Sisters in the Wind(21)

You have the same eyes. The timbre of your voice is the same, but your pitch is a smidge lower. Her skin was darker than yours. She’d love your haircut. She’d have some zingers about your chest—I hope you’re not sensitive about teasing. She’d say something that would have you laughing so hard you’d pee your pants. Lily was funny without even trying. Some people are like that.

We had just graduated high school in Sault Ste. Marie. We were so excited about starting college at Lake State in a few weeks. She planned to study psychology. She wanted to be a therapist for children in crisis. That was it—she never mentioned any other career. I wanted to become a physician but didn’t know which specialty. Sports medicine. Gerontology. Pediatric surgery. Everything sounded good.

Lily had a boyfriend. Travis. He was beautiful, intelligent, and so funny. He grew up on the rez. He played hockey and was really good. In middle school he was the chubby class clown, but by high school he looked like a handsome runway model. He was one of my brother’s friends. My favorite one.

Unfortunately, meth was everywhere, it seemed. Relatively easy to make, especially for someone as smart as Travis. We were in the same high school AP science classes. He wasn’t just my brother’s friend. He was my friend too.

Travis became addicted. Not just to meth but to Lily, also. When a relationship gets toxic like that—when he gets obsessive about where she is and who she’s with, can’t go a day without seeing her, has no sense of himself except being attached to her, feeling threatened by any independence on her part—it stops being love. She was ending things for good when he pulled out a gun and shot her.

Then he killed himself, because he couldn’t exist without her.

It happened in front of me. All of it.

I had a boyfriend too that summer. The new guy on my brother’s hockey team. We had only started dating. It was early in our relationship, when everything feels perfect.

That was the night I found out my boyfriend, Jamie Johnson, was an undercover cop. A Tribal Police officer on loan to the FBI. He was there to find out who was responsible for the meth that was killing people in my community. He was there because he looked a few years younger than he was and could pass as a high school senior. He was Native and an excellent hockey player. The ideal undercover officer. Perfect for using me to get close to my brother and the other teammates who were involved in the drug ring.

My brother, Levi, was in on everything—production, distribution, kidnapping, murder. He was willing to sacrifice me to continue his drug business. It was the worst betrayal. He went to prison. He’s still there.

Jamie did love me. It started as a fake relationship, a cover so he could blend better, but there was something real between us. I loved him, even without knowing who he really was. He wasn’t just playing a secret identity in Sault Ste. Marie; he’d been acting his entire life. As a young boy, he’d been adopted out or in foster care. I never knew the details.

When the investigation was over, Jamie wanted to find out where he was from. He wanted my help. No, it was more than that. He didn’t believe he had the strength to find the answers on his own. He needed me.

Lily was killed by a boy whose love had turned into something all-consuming. He put his own desperate needs above hers. He couldn’t bear to live in a world without her. He took her away from everyone. So many people still love and miss her.

I nearly died trying to save Jamie from my brother. I passed on for an instant. I know Lily-bah was there, but I can’t remember beyond the feeling of her spirit with me. My injuries were severe. My heart was damaged in more ways than one. I lost friends. I lost my brother and my uncle. I lost Lily, the best friend I’d ever had.

So I chose what I wanted over what Jamie needed. I chose my family and my community. I chose my education and my career. I chose to live my life exactly as I wanted, with no regrets, and I’ve done so these past five years.

Five years, Lucy. It feels like the blink of an eye.

Five years ago, my best friend died from a single bullet through her heart. When it happened, I couldn’t move. I was in shock and unable to look away. Jamie felt for her pulse but we both knew. She was already Lily-bah. Gone and on her way to the next world.

I hadn’t spoken to Jamie in five years. He called my cell phone yesterday. I didn’t know who was calling until he spoke. He told me about you. I was already in my car headed to I-75 before he asked me to come to Mount Pleasant.

Lucy, I’m here for you.





POST-BLAST DAY TWO


JANUARY 2009

I dream about her. My sister, Lily. The girl I never met who died at eighteen. The same age as me. But in this dream I am six years old. I ask my dad about my birth mom. He tells me she is Native American and that I have a sister who is ten. And do I want to meet her? I hop around, shouting, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

When I wake up, Daunis is gone. Jamie is in the recliner, checking something on his iPhone. He pauses to sip coffee from a thermos. It smells like a dark roast, more robust than the generic blend at the diner. He probably made it at the fully furnished suite he mentioned with the decent kitchen. If it had a standard coffee maker, he could pick up a French press at Target or Meijer. There’s a place near campus that sells beans they roast themselves. Jamie tilts the thermos at an angle, indicating he’s been here a while. Unless he chugs coffee like college students who shotgun beers.