looked into her soft, warm, brown eyes and knew that what she was saying was true.

“It has to do with something Mr. Fukushima said to me.”

“He's a good man … can't see him say nothin hurt–ful,” she responded. “Least ways, not on purpose.”

I nodded my head slowly in agreement.

“But he said something that upset you. What?”

“Well, you know how the Japanese are, they don't talk directly at something, they kind of talk around it.”

“Like the Tsimshian.”

“Yeah, like the Tsimshian,” I agreed. “At the end of the meal he told everybody he wanted to go for a walk, so he came part way home with me. He talked about family, and the future and things like that.”

“Important things.”

“It's just I think what he was saying was I could always be a friend of the family, but I could never be family, that my future and his children's future are going to be different.”

“He's a wise man. Probably right. Your future will be different than Tadashi.”

“And Midori.”

“And all of his children. Why Midori 'specially?”

“He doesn't want me to marry Midori,” I said look–ing away.

“He said that?”

“Well, not really, he just talked around it.”

“I didn't even know you wanted to marry her.”

“I don't!” I answered forcefully.

“Then you and Mr. Fukushima agree.”

“No, we don't. I don't want to marry her, but he doesn't want me to marry her.”

“Sounds the same to me.”

“No, you don't understand. He doesn't think we can get married because she's Japanese and I'm not.”

“She is Japanese and you're not.”

“But that shouldn't be a reason we can't get married.

If we like each other and we want to get married, then we should be able to.”

“Should be able to,” she agreed.

“Why doesn't he think I'm good enough for his daughter?”

“I didn't hear you saying that he said that. I think he said the two of you are different, and you are.”

“Well, I know, but that doesn't mean we can't get married.”

“Of course, it don't, Jed. Maybe what he was saying was that it wouldn't be wrong, but it would be harder.”

“Harder?”

“Yeah, harder. Not as easy. People on both sides, people from either side, give you trouble. They don't understand and think you're wrong. Kids from the mar–riage come out somewhere in the middle, sometimes feel like they don't belong anywhere.”

I felt my face flush and my tongue suddenly felt thick.

“You know about that, Jed. You know about being in the middle. Does it bother you?”

“No!” I barked, and pushed myself away from the table. The chair legs squealed against the floor and the dishes rattled. I was tired of people always bringing this sort of stuff up. I didn't feel in the middle of anything. I looked at my Naani and she appeared surprised by my response. The anger of my answer had shocked me as well. I sat down again and took a deep breath.

“I'm sorry,” I apologized.

“Nothin to be sorry about. Just remember I'm your Naani, Jed. I was there when you were born, when you were in diapers, when you first went to school. I know you're almost all grown up, fourteen, a man to the Tsimshian, but I still remember that little boy coming home from school crying because them boys called you an injun. I still remember.”

I hadn't thought about that for such a long time.

“I told you not to worry, cause them boys was right. You were half injun. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“I guess not, I mean no … it was just the way they said it was all … just the way they said it.”

“They said it like it was something wrong.”

“Yeah.”

“And that's how you felt today when Tadashi's daddy was talkin to ya.”

I nodded my head.

“He don't mean nothin by it, Jed. He just wants what's best for his kids. Wants to save them from havin to do things the hard way. Don't mean nothin bad about you. Nothin at all.”

She rose from the table and started to clear away the plates. I followed her example, piling dishes on top of each other. I'd gotten pretty good at carrying plates over the past weeks. My plate, still covered with food, rested on the top of the pile. She disappeared into the kitchen carrying her load.

“Stop!” Naani ordered me. “Stand right there.”

I stopped, my hands full of dishes, in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

“Jed, can you see the kitchen?”

“That's a pretty stupid qu …” I started to answer before she cut me off.

“Don't smart mouth an old woman. Can you see the kitchen? Yes or no?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Can you see the living room?”

I turned my head to look over my shoulder to where I'd just come. “Yeah.”

“Are you in the kitchen or the living room?”

I looked down at my feet. One foot rested on the wooden floor of the living room while the second was on the linoleum of the kitchen. “Both. I'm in both.”

“That's a good answer. You're in both. You coulda said neither but you said both. People born between two cultures are like you standing between two rooms.

You belong to both, you see into both and you can understand both.”

I lifted up the foot that rested on the wood and placed in on the linoleum. My Naani watched.

“Simple as that you can walk into one room or the other. You can be part of both.”

“Or,” I said hesitantly, “part of neither.”

“You's a smart boy. Take after your Naani. Or part of neither. Some people in the kitchen think you belong in the living room, and some people in the living room think you belong in the kitchen. They're wrong. You belong anywhere you want. Anywhere!” Her high-pitched voice echoed off the kitchen cupboards. She never yelled and I was startled.

I put the dishes down on the counter.

“When Mom brought home Dad, did you think they should get married?” I asked.

“I wasn't too sure at first. Your Grandfather knew.

No way he thought they should marry.”

“Because my Dad was white?”

“Nah. Your Grandfather was a typical father. He didn't think anybody, white or native, would be good enough for his daughter. I was a typical mother. Just knew it would be harder, and I didn't want my baby to go through anything hard. You got to remember, Jed, and you probably won't know this 'til you're a father with grown children, that your children are always just your babies. Even when they're all grown up, kids of their own, living alone, big important jobs. You still remember them being in diapers, falling down, having to make the tears go away. Your mother is still just my baby.”

“So you didn't think they should get married, either?”

“I didn't say that. I worried, but I knew they loved each other. They fit together good. Real good. Their spirits were right for each other. I knew it should be.

It'll be that way with you too, someday. I'll be able to tell. Just make sure to bring all your girlfriends here to meet me, and I'll let you know the right one.”

I felt myself turning red. Somehow I just knew she was right.

“'Sides, we're Tsimshian and Tsimshian always marry out of their clan. Eagles marry Ravens and Ravens marry Eagles. As soon as the marriage takes place the husband becomes part of the wife's clan. Just the way your grandfather left the Raven clan of the Haida to marry a Tsimshian Eagle. And with your father being a pilot and named Blackburn, I figured for sure he was a Raven. So an English Raven married your mother who's a Tsimshian Eagle. Now your father is Tsimshian.”

“I don't think my father would see it that way.”

“Don't matter how he sees it. Facts is facts.”

“Did Grandfather see it the same way? Did he accept my father as being part of the family? I know they were always arguing about things.”

“Your Grandfather would argue with a tree if it would answer him back. That was just the way he was. It didn't mean nothing. He came to respect and even love your father. He watched the way your father always treated your mother and you. Your father may think that he's English, but I know he's Tsimshian. He just has to lose that funny accent.” She turned away from the dishes in the sink with a smile on her face. “Now, go out, call on Tadashi and leave me to do the dishes in peace.”

I hesitated.

“Well, what is it?” she asked.

“I'm feeling hungry all of a sudden. Do you think I could get something to eat?”

She took her hands out of the sink and flicked a fine spray of water and soap in my direction. “Get out of here,” she playfully yelled, chasing me out of the kitchen. “But don't go too far. I'll call you back for a snack after I'm finished washing up.”

.10.

“Mom, I'll be back in a while,” I said, slipping on my jacket. “I have to feed Eddy.”

She turned away from the stove and looked at me.

“Feed him what? You didn't take any food.”

“I've got a rabbit.”

“Where did you get a rabbit?”

“Shot it on the way over here. I left it outside.”

“Why did you do a fool thing like that? Bring it in and I'll make the major his favorite stew.”

“Can't do that. Rabbit is Eddy's favorite too.”

“Yeah, but last I checked, that eagle wasn't paying you to hunt. Bring it in here and I'll be able to pay you for it.

Give him some meat scraps instead,” she suggested.

“Meat scraps aren't as good as a rabbit.”

“Why not? What difference does it make to the bird?”

“A lot. It's important to give him fresh kills … things he'd usually eat. If I feed him table scraps, he'll turn into a house pet and he'll never be able to fend for himself,” I explained.

“Silliest idea I ever heard in my life. Who told you such a thing?”

I smiled knowingly.

“Naani. It was Naani who told you, wasn't it?”

I nodded.

“I don't know anybody who knows more about eagles than your Naani,” my mother admitted. “Quit standing around jawing and go and give your eagle its rabbit, and do it quick before the major finds out about it.”

I went out through the back door. My game bag, its flap closed, was just off to the side where I'd placed it. I picked it up and slung it on my shoulder. I looked all around. There were a few men milling around, but Major Brown was nowhere to be seen. I made a beeline straight for Eddy.

I was about halfway across the parade ground when I skidded to a stop. Up ahead, sitting on Eddy's perch was Naani. Eddy was sitting only a few feet away on the top of his little house. I rushed over.

“Naani, what are you doing here?”

“Sssshhhhh!” she hissed loudly at me. “Don't you got no manners? Don't go rushin in and interrupting us like that.”

“What do you mean, interrupting us? You shouldn't be sitting that close …”

“Ssshhh!” she hissed again, turning around to glare at me. “Either sit down and be quiet or go away, ya hear?”

“But …”

The glare in her eyes sharpened and I closed my mouth. I sat down on a stump just beyond reach of Eddy's tether.

“Now where was I?” she said. “Oh, yeah. So Stoneribs he so happy to be given a killer whale skin that he puts it on and swims out into the ocean. He swims far, very far. He's enjoyin being out there swimming around … enjoyin his new clothes … enjoyin being a blackfish. He's jumping and bobbing and diving and having his–self a great time. And the morning turns to day and the day turns to night and he keeps on swimming and splashing. But Stoneribs isn't noticing nothin but the water and the fish and the seals. He don't notice it's now dark and fog has rolled in. He stands right up on his tail and pushes his head out of the water as high as he can, but he can't see nothin. He can't see the shore. Stoneribs feels all tired. Don't feel like he can swim anymore. Don't know if he can even hold hisself up.” She stopped and turned to face me. “And don't you go and tell me that a whale can't get tired.”