The Spirit Bundle: A Story of Relationships Across Time

By Earlene Gleisner

Flyn Devon has always been haunted by voices. Alcohol and prescription drugs promised peace, but the cost was high. When he’s entrusted with an elk-hide bag representing his grandfather's spirit and told to perform an honoring ceremony over it every morning and night for a year, Flyn realizes this might be his chance to understand the voices and learn more about his Lakota roots. The peace he hopes to gain from this knowledge could improve his relationship with Selena, whose dead husband’s spirit won’t leave her alone. He also hopes to understand her strange connection with Amach, a medicine woman living in a different time and space who is trapped by circumstances over which she seems to have no control.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781880357064

Book preview

The Spirit Bundle

eBook First Edition

By Earlene Gleisner, RN/Reiki Master

Published by            White Feather Press POB 957, Willits, CA 95490

All Rights Reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author, Earlene Gleisner through White Feather Press, POB 957, Willits, CA 95490 U.S.A.

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher or author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copy righted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Locations may refer to real towns or geographical areas and may have been altered to accommodate the story. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Reference made to Dependables and Fool Soldiers is from a true story. Reports by the captives differ from the stories shared by descendants of Martin Charger but the intention of the Fool Soldiers remains the same: the belief in the need to take action for peace.

Copyright c 2017 by Earlene F. Gleisner

ISBN: 978-1-880357-06-4

First eBook Edition, August 2017

Printed in the United States of America

Publishers Cataloging in Publication Data Gleisner, Earlene

The Spirit Bundle: a novel / Earlene Gleisner – 1st ed.

Dedication:

Written with respect to all indigenous cultures across our globe who have suffered and continue to suffer under the domination of governments and other cultural groups who believe they know better … 

And to those tribal nations whether they be trees, vertebrates, invertebrates, flowers, granules of sand or soil, droplets of air or cascading water, flames of fire …

May we learn to live in balance together on Mother Earth.

Acknowledgements

Many faces come to my mind when I think of my experiences between the years of 1978 to 2011. Robert Gleisner, my late husband also known as Yuwach, started us on our path to support the efforts of Native Americans across this country as they reclaimed their spiritual practices. We met many men and women of different tribes who offered friendship and inclusion into their ceremonies. Yuwach and I stood as helpers with our hands, our prayers, and our thoughts. In return, we learned about a way of life that is in tune with the rhythms of Mother Earth.

In respect of their trust in us, that we would honor their sacred ceremonies, I am refraining from naming individuals. I am also concealing many of the particulars of these ceremonies. In all cases I have left out details; in some I have included false details. What you will read here are snapshots of healing rituals given in a sacred manner to the Lakota Peoples. The concept and intention of the Spirit Bundle itself is real, as are those for the Wiping of Tears and the Releasing of Spirit ceremonies. The form of Flyn’s Vision Quest Ceremony is from my imagination. My intention has been to offer the concept of these ceremonies in a way that brings appreciation for their purpose. I am in no way an expert of these ways. I am a white woman who has had the opportunity to experience a feeling of connectedness to All That Is. With this consciousness, I have come to understand more about my place in the world. With this perception, I am better able to see the many areas on our Earth where the dominant society is destroying Her for the sake of greed and ownership.

There have been many helpers with the writing of The Spirit Bundle. Naomi Rose, Book Developer/Editor, gave vision to its reorganization. Margaret Fetty was the first to encourage me to continue with the project and Maxine Ashcraft gave me advice, support, and her patience by being willing to read it five times after each extensive change. Other readers who offered comments: Mari Hall, Rosamond Crowder, Hannah Kusterer, Maggie Scott, Carol Hughes, Sara Gleisner, Megan Swenson, and Karen Green. I owe everyone a huge debt for their time, interest, their keen eyes, and all their observations. Much respect and thanks also go to Kim Bancroft, an extraordinary copy editor, Megan K. Swenson who designed this cover, and Neil Richardson who made my words real via digital formatting so the book could be published. Learning to pitch my novel at the Mendocino Coast Writer’s Conference, 2016, gave me the true picture of the intention of this novel. I appreciate the partial scholarship from Friends of MCWC which helped me attend.

I can only hope the words of The Spirit Bundle, as the second book in The Sacred Bundle Series, begin to resonate with enough people so that we may each learn to walk in balance and take responsibility for ourselves and our part in the healing of our planet.

The Spirit Bundle

A Story of Relationships Across Time

By: Earlene Gleisner Contents

Honoring the Spirit Bundle: The First Time

1 - Life Takes a Turn

2 - Teachers and Students

3 - Challenges

4 - The Women’s Cave

5 - Standing in Balance

Honoring the Spirit Bundle: Learning the Way

6 - Inside and Outside: Flyn’s First Day

7 - Arrival and Upheaval

8 - What Grandpa Fred Sees

9 - Crossing Over

10 - At the Wake

11 - At the Cemetery

Honoring the Spirit Bundle: Selena Takes a Turn

12 - Flyn’s Second Day

13 - Storm’s A Brewin’

14 - A Tale and a New Trail

15 - Birthday Lesson

16 - Chasing Spirits

17 - Amach’s Losses

18 - Square Pegs in Round Holes

19 - Selena Sees More Than She Wants

20 - Fire Teaching

21 - Flyn’s Third Day

Honoring the Spirit Bundle: Growing with the Task

22 - Selena Faces Herself

23 - Ecology of Healing

Honoring the Spirit Bundle: Standing in the Center

24 - The Dead Teach the Living

25 - Flyn’s Fourth Day

26 - Traveling Between Worlds

Honoring the Spirit Bundle: A Matter of Faith

27 - Part of the Whole; Part of the Family

Honoring the Spirit Bundle: We Are All Related

28 - Releasing Grandfather’s Spirit

Honoring the Spirit Bundle: The First Time

Early February 2005

Dawn was muted by dark clouds threatening snow. Without the sun, all life seemed parked on the edge of time, between night and day, past and future. Flyn slumped in the passenger seat of his Grandfather Fred’s van, feeling every one of his 56 years weighing on his bones. Caught in this lengthening moment, he swayed as the old Ford shuddered in the wind. From the left, he saw a white plastic bag skitter across rusting cars and the debris scattered over his Aunt Aimee’s muddy yard. Won’t ever believe I’ll belong on any reservation, he thought, then eyed the dust on the pale blue dashboard, or think of this old Ford as mine. Shaking then in the frozen South Dakota morning, he wished he was snuggled with Selena under their blankets in the back.

On his lap, his fingers stroked his grandfather’s elk hide bag with its soft short-haired pelt. "What personal or sacred items are gathered in it to make it a spirit bundle?" He thought, And why do I need to smudge it with sage or sweet grass twice a day for the next year? What good will it do?

The old man’s dead, Flyn said while he struggled to breathe through a shock of pain that tightened his muscles as if they were trying to deny the truth of why he sat in the freezing morning, readying himself to perform his newly- assigned task. His eyes swelled with tears as he fought to keep himself upright.

Fingering the thick hairs of the bundle as it rested on his knees, he felt a tremor crisscross his body. His legs, which were under the bag, tingled with warmth.

His breath slowed. With unsteady hands, he carefully tried to light a small ball of prairie sage but dropped the match. Rubbing the gray leaves into a tighter ball, he scraped another flimsy match against its damp cardboard cover and brought the two together. This time a flame erupted. He let it burn, blew it out. A thin strand of smoke slowly rose from the sage’s fire-reddened edge before surrounding his head and shoulders. A puff of air breathed across the back of his neck, sending a chill down his spine while he passed his grandfather’s spirit bundle through the haze.

Despite his focus, one of Sellie’s saucy tunes came to mind, This is number one … and the fun has just begun, lay me …

He stilled. Ah, Pop Pop, uh … Grandpa, he said to the special collection gathered in the elk bag. I don’t think I’m the best one to do this.

"You’ll do fine, Grandson," a voice whispered.

1

Mid-December 2004

Life Takes a Turn or Two

Flyn strained to hear any sound in their studio apartment while quivering naked in the closet. Something had made him change his direction from the bathroom into the darkness of this space. An internal spasm rose from his belly. He forced his mind to concentrate on any sounds instead of back into his long-time nightmares of other dark places.

There, was that a rattle? A staccato of drumbeats then shot through the air with a shock of energy, and he grabbed for his breath, holding it tight in his lungs. As he slowly released his diaphragm, he heard a faint fall of tiny rocks tumbling over each other. He stood in the doorway and heard his grand-father’s gourds rocking back and forth on the cherry wood dresser he used. Was someone in the room, playing with the rattles? How did they get in? Why couldn’t he see them? When the rocking stopped, he realized, for the first time, the voices that had lived in his head since forever were quiet. A ripple of chills ebbed from his skin.

Stepping into the room, he heard Selena rustle their bed covers and heard her whisper, Flyn? He wanted to call out to her but their room was changing. How can the room get darker? he thought as a pressure surrounded him. He tried to detect the normal sounds of traffic outside their Oakland apartment. Nothing permeated the four walls of their space, but a vibration whispered across the room toward him. A force pressed against his bare chest and swelled over him as if he were a rock at the edge of the ocean and a wave had crashed against his form.

From a great distance, he heard the swishing of a huge pair of wings. The air inside the room pulsated with their slow lift and fall. A cool wind brushed against his face before the room shook under an unknown power landing on the hardwood floor.

Selena rasped in a whisper at the sound, Go away!

Be … still, he said, the tightness of his nerves told in those two clipped words. Every muscle was on alert. His breathing was so shallow that he felt light-headed. As he squinted into an inky mass of nothing, he thought he detected an incremental shift of energy occurring, mimicking the ocean as it gradually alters itself from a high to a low tide over time. The compressed air was thinning. Where once there was only darkness, now shades of gray furniture emerged from the ebony background.

He went to Selena then, pushing his way under the duvet and wrapping her with his arms and bare body. His skin felt cool next to her cocooned warmth.

What just happened? she whispered against his smooth chest.

Not sure, he answered, hugging her closer and wrapping a leg over her waist. His usually deep voice quivered as he rubbed his beardless chin against her forehead. I couldn’t see a damned thing in the dark, and then … it got eerier. The room got darker.

She snuggled closer. Heard the rattles too, but after – the drum beats, yeah, he said, In all my years, Sellie, I’ve never experienced anything like this.

Well, I haven’t either and I’m older than you. Could it be something to do with Pop Pop, I mean your Grandpa?

Flyn smiled slightly at her use of the childhood name he had bestowed over 50 years ago onto his stately Lakota grandfather. He took in a breath and released it slowly, I have no idea. In fact, we may never know. He sighed and stifled a yawn.

Wind and water blasted against the windows on the west wall of their apartment. Yesterday’s winter storm had now returned to its full fury. Flyn settled closer to Sellie and marveled at the warmth their bodies created as he tried to release himself toward sleep.

The penetrating ring of the phone shattered their peace. Flyn reached for the receiver on the table next to his bed and heard his mother’s anxious voice announce that she was at the hospital in Salinas with his grandfather. He hunched forward and held the phone so he and Sellie could hear the news.

Easy Ma, tell me slow, he said.

Annie was sobbing. Oh Flyn, your grandpa kept saying ‘Go’ and grunting. I don’t know how he got out of bed and into the hall.

It’s OK, Ma!

No, it’s not, she cried. I locked the doors because I thought he was confused, but he got angry, Flyn. He kept fisting his good hand at me. He’s never gotten angry at me, never hit me.

Flyn scowled at the stitching in the patterned seam of the paisley duvet that covered his knees. Even stitches made a dent in the down-filled comforter, just like the dent he could feel forming between his eyebrows, the furrow that deepened when he was worried or angry. It often made his head ache.

Her voice made the receiver crackle with static. He collapsed on the floor. I had to call 9-1-1. She sounded like she thought she had failed her father in some way.

Flyn closed his eyes in an attempt to play the scene in his mind. Suddenly he opened them. But, Ma, he’s over 90, he said. Maybe he didn’t mean he wanted to go outside. Maybe he meant he wanted to join the spirit world. All he heard then from the receiver was a sniff.

Maybe, his mother said. Just come. We need you. Be there as soon as we can, he promised then turned to Sellie for confirmation.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *

I felt Flyn focus his attention on my reaction. Nodding my agreement, I watched as he replaced the phone and as his eyes were drawn across the end of our bed toward the landing zone of our spirit visitor. My mind raced between making plans to cancel tomorrow’s, no today’s, massage and psychic counseling clients and wondering how our recent experience tied into Flyn’s grandfather’s fall. I didn’t know the old man well, had never been able to talk to him because of the stroke that had left him with minimal ability to speak the year before Flyn had moved in with me.

I sat straighter in the bed and became certain that Grandpa Fred had to have been responsible for the gourds rattling around on top of the low-boy dresser. But we were in our apartment miles away from where he and Flyn’s mom lived in Salinas. I chilled. Had whatever landed on our bedroom floor arrived at Grandpa’s command too? A chord struck deeply into my solar plexus. If so, he was more adept with spirit energy than I ever dreamed him to be.

I cast about in my mind for any tidbit Flyn might have shared about his Grandpa Fred. I knew his grandfather was special, and not just to Flyn and his mom, but to a whole lot of people across the plains and into Canada.

Hadn’t Flyn told me Grandpa Fred was raised by traditional, elderly grandparents? I knew from experiences during my late husband David’s search for healing from the Native American culture, that if a sign had been recognized in Grandpa Fred when he was young, he would have been trained in the ways of ceremony and sacrifice. Until now, I had only seen Grandpa Fred as old; I’d never thought of him as a Medicine Man, nor understood how deeply he might still be connected to the other side.

Flyn’s hand on my arm made me jump. Where are you, Sellie?

I met his eyes. I’m here, Flyn … trying to sort through how I can clear my day, so I can go with you.

He arranged his arm across my shoulders and heaved a sigh, Good. After a quick kiss, he pulled me out of bed. I could stay there with you forever, but the course of our day has changed. We gotta go!

Morning commuter traffic from Oakland to Salinas was tense. The usual hour drive was lengthened to two because of several accidents made more treacherous by the winter storm. We found Annie in the ICU waiting room, a dark, enclosed cubicle with four metal, folding chairs. We alternated between there and the general one at the front of the hospital where windows overlooked a small cactus garden. Here, the chairs were upholstered in maroon twill and overstuffed.

Because Grandfather was in the ICU, Flyn and his mother were limited to visiting only five minutes every hour. In the middle of that first night, Flyn took me with him since his mother was snoring on the corner couch.

The ICU softly buzzed and beeped; a blueish glow emanated from monitor screens at the head of every bed and from a set of monitors spread across a counter of the central station. Murmuring came from behind a beige curtain pulled for privacy. I tried not to eavesdrop as Flyn led me to stand beside him and near the feet of his grandfather.

Hooked to oxygen, Grandpa Fred was swathed by cardiac leads and IV lines draping his bed. Annie must have groomed his silver-grey hair as there were two tight braids resting from below his ears across the top of his sheets and onto his chest. His eyes were closed; his lids twitched with a dream. Being bedridden made him look much smaller than the last time I had seen him. His features were slack; multiple wrinkles etched around his eyes and mouth, across his cheeks and forehead. His nearly non-existent eyebrows were like his daughter’s, and his flat chin reminded me of Flyn’s. I tried to reconstruct his drooping features into someone robust and vital. Not thinking of what I was doing, I broadened my vision to evaluate his energy field and saw widening spaces between auric rays.

Grandpa Fred’s eyes flew open. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor stopped. A screaming alarm sounded. I reached for the old man’s foot and shook it; two nurses arrived at his bedside. Removing my hand, I retracted my probe out of Grandpa’s space and gripped Flyn’s hand. We watched as Grandpa’s eyes slammed shut; his heart monitor resumed its rhythm, and I could swear, he looked to be smiling.

On our way to the exit, one nurse pulled me aside, What’s with the red cloth under his head and these little tied bundles across his headboard?

Flyn answered for me, My mom says the color red is part of a prayer for healing just like the tobacco tied into the squares of material on the string. She shrugged. I couldn’t tell if she was satisfied or more bewildered by the answer.

I tried my best to interpret Annie’s intentions to the nurses, but the portable tape deck was more than they could handle. It’s a nuisance, one RN declared. The second one said, We can’t have this constant drumming disturb our other patients.

Sighing, I observed the ICU and noted mechanical bleeps and clicks around each patient’s bed. I’m not sure why these rhythmic sounds are soothing to him, I said. But he does get agitated when you move the deck away while you turn him.

They nodded a hesitant agreement.

You know, all the patients have so much noise going on around them, I bet if you keep the volume low, the others won’t even hear the drumming.

The nurses looked at each other and shrugged in defeat.

Glancing at Grandpa Fred as I left the unit, I thought I saw another faint grin.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *

After the scare he had experienced in the ICU with Selena, Flyn visited his grandfather there every chance he got. Becoming more aware than ever of the fragility of life, he paid more attention to his mom and wondered what she was thinking, how she was feeling. They had never had a relationship of words so he watched for another way to be near her, perhaps comfort her. Whenever she started rocking on one of the pewter-colored couches with her arms across her ample chest, he would move to her side, slump forward with his arms on his knees and stare at the floor. After a time, Annie would unfold her arms, take a deep breath before catching her long gray-streaked, ebony hair in one hand to twist it forward over her shoulder and drop it over her right breast. Flyn would either sit straighter or move to another chair.

On the third morning of sleeping on the couches in the main waiting room, when Dr. Munrose walked into the early light, Flyn thought he looked younger than Sellie’s son, Sam. Flyn rose to shake the man’s hand. You’ve got news?

Dr. Munrose pushed his glasses up his nose. Your grandfather’s condition been downgraded to serious.

His mother’s face embrace a smile until she saw the doctor hesitate as he cleared his throat several times and fumbled with the stethoscope around his neck. He swallowed as if his throat was dry. Our tests show Fred has extensive damage from multiple stroke sites on both sides of his brain. We don’t think any more strokes will occur because of the blood thinners. He looked at the floor then, with a lift of his shoulders, he looked back at Flyn. At his age, I am doubtful of any kind of recovery.

Hopeful light vanished from Annie’s eyes and a crevice, as deep as Flyn’s own appeared in her forehead. She looked helpless. I can’t care for him by myself, she said.

Flyn caught and held Selena’s widened eyes. He could only guess at the tumbling memories she was seeing of her five years of care for her second husband before his death. Flyn struggled to close the door on his own memories of sitting beside his ex-wife Yin Sun, while she deteriorated. He and his mother reached for each other as Flyn shook his head at her. We aren’t going to be able to give you the help you need, Ma, he said gently.

Annie nodded. Then we have to go back.

He stared at their clasped hands before lifting his eyes to hers and said, You mean drive him to Eagle Butte?

Aimee and Angel, my sisters. Been begging us to come back for years. With a deep breath, she stood taller. It’s time now, she said, dropping Flyn’s hands and turning to the doctor. When can he travel to his home in South Dakota?

Flyn thought the poor doctor’s eyes would pop out of his head behind his thick glasses. I … well … let’s see. He squared his shoulders. You can’t seriously consider driving this man in his condition all the way to South Dakota.

Annie smiled and said quietly, I can, and we’ll get him there as soon as possible. He needs to be at peace in the place where he was born.

Dr. Munrose stared at his watch as if hoping to find an answer, grunted, then nodded. It’ll take a few more days to make sure the blood thinners are doing their job and to finish off the IV antibiotics. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he sighed, The nurses will need to show you his care routine and medication schedule. I’ll make sure you have medicines for the trip and a list of orders for the hospital wherever you’re going. You’ll need to take an O2 tank with you.

He looked at the three of them. Are you sure? he started, then stopped while he focused on Annie’s pursed lips. Maybe we can get you all on the road before Christmas. He shook his head, pushed his glasses up his nose, and left.

Flyn was glad those few days more stretched into ten. Every hour of that time was needed as Flyn’s mom sold her furniture and held daily yard sales in front of her green- clapboard house in Salinas. Several portable tables sported bright flowered plastic cloths holding small appliances, utensils, and odds-and-ends of clothing and toys. Cardboard boxes housed towels, tools, books, and canned food.

Everything else was dumped on two tarps on the ground. All her profits were put into a gas-money fund.

Every day Flyn begged her to reconsider. Then he asked, How’ll you afford to buy these things again when you come back? He could not understand her frame of mind.

She shrugged away his question, It’ll work out. Always does. When he asked her if she thought she could drive the van back to California alone, she said, You’ll drive his van back. It’s yours after you get us there.

Flyn refused to look at her.

On the last day of the sale, Flyn watched as Selena rearranged the silverware and dishes on the last table standing and saw Annie take her elbow. Looks OK, she said. Leave it now. What doesn’t sell goes to Goodwill.

She wrapped their arms together, and Flyn wondered at the rare intimacy between them. They walked up three well- worn stairs where she released Sellie and directed her with a pointing chin to stand next to Flyn. Her brown eyes darkened before she handed him three sets of paper-clipped documents. I want you to have this house, Flyn. It’s all paid for. I’m getting the title changed into your name. May be a month before it’s all yours. Only need to pay taxes every year. Friend of mine’ll watch it for you while you’re gone.

He did not reach to accept the papers.

She scanned his face then stared at the flaking paint on the sagging porch until he slowly lifted the papers out of her hand.

Stepping closer to her, and, with a quiet voice, Flyn asked, But what about you? You’ve got to get something out of this. How’ll you live? His brows were knitted together in a question then released with a sigh as he finally understood what his mother was doing.

She tucked her fingers into the crook of his arm and faced him toward the front yard. It’ll work out. I can live with one of my sisters and get jobs when I need. Some Social Security comes in every month. Don’t need much.

This isn’t right, his voice verged on shouting.

Yes, it is, Flyn! she said firmly. No way I can make up for what’s hurt you in your life, the lumps your dad gave you and the ones you did yourself. What I can do is take my father home so he can die there. He came out here, helped me and you. He needs to go home now, and so do I.

Annie released his arm to greet a family entering the yard.

No way do I want to live in Salinas, Flyn said, looking past his mother’s two-bedroom, well-worn house. Her yard had the only lawn for blocks, and her petunias were still blooming along the walkway in December. The houses on either side of hers stood enclosed by chain-link fences with yards decorated by weeds, dead cars, and motorcycles either rusting in the open air or deteriorating under ragged blue tarps. Houses across the street sported a variety of trucks and vans hugging their front curbs. Slashed screens hung lopsidedly over the smashed windows of a once-upon-a-time meth house, and a crosswind frequently carried a chemical stench to her front door.

You can rent it, maybe? Selena suggested. Or sell it when we get back, if you want, and send the money to your mom. Don’t be in a hurry.

Maybe she’ll change her mind? He tried to sound hopeful but his shoulders buckled as if his mother had removed all support to his spine.

Selena shook her head. No reason for her to return.

There’s me … there’s us.

Flyn, Sellie said, softly touching his arm. She loves you. I know she does. She’s just ready to live with her sisters with more family around her than the two of us.

He could not answer and barely heard Sellie say, I’ll make lunch.

Before the day darkened into night, they deposited what looked decent enough for Goodwill into a collection box down the street. The rest they piled into a nearby dumpster. Being Sunday, the traffic was steady and less intense than their trip on the morning after Grandpa’s fall. Sellie drove along 880 back to Oakland as Flyn tried to sleep. Finding a parking space near their apartment for her little Chevy Tracker, Silver, was Flyn’s sign to sit up.

They sat in silence watching the reflection of the street lights dance in and out of the raindrops as they hit and bounced off the other cars. Flyn finally said, She thinks we can leave tomorrow, Christmas Eve. Can you come with us?

He counted the individual pings on the metal roof, desperate for her answer. Hoping she would agree to stay by his side. He was losing his grandfather and his mother. He didn’t know if he could make it without Sellie.

For how long? she asked in a voice so quiet he could barely hear her.

Can’t say. He reached for her hand and swallowed hard to ease the tightening of his throat. Only know I’ll do better if you’re with me.

Sellie shifted in her seat. I assumed you three would travel as son, mother, and grandfather. She kept her head bent, staring at her lap. I’ve been preparing to do Christmas with my own family. And, I don’t know if I can handle being a white woman again in Indian country.

Flyn held his breath and gave her hand a squeeze. "But, I think I can do this for you."

He pulled her into his arms, Thank you, he said, daring the moisture gathering in his eyes to become tears.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *

Thanks for understanding, I said to the fourteenth client on my list. Have a good holiday, and I’ll see you when I get back. I hung up and counted five more who might or might not be grateful to have more time in their schedules and money in their pockets.

I’d canceled the celebration Flyn and I were to share with my daughter, Shawna, and son, Sam, and their families. The venom in my daughter’s voice gave me shivers when I admitted I had no idea when we were returning. The lack of understanding from my son shattered my heart. Why were my grown children so angry with me? Was it because of my relationship with Flyn? Why would our being together be a threat to them? They were adults. They had been on their own for a long time. I’d been living by myself for four years before Flyn had walked into my life almost two years ago. I was so disturbed by the reactions of my family, I had stewed all night, tossing and turning. This morning, I was exhausted.

After I finished my client calls, I sequestered myself for privacy in our walk-in closet and called my friend, Roxie.

For the last few years, we had shared two office spaces, one in San Francisco and the other downstairs from my studio apartment. I had always done massage and energy work, while she had dropped her license as a Marriage, Family, and Child Counselor to become a massage and rebirthing therapist. She also had some very special abilities of sensing other information through a psychic connection of her own.

As I listed the events of the last two weeks and detailed my recent conversations with my kids, I pictured her settling into her leather recliner, curling her feet under her, and resting her elbow on the arm of the chair. She would have run a hand through her soft, red curls, which acted as a signal to her two cats that she was going to stay put for a time. One or both would arrange themselves on her lap. She groaned when I finished my rant. Sounds familiar. This parent and child relationship thing is full of hidden explosives …but …

But … what? I felt my body tense.

It seems finding our way through this kind of mine field is the same as working at our most intimate relationships. If we’re conscious about it, the process brings us closer to our real selves. If we don’t stay conscious, we trip over parts we haven’t looked at in a while.

Well, we’re leaving this afternoon whether they or I want me to go. I started to sweat.

Interesting way to put it. Sounds like something else is bothering you about driving to South Dakota.

Unease wormed its way around my middle. I tried to gulp my words back inside my chest but they tumbled out. It seems like such a commitment.

Driving back is a big commitment?

And meeting the rest of his family. I found a sock and wiped away sweat suddenly appearing on my forehead.

And you’re not committed already?

Well …

Sellie, you said you’d made commitments together in front of his grandfather in some kind of ceremony.

Well, it was … I mean, we did. I remember telling you we’d met a Lakota man and his wife at a wedding in Arcata last year: Red Buffalo and Standing Feather? I wiped my face again, wishing I knew Flyn’s location so I could open the door and get some fresh air into my hidey hole. Well, Red Buffalo led us in a pipe ceremony in front of Grandpa Fred and Annie, Flyn’s mother, where we made promises to each other with the chanupa, a sacred pipe.

And …? Roxie waited. When I didn’t answer, she asked, But …?

"But we haven’t done it in front of my family." My damp skin now felt really hot.

Her breath whistled in my ear. So … you don’t feel committed?

No, that’s not it. I’m … I don’t know what I mean. I scrunched more under my hanging clothes. I held my forehead with my left hand by propping my elbow on my knee. There’s something keeping me from feeling like I’m a full partner with Flyn. Like a layer of veneer around him or around me, some kind of wall. I switched ears with the cell phone, propped my head with my other hand. Can’t tell you exactly what I mean; it’s just there … and now … I’ve said it out loud.

So … you’d stay home because of this … this feeling of separateness? Her voice was soft, but I felt its jabbing point.

Breathlessness filled my chest. Was that my real reason?

My lack of a real wedding ceremony and an acceptance or whatever from my family? Wasn’t there just a little bit more? I steadied my breathing as I descended into the far reaches of my mind and located a far deeper truth. My anxiety was also present because of my past experiences around Indian people. I had never seemed to know what to do or say. I sighed. If making this trip to where his mother’s family lived was the right thing to do, I needed some kind of assurance I wouldn’t embarrass Flyn or Annie or myself by being a target of curiosity or judgment. I had no way of knowing what reaction I would cause. So I had to ask myself, was traveling into the unknown with Flyn better than letting him travel into his unknowns without me? That question made me move into the center of the closet floor.

I took in a deep breath. No, now I’m sure I have to go, if nothing else but to discover what this ‘wall’ is and how to make it go away. My tight shoulders now calmed.

I don’t think you’ll regret it, Roxie said. Let’s hope not.

In fact, you might get more than you bargained for.

My senses sharpened. Are you seeing something I should know? Sometimes Roxie glimpsed the future.

I can’t be sure, she said. I see a tangle of cords that loosen … someone tying a row of knots into a rope … and, of all things, a cowbell.

Tension released from my chest. I laughed. That doesn’t seem too prophetic. My skin tingled with smiles.

What’s happening in there? Flyn called through the closed door.

Girl talk, I hollered to him, then whispered to her, I’ve got to go. And Roxie, thanks for being a friend.

You’ve done no less for me, she said then added, Love you.

And me, you. I clicked the phone off and pondered why I had needed the safety and discomfort of the closet. I stood and pushed the door open a crack to face Flyn leaning against the door jamb, waiting. His black t-shirt clung to his arms and chest. To keep his once-broken back comfortable, he’d been doing daily yoga for years. Now he was lifting weights so his tightly-toned physique definitely did not show as much sag as my almost-60-year-old torso. We both had graying hair but mine was whiter.

In so many ways, we matched: in interests, values, and how we comforted each other in bed. I felt myself flush at the sight of him with his smooth face and high cheek bones. When his bushy eyebrows wiggled at me, I couldn’t stop my little gasp or the familiar tightening all over my body.

Scanning my eyes and forehead, he said, I am ever so glad you are coming with me, and reached his hand to caress my neck, then pulled me closer to his chest. His heartbeat was fast.

Uh, huh. I’m with you, Flyn.

He pressed me against his body as he ran his hands down my back and rested them on my hips, fitting us together. I draped my arms around his shoulders. I guess we’d better pack, he said, nuzzling my neck. But then again …

Then again, I whispered, we might not get a chance to get naked with each other for a time.

I was thinking that myself. He nipped my earlobe.

I lifted my head, tickling feelings now parading across my body. You know, I keep my backpack always ready for traveling, and I figure I can buy what I need along the way.

How’s mine? His voice was muffled in my neck.

I’ve no idea the condition of your backpack; it’s yours, I said beginning to feel like melted butter.

He sighed. I think I can throw a few things together later. He lifted the back of my shirt and stroked along my bare skin. Hmmm, what do we have here? He traced the line where my bra usually lived, but wasn’t, then moved his hands forward to my naked breasts. His thumbs were greeted by erect nipples. And here?

I reached his mouth before he could ask any more questions and enjoyed the full flavor of his lips and tongue. I pulled at his T-shirt. We spent two seconds pulling off our shirts, then grappled with each other’s pants. Mine were elastic and easy. His were belted, but I released the buckle with a quick flick of my wrist. When his bare skin touched mine, I thrilled with his warmth and a swelling that was no longer camouflaged in his pants. I could have stood forever in his arms with our feet sunk in the puddle of our clothes.

The phone rang. We groaned. Our hands stilled as we listened to the answering machine recite its outgoing message. We held our breaths at the beep.

I bet it’s your mother, he whispered, as if the person at the other end of the line could hear us.

No, I bet it’s yours, I whispered back.

Flyn, when will you be here? They’ve got everything dad needs for the trip.

You lose, I said as I dipped my head and kissed his penis. Sorry little fella.

Flyn moaned, stepped out of the circle of my arms and our clothes before sprinting across the room to answer his mother.

2

December 24, 2004

Teachers and Students

We arrived in Salinas in the early afternoon, picked up Annie and the converted van at her house then drove to the hospital to collect Grandpa. Of course, everything he needed for the trip wasn’t exactly ready. By the time Annie got him settled onto his bed across the back of the van, it was pushing 6pm. Trying to remain calm during the scramble of