Page 50

But the day darkened, and as if by some strange power, he was mentally transported back to his childhood.

20

–––––

Blackfoot

With his shirt unbuttoned, Leaf lay on the couch, enjoying the tingling sensation in his body. Milo sat on the floor in front of the table, rolling a joint while a storm raged outside.

Heavy rain hammered against the windows and roof as the sky rumbled above. And in the dim candlelight, the interior of his small wooden cabin felt like a cozy refuge, a safe cocoon in the darkness.

“You know,” Milo whispered, reaching for the lighter. “The candles are for the dead. That’s what my mother told me once.” He stared into the flames for a long time before finally lighting the joint and taking a deep drag.

“What was she like?”

“She was … Blackfoot.”

“Tristan has never talked about her before.” Leaf was genuinely interested—perhaps because his own mother had died of cancer far too early.

“Yeah … no …” Milo murmured, exhaling smoke. “He deals with it differently than I do. I was nine. Mingan was seven. It was Halloween. Dad asked us what we wanted to dress up as. Construction worker, Spiderman, Batman … We didn’t care about any of that. We had spent the whole summer with the Blackfoot tribe in Montana and just wanted to be like Grandpa Old Bear. He had an amazing war bonnet and beautiful embroidery on his vest. So, Mom got us traditional costumes.” Thoughtfully, he rolled the joint between his fingers. “It was fun trick-or-treating with Mingan. Everyone knew about our heritage, and it was never an issue. But still, Ming and I shared something that other kids couldn’t understand. Do you have siblings?”

Leaf shook his head.

“After trick-or-treating, we sorted through all our candy. As usual, I gave Mingan all the candies that contained nuts, and he gave me his chocolate in return.”

“Are you allergic?”

“No. I just didn’t like them. And Mingan didn’t care.” A sad smile flickered across Milo’s face. “Mom was about to tuck us into bed when we heard a noise. It sounded like a broken window. Dad sent us to the basement to hide. I’ll never forget the look on my mother’s face as she took us by the hand and led us downstairs. She was terrified and kept telling us to be quiet. She led us to the closet and handed me a flashlight.

“‘Hide in here and don’t come out until we come to get you. I’ll check on Dad.’ She stroked our heads, closed the door, and pulled down the blinds. I was terribly afraid, but I did everything to hide it because Ming was even more scared. He was only seven and wanted to go back to Mom, so I played with the flashlight to distract him, pretending it was a lightsaber.

“Suddenly, we heard a scream. The flashlight slipped from my hand and landed in the pile of clothes. Ming froze with fear and shook all over, so I covered his ears with my hands. When he felt my heart racing too, he put his small hands over my ears and hummed softly. That’s how we stood there. Paralyzed.

“The light then came on. Ming wanted to run out screaming, but I held him tight. Mom and Dad weren’t alone. Through the blinds, we saw two masked men.”

Milo paused, his face a mask as he stared into the flames. It was quiet. He took a deep breath, still not taking his eyes off the candle, and continued in a monotone voice.

“Dad was pushed to the floor. His left side of the face was covered in blood. The other man dragged Mom by the hair. She cried and screamed. Blood ran down her face, and her blue blouse was torn. She begged the men. My father tried to help her, but he had no chance.

“‘Everything will be fine, Nuna,’ he kept repeating. ‘Everything will be fine.’

“Then the man yanked Mom’s head back and pressed a knife to her throat. Ming wanted to run out screaming. I held him tight and pressed my hand over his mouth.

“Mom became very calm. She stopped crying and looked at us, toward the closet.

“I don’t know what I saw in her face … No idea. But she was … so calm.

“But then, that sound, the knife, that slit her throat … ‘Nuna! Nuna!’ my father cried, reaching out for her. But she was already … They punched Dad in the face, and he fell into the pool of blood. With a gun, they pressed his head to the ground. I heard a click … and … a shot …”

Everything was completely silent. Milo stared into the flames. Leaf didn’t even dare to breathe.

“I … um … Ming trembled in my arms, so I held him even tighter. A sob escaped him, and my heart stopped. The closet door swung open, and one of the masked men stood above us. He held up the bloody knife and turned the blade in his hand.

“That is it, I thought, but at that moment, I didn’t care. What reason was there to keep on living? Our dead parents lay not ten feet away from us.

“‘No kids! Are you crazy?’ the other guy yelled.

The man wiped the blood off the blade with his fingers and bent down to give us war paint on our cheeks. ‘Now you’re real Indians,’ he said. They then ran off. We stayed in the closet and hugged each other tightly.