11 A Surprise Party

 

Old Massett. Haida Gwaii. Jul 14.2033

54°01'52.6"N 132°10'05.4"W

 

Dot sat on the old rope swing that Chanáa had made for her years ago. She dug her toe into the soil and twisted the swing in circles. It wound tighter as she anchored herself with one foot. She lifted her toe, allowing the rope to unwind, then leaned back to watch the branches blur into a crisscross of patterns as she gained momentum. As the swing slowed to a stop, Dot closed her eyes and let the dizziness settle. She placed her toe back in the hollow of dirt and prepared to repeat her spiraling game, when Archer, Táan’s white wolf-husky mix, put his giant paws on the back gate. He barked several times and pushed the latch open, bounding into the yard. Táan followed him through the gate and walked over toward her, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “Are you still ignoring me?”

With a tilt of her chin, Dot glared at him then turned away to face the tree. She was in no mood to hear any more of his excuses. Táan had accepted the fetchers’ offer to join them when they departed for the mainland tomorrow afternoon. He hadn’t even asked her what she thought about it at first. And now he was leaving, probably for good. Dot was angry and hurt and, although she hated to admit it, she was jealous. Why can’t I go—why am I not good enough? I know more about wind and currents around here than almost anyone on the island. It’s not fair.

Táan grabbed hold of the ropes and spun Dot’s wooden seat around until she faced him. He leaned over and pressed his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes as he spoke. “Listen, I’ve already told you that I won’t go with them if it means so much to you. Stop acting like a four-year-old.” He shook her swing gently and said, “Besides, if I were to go with them, I promise you, Kij’, I’d talk with their chief and tell her about how good you are in the boats. I’d tell her about how you came to Haida Gwaii—She’d send for you eventually, Kijii… She’d be stupid not to.”

Dot turned her head and looked away. She didn’t care whether Táan thought she was acting childish. She stood up and brushed her right hand over her flattened palm. Enough. Go.

Táan sighed. “Alright. But you can’t stay mad at me forever, y’know.” He shoved his hands back into his pockets and walked toward the gate. Archer stood in the middle of the yard with a confused look on his face. “C’mon, buddy—lets go.”

 

Marta watched them from the window as she washed dishes. Ol’ Pa sat at the kitchen table and worked on his crossword, clicking his false teeth as he solved the puzzle. Marta shook her head and turned toward her father. “That stubborn girl. She’s going to hold a grudge for as long as you can Chanáa.”

“What are you talking about?” he said, “Dot? …Nah, she’ll come around in time. You should stop spying on them though, just leave ‘em be, nosy old woman.”

Marta tossed her wet sponge in Ol’ Pa’s direction and it landed with a soggy splat on top of his magazine. “I don’t want it to ruin her surprise party, that’s all. Hey, why don’t you go talk to her? She listens to you of all people, although I can’t for the life of me understand why.”

Ol’ Pa grumbled a few words under his breath as he flung the sponge back into the sink. Pushing himself up from his chair, he said, “You’re going to buy me a new crossword puzzle.” He took his cup of tea and shuffled toward the back door.

 

Dot heard the squeak of the screen door. She didn’t turn around as Ol’ Pa waded through the uneven grass, clucking to himself about the state of the back yard. She stood beside the trunk of the old spruce tree, peeling off sections of bark with her fingertips and let the tears well in her eyes.

“OK, OK—I’m out here now. I can no longer pretend that this grass doesn’t need mowing, dammit. So, Granddaughter, you must tell me, what is the cause of all this childish behavior?” Ol’ Pa grasped onto the ropes for balance as he spoke. “You’ve never been one for pettiness. Come on, tell my why you’re so sullen right now.”

Dot angrily cupped her hands together in the shape of a boat, moving them up and down in front of her, then pointed toward the gate that Táan had just walked through.

“Yes, he’s lucky to be going to the Greenwood. But then, Táan is almost 20 years old and it is time that he be given a chance. Would you begrudge your best friend that opportunity? Would you prefer that he remain here in the village and grow old waiting for the chíin to return? I know he wouldn’t allow his jealousy to get in the way of your happiness if the situation were reversed.” Ol’ Pa scratched the stubble on his cheek, sipped the last of his tea and continued, “You’re turning 18 tomorrow, Dottie… You’re now a Haida woman. I know that you’ll make me proud of you—like you’ve always done.”

Ol’ Pa turned away and ambled back toward the house. He stooped to retrieve a plastic bowl that had been left outside. Dot leaned her head against the knobby tree trunk. She heard a raspy call from high above and looked up. Monk landed on one of the spruce’s upper branches, he tilted his head sideways and bobbed it up and down. She looked up at her friend, nodded, sighed and followed Ol’ Pa back inside.

 

Ooligan and Pasha removed the fallen branches that covered their tlúus and began to load the provisions. The weather-buoy in Dixon Entrance indicated that conditions were stable for the next 48 hours, so Kai made the decision to head eastward the next day. Ooligan looked up as Táan and his dog appeared from the wooded pathway. Archer ran toward the beach sniffing at the remnants of the recent tide. Ooligan noticed the glum expression on Táan’s face and said, “Your gal pal still givin’ you the silent treatment?”

“She isn’t my ‘gal,’ she’s my friend… and yeah, she isn’t very happy right now.”

“Man, I bet when Dot gives someone the silent treatment, it’s really gotta suck. You know, ‘silent’ treatment… Get it?”

“Jeez, is Ooligan always like this?” Táan asked Pasha.

“Ha—just wait until she gets to know you! She’s best behavior now, I am serious.”

Ooligan climbed into her tlúu and grabbed the bags that Táan brought. “Look, I’m just messing with ya’, she’ll get over it. She seems like a pretty cool kid.”

Táan shrugged and picked up a small branch. “Here ya’ go, Archer—go fetch!” The husky sprang after the stick.

“What are you going to do with the dog?” Pasha asked him.

“Well, I thought about asking Dot to take care of him, but I’m not sure that’s an option anymore.”

“Just ask her at the party tonight, she’ll be in a way better mood.” Ooligan suggested.

“Yeah, maybe so.”

“Hey, you pikers wanna gizza hand with Mr. Chen, here?” Kai and Adili came down the path, pushing the scientist in front of them in his wheelchair. Kim gripped the arms of the chair and gritted his teeth as the wheels hit the grooves in the trail. Once they maneuvered the chair across the fallen logs and undergrowth, they set him down next to the two boats. Kai put his hands on his waist and surveyed their packing job. “I don’t know, cuz. It’s fair chocka already, ay? I mean, how’re we going to get Kim in here and have room for the wheelchair?”

“Put the chair in Adili’s tlúu.” Ooligan suggested.

“Yeah nah, can’t do that. We’ve got Táan in that boat with all of his gear.”

“Do you think we should, maybe… ‘try it out’ first?” Kim asked. He looked at the wooden canoe’s interior with trepidation.

“Good idea, let’s suss it out,” Kai agreed. “Hey, Táan—come here for a sec’, we’re going to put Kim into his new ride.”

Kai, Adili and Táan lifted the scientist out of his wheelchair and set him carefully into the middle of the cockpit as Pasha and Ooligan rearranged the baggage around his cast. The best they could manage was to situate Kim in a semi-reclined position with his leg raised over the cockpit rail, his arms hugging the bags at his side. “Uh, guys… there’s no way this is going to work.” Ooligan said.

Kim looked up from his uncomfortable position and asked, “How long did you say this trip was going to take?”

“Aw, shit mate—we still haven’t loaded your wheelchair.” Kai said.

Archer ran up to the canoe and pushed his muzzle into the cockpit. Sniffing, he nosed Kim’s face, licking his ear.

“Archer—knock that off!” Táan pulled the dog away and shook his head. “Hey, can you manage this without me? I told Marta I’d get the grill fired up before she brought all the food over to the longhouse this afternoon.”

Kai said, “Yeah, we’re all good. You go on and get Dot’s party sorted.” He moved a canvas bag behind the scientist’s arm. “How’s it going there, mate?”

“Kim winced as Pasha tried to squeeze the wheelchair under his legs. “Fine—ouch! Yes, very good. See you this evening Táan. Ahh!... Looking forward very much to Dot’s celebration. Ow! Not so fast.”

Táan said, “OK, great. See you all there, then... Hang in there, Kim.” He called for Archer and went back toward town, leaving the fetchers to wrangle with their injured passenger.

 

 

Marta ran the spatula along the edges of her round pan, forcing the cake away from its sides. She turned it upside down and gingerly laid it on top of the frosted layer. “Ta da!” She exclaimed, “I’ve still got it!”

The front door opened and their neighbor Simon stuck his head through the doorway. “Marta—you’d better come down to Eli’s store, quick-like. There’s a fisherwoman in there with some news you’re going to want to hear. Hurry now!” Without waiting for her reply, he ducked out, slamming the door as he left.

Marta stared at the door, the cake pan still in her hands.

“What in the hell was that all about?” Ol’ Pa grumbled as he walked out of the bathroom.

“I have no clue. Hide this cake from Dot... I’ve got to go find out.” Marta untied her apron and grabbed her bag. As she opened the door, she looked over at Ol’ Pa and said, “Find out where the scientist is, would ya’ Chanáa?”

 

Eli Hammond sat on the wooden stool behind his counter. The Old Massett General Store consisted of four shelves and a cooler with a broken-down ice box for crab bait. Pegs hung on the wall behind Eli’s register for boning knives and salmon lures, but most of the pegs were empty now that the sport fishing industry had dried up.

Russel Guujaw and two of the other elders were standing near the counter listening to a strawberry-blonde-haired woman dressed in denim coveralls tell her story. When they saw Marta walk through the door, they paused. “Here she is—tell Marta what you saw, Rikke.”

“Hullo, nice to meet you,” Rikke said with a thick Nordic accent. Marta smiled and took her hand. The woman said, “I’m from the fishing boat Ludvikke. We have just come down the Inside from fishing near Sitka.” She gestured northward with a vague wave of her hand. “We ended our season early after the explosion, my husband is worried they might want to get rid of any witnesses.”

“Sorry, did you say, ‘explosion’?” Marta asked. “Did I miss something?”

“Oh, right—you weren’t here for that part of my story. There was a drone attack on one of the trawlers… four days ago, I’m thinking.” She paused to count the days on her fingers. “Ya, last Friday. It all happened maybe a mile from where we set our nets. Huge explosion… smoke was everywhere.” She shook her head as she described the scene. “And the worst part of it all—there was no warning—that drone just came out of nowhere and then boom! We saw body parts floating in the middle of all the wreckage. And my husband, he says to me, ‘We better get the hell out of here, Rikke.’ And so, here we are; a few hundred pounds of fish lighter, but alive.”

“Damn” said Russell. “They’re at it again, those HighTower Bastards.”

Marta sighed and placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m very glad that you and your husband are safe. But this is such terrible news—more lives lost at sea for no good reason.” Rikke’s story brought back painful memories, emotions that Marta worked very hard to keep in her past. She walked over to the counter and picked up a newspaper and paused on her way out the door, “Rikke, we’re having a community dinner at the longhouse tonight. You should bring your husband.”

Russell said, “Yes, good idea—join us. Forget your troubles for one evening.”

“We could use a night among friendly people after this week’s events. We’ll bring some fresh halibut to share. Thanks.”

 

Táan sat in the grass on the sunny side of the longhouse lawn. He’d started the barbeque half an hour ago and was waiting for the charcoal to burn down. The afternoon sun blanketed the west side of the longhouse and cast spindly shadows behind the totem poles. He absentmindedly scratched Archer’s belly as the dog rolled happily beside him. A heavy gloom hung over him that he couldn’t manage to shake off. He didn’t want to leave Dot this way, especially on her eighteenth birthday. Today should have been a time for celebration—he was finally going to the Greenwood to become a fetcher and Dot was now considered a full member of their tribe. They should be happy, but instead he felt miserable and she was off sulking somewhere. Not even Archer’s loopy dog-smiles could bring Táan out of his slump.

Just then, Marta walked up, her arms loaded with bags of food. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“No, I’m sorry, Marta. Let me grab those things.” Táan took the sacks from her and carried them to the picnic tables near the grill. “Do you need me to get anything else from your house?”

“No, your mom and brothers are bringing the rest of the food, along with the cake and Ol’ Pa.” Marta stopped and looked at Táan. “What I really want you to do, is go to tell that stick-in-the-mud child of mine to ‘buck up.’ She’s going to forgive you by tonight, or I’m going to… I don’t know what I’m going to do with her, actually.” Marta began to dig through her bags, sorting out the salmon to lay on the grill. “Go find the girl. She can’t ever stay mad at you, Bear.”

Táan grinned. He’d always liked it when Marta called him by his English nickname. It dawned on him, how much he would miss Marta and her crusty, old father. There will be many partings soon. He watched her humming to herself as she laid the bright red fillets of salmon on the table. He noticed the breeze lifting her salt-and-pepper hair from around her shoulders and mentioned off-handedly, “Looks like the wind’s pickin’ up.”

“Yeah, and it’s cooling down a little as well. OK then, you’d best bring me a coat when you return with the birthday girl.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh—and don’t get too crazy tonight—you guys have a big day ahead of you.”

“I know, I know.” Táan slapped his thigh to summon Archer and they went off in search of Dot.

 

By 6:30 that evening the entire lawn of Old Massett’s longhouse was packed with town folk. The picnic tables had been pushed together and were laden with side dishes and salmon. In the center of the lawn was a round table with a red check cloth, Marta’s three-layer birthday cake held a place of prominence amid the rest of the desserts. Children played hide and go seek while the adults stood around the grill. Kim sat at one of the tables and talked with a few of the elders until the pain in his leg bothered him too much, then Doc wheeled him back to the house. Kai and Pasha threw horseshoes against Ol’ Pa and Eli Hammond. As Táan led Dot up the sidewalk, everyone shouted “Happy Birthday, Dot!” “k'íina, 'láa ñáay sangáay!” Dot covered her mouth in surprise and took hold of Táan’s hand. Marta was right when it came to her daughter; she never could stay mad at him for very long.

 

The potlatch lasted until well past ten that evening. Wind startled to whistle through the cedars as the stragglers gathered around the fire pit near the rear of the longhouse. Ol’ Pa placed a hand on Dot’s shoulder as he pulled himself up. “Happy birthday, my girl. Here’s to many more celebrations like this one. Now, I’m tired and off to my bed.” Dot kissed his hand and smiled up at him as he turned to walk home.

“G’night Ol’ Pa,” the others called after him.

Oolie grabbed a log and tossed it into the blazing pit, causing sparks to fly in clusters toward the black sky. Dot sat on the grass, Archer’s head resting on her lap. Occasionally, he whimpered and twitched in his doggy dreams. The glow from the fire lit up Dot’s cheeks as she smiled, illuminating the ringlets around her face. From across the crackling embers, she saw the fetchers’ silhouettes. Adili stood behind the group, his back toward the flames, watching the trees gently sway. Táan’s knee rested against Dot’s shoulder.

 

Marta observed the group of friends as she packed away the leftovers. She thought about a birthday party twenty years ago—memories of her son’s eighteenth birthday, of people gathering around the same firepit late at night…. Sighing, she pushed her recollections away. This was Dot’s night, no time to dwell on those who resided in the spirit world nowadays. Another time for that.

Russell walked Rikke and her husband toward their boat, stopping by the table to say good night. “Thank you, Marta. This was a nice evening.”

“I’m glad you came,” Marta said. “And thanks for the halibut, we’ll freeze the steaks for our next potlatch.”

“Just let us know if you want any more. We save a few home-packs every time we go north.” Rikke’s husband said. “That is, if we ever go up there again—after what happened to the Tryoshnikov.”

“The name of the boat that they hit was Tryoshnikov?” Russell asked.

“Yes—well, it was a definitely a Russian vessel. The name was something like Trishnikovitch or maybe, Torishnikoff? Yes, something that sounded very much like that—we saw them almost every day before the…”

Marta looked at Russell with alarm. “I’ll tell the fetchers.” As she walked toward the fire pit, Marta tried in vain to steady her trembling hands. She took a deep breath and found an empty chair near the row of benches. “Guys, you’ll need to leave sooner than planned.”

Dot recognized the tension in Marta’s voice at once and got to her feet, knocking Archer from her lap. Kai leaned toward the fire. “What ‘ve you heard, Marta?”

“The ship that brought Mr. Chen to the snakehead’s boat—that Russian trawler? Well, HighTower blew it out of the water four days ago.”

For several seconds, there was a stunned silence around the fire until, from out of the darkness, Billy Telford ran up shouting, “Trackers are coming!”

Táan jumped up, “What?”

Billy coughed and bent over to catch his breath. “Trackers—HSA. They pulled into the harbor in Skidegate this evening. Pete just called me—two ships. The 87-footers. The crew were at the diner in his lodge.”

Marta rose and put her hand to her forehead, turning away from the fire to think. If the trackers depart tomorrow morning, they’ll be in Old Massett before lunchtime—unless they’ve already left. She spun back toward the group. “Kai—Adili! Get down to the tlúus! We’ve got trouble.”