08-13-2016, 02:02 PM
Chapter 2
Eyes Wide Open
As she was instructed, Katchina lay down on the simple brown leather couch and looked up at the ceiling. Her father took a seat in an armchair by her foot and wrung his hands but stayed silent. The old man, Noah, spread a lit smudging stick over her body, trailing smoke in the air. She caught the scents of sweetgrass and cedar.
Whatever it was that had struck her had passed as if nothing had happened. She felt fine, really, and said as much. “Hm.” That was all the man had said. He put the incense aside and walked over to a desk. There were all sorts of bottles and bags, dried plants, bones, books and crystals with no apparent method of organization to them. He picked up a small leather pouch and retrieved some flat, black stones worn smooth and about the size of a quarter apiece. “Remove your jersey.”
Her father scowled. “Is that necessary?”
Noah cackled. “Necessary? No, of course it isn't necessary. It isn't necessary for me to treat your daughter at all.” He chuckled. “You can drive yourself to Charlotte and check her into a hospital, and take your chances with the doctors there. That's where I sent the first two who came to me. Maybe you should ask them how they are doing.” He trailed off. “Necessary...”
Her father folded his arms, flexing large biceps. He was not a small man. “Go ahead, Katchina.”
It wasn't like it was a thing of consequence to Kat. The man was clearly trying to treat her like a patient, and in anyway she was wearing a sports bra underneath. But as soon as she removed her jersey and felt the cool air on her taut stomach, a sense of unease crept over her, and she prickled with goosebumps.
“Lie very still,” Noah said. He placed one stone in the center of her head. It was almost warm, having been cradled in the man's hand. “Relax and close your eyes. Allow the stone to draw your awareness. Don't force your attention. Draw your attention. Feel as if there is another eye at that spot, and as though you were able to look through it.” Kat, lulled by his voice, drifted into relaxation. Noah placed a second stone on her navel and a third upon her breastbone midway between the base of her neck and her cleavage, all in one line.
“Are you relaxed?” he asked. She nodded. “Through relaxation our bodies can find the balance between the spiritual and the physical. The medicine of the White man, though it has accomplished much through technology, is still dependent on the treatment of observable symptoms that arise when something has upset the balance within the body in a physical way.” He opened a small jar of cream and dabbed a finger in it, using the finger to trace a line from one stone to another, down her face, to her chest and down to her stomach. “The healing medicine of our peoples, handed down through the ages, focuses on the balance in itself.” The cold scent of aloe washed over her and she tensed at the roughness of his finger. It was creepy. Far too intimate for her comfort. She was very glad her father was present. She made a conscious effort to relax and not think about his finger tracing a line down her cleavage. From the stone on her chest he drew two lines that ran perpendicular across the top of her breasts and down to the joint of her armpit.
“So,” Noah continued, “if a disease has no observable cause, what is a modern doctor to do about it?” He drew a second set of lines from her stomach to her kidney, and finally a third across the top of her forehead. “Do you understand, Katchina?”
She was adrift, her thoughts separated from her head, as if they escaping through her head, her chest and her belly like steam rising from a tea kettle. She snatched a wisp and pulled it back to her, and gave voice to that thought. “The Sickness doesn't have a physical cause.”
“Clever girl,” Noah replied. “This at least appears to be the case. You will stay with me and we shall endeavor to strike a spiritual and physical harmony within you in the hope that achieve mastery of balance.”
He clapped his hands. Kat jerked in surprise, and the stones fell off. “Sit up and put your shirt on. Your room will be down the hall. You may go and take a look at it. I will send your father the details on billing later.”
She blinked. “Wait a minute. Stay here? What about my studies? I don't even know you.”
Noah laughed. “Studies? Why, you will study with me, of course. I happen to possess several graduate degrees. It will be a mutually beneficial arrangement as well, for it will give me a chance to study the Sickness further.”
Her father frowned. “Just hold on. You expect me to leave my daughter in your care to live with you? Just how many people with the Sickness have you done this with?”
“Why, your daughter will be the first.” He put up a hand. Kat noticed for the first time the brown leather vambraces that covered his forearms. What an odd choice of accessories. “As I explained on the phone, those whom have been sent away have not fared any better for it. I can promise that nothing I do will cause lasting harm to her.”
“So this is the only way.”
Noah cackled again, that grating laugh that cut through her skull. Like the chill of a dark cloud across the sun. “You and necessary again. Things will be as they are destined. You are free to leave. But I promise you that she will not live to see her eighteenth birthday if you do.” He shook his head. “If that's an acceptable outcome, you may leave today and never see me again.”
Her father frowned. “Katchina, dear. Please give me a few minutes of privacy.”
She left the room, all semblance of balance shattered. And for perhaps the first time ever, she was afraid. Her father had always been her stability, her immovable foundation for strength, and she was going to have to leave him to stay alive? She sat on the front porch and listened to the warblers in the nearby trees. During that treatment though...she had felt something. As if there had been a mirror echo of energy. As her mind opened up like a blossoming rosebud and she sank into relaxation, it came closer and closer. Yet as the doorway opened and she tried to reach through – to whatever was over there – it would snap closed.
Noah and her father came to the threshold. “Daughter,” he said. “Let us speak for a few minutes. I have decided you will remain.” His tone brooked no argument. Firm. As if she would imagine to protest his decision. “Let us walk.” He beckoned her to follow into the wood, where nearby a stream ran and the songbirds continued their chatter.
Noah beckoned a hand out. “Quick, child. Go with him. Take this time to say whatever needs to be said to him.”
Kat ran to catch up, and grabbed hold of his hand.
They walked for a few miles in silence. Kat was nearly her father's height, yet as she clung to his arm she felt like a little child again. There was comfort that she would always know, holding onto her father's hand. They reached a clearing by the bank of a stream. A fallen log lay beside the bank, and they sat and watched the water run in the midday sun.
“Do you remember when you were little, and I spoke about how all things are connected? Death, and life, and the mightiest tree and the sunlight, and the worms in the ground? About how when we take something from the world, we all feel the loss and the hurt, but when something is healed, we all are healed?”
“Of course I do,”
Kat replied softly. “I remember everything you've tried to teach me. Every word. You are everything to me.”
He smiled, and a tear fell from his cheek. “You, my little Katchina, must be yourself. And I know you are and will be okay, and I'm so proud of you and who you have become.” He paused. “I Sometimes...sometimes a thing can hurt and heal. Sometimes a loss can be for the best. The only difference is whether we take despair, or give hope, to all things. Two sides of the same coin. What is it that you tell everyone? That you intend to find a cure for hopelessness. Promise me that you'll never stop looking, will you?”
“Of course, father,”
Kat replied. Now she was crying. “I promise. I will miss you.”
He cupped her head to his chest. “I know. And I trust one day you will see this is for the best.”
* * *
Noah didn't have the heart to cut short the goodbyes, and as Katchina hugged her father one last time, and watched him climb into his car and drive off in the distance, Noah didn't intend to. It would be some time before she understood why this was for the best, but she would eventually. Perhaps. All things were as they would be.
Sometimes there were no good choices. Only the choices that were offered. Okimantu Makawee would never reach home, and because Katchina would not be there to heal him he would not survive the accident. His family would be devastated and the Saginaw Chippewa would fall apart for lack of leadership. But, had Katchina saved her father, she would have remained by his side until the Sickness took her instead.
Perhaps it was not fair to have kept this from her. But Katchina was still a child, wise as she was for her age, and still thought as a child, unable to see why this was the best way. It was not her choice to make. Neither had it been Noah's. Okimantu had made his choice with his eyes wide open.
What was and what will be, is, today. He could feel the tattooed Oroborus beneath his vambrace. “Come inside, Katrina,” he called out. “I have some things to show you.”
Eyes Wide Open
As she was instructed, Katchina lay down on the simple brown leather couch and looked up at the ceiling. Her father took a seat in an armchair by her foot and wrung his hands but stayed silent. The old man, Noah, spread a lit smudging stick over her body, trailing smoke in the air. She caught the scents of sweetgrass and cedar.
Whatever it was that had struck her had passed as if nothing had happened. She felt fine, really, and said as much. “Hm.” That was all the man had said. He put the incense aside and walked over to a desk. There were all sorts of bottles and bags, dried plants, bones, books and crystals with no apparent method of organization to them. He picked up a small leather pouch and retrieved some flat, black stones worn smooth and about the size of a quarter apiece. “Remove your jersey.”
Her father scowled. “Is that necessary?”
Noah cackled. “Necessary? No, of course it isn't necessary. It isn't necessary for me to treat your daughter at all.” He chuckled. “You can drive yourself to Charlotte and check her into a hospital, and take your chances with the doctors there. That's where I sent the first two who came to me. Maybe you should ask them how they are doing.” He trailed off. “Necessary...”
Her father folded his arms, flexing large biceps. He was not a small man. “Go ahead, Katchina.”
It wasn't like it was a thing of consequence to Kat. The man was clearly trying to treat her like a patient, and in anyway she was wearing a sports bra underneath. But as soon as she removed her jersey and felt the cool air on her taut stomach, a sense of unease crept over her, and she prickled with goosebumps.
“Lie very still,” Noah said. He placed one stone in the center of her head. It was almost warm, having been cradled in the man's hand. “Relax and close your eyes. Allow the stone to draw your awareness. Don't force your attention. Draw your attention. Feel as if there is another eye at that spot, and as though you were able to look through it.” Kat, lulled by his voice, drifted into relaxation. Noah placed a second stone on her navel and a third upon her breastbone midway between the base of her neck and her cleavage, all in one line.
“Are you relaxed?” he asked. She nodded. “Through relaxation our bodies can find the balance between the spiritual and the physical. The medicine of the White man, though it has accomplished much through technology, is still dependent on the treatment of observable symptoms that arise when something has upset the balance within the body in a physical way.” He opened a small jar of cream and dabbed a finger in it, using the finger to trace a line from one stone to another, down her face, to her chest and down to her stomach. “The healing medicine of our peoples, handed down through the ages, focuses on the balance in itself.” The cold scent of aloe washed over her and she tensed at the roughness of his finger. It was creepy. Far too intimate for her comfort. She was very glad her father was present. She made a conscious effort to relax and not think about his finger tracing a line down her cleavage. From the stone on her chest he drew two lines that ran perpendicular across the top of her breasts and down to the joint of her armpit.
“So,” Noah continued, “if a disease has no observable cause, what is a modern doctor to do about it?” He drew a second set of lines from her stomach to her kidney, and finally a third across the top of her forehead. “Do you understand, Katchina?”
She was adrift, her thoughts separated from her head, as if they escaping through her head, her chest and her belly like steam rising from a tea kettle. She snatched a wisp and pulled it back to her, and gave voice to that thought. “The Sickness doesn't have a physical cause.”
“Clever girl,” Noah replied. “This at least appears to be the case. You will stay with me and we shall endeavor to strike a spiritual and physical harmony within you in the hope that achieve mastery of balance.”
He clapped his hands. Kat jerked in surprise, and the stones fell off. “Sit up and put your shirt on. Your room will be down the hall. You may go and take a look at it. I will send your father the details on billing later.”
She blinked. “Wait a minute. Stay here? What about my studies? I don't even know you.”
Noah laughed. “Studies? Why, you will study with me, of course. I happen to possess several graduate degrees. It will be a mutually beneficial arrangement as well, for it will give me a chance to study the Sickness further.”
Her father frowned. “Just hold on. You expect me to leave my daughter in your care to live with you? Just how many people with the Sickness have you done this with?”
“Why, your daughter will be the first.” He put up a hand. Kat noticed for the first time the brown leather vambraces that covered his forearms. What an odd choice of accessories. “As I explained on the phone, those whom have been sent away have not fared any better for it. I can promise that nothing I do will cause lasting harm to her.”
“So this is the only way.”
Noah cackled again, that grating laugh that cut through her skull. Like the chill of a dark cloud across the sun. “You and necessary again. Things will be as they are destined. You are free to leave. But I promise you that she will not live to see her eighteenth birthday if you do.” He shook his head. “If that's an acceptable outcome, you may leave today and never see me again.”
Her father frowned. “Katchina, dear. Please give me a few minutes of privacy.”
She left the room, all semblance of balance shattered. And for perhaps the first time ever, she was afraid. Her father had always been her stability, her immovable foundation for strength, and she was going to have to leave him to stay alive? She sat on the front porch and listened to the warblers in the nearby trees. During that treatment though...she had felt something. As if there had been a mirror echo of energy. As her mind opened up like a blossoming rosebud and she sank into relaxation, it came closer and closer. Yet as the doorway opened and she tried to reach through – to whatever was over there – it would snap closed.
Noah and her father came to the threshold. “Daughter,” he said. “Let us speak for a few minutes. I have decided you will remain.” His tone brooked no argument. Firm. As if she would imagine to protest his decision. “Let us walk.” He beckoned her to follow into the wood, where nearby a stream ran and the songbirds continued their chatter.
Noah beckoned a hand out. “Quick, child. Go with him. Take this time to say whatever needs to be said to him.”
Kat ran to catch up, and grabbed hold of his hand.
They walked for a few miles in silence. Kat was nearly her father's height, yet as she clung to his arm she felt like a little child again. There was comfort that she would always know, holding onto her father's hand. They reached a clearing by the bank of a stream. A fallen log lay beside the bank, and they sat and watched the water run in the midday sun.
“Do you remember when you were little, and I spoke about how all things are connected? Death, and life, and the mightiest tree and the sunlight, and the worms in the ground? About how when we take something from the world, we all feel the loss and the hurt, but when something is healed, we all are healed?”
“Of course I do,”
Kat replied softly. “I remember everything you've tried to teach me. Every word. You are everything to me.”
He smiled, and a tear fell from his cheek. “You, my little Katchina, must be yourself. And I know you are and will be okay, and I'm so proud of you and who you have become.” He paused. “I Sometimes...sometimes a thing can hurt and heal. Sometimes a loss can be for the best. The only difference is whether we take despair, or give hope, to all things. Two sides of the same coin. What is it that you tell everyone? That you intend to find a cure for hopelessness. Promise me that you'll never stop looking, will you?”
“Of course, father,”
Kat replied. Now she was crying. “I promise. I will miss you.”
He cupped her head to his chest. “I know. And I trust one day you will see this is for the best.”
* * *
Noah didn't have the heart to cut short the goodbyes, and as Katchina hugged her father one last time, and watched him climb into his car and drive off in the distance, Noah didn't intend to. It would be some time before she understood why this was for the best, but she would eventually. Perhaps. All things were as they would be.
Sometimes there were no good choices. Only the choices that were offered. Okimantu Makawee would never reach home, and because Katchina would not be there to heal him he would not survive the accident. His family would be devastated and the Saginaw Chippewa would fall apart for lack of leadership. But, had Katchina saved her father, she would have remained by his side until the Sickness took her instead.
Perhaps it was not fair to have kept this from her. But Katchina was still a child, wise as she was for her age, and still thought as a child, unable to see why this was the best way. It was not her choice to make. Neither had it been Noah's. Okimantu had made his choice with his eyes wide open.
What was and what will be, is, today. He could feel the tattooed Oroborus beneath his vambrace. “Come inside, Katrina,” he called out. “I have some things to show you.”