GRIT (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 2) (27 page)

…Several days later

D
espite Paw’s declarations,
Zenith was not moving into her damn ‘longhouse.’ Rather, they’d searched online after a night of mind-bending lovemaking and breakfast in bed, her laptop wobbling between the two of them. He’d stayed at her place for a few nights, to give a semi-nod in the direction of tradition, and she found it comforting, nevertheless. There was something about going to sleep with the man and waking up next to him each morning. The way he smelled, the way he looked when he woke up, his long limbs rolling and moving sluggishly under the sheets like some bronze God trapped in the Queen’s gown. His black hair spread out all over the stark white pillowcases and his wedding band gleamed against his flesh. Sometimes, after they’d ravished one another, she’d simply stare at him and think…

“This man is my husband. We really did this. We got married…”

And it felt good.

They began to plan the ceremony for a larger wedding, one paying attention to all the details that she and Zenith believed were important. In the interim, there was still important business to attend to, so they bookmarked the properties of interest, and by that afternoon, they’d chosen a nice little plot of land to build a new house upon. In the short-term, they’d take turns between each other’s houses, making the most of the situation at hand.

Besides, they only lived twenty-five minutes away from one another, and with Paw recently coming home and hospice taking place, it was best that things stayed fairly stable and predictable, at least for now. As she packed some of her items that she no longer needed, in preparation for placing her home up for sale, she ran into some more of David’s items that caused her pause. These included a neatly rolled t-shirt, a black, dusty Yankees snapback, and an old pair of his car keys. The grief group meetings, however, had done a great deal of good, and though she’d stopped attending recently, and her breath hitched a tad at the impromptu discovery, she was able to move through it, process it, and carry on. She placed the items in a small box and made a mental note to drop them off at his mother’s.

Death seemed to be entering her and Zenith’s life, once again. They’d managed to hurdle the ghosts from the past together, working as a team to give one another the room and tools to heal from the inside out. Paw’s health was definitely getting worse, and it seemed to be happening by the minute, versus by the day, at this point.

Zenith tried to remain strong, and she could see the effort took all of his power. Paw was in terrible physical pain at various intervals, it was more than obvious. This broke her damn heart. He was now being given higher doses of morphine, and had become more and more incoherent as the days progressed. One day before Zenith headed out the door, he told her Paw was disappearing, like a waning moon. She didn’t dare press him too much, but she refused to allow him to alienate himself, either. No, they’d learned new skills to handle such things, and they were going to use them to the fullest. Fact of the matter was, something awful was transpiring, but they could get through it.
Together.

…Seven days later…

Paw’s room was
dipped in electric blue light from the machines. Denise and another nurse appointed from the hospital lounged about in the living room per his request as a nightlight and several monitors babysat the old man. The new nurse, Tina, had what appeared to be similar to an archaic beeper on her hip, only it would light up and vibrate if Paw’s heart rate slowed. Denise had also refused to leave the house, wanting to be there during Paw’s last days. Zenith was grateful to have the help. Besides, now, she wasn’t just a hired nurse; she’d become a friend of the family. Zenith wanted some time alone with the man, so he encouraged them to eat and drink, watch a bit of television, take a break. When he entered the room, he flicked on the overhead light, but Paw waved his hand to stop him. He wanted the room dark; he demanded it.

The darkness had swallowed life, and regurgitated death; it almost smelled like it already. The naked eye only saw that damn light, bathing the old soul in a strange, azure glow. Drum instrumentals played from an ancient CD player on low volume. Paw originally had the music on cassette, but Javier managed to dig up the CD version for him, and now here it was, serenading him in the dullness of existence. It was a mixture of Native and African beats, hauntingly beautiful.

This was his second evening at home, and Zenith’s second night, too. He’d stay up with him, fall asleep on the floor in a sleeping bag, and wake up in a state of semi-panic… as if coming out of a nightmare.

During suppertime, his wife would come by. Silver would bring things, trinkets he may like, his favorite juices and teas. Uncle Len had stopped by once, only seeming interested in a house tour and to know of Paw’s final wishes. Zenith looked at his uncle several times, feeling what a murderer must feel right before they decide that yes, death to that person is a fantastic idea… It disturbed him on a deep level how interested he’d become in wrapping his hands around Uncle Len’s throat, and snuffing him out like a blown candle. This reminded him of the words Mawmaw had said when he’d come in from one of his many fights at school, all scraped up and bruised…

“There’s not much difference between beast and man…only pants.”

He’d thought that comment funny at the time, but now, he recognized it as nothing but 100% truth.

Truth…

Yes, the blue light showed the truth as it ran its ghostly fingers up and down Paw’s wrinkled, stretched face. The old man’s eyes kept dancing under the thin lids, and Zenith prayed that he was somewhere peaceful, a parallel universe. He pulled up a fold-out chair and parked beside him, his hand moving up and down the quilt that covered the man. He could feel, through the thing, how much weight he’d lost in a short period of time, to the point he seemed a different person physically now, too. Zenith observed the man’s hands, now folded over his chest, his fingernails neatly trimmed. Denise always did such a fine job.

A certain odor of sweetness came off of Paw’s skin, too. He’d bathed him that morning. Paw was fighting everyone else too much, threatening to slip and fall, so, since he was home, he’d decided to care for the man in that way. He’d undressed him, picked him up in his arms, and carried him like a baby into the bathroom, in the pre-drawn tub. He’d placed two water lily plants on the side that Silver gave him, making it pretty. A stick of incense burned on top of the sink vanity and music played… the drums.

But these drums weren’t loud and crashing. No, they were soft, kind, a brush used to tickle and seduce the rack toms. In other songs, there would be simple pats from the base of a human palm, gently going along the animal skin upholstered instruments. Zenith saw himself and Paw as walking instruments, both playing one long life song, and Paw was okay with the fact that this was his last ballad. Perhaps Paw had meant this, too, when he talked about the four seasons…

Zenith’s mind drifted back and forth, in and out, zigzagging to the present, the past, and even the future. After bathing him he’d brought him back here, where he’d sat ever since. Would he leave Paw’s room as-is for a while? Would Paw see his own funeral? He simply didn’t know, but these were questions that helped occupy his brain, kept him away from the cliff of collapse. He continued to apply soothing caresses to the old man until his eyes flickered, and then, flashed open. His lips parted as he pointed towards the ceiling, and then, he shot up, sat straight in bed.

“Everything okay in there?” the nurse called out as he could hear her making her way down the hall.

“Yes!” Zenith replied. “He just woke up is all… seems a little excited. It’s alright.”

“Okay then…” The footsteps paused, then retreated.

“Degan, it was nice!” The man smiled wide and placed his hand on Zenith’s shoulder. “Degan, I saw the river. I was a little boy living by the Mohawk River, remember?”

“Yes, I remember…”

“My father took me and my five brothers and two sisters fishing by the water. I was the youngest, the baby.” Zenith let him relive the moment. “So, he didn’t trust me to catch a fish… but I got the biggest one!” Paw laughed loud. And then, he suddenly became somber… quiet. Paw leaned back in the bed, his back hitting the pillow. He remained that way for several minutes, barely blinking—his eyes wide, and he appeared to be thinking… thinking… thinking.

“Turtle shell rattle…” Paw muttered.

Zenith got to his feet and walked to his drum room. There, he opened a drawer to find Paw’s turtle shell rattle. He picked it up, but then noticed a cow horn rattle, too. He grabbed that as well. Last but not least was the water drum… Paw’s water drum, the one he’d played the first time he’d seen his Osha…

Zenith returned with all of the items cradled in his arms. He placed them down on the floor, and handed him the turtle shell rattle. Paw accepted it and held it tight, while Zenith watched him. His face stern, Paw began to shake the thing. No matter how unsteady he was, the music from the rattle was clean and right… and pure. The old man worked it, looking straight ahead, as if giving a very important performance.

“I played lacrosse and stickball as a boy… I swam and fished in the river and creeks as a young man… I played drums, I was the best. I married my bride, Osha. We had two children…two sons, Len and Degan. I knew them before I’d ever seen them.” The rattle kept on turning, moving, telling a story with Paw.

Paw’s words came out like a song, lyrical and strong. The man was singing. Zenith retook his seat, grabbed the drum, and began to beat upon it lightly, following Paw’s lead.

“My sons were Cain and Abel… Such animosity, such hatred. Len was the eldest, but jealous of Degan… He believed I loved Degan more than I loved him. That was untrue. Len was unreasonable. Len was hardheaded. Len was unruly. My sons were night and day, sun and moon. One son was born in the winter; the other in the summer. Len’s children were both born in the spring. I love my grandsons… But they moved away with the mother. Len became even more bitter, especially after Degan announced you were coming into the world… You were born in the autumn. Len cursed Degan. Len said he hoped Degan would die. Len was sick. It was the first time I struck my son. I struck him to the ground…”

The drums and the rattle grew louder and louder…

Slowly, the bedroom door opened and Denise appeared in the shadows. Zenith quickly put his finger up to his mouth, then handed her the last instrument on the floor, the cow rattle. “Just follow my beat,” he whispered. She took the instrument, nodded, and began to lightly shake it in rhythm with them.

Paw didn’t seem to notice her; he was in his own land.

“The ground… it hurt me more than it hurt him. He hated me after that. He never said it, but he did. When Degan grew ill, Osha knew it was because of the curse his big brother had placed on him. The curse brought pain to the family. I saw it differently. I think Degan, my son, cursed himself… He cursed his wife. He cursed his child. The child paid the heaviest price for the curse, for in death, one lives again.