He hummed and whittled the owl’s eyes. I dug into the side of my piece, noting the shape already looked a little like a small bear. I curved the tool around an edge to create a rounded ear shape on one side, thinking it felt much the same as peeling an apple of its skin with a knife. I was an expert at peeling an entire apple into one long, swirling piece. I’d have to show that trick to Hope. She’d love it. And I loved making her smile any way I could.
“You are mourning my Catori. She would not want this,” he stated knowingly.
I licked my lips and had to push aside the hurt to hear his words and let them sink in. Though if I were being honest, I’m not sure if I cared that Catori wouldn’t want me sad. She made her choices, and these were the ramifications for those choices.
“I would have liked to know her. Know you. Know my sisters.”
He nodded. “You would not be the person you are today if you had. Think on this,” he stated then continued to whittle.
I curved another ear in the top and did as he asked. If I’d had Catori in my life, Evie, Suda Kaye and Toko, would I be happier? I had amazing parents. An incredible best friend who loved me like a sibling whom I loved in return. I’d graduated school and knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. None of that had been taken away by Catori’s choices.
Holy hell.
“She gave me this life and made this choice because she knew I’d be happy and healthy without her. Evie and Suda Kaye needed her and she wasn’t there. My fathers were there for me every step of the way. I had a perfect upbringing.”
Tahsuda nodded but didn’t speak, just kept whittling wood.
“And if I’d had her in my life, I would have been stretched between two places. There and here. Always leaving someone behind. My fathers at home. Her, you and my sisters here. My God...”
The realization hit me so hard I covered my face, lifted up my knees and sank into myself at the visceral blow.
Catori wasn’t better off without me.
I’d been better off without her.
Without the heartbreak of living half a life with her and half a life with my fathers. What she gave my parents, what she ultimately gave me, was a real chance at pure happiness.
It was divine.
Selfless.
I swallowed around the acid coating my throat and stared out at the dark desert not knowing how to feel, how to breathe, after this realization.
“Catori died with a piece of her heart missing.” Toko spoke slowly, but his gaze was on me when I turned my head to look at him. “She would rather be broken from your loss, the loss of a child, than have you break because of her loss. The loss of your mother. It was her final gift to you.”
I closed my eyes and let the tears fall.
Toko put away his tools and wood then reached out a weathered hand. I took it and he pulled me over to him. I dropped the piece of wood, and the tool fell to my knees. I pressed my head sideways on his lap, my gaze on the pitch-black desert. My thoughts just as dark as I mourned the woman who gave up her own happiness to ensure mine.
My grandfather ran his fingers through my hair as I cried. At some point he started singing softly in Comanche. I didn’t know the words; I had no idea what they said or meant, but I felt them. Deep in my soul I felt every ounce of his love and soothing words. Every hitch in his breath I memorized so one day I could tell my children about it. Tell Hope about how my beautiful grandfather sang to me when I was hurting.
For a long time I let the sadness overwhelm me.
I let the beauty of Toko’s song soothe me.
And instead of being angry with the woman who gave me life, I was grateful. Thankful that she chose my happiness over her own.
* * *
I spent Friday horseback riding, walking the reservation and cooking with Toko. I wanted to absorb every bit of this life, learn as much as possible about my Native American roots as I could. Jasper found horseback riding frightening. Said he was given two feet that were meant to be on the ground. Probably because as it turned out, Jasper’s exuberance in all things made the animals leery and every time he tried to approach, they’d whinny and stomp their hooves. We finally found something that was averse to Jasper’s charm—horses. Not one in the stalls seemed to appreciate my bestie. Instead, he spent those hours learning how to make jewelry with Lina, Milo’s mother. This, unsurprisingly, he excelled at.
For the evening, the guys all headed to a bar and grill that was connected to a hotel. Milo made sure all the men had their own rooms. Since the wedding wasn’t until tomorrow late afternoon, the men could tie one on then sleep it off if they desired. Jasper was all in for this plan as Lincoln and Kyson weren’t set to arrive until noon tomorrow.
The girls and I were in matching pajamas, a present from Evie, and sprawled on the floor of Toko’s living room with pillows and blankets everywhere. There was only one extra bedroom, so we dragged the mattress from the queen bed into the living space and put it on the floor in front of the couch. This way we could all sleep together, Suda Kaye and Evie on the bed, me on the couch. I thought it was brilliant. In all my years, I’d never had a sleepover with girls. My sleepovers always consisted of Jasper and me.
Toko sat in the single chair, wearing a robe and house slippers, his hair a black sheet raining over his shoulders.
“Tell us a story about Mom,” Suda Kaye requested.
Evie entered the living space, holding four glasses of what else? Native American wine. I was hooked. The stuff was incredible, and you didn’t feel crappy the next day even if you went a little overboard.
Toko took one of the glasses and waited until Evie had passed them around. On the table were all the treats that Toko and I made after dinner. It was an amazing experience cooking with him. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was able to cook so well. I explained that it was my schooling and he shook his head. Said it was the Comanche blood running through my veins that gave me a special knack for food. Something I apparently was genetically predisposed to have, since both he and my grandmother, Topsannah, were excellent cooks. I let it slide and accepted the compliment because it made me feel good to think that some piece of him and my grandmother had been passed down to me through my genetics.
He hummed and looked off into the distance. “When Catori was a young girl, she decided she would be a dancer.”
Suda Kaye sat up taller and I lay down along the couch, elbow to the cushion, head in my hand. Evie nestled on the edge of the mattress close to the food where she was snagging a slice of the pumpkin fry bread we’d made.
“At school she learned of this dance called ballet,” he said thoughtfully.
“Mom did ballet. No way!” Suda Kaye blurted.
Toko shook his head. “Not exactly. For weeks she pretended to be a ballet dancer. Jumping around, spinning in circles. Until my Topsannah decided she needed to take a class. I was not happy.”