Sunday, April 26, 2015

Poking Holes




Thorny, jabbing me with his insight, stung my spirit. It was true. I failed to honor Clay’s words by so easily forgetting them but I also felt duped by a bait and switch maneuver. The scope of Clay’s disorder and prognosis wasn’t made known until after I arrived. Had it been, I may not have volunteered in the way I did. I was stuck by the situation and Thorny.

Someone tossed plastic ware or wrapping in their fire and toxic smelling smoke stung my lungs.

“Well Thorny,” I said, “I agree with your assessment, however…”

Standing up so I could face Clay, I hoped for a better read on his mental state by what I saw in his eyes.

“And here comes the rationalizing and justification for your actions. Am I right?” asked Thorny. “There you are, looking down at me like you’ve done with Clay so many times.”

“Now come on Clay, that’s not fair. At least let me answer your question. And, I only stood so I could face and acknowledge you better. I meant no disrespect.”

“Okay, go on, but I’m not Clay.”

“Oops, sorry. I’m not making an excuse disguised in justification or whatever. My ‘however’, had you let me finish Thorny, was to say this situation with Clay is hard to understand. I’ve never encountered anything like it.”

Sitting down before Clay, I crossed my ole bony legs and waited for a response. The Pow-Wow announcer clicked his microphone on and it squealed with feedback. Grand entry would be starting within a half hour. Two teen boys walked by with ankle bells jangling. They carried some of their dance regalia toward the camp restrooms and nodded as they passed. They’d be getting dressed to dance.

“So, you aren’t dreading your decision to come down here? You haven’t resented being in hell surrounded by fudgies?” asked Clay.

My heart hop scotched. “What?! Where’d you get such an idea Thorny?”
 
“Yes or no, that easy.”

“Okay then, yes dammit but how could you know that? I never spoke of it.”

A honey bee appeared, circled my head a few times and landed on Clay’s left shoulder. Hoping it might poke ole Thorny, I said nothing. Maybe the pain would help Clay come back. The look painted itself on Clay’s face and gave me hope.

“Migizi, this is JuJu and she won’t sting me. We’re partners.”

“So you can read my mind? Is that it? Well knock it off. Wait, partners at what?”

Holding out his left hand, the bee flew to it and landed on Clay’s thumb.

“JuJu and I work together in spreading the truth required for growth and fruitfulness. And no, I’m not reading your mind. I know you so well I can accurately guess what you are likely thinking.”

A little girl walked by with a bottle of root beer and JuJu the bee left in pursuit of a sugar fix. Looking really sharp in their men’s traditional outfits, the teen boys passed by again. Taking advantage of the distractions I took a potshot at Thorny and changing the subject.

“Thorny, you aren’t real. You speak of Clay as if he’s someone else. You are the ‘someone else’ Thorny, not Clay.”

“We’ll see. Who among us is real? You ever heard of shape changing or are you too white for that Migizi? Maybe you’re the one who isn’t real.”

That was it. I brought out the shotgun shell talisman. 

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