Moccasin Square Gardens Read online

  So Baby arrived at the house, Steve told me, and holy man he looked good. Baby was trim. He had two new earrings in. Gold. He had a leather jacket. You could hear it scrunch with every move, Steve said. It sounded like a big iguana was in the house every time Baby flexed. New boots even! I saw his new truck in the driveway, and it looked good.

  Karen had put up a WELCOME HOME! WE MISSED YOU! sign, I guess. Steve spent all night blowing up balloons. Gave himself asthma, almost blew a lung. He made a feast that night, and I guess everyone was there: Baby’s grandpa was there, cousins were there, nieces were there, buddies were there, and, man, Baby looked good! You could smell his leather jacket fresh from The Leather Ranch in West Edmonton Mall, Steve said. A city haircut and a new little belt buckle, and Baby told everybody he was really good. He was getting B-pluses and A-minuses and the instructors were looking out for him. He’d met a beautiful Cree woman. But Steve had a feeling, he told me, that there was gonna be a showdown.

  Steve did the dishes. He stayed in the kitchen, made fresh bannock, kept the coffee going, you know. Finally, at the end of the night, everyone cleared out. They were patting Steve on the back. “Man, that was good cookin’. Mahsi cho!” Even Baby’s grandfather was smiling after going back for thirds.

  Steve was still wondering what was going to happen, though. When Karen went to have a shower, Baby says to him, “Steve, can I talk to you out in the backyard?”

  “Sure,” Steve told him. “Give me two minutes here. Just finishing up these dishes.”

  After Baby went outside, Steve told me, he put on a short jacket so Baby couldn’t grab it, in case they got into a fight. He tucked his braids in so Baby couldn’t choke him out with them. He got his big hiking boots on so he could have traction in the snow. No gloves. He kept it bare knuckles, ’cause he knew things were gonna get bloody, eh?

  So Steve and Baby were out in the back, just circling each other with the northern lights snapping above them.

  “Well, how are things?” Steve asked Baby.

  “Things are good,” Baby says.

  “Oh, yeah? How are you liking the city?”

  “Oh, I love it,” Baby said to Steve. “I seen AC/DC, GNR. It was good. Saw Platinum Blonde at the River Cree.”

  “Oh yeah?” Steve said. “So, what do you wanna talk about?”

  And then I guess Baby said, “Uh, well, there’s a couple things. Number one I just, it’s hard for me to say, but I want to say thank you.”

  Steve was stunned, he told me. “You want to thank me for what?”

  So Baby said, “It’s terrifying when you don’t know what you want to do. Like my friends, we graduated from high school, and then one wants to be a doctor, one wants to be a nurse, one’s gonna be an engineer, one’s getting into the military, another’s gonna be a dad. Everybody had all these plans except me.”

  “Go on,” Steve said to him. He was still keeping his distance from Baby, he told me, just in case.

  “Well,” Baby said, “when I went down to the city, nobody knew me. Nobody looked me in the eye when I walked down the street. I was lonely. And I was scared. I mostly just stayed home and frickin’ studied, because I wanted to know what people were talking about in class. And I started going for tutoring, checking in with the Elders and the counsellors. They got Elders in Residence, even. You know, I started learning some things about myself. I’m not proud of it, man. I’m twenty-eight. I’m not getting any younger. I feel like I’m catching up to the world. Plus I dropped thirty pounds.”

  I guess Steve just nodded, and Baby kept going.

  “And I found somebody special,” Baby said. “She’s making me moccasins right now. Can you believe that? Hey! I need your recipe for moose dry meat. I want to make some for her before I go back.”

  “Oh. No problem,” Steve said. “It’s Back Eddy’s and liquid smoke. You use an ulu to cut the meat really thin. I’ll show you how to do it.”

  “Okay,” Baby says to Steve. “So that’s part one.”

  And here they started circling each other again in the backyard, eh? Steve was worried, and he said to Baby, “What’s part two?”

  “Well,” Baby said, “when I was down there in the city I took boxing.”

  This is it! Steve thought. “Oh you did, did you?” he said to Baby.

  “Yeah. I’m good. You know, in about two years from now, I’ll have my Golden Gloves status. These fists are gonna be registered as lethal weapons.”

  Steve smiled to keep things friendly, he told me. “Oh yeah? Good for you.”

  “Yeah,” Baby said. “I came back here with a plan.”

  Steve’s mouth started to water, he told me, at the prospect of a full-on fisticuff session. “What’s your plan?” he said to Baby.

  “I came here to knock you right out,” Baby said.

  So Steve said to him, “Well, let’s talk about this before you stretch me out.”

  Baby looked like he was almost crying, Steve said. I guess Baby told Steve, “Nobody ever stood over me before and gave me five minutes to leave what I was trusting as a safe home for me and my mom. My grandpa is a good man, but he’s tough and he’s hard, you know. I wasn’t used to working like that. And the whole time I was down there in the city, I was scared. ’Cause nobody knows you, nobody’s looking out for you, nobody has time for each other down there. So, anyways, I came here to knock you out. I want to punch you right in the nose.”

  And I guess Steve said to him, “All right,” he says, “let’s make a deal.”

  And Baby goes, “What?”

  “I could lose my job if I get an assault charge, you know?” Steve said to him. “So no matter what happens, you gotta give me your word you won’t call the cops after.”

  He told me that Baby, his chin just started wiggling then.

  “I’ll even let you have the first hit,” Steve told him. “I got a glass jaw. Drive me right there. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  “Ahh,” I guess Baby said, not so confident now.

  So Steve went, “Okay, so that’s the rules: no cops and you get the first hit. But I’m here to tell you,” he told Baby, “bigger men than you have frickin’ dropped faster than they can frickin’ blink. So let’s go. You better make it good, Junior.”

  And then I guess Baby dropped his hands. “Or we could just hug,” he said to Steve.

  And Steve went, “Well, you decide. I could definitely get into a fight tonight. I wouldn’t mind punching the back of your head through the front of your face. What do you say? Let’s chuck some knuckles!”

  “No,” I guess Baby said. “We’re good. We’re gonna hug. Hugging’s good. A hug and we’re good, okay? Here I go. I’m going to let you hug me.”

  So Baby held his arms out, Steve told me, and Steve couldn’t resist. He hugged him just hard, boy, as if he were his own son.

  Just then Karen came out to see what was happening and she discovered them just holding each other up, boy.

  “Ah!” She smiled and walked out to join them. “There’s my men.”

  And that was the moment, Steve told me, that they became a family.

  I Am Filled with a Trembling Light

  Hey. Mahsi cho. Yes and no: maybe I threw that rock through the Northern Store window. Or maybe I was just going inside to see if I could help you RCMP guys catch the guy who did it. Maybe …

  I am grateful for this coffee, I’ll tell you that much. Mahsi.

  The reason I wanted you to tape this is I have a story the world needs to know. If they put the tube in tomorrow, well, this is my chance to have something written down forever in our name, amen. [Laughter]

  My great-grandmother, she lived to be 105. Are you superstitious? Think about this after we’re done. They say she returned to her camp a long time ago to find her entire family killed by the Chipewyan. This was before the Akaitcho/Edzo Treaty. They say that she
screamed after coming upon the bodies of her husband, her daughters, her sons, her grandchildren. She saw the war party leaving in canoes. They were laughing at her, especially the Head Man. They always left one person behind. That’s what she said. Always one person to experience the horror, spread the fear. She could tell the men in the war party were heading to the next fishing camp. Her sister’s. My great-ehtsi raised her hand and said a prayer before plunging her fist into the sand. She grabbed something from the earth. When she raised her fist into the air again, she pulled out the Head Man’s bloody heart, which was still beating.

  Think about that.

  Old-time power.

  Inkwoh.

  Let me tell you one more:

  Long time ago, the Dogribs, they used to cut off your third finger if you were a thief. I think they should have done that to my dad for his gambling. It would have saved our family. Dad can’t help himself. After a while, nobody would let him at their tables or into the casinos. But Benny’d take him. Benny takes anyone.

  You know Benny’s back, hey? Torchy, Sfen, Finch: they’re all working for him again. How you gonna stop him once he gets going again? You think Benny just got older? No. He got smarter. Learned some more tricks. You know he’s famous for his mean streak, right? Your team and that undercover took him down, hey? How long is every one of you going to last now that he’s out? You bet he’s got your names. Even the Narc’s. Deals have been made.

  The town is already adjusting. Steve “McQueen” fled in the night. His trailer door’s still wide open. Go look. Didn’t your day just get a little easier now Steve’s gone?

  You know that Steve sold four of our youth dope, and now they don’t get out of bed anymore. There’s something wrong with them. You’ll probably try and tell me that you’re building a case against Steve, but this is soul murder. Those boys will never be the same. Their parents don’t work anymore. They tend to their sons all day.

  I seen one of those boys once. He was shuffling in his yard, walking towards the fire that was going. His hair was long. He looked dead. Dead and walking. His uncle was trying to steer him away from the fire, but the boy was determined.

  How the hell long does it take to build a case? Steve’s been selling dope for years.

  I get mad sometimes. It’s like I’m holding the terror of the world in my hands. I can feel it all. Like a beating heart.

  See how delicate that little spider is? I found it. That’s patience right there, what you’re holding. They say in the Cree way, every bead is a prayer. Think of all the beads that went into that. Think of all the prayers.

  Anyways, you probably heard: my dad lost our home in a card game. Benny won it three days after he come back. He also won Dave’s cabin, that new one. Two hundred thousand dollars across the river, and it’s now Benny’s. That was on the second day Benny got back. You know how long Dave worked on that cabin? Years.

  A few days ago, Dad came home and told me to start packing. But with this tumour on my spine, where was I to go? You know I have cancer, right? Dad turned on the TV after that and sat there the whole evening, trying to figure out how he had lost. He’d had the hand, he said. When he woke up that very morning, his left palm was itching. Itching, itching, itching. He even ran it under water. But he was so happy. For us, an itchy palm means luck, hey? His lucky ones, he calls them. His lucky ones were saying that today was the day. He was gonna win big. Pay off his losses, pay off his bills, take everyone out for Chinese. That he lost was impossible. He just sat there and cried.

  Grandma was out, and he knew when she got home he’d get it. Never mind me—I’m dying. But what would happen to her? The belly-button nubs of all of her children and grandchildren are buried under the aunty trees in our yard in medicine bags beaded and sewn by my mom before she died. Where on Earth could Ehtsi go where it wouldn’t kill her to have to walk by our family home every day without being able to speak to those nubs and all our memories?

  So I walked over to Benny’s and knocked. I seen his security camera outside. I waved once and then waited. He always makes me wait. I knocked again. The door opened and it was Torchy. He looked at me, the state of me. Shook his head. Spit past me. Looked back at Benny sitting in his spot at the table. Always in his spot. Sits there for cards, food, meetings, scheming. The TV was on. Benny was mopping up yolk with his toast.

  “And?” Torchy asked me.

  “Benny,” I said. “Please.”

  Torchy shook his head. “Sorry about your dad.”

  I felt my eyes pulse. “Me too.”

  Benny stood slowly, holding his side. White wife beater. Gold chains. Skinnier than when he went in. Faded tattoos: a snake, a woman dancing with a dagger behind her, syllabics—Cree, Inuit. He shimmied around his table. When you play cards, you gotta sit at the table. Everyone has their spot. All these pillows. Fancy. He slowly made his way. I heard laughter in the kitchen. Maybe they were day-drinking.

  “Stay outside,” he said as he watched something on the TV. “I don’t want death in the house.”

  As he came closer, I caught a whiff: the house smelled like fresh bannock and hangover soup. Then I caught a whiff of me: a hot, bloating sweet stench of mange bubbling up through my clothes. I wouldn’t want me in the house either.

  Long time ago, we had a warrior class. They weren’t allowed to mix with other people. They walked alongside the people. They trained all the time. They were giants. Watched from birth. Taken when their voices started to change and taught to protect. You ever think about Torchy, Sfen, Flinch—why they never had women? You ever think about that? Flinch is a giant. Big boy. They say he was still growing at twenty-four. And Crow. The miracles she’s performed. For her to shack up with Benny, well, that says it all. She knows a lot. You ever figure out where Benny came from? I think he has medicine. Maybe from when Snowbird and him fought. Who knows?

  “Sorry about your dad,” Benny said to me. As I mentioned, he’s skinny now. Some men put on weight when they go to the pokey. Benny looks weak, dusty. Someone said he got stabbed on his last day inside. I can believe it.

  I stared at him. “Me too.”

  “You knew this was coming,” he said.

  It was the way he said it that bothered me. A finality to it. A condemnation.

  “Yeah,” I said, just to speak.

  “You have three days to vacate your home,” he said, eying me. “Starting yesterday.”

  I let out my breath. There is nowhere I want to move to. I stood there thinking that. I was going to die in the hospital. I wanted to. “Bring on the morphine,” I said to myself. “When they put that tube in, give me the city drugs.” I was looking forward to floating away.

  “What about my grandma?” I asked him.

  “I told him how many times to walk away,” Benny said. “He didn’t listen. He had his chance.”

  “He never listens.” I shrugged. I thought of my father’s eyes, red-rimmed from crying. Hating himself for being so weak.

  “What can I do to change this?” I asked Benny, looking up at him. “A dying man is asking you. Our house is falling apart. It ain’t going anywhere. How about take it after me and Ehtsi are gone?”

  As he thought about it, a burst of laughter came from the kitchen. He glanced back and smiled before remembering that death was standing on his doorstep. I noticed that scar over his eye. The one Snowbird gave him.

  “Okay, son,” he said. “You’re a good boy. I’ve never had to worry about you. When was the last time you went to the city?”

  I considered it. “Years.”

  He ran his hand along his side. “Feel like catching the 5:00 p.m. flight?”

  How else could I reply?

  “Okay,” I said. “What do I have to do?”

  And that’s how, six hours later, I ended up at the casino in Edmonton standing with a near-blind Cree medicine woman in the parking lot.
/>   Her sons were with her. Crees, I think, and maybe Nakota? The taxi took me right there.

  The sky is so big in Edmonton. I could hear the train far off. I loved the city lights. It was so long since I been to the city. It was stinky. Loud. I should have been hungry, but I don’t eat much now. I have a feeling anything I eat feeds the tumour. Shit, I’m going to die soon. I never even seen the world. But I had to save our home. For Grandma. My ehtsi. She never gives up on anyone.

  Before I left, Benny gave me a thousand dollars cash. Told me to help the old woman. Because I was already gone, he said, I could help. His instructions were simple: “The old woman’s sons have turned Baptist, except one. That one owes me. Big time. If you do this for me in my name, you get your house back. Got it?”

  “Yes, Benny. Mahsi.”

  I’ve always loved that sign he has at his place up high in neon colours: BENNY’S WHOLESALE: BECAUSE IT’S ALL ABOUT COLLATERAL. You ever just sit in the dark and think about that? He’s telling the whole wide world what makes him tick. He’s got that other sign, NOBODY LOVES A DRUNKEN INDIAN, hanging up in his warehouse. He’s a racist who also sees opportunities. He came up here and saw how lost we were and decided to profit off it. Look at the thousands he’s made bootlegging. No drugs. He doesn’t like drugs. Any of his men use drugs, they’re out. I heard he lost a brother to drugs. Maybe it was a son. Or he’s got a brother on the street, maybe. But he’s got a hate-on for drugs.

  They say Crow turned him when the two of them got together. Her sweet whispers, I guess. He turned protector. Sure, his boys run booze. They have to, to make soonyows, but they set this town straight. They do more than all of you. You all rotate out the first chance you get. It’s just about biding your time. But think about what Benny’s boys did to Lester. Didn’t Lester show up here at the cop shop holding his ears in his hands, begging to confess? Didn’t he admit he was using drugs to get young girls?