Love after the End Read online

  Asdzáá Hashké searched K’é’s face ensuring there was a place within *them to place each and every one of her words. “During the last World War, our Navajo ancestors hid deep inside the cliff walls of the reservation and in underground bunkers to escape the draft. Those who were forced to fight tried to make their way back home to ensure the safety of their families. Very few returned. They were captured at checkpoints, jailed, or placed back at the front lines. The war raged on and we survived invasions from China and Russia. Larger cities and towns already debilitated by economic depression and climate change were captured first, but rural areas took longer to canvass and control. Beyond the safety of our canyons, the rich died at the hands of rebel forces, crops failed, and mass extinction became a daily reality. It was complete chaos.”

  Rivers of tears filled Asdzáá Hashké’s eyes as she described how, despite bombs dropped, despite millions killed, despite the chaos of this new world, soldiers returned home because of dreams they had had.

  “I was at my post and drifted off,” Asdzáá Hashké remembered as this soldier spoke many years ago. “They had us standing guard for twelve to sixteen hours at a time. The air was electric with fear. I dreamt that my grandma, speaking from Spirit world as she had passed years before, sat in front of me. I could reach out and touch her. Before she faded away, she told me, ‘Go home. This is not the fight we need you for. Your family needs you.’”

  And finally, “An auntie visited me in my dreams. She said to me, ‘Our people will not survive. Our ways and traditions will not make it if you are not home to learn.’ She showed me images on the surface of her palm of what was going to happen. It was so terrifying at first and I couldn’t watch. Then she opened her other palm and showed me images of survivors, my children and grandchildren and their grandchildren. I left my post and hitchhiked all the way home.”

  Asdzáá Hashké sighed heavily and braced herself on K’é’s shoulder as if the memory had been too much. “K’é. Look at me. I am old now. I have to reserve my energy for Travelling between worlds. This requires long hours and a lot of rest. I cannot do this alone. I have a strong feeling in my belly that you have been Travelling already.” K’é gulped at the offer, as if standing at the edge of a great precipice.

  Now in K’é’s hogan, *they took a deep breath and finished writing in *their journal *their truth, as if signing a contract to *their heart, to the future of *their people: “It is time to tell Asdzáá Hashké my dream.” Before K’é could change *their mind, *they packed some cornbread and headed to Adszáá Hashké’s home.

  EVERY MINUTE JENNIFER SPENT at work led up to this moment when she would come into her favourite corner store, Lucky Convenience. Jennifer stepped in through the sliding automatic doors and scanned the aisles quickly.

  “We meet again,” she whispered under her breath.

  She knew the anatomy of this store like the back of her hand. Each aisle from front to back was assigned various items starting with automotive and seasonal supplies. Next aisle belonged to travel-size toothpaste, single-serve aspirin, and emergency sewing kits. The aisle after that was dedicated to chips, candy, and gum, followed by baked goods. A coffee stand with doughnuts stood before the refrigerated section of sodas, juices, milk, eggs, butter, beer, and wine.

  Jennifer learned which beer had the highest alcohol content as well as the cheapest wine. Reds over whites.

  The hot dogs turned on the hot iron rods. The Slurpee machine mixed reds and blues. The smell of diluted coffee wafted through the air. She needed a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine. She weaved between other shoppers swiftly, made it to the cooler, and grabbed her favourite brand of dark ale: Newcastle. She held the beer close to her as she made her way to the wines on sale a couple of aisles down. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, freed her hand, and reached up for a bottle of red wine. She made her way to the front and stood in line with her items.

  The cool bottles of beer and warm wine bottle pressed against her like a familiar weight to her arms and hips. This part—the relentless lineup—felt like the last hurdle before she was to head home and settle in for the night. She imagined the sweet aftertaste of the Newcastle as she waited for her turn. This made her salivate and stomach knot up. A white woman in a pantsuit stepped up with her items and fumbled with her payment. As the cashier rang her up, Jennifer tapped the wine bottle with a finger, impatient that it was taking this long for her to get home with her drinks. She wanted nothing more than to check out and to forget about her day.

  While Pantsuit Lady desperately scooped change that had fallen to the floor, Jennifer’s thoughts wandered back to her meeting with her last client. She didn’t like court-ordered sessions, not because of the clients, but because it was coercive in nature. Judges didn’t really care about healing. They wanted reports to move this client along either back into jail, or, if they were feeling charitable, they would track them into a rehabilitation centre.

  Jennifer forced a smile as the client entered the room. “Welcome to my office. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  “Me too.” He tried not to sound too enthusiastic, but she had the power to send him to jail, so he played nice. He smiled with his chapped lips but his dark brown eyes remained suspicious. His wiry facial stubble framed his mouth and faded down his chin. Classic patchy Native beard pattern. Jennifer reminded herself to give him an outreach hygiene kit which had a razor, travel-size shaving cream, toothbrush, toothpaste, and underarm deodorant. His thin frame was engulfed by the chair he sat in. He wore fitted jeans, a canvas belt buckle from the Army surplus store on Valencia Street, a black T-shirt three sizes too big, and an old pair of red-and-white Jordans with shoelaces he had knotted where the lace had come apart. Jennifer watched him as he carefully scanned the room. A diploma. A large black filing cabinet. The computer turned away from him. A poster of the Seven Sacred Teachings. An abalone shell with a bundle of sage sticking out of it. The usual books about addiction and trauma. A cup of cold coffee in a brightly coloured Pendleton mug.

  “Would you like some water or a snack?”

  “Sure.”

  She handed him a granola bar from a box she had in her bottom desk drawer and a bottle of water.

  “I keep some for clients in case they’re hungry.”

  He opened the bottle of water and granola bar. The bar was gone in two bites. He washed it down with half the water in one gulp.

  “I like granola bars too,” she said. “Especially the ones with chocolate.”

  “It’s all right. Thanks. So, what do we do now?”

  “Well, we will work on an intake. It’s a lot of questions, some of them can be difficult to answer. You can take your time or not answer any of them. Your choice. Cool?”

  “Cool.” They both knew he didn’t have a choice. He had rehearsed this story so many times. He knew how to share without feeling any of it. No one really cared anyway. He wanted to stay out of jail and she was just meeting with another client.

  “Okay, next.” The cashier waved in Jennifer’s direction. Jennifer shook her head and placed her purchases onto the conveyor belt, the image of the client’s patchy beard still fresh in her mind.

  K’É COULD SEE ASDZÁÁ HASHKÉ’S new hogan sitting in the desert’s late afternoon sunlight. As *they approached her front gate *they noticed a small garden of corn, squash, and watermelon. K’é said a silent prayer over the seedlings in the hope that the soil would sustain the crop, twenty years after the war’s destruction. K’é marvelled at the hogan’s construction and rejoiced in Asdzáá Hashké finally living above ground. Many of her generation were finally emerging onto the landscape after two decades of surviving in connected networks of underground bunkers.

  K’é could see through the front window that Asdzáá Hashké was waiting inside drinking tea. K’é knocked on the door.

  “Shimá, you home?”

  “Aoo’, come inside.”

  K’é turned the metal doorknob, pushed the wooden door
, and entered. Asdzáá Hashké was seated at her round kitchen table. The rich brown of the table had faded and there were four mismatched chairs around the table. She sat in the most comfortable one, wide with chrome finish and faded blue cloth cushion and back. There was an extra pillow on the seat. Beneath her to the left of her chair on the clay tile were grooves etched out from her whorl that danced and jumped against her leg when she spun wool. Her balls and skein of yarn sat in a basket on the small sofa behind her chair. K’é sat on the metal crate closest to her. Asdzáá Hashké poured tea from a metal kettle into two matching cups. K’é enjoyed the momentary silence as *they gathered *their energy and attention. As *they sat sipping from *their tea, Asdzáá Hashké finally spoke. K’é knew better than to speak before *their elder.

  “You’ve learned a lot these past few years, yáázh. I’m proud of your progress. But part of progressing is owning your truth. Do you have something important to share with me today?” Asdzáá Hashké peered into the depths of K’é’s face in a way that only a nádleeh or Medicine Person could. K’é gulped, unsure if *they were brave enough to carry on these traditions.

  “Sometimes, I dream. Sometimes, I swim with whales and dolphins. Other times, I am learning to fly. At first it’s this awkward frog-legged movement that gets me a few feet into the air but soon I can frog-leg myself above the trees and see everything below me.” K’é paused for a moment and looked at Asdzáá Hashké, wondering if *they sounded silly. Asdzáá Hashké nodded, encouraging the truth to come forth, knowing not all had been said.

  “Now the dreams are getting stronger. More vivid. Last night I dreamt that I was helping out with some ceremony.” K’é focused *their eyes so hard that wrinkles appeared on *their forehead.

  I’m outside a hogan. It’s a sunny day, blue skies forever. The land is dusty brown and there is a mountain behind me. I see homes that are boxy and painted different colors on the hill behind the hogan. There are a lot of people at this ceremony. I see people arriving in trucks and cars. Some have arrived on horses who take cover from the sun under trees nearby their tails swishing away flies as they lazily chew hay. Anyway, I’m standing outside this hogan. I see people who feel familiar but I don’t recognize them.

  K’é opened *their eyes and realized *their hands were intertwined with Asdzáá Hashké’s, as if they had both been on a long journey, as if she needed to look through the window on K’é’s memory.

  “Shiyáázh,” Asdzáá Hashké said, looking into K’é’s eyes. “Everyone can dream. But it sounds like your dreams are asking you to do more than watch. They are asking you to Travel. To send a message to another the other side. Would you like to learn? Would you like me to teach you?”

  “Yes, shimá.”

  JENNIFER’S USUAL SIX-PACK and bottle of wine had done the trick again and she was passed out on the couch watching The Late Show. Beyond the show’s audience laughter and celebrity conversations, other voices began to echo between her ears. In her usual drunken stupor, she never dreamed. But, tonight, the sensations were inescapable.

  It’s dark and warm. There are hushed voices all around the room that Jennifer finds herself in. Her eyes slowly adjust. There’s a smoke hole right in the centre of the room with a shaft of light pouring in. Dust hangs in the air, small particles that move like a school of fish with each exhale and brush of hand in the air. There is an entrance covered by fabric of some sort. Jennifer looks down and sees that she is shirtless. There is a bunch of green plants in one hand and a braid of plants tied around her other wrist. She sees her chest has been dusted with black paint. She looks down and sees a flattened chest rather than her breasts.

  “Turn this way.” A voice breaks the warm silence and Jennifer looks at a hand reaching out of the darkness to fasten the braid on her wrist. Another hand touches her on the back, adjusting a thin sash hanging from one shoulder to the opposite hip.

  “TELL ME THE REST OF YOUR DREAM,” said Asdzáá Hashké.

  K’é continued.

  I hear voices inside the hogan. Many voices. I look down and see that I’m wearing blue leggings, a shirt that is buttoned up, and shoes that feel tight. I have on a hat with a white brim. My left wrist has a beautiful black leather wrist guard embellished with a silver and turquoise pattern. It’s my shield.

  “Are they ready?” I say this to the folks inside the hogan although I don’t know who I’m speaking to or about. After a moment, the voices inside say to me, “Aoo’.” I lift the flap to the hogan and as my eyes adjust to the folks standing inside, I wake up.

  SHE HEARS A DEEP VOICE from outside the room. “Are they ready?”

  After one final adjustment of fabric around her head she hears the word, “Aoo’.” Jennifer knows that word means “yes” yet she has never heard it before.

  Jennifer woke up suddenly. She tipped her bottle of wine over and its contents soaked through the edge of her sofa. Her face was damp with sweat and her shirt was covered with the remnants of orange Cheese Balls. “Shit.” She pulled herself up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She checked the clock on the wall. Six a.m.

  She put the wine bottle on the coffee table, pulled herself up from the couch, and walked toward the bathroom. The warm hug that had her floating in a cloud of numbness all evening had been replaced by a sinister grip of the morning. She felt herself getting sick. With her hand on the wall, she found the toilet, dropped to her knees, and dry heaved. Snakes of saliva and vomit dangled from cracked lips. Her head reverberated with pain and she pulled herself to the sink and slowly washed her face. She cupped the cool water, sipped a little, swished it in her mouth, and spat it out. Her mouth tasted sour. Soon her face started to tingle and come alive. She could feel the cool tiles underneath her feet. She had two hours to make herself presentable for work.

  As she sipped Pedialyte for breakfast and ate small bites of toast, she searched her wrist for the braid of plants. She stood frozen for a moment remembering small slivers of her dream. She looked at her kitchen with its bright overhead light littered with dead bugs and suddenly remembered her dream’s dirt floor, warm darkness, smell of smoke, and soft voices. Jennifer looked down at her hands holding her toast. Her mouth went dry and her tongue moved gritty pieces of toast to the back of her throat. As she swallowed the toast, she realized she had swallowed too much and the pressure of the lump of toast moved down her esophagus painfully.

  She touched her chest and felt the soft mounds of her breasts. Jennifer vaguely recalled the greasy black paint across the flat chest in her dream. She swatted crumbs off her chest, took one last sip of her Pedialyte, grabbed her bag and keys, and with a sigh, opened her front door. Jennifer leaned against the cool of the door with her forehead as she locked it and walked down the hallway toward the street. Hoping to not run into anyone she knew, she slipped on her shades, and made her way to work.

  Once she got to her desk and opened up her email, she saw a reminder about Elder Thomas’s visit.

  FROM: Moves Camp, Leslie

  TO: All Staff

  Reminder that we are still taking one-on-one sessions with Elder Thomas who is visiting with our staff this week. He is here on Thursday afternoon and Friday afternoon 1:00 p.m.–5:00 p.m. Thursday afternoon he has 30-minute sessions with clients, so please make sure you help clients schedule time with him. Additionally, if staff would like a 30-minute time slot with him please let me know by the end of day today. Be sure to bring some tobacco to offer Elder Thomas. You are invited to the community feast Friday after work in the Great Conference Room here at the Indigenous Health Centre 6:00 p.m.–8:00 p.m. If you would like to volunteer to help set up and clean up, please let me know as well by the end of today.

  Have a good day!

  Leslie Moves Camp

  JENNIFER EAGERLY SIGNED HERSELF UP for a consultation with Elder Thomas. She hoped he knew the word she heard in her dream. She wrote it down on a sticky note. “Oo?! Sounds like oat.”

  ASDZÁÁ HASHKÉ LISTENED INTENTLY … After hearin
g about *their dream, she knew K’é was the right choice as her apprentice. *They were already Travelling to the other side and visiting ancestors.

  “Yáah, that’s a beautiful dream.” She twiddled her fingers in excitement. K’é sat looking at *their empty tea cup, waiting for Asdzáá Hashké to help *them make sense of *their dream.

  “You made contact with our ancestors from long ago, shiyáázh. I was right in choosing you as my apprentice. Right now, you are Travelling by accident. But I can teach you to Travel there on purpose. Do you understand?”

  K’é felt the hair on *their arms slowly rise. *Their vision sharpened and *their mouth became dry. *They took in this information nodding slowly. *They knew what this meant.“I’m a Traveller? Someone who can journey from this world to next?” *they asked in a mixture of excitement and fear.

  “Aoo’. And, we must teach you how to handle this energy so we can communicate with our ancestors. I want to get some messages across.” K’é nodded, took in a huge breath, and let it out slowly.

  Asdzáá Hashké laughed. “Hey, it’s not that scary. I’ve been Travelling for many decades now. We’re going to do it together.”

  K’é looked up from *their tea and a smile formed on *their lips. Asdzáá Hashké got up and poured *them some more tea. She shared the cornbread K’é had brought. *They dipped their bread into *their tea and gathered *their thoughts. It was going to be an exciting evening.

  After they finished the cornbread and tea, Asdzáá Hashké’s face lit up.

  “Okay, let’s begin. Get comfortable in your chair. Ready?” She looked right into K’é’s eyes with her eyebrows raised. K’é nodded and took in a deep breath. “Aoo’.”

  “The first thing we will do is slow everything down with our breath and attention.” She slowly raised her hand from her lap to the height of her head with an in-breath and lowered her hand with an even slower out-breath. She did this for ten minutes, all the while K’é found themselves getting sleepier and sleepier. “Try to stay in both the here and now and the dream world. That’s the doorway.”