Fire Song Page 5

  *

  Shane looks over at the glossy sliver of David’s profile. Even though there’s no one around to see, he’s got his shoulders pulled back and head held high, carrying himself proud and strong, like a goddamn prince in the starlight. Shane wonders if that posture comes from having a sense of responsibility and purpose in the world, or if it’s something he was just born with. It seems at odds with his fear of being public with Shane, but if the thing that’s making him strong is his connection to the teachings and the cultural people, and that’s what he stands to lose, it makes sense. Everyone is afraid of something. Shane used to be afraid. Now he’s just tired.

  David turns to Shane with a frown. “Don’t say that shit to me again. Our culture isn’t a fairy tale.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Yes, you did.” David isn’t looking at him.

  He’s right. Some days Shane has a hard time separating elders talking about their spirits and medicine from Christians talking about drinking the blood of Christ and praying to the holy ghost. But then he steps into the sun and feels the buzz of something in the ground and the air, a kind of hum that’s in his body and in the mud and the water, a whisper of knowing that his spirit is home. It’s in the kiss of the waves on his thighs in summer, the thundering of wings overhead in a storm. The elders may not be right about everything, but there is something in this place that can’t be explained with language. Words fail every time.

  The boys arrive at their secret spot, a place on the point where a cluster of trees and underbrush block them from being seen by anyone onshore or around the powwow grounds. Based on how things are going, Shane isn’t sure how long David will want to stay. It’s been a week since they were alone together. It feels like every cell in his body is singing out for David to touch him. Shane reaches out for David’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

  David doesn’t pull away this time. Shane lifts David’s arm and drapes it around his shoulders, positioning him so they stand in a loose embrace.

  “I didn’t hug you.”

  “Yeah, but you wanted to.” Shane closes his eyes, savoring the warmth and weight of him. David doesn’t pull away, but doesn’t give in either. Shane presses his lips against David’s mouth and holds there, breathing him in. The anger in David’s lips melts away. Shane runs his hand under David’s shirt. The skin of his torso is smooth like sun-warmed sandstone. David presses against him harder. Shane fingers one of David’s rubbery blueberry nipples. David jumps back like he’s been smacked and pulls down his shirt.

  “We can’t. Someone might see.”

  “There’s barely enough light for me to see you, let alone someone across the lake.”

  “Still. At least at your place we could lock the door.”

  Shane sighs. He knows better than to push it. If it was up to him, they would have just said fuck it and come out months ago. He’ll be gone soon anyway. Mind over matter: those that matter don’t mind and those that mind don’t matter.

  David’s arms are wrapped tightly around himself. “You cold?” Shane asks.

  David shrugs. “Maybe we should go.”

  “Let me start a fire.” Shane sets to work finding dead branches and driftwood in the dark. He can’t tell how much his eyes can actually see and how much it’s instinct that guides him to the solid-seeming areas of darkness to find what he’s looking for. Shane tosses each piece he finds into a pile near David’s feet.

  “This is boring,” David says.

  “You could help.”

  David resists for a moment, then picks up a rock and places it beside another on the ground. Shane watches him dip in and out of the moonlight, gathering stones and setting them in a circle to form a fire pit. Shane sorts through a pile of debris and pulls out the smallest sticks and leaves. He crouches down on his knees beside the rocks and presses the small dry bits into a loose ball. He can feel David’s eyes on his back. Am I doing it wrong? Shane hates it when he feels like a bad Indian.

  “You doing it log-cabin or tipi style?”

  “Guess.” Shane surrounds the pile with sticks, resting the top ends against one another.

  David passes him a lighter and drags a log up from the shoreline for something to sit on. Shane touches the flame to the dry summer leaves. It smolders there like it’s trying to decide what to do and then catches with a flare that trickles through the sticks like water between his fingers. Watching the fire grow, Shane feels the presence of his ancestors like an echo behind him. Generations that crouched near the flames and warmed their palms, one after the other for tens of thousands of years. He wonders if white people ever feel something like that or if it’s just Indians who feel their past and present breathing into each other.

  “That was fun, hanging out with you and everyone else,” Shane says. “That never happens.”

  “Was it?” David asks.

  Shane shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess. I was just saying.” Shane watches the flames travel from the small sticks to the larger pieces of driftwood.

  David speaks without looking at him. “The cops should shut Debbie’s place down. She shouldn’t be selling that stuff to kids. Everybody knows she does it too.”

  “That’s never gonna happen.”

  A twig snaps, sending red sparks scattering into the sky. Shane shivers a little. Summer nights should be warmer than this. His mom used to get after him about wearing more layers when he went out, but he never listened.

  “I was surprised you invited me out,” David says quietly. “I saw you with those guys and I thought you would walk past like you didn’t know me.”

  “Do you wish I had?” Shane looks up. David’s mouth twitches like he’s holding back a smile. That’s good enough for Shane. “You slammed that 40 pretty good,” Shane says. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Yeah, that was dumb. I feel like shit.”

  Shane looks at David’s face in the firelight and smiles, a little goofy.

  David blinks at him. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Shane wonders if this might be the right time to give him the guidebook. He’s been carrying it around since before Destiny died, waiting for the right moment, but he always comes up with some excuse, some reason he should wait a little while longer. Shane rummages around in his backpack and pulls the book out. It’s a tourist guide to the city of Toronto.

  “I, uh … I’ve been carrying this around for a while. I keep forgetting to give it to you.” Shane passes it to David. David takes the book and opens it up to the glossy section of photos in the middle. One of the first pictures is a shirtless muscly guy with a water gun in his hands, surrounded by drag queens.

  David quickly flips the page.

  “Yeah, that’s … there’s other stuff too,” Shane says. “There’s a Native center where they do language classes and hold ceremonies, and there’s a gay street with bars and bookstores and …” Shane can’t believe he’s about to say this. “I was thinking you could come with me.”

  David snaps the book shut and fixes his eyes on the flames.

  “What do you think?” Shane asks.

  “I don’t get why you even want to go there.”

  “School. I want to learn how people put cities together. We can barely get a road paved or make sure we’ve got clean water year-round. It doesn’t have to be like that. I’m sick of people complaining that shit isn’t getting done. I want to be the one who learns how to fix this place and does it.”

  “You could go to a college nearby though.”

  Shane shakes his head. “Nah. Not even. Why would I go to some hick school in the middle of nowhere when I can go to the best school in the country?”

  “They probably use the same books.” David shrugs. “I just don’t think that’s the real reason you want to leave.”

  Shane pokes the fire. “I know how things’ll go if I s
tay here. It’s bullshit. What am I supposed to even do with my life here?” Shane glances at David. He’s impossible to read. “I just wanna go where I can be with you and we can just do whatever we want. Be anything we want. You know?”

  “I already know what I want to be. I don’t need to go anywhere.”

  “Think people here are going to let you be who you want to be?”

  David avoids Shane’s eyes. “My nookomis and the elders have been teaching me a lot of things …”

  “So?”

  “They say I can do something good here. They say I can make changes.”

  Shane leans back. “People tell me that all the time. They literally say that to everybody.”

  “Maybe it’s true.”

  Shane snickers and shakes his head. “If you believe that … I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “Well, if the best you can do is run away … I feel sorry for you.” David looks down into the fire. A breeze pushes the smoke to the other side of the point.

  He steals a look at David out of the corner of his eye. “You’re so fucking stupid sometimes.”

  David’s head snaps up. “Don’t call me stupid. It’s not stupid to want to stay here.”

  The fire snaps. Tiny embers tumble out around their feet. Shane nudges them back with the toe of his shoe. “So what if I want a chance to see what’s out there, use my brain, maybe feel what it’s like to introduce you to people as my boyfriend? Don’t you ever wanna get out of here?”

  David frowns. “Not really.”

  “So once I leave the rez, you’re never gonna have sex. Never be with anyone again?”

  David speaks softly. “I don’t know. Why can’t it just be between us? It has nothing to do with anyone else.”

  Shane isn’t buying it. “And what about when all those traditional people find out you like dick? You think they’re gonna let some fag teach them the culture? Good luck with that one.” Shane is being mean, but his pride won’t let him backtrack. Better to keep pushing until something breaks.

  David slowly gets up and walks from the fire.

  “What are you doing?” Shane asks.

  “If you want a punching bag, go find your girlfriend.” David hitches his bag over one shoulder and sets off in the darkness, heading toward the road. The moonlight leaches the color from David’s skin as he moves farther away from the rusty firelight. Shane’s eyes strain to pick his shape from the shadows, believing that as long as he can see him, there is a possibility that he might come back. By the time David reaches the base of the point, his body has faded into a lone gray smudge moving between the branches. Shane tells himself to call out after him, to explain that he understands; he wants to make things better too.

  But it’s harder than just wanting to make a difference. You have to have something to contribute. And right now it’s all Shane can do to keep his own head above water while he takes care of his mom and tries to keep Tara and David happy. He loves both of them, but it isn’t the same. He gets a cramp in his guts when he imagines breaking up with Tara. He pictures them doing things like going camping or playing with their dog or cooking at an apartment in the city. He can imagine that stuff with David too, but every time he thinks of him, those everyday thoughts are overshadowed by memories of their skin pressed together, the taste of sweat, and the feeling that they are more than right for each other—they are already part of each other. The first time they tried to fool around after Destiny died, they had to stop because they were crying too much. It felt gross and somehow weak to be tearing off their clothes when all they could think of was the ragged hole in their lives where Destiny used to be. They held each other for hours, not fooling around but not willing to go anywhere where their bodies couldn’t touch.

  Shane squints hard, willing the night to roll away like mist so he can see David again, even for a moment. Shane promises himself that he will count to five and then go after him.

  One … two … three … four … five …

  Nope.

  Shane closes his eyes. He pictures himself walking to the trees, where David would be waiting for him. Shane would apologize for all the things he said. David would forgive him without question.

  I love you, Shane would say. Neither of them has said it yet, but he is pretty sure both of them feel the same way. It seems like one of those things where, once you say it, you can’t take it back again. Like saying those words will create new life. Life with tissues and ligaments and a beating heart that wasn’t there before. It’s too real, maybe. So they end up in a game of chicken, with each of them hoping the other will say it first.

  The fire at his feet has gone to ash, but there’s heat in it still. Shane’s phone buzzes. Shane unlocks the screen, hoping David sent some cute message to make him feel okay again. It’s Tara: Where R U? Shane shoves his phone in his pocket without answering. The light glows like a firefly in his pocket.

  chapter eight

  Gravel crackles under the soles of Shane’s shoes. Cold TV light pulses behind the curtains of the houses along the road. His phone buzzes with another message from Tara: Come to my place. Dad’s being gross again.

  Shane texts back: It’s late.

  Tara: You know what he’s like. I shouldn’t have to ask.

  That hits Shane hard. She isn’t wrong. They never talk about it, but he knows.

  When Shane was over last week, Tara grabbed a beer out of the fridge for her dad, Glen. She bent over to reach inside, and Glen asked, What you been eating to get that big ass? You got a booty like a black girl. Tara stood up and pulled her T-shirt down. Glen let out a ragged laugh and winked at Shane. I bet you like that, eh? Shane couldn’t imagine a response that wouldn’t make Tara mad, or seem weirdly sexual in front of Glen. It was one of those panicky moments when Shane’s mind spun out of control trying to figure out if it felt messed up because he wasn’t like other teenage guys, or if it would just be messed up no matter who or what he was. Tara walked back to the living room and handed her dad the beer.

  I always liked a flat bannock-butt better, Glen said. But I guess if I was your age I’d wanna hit that too. Shane responded with a half laugh and silence, hoping Glen would let it drop. There wasn’t much else to do.

  Glen will never get into any serious trouble for talking nasty to Tara, no matter how much it makes Shane feel like bashing Glen’s head in. Talk is talk. But Shane has seen how scared Tara gets sometimes. He’s seen the chair she tucks under her bedroom door to keep Glen and his friends out during the night. So Shane tried to have Tara over to his place as much as possible. His mom would never let her stay over because she said she’s “not ready to be a grandma yet.” And Shane goes over there when he can, but it’s never enough. He knows Tara needs him, but he sometimes wonders if she uses her dad’s behavior to trick Shane into spending more time with her. But even if that’s true, does it matter?

  Tara’s chipped blue trailer is crouched low in the patchy grass, like a big cat ready to pounce. Faint light peeks between her curtains. As he gets closer, Shane feels the throb of Glen’s subwoofer, cranked to max in the living room. There’s no way he’s going to risk a run-in with Tara’s dad at this time of night, so Shane drags a plastic bucket from the yard up to Tara’s window and climbs on top. Through the curtain, Shane can see that Tara’s face is puffy from crying. A collection of her old stuffed animals is piled on the dresser and all the notes that Shane has passed her in class are taped to the walls. Shane knocks on the glass lightly. Tara’s eyes dart to the window, panicked for a split second before she realizes it must be Shane.

  Tara cautiously slides the window open. “It’s about time.”

  “Come on, help me in.” Shane reaches his hand out, and Tara uses her bodyweight to try to pull him in through the window. “Ow! Jesus Christ—I didn’t say tear my arm off!”

  Tara laughs and puts her finger up to her lips. “Shh
!”

  “Okay, just hold me steady. Don’t pull.” Tara hangs on, and Shane drags himself through the window awkwardly, kicking his legs out to shimmy inside. Shane falls to the floor with a heavy thud.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  Shane pulls himself up so that he’s sitting on the floor. Tara eyes him carefully as though she’s not sure if she wants to know where he has been all night.

  “Aren’t you gonna kiss me?” she asks.

  Shane’s eyebrows jump up. “Oh yeah.” He leans in and kisses Tara beside her mouth.

  “So where were you?” she asks.

  “You ran away,” Shane reminds her.

  “I was calling for you.”

  “I didn’t hear anything.” Shane pulls himself up high enough to flop into bed beside her. Tara reaches out and strokes his forehead. Shane’s eyes close automatically. What they have feels old, like people who have been together so long that the touch of the other is like family. Love without fire.

  “Tired?” Tara asks.

  Shane slides down on the bed and curls into her.

  She tries again. “Did you hear me earlier when I said I was coming to Toronto with you?”

  Shane keeps his eyes closed. Is it believable that he might have fallen asleep this fast?

  “Shane?” Tara shakes his shoulder gently.

  She’s not going to let this one go. He buys more time by pulling Tara into a long kiss. When in doubt, make out. God, how is it that she always tastes like strawberry candy? Shane runs his hand down her brushed-cotton panties. The fine muscles in her legs wave under his fingers like a school of minnows. In a single move, Tara pulls off her shirt. He can never get used to seeing her without her top on. It feels creepy and private, like watching someone pick their nose.