PEOPLE SAY THAT the burden of grief eases over time.
People are wrong.
A world without my mother or Hawk in it would never be right again.
"It doesn't have to be today, does it?" I posed the question to my father carefully. Though he sat right beside me on the bed in my brother’s old room, he might as well have been a thousand miles away, my guilt the chasm that divided us. Devastated by loss, our close knit family of four had been reduced to a tenuous two.
"It's been over a year. It’s past time, Raven."
But how could I manage it, the daunting task of sorting through a lifetime of his possessions, deciding in only a couple of hours what to give away and what to keep? At least with my mom and her diabetes we had been somewhat prepared, knowing the possibility existed for an early goodbye. But Hawk had been the pinnacle of health. My rock. The one I had clung to when our mother had passed during my senior year in high school. The solid foundation I had once believed would never be shaken.
“Ok, Dad.” I nodded obediently, though the rebellious me that last night’s tequila had roused wanted to argue. “Give me some time. I’ll take care of it.”
"Alright. I’ll leave you to it." He patted my knee and rose slowly from the bed. He had aged decades after Hawk’s death. "Did you bring enough boxes with you?" he asked as he shuffled toward the door.
“I think so.” I glanced at my feet. I had one large one for the things I wanted to take back to my apartment. Several smaller ones awaited those destined for charitable donations.
"Raven.” He sighed heavily. “I know it’s been hard for you, too, with all of these changes.” He paused in the doorway, knocking on the frame softly but melodically. My creative side flickered like a lightbulb about to burn out. At one time I might have been inspired to run for pen and paper to scribble down cathartic notes that captured the moment of melancholy, but no longer. Silence shrouded that part of me. “I’m just glad that you're being more careful and making better choices nowadays."
His departure left me alone in a room as bare as my emotions. No more family photos of Monument Valley vacations or woven Navajo blankets. Those things had already been relocated to the den along with Hawk’s Native American flute collection. I rubbed my hand over my heart where the sting of my father’s parting words lingered. If I had been more careful, if I had made better choices, Hawk might still be alive. Compliments that felt like allegations banded my chest, making it difficult to breathe. A sparkle near the dresser mirror caught my eye. Standing, I moved to investigate. The silver curb chain my brother had worn around his neck rested beside my mother's turquoise wedding ring. I knew Hawk had planned to offer that band to his intended one day. But that day had never come. All because of me. I scooped up both items, my fingers closing tight around the oblong stone framed by scalloped silver. "Mama," I breathed out, returning to the bed, dropping onto it and squeezing my eyes shut. I could have used one of her hugs right now. My father loved me, deep down I knew that, but she had been the affectionate one. She would have sensed my need. She would have drawn me into her arms. "Give me strength,” I prayed. “The strength of our ancestors.” I imagined I could hear the haunting harmonies, the drums and the flutes of her Navajo heritage. The thought comforted me the way she once had. “I can't do this alone. I need help."
Opening my eyes, I unlinked the clasp of the chain, threaded the silver length through my mother’s ring and refastened it along with its newly repurposed pendant around my neck. The invisible band around my chest immediately slackened. Before I could offer thanks for answered prayer, my cell rang. Marsha ringtone. “Don't Stop Believin’” the Glee version. We had chosen that one before high school graduation, in more innocent times. Before my mom had gotten sick. Before the accident that had taken my brother.
"Hey, Mars?" My spirit lightened just knowing she was on the other end of the line. We had been friends since childhood. She was always there for me, her love and exuberance giving hope to me in my darkest times.
"Are you sitting down?"
"At the moment, yes. I've been visiting my dad and finally sorting through Hawk’s things.”
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. I thought you had convinced your dad to give you more time.”
“It’s ok. Putting it off wasn’t going to make it any easier.” And I had the pendant now. Part of Hawk. Part of my mom. The turquoise symbolized happiness, luck and protection to the Navajo. Maybe it would bring me some peace. I settled the phone between my shoulder and my ear and reached for a box, feeling more determined. “But why do I need to be sitting down? That sounds pretty ominous.” Could I have done something even more embarrassing than all the impassioned nonsense I had spouted at the bar? Maybe regret was a six letter word, but it took seven to spell t.e.q.u.i.l.a.
"Well, I kinda put your tirade about Ivan and everything else up on YouTube last night before I went to bed."
“And..." I gulped, though it didn’t exactly surprise me. She posted often and had a pretty impressive following on her YouTube channel that had grown substantially ever since she had uploaded the video of her flashing her tits down in Cancun during spring break. The line remained tellingly quiet as trepidation crawled up my spine. “Spit it out, Mars. Exactly how many people saw it?”
"It has ten million views and twenty thousand comments."
"What?" I screeched. My brows disappeared beneath my bangs. "You're joking, right?"
"No. I totally am not. Apparently a whole lot of women empathize with you."
"Ok, well, I guess I get that, but..."
"You can't back down now. I won't let you. You won't want to either after you see some of the rock guys who are volunteering to sleep with you."
I let that sink in, and as it did my lips lifted into a slow smile. It felt good to be desired after the blow to my confidence Ivan had dealt me. Even if it was only the internet. "But my job.” As an elementary school music teacher, I had signed a code of conduct.
“When word gets back to them I’ll get shit canned."
"Raven, stop. For once in your life stop doing what you think you should and do what you want to do instead."
"Which is?"
"I'm not sure exactly but you seemed to have a pretty good idea last night."
"I was hurt. Angry." I twirled a long lock of my hair around my finger. My father would flip if he had heard me. "What do the comments say?"
"That you're brave. That you should go for it. That it's about damn time."
I squeezed my eyes shut. The video that flashed onto the back of my eyelids was of Ivan with his bare ass and hips pumping while I stood there unable to feel anything but the pain of his betrayal.
Well, I wasn’t going to be helpless any longer.
"We stick with the original plan." So we had some internet interest. Maybe it would wane. But I was committed to my path. Determined to be the opposite of boring. Dedicated to shake up the status quo. To hell with the risk.