Sisters in the Wind(24)
Daunis does all the shopping. She bought a magnetic notepad with a tethered pen for the fridge. She draws two vertical lines to divide each sheet into three sections with our names in block lettering at the top. We write down whatever we want; Daunis makes every effort to buy it.
I fill in the same thing each time she starts a fresh list:
LUCY wants …
1. To run fast and far away.
Daunis adds a smiley face as if I’m joking. At least Jamie is supportive. He always writes Someday! next to my entry.
Jamie is very keen on someday.
She posts a list on the fridge of foods rich in vitamin D and calcium: milk, yogurt, cottage cheese, salmon, egg yolks, canned tuna, cooked spinach, and dried figs. It’s not my first time with dietary lists.
As for my labor contribution, I do kitchen cleanup—which I’ve done in every foster placement. Holding on to the walker with one hand and balancing my dishes in the other, I clear my spot at the dining table. Daunis and Jamie put their dishes in the sink. Then I load the dishwasher and hand-wash the glassware.
At first Daunis hovered next to me until I reminded her that I was just following Dr. Rao’s instructions. Leg movement is essential for healing. I also keep my bedroom tidy, but with the door closed so she can’t see or hear me ditch the walker and hop to where I want to go.
Daunis arranges for the hotel housekeepers to come twice a week to vacuum, clean bathrooms, and change the bedding. She tips generously each time. Daunis has a way of speaking to the housekeepers that’s friendly but not chummy. She’s used to interacting with hired help. Generational wealth. She grew up watching her mother, most likely, instruct a household staff in that pleasant yet impersonal way.
I don’t know what my hospital bills totaled. Daunis simply said it was taken care of. The two-bedroom suite must cost a lot, but Daunis has a friend who’s a member of the local tribe, and they worked out a long-term rental arrangement.
She surprises me with a laptop. I would’ve had to exist on beans and rice and diner scraps for six months to save enough for a Samsung notebook.
I am fascinated by Daunis Fontaine, the loyal best friend of my half sister.
She is constantly on her cell phone. I’m glad she goes to the hotel lobby for her evening calls with her boyfriend, TJ Kewadin. It would be cruel to make Jamie overhear those conversations. She’s considerate about going to her bedroom and closing the door for the dozens of other calls every day, but since our rooms share a wall, I still can hear her half of the conversation. I learn a lot.
Daunis speaks to her mother in a way that’s warm and kind. Completely different from the perfunctory interactions I’ve had with any of the women trying to step into the role.
She’s also close to an aunt named Teddie, but they sound more like sisters who fight and make up quickly. Teddie is mom to the twins: Perry and Pauline. Daunis watches Hannah Montana with Pauline on the phone. Perry is a boy, I think. They talk about ice fishing, hunting rabbits, and Sugar Bush, which is when the whole family taps maple trees and boils the sap to make syrup. Daunis speaks in Anishinaabemowin with the twins for parts of their phone calls. She seems more like an aunt than a cousin.
The other person she checks in with every day is Seeney Nimkee. At first I thought Seeney was another aunt. As I overheard more conversations, though, I figured out that Seeney is something of a boss and a mentor to Daunis. They talk a lot about medicine and Ojibwe culture. Daunis listens more than she talks with Seeney. When she does speak, it’s frequently in Anishinaabemowin, like with the twins.
Daunis knows I don’t want to hear about my birth mother or the family. She leaves the suite for those calls, like with her evening calls with TJ. She is more likely to slip when talking with Jamie.
One time she was telling me something funny about the twins—who, it turns out, are both girls—and she mentioned friends of theirs. Lucas and Lola went with them to Great Wolf Lodge in Traverse City last year when the girls turned ten.
“Are they twins too?” I ask.
Daunis’s face drains of what little color it has. She looks to Jamie for rescue, but he’s suddenly occupied with drinking the glass of water he’s been ignoring all evening.
After way too long of a pause, she responds.
“Lucas and Lola are your brother and sister.”
I keep my face blank and emotionless as I reach for the novel I recently started. I pretend to read until she finds a reason to retreat to her bedroom. Jamie thankfully stays out of it, but I see his concerned puppy-dog eyes stare at her closed door.
* * *
Daunis runs every morning at the student athletic center on the CMU campus. Judging by the way Jamie gazes as she bounds past in her leggings and sweatshirt, he wants to join her. They must have made a pact to tag-team their care of me.
I accepted my dad’s overprotectiveness because I knew nothing else. Living on my own for the six months before the explosion, I relished walking wherever and whenever I wanted to go. No foster parent to appease. No social worker check-ins.
I wonder how my dad might have handled any rebellion on my part, had he lived longer. Would he have been shocked? Disappointed?
I wish my dad could’ve adapted to a new normal with me.
Jamie makes breakfast every morning while Daunis is running. She eats lightly, just unsweetened yogurt and fresh fruit after her post-run shower. Which means Jamie is basically my private breakfast chef. I drink tea and eat toast to go with my morning pain meds while I watch him cook. He makes egg-yolk omelets stuffed with mushrooms and cheese. I was never a fan of leafy greens, but Jamie chops broccoli, kale, and spinach that he cooks with Italian seasoning and a hard cheese called Asiago that tastes good but is kind of stinky.