Chapter 33

Thirty-Three

The world has become empty and meaningless. The days don’t want to go by. It takes an unbearable amount of strength to cope with each and every one and to do everyday things. I’m exhausted, dead tired with grief. The weight lies like lead on my shoulders, making any movement excruciating. Sometimes, it seems to me that someone else is living my life and I am watching him from a great height like an eagle. Occasionally, I give him instructions. Feed the wolf, drink water, wash yourself. But he doesn’t always do what I tell him.

I couldn’t go back to my piece of land after that September day. The mere idea of sitting there alone by the campfire almost killed me. It will never be the same without Lou, there are just too many memories right now.

I drove back to the Yukon, somewhere into Unorganized Canada, an area as jumbled as I feel.

My maxillary sinuses hurt from crying so much and the swelling of my eyes doesn’t go down anymore. There’s a rhythmic pounding in my head, but the pain is nothing compared to the horrific feeling of loss. I hardly sleep at night, tossing and turning, and when I do doze off, I dream of Lou. I don’t want to get up in the morning, too caught up in the images and the longing for her.

In the evenings, I sit on the steps of the RV with the door open and watch the day as it slides into night and then a new morning. Tomorrow will be like yesterday. Just like it used to be. Relentless and lonely.

At some point, it’s October and the golden deciduous trees turn burgundy. The wild geese screech more frequently now as the flocks migrate south. Now and again, a shot from poachers echoes through the air.

The sun is already setting in the afternoon, so I sit on the steps in the twilight, fingers numb and feet frozen from the cold gripping of the Yukon. At such moments, Grey comes to me to warm me, but I shoo him away as he reminds me too much of all my happy hours with Lou.

Around mid-October, when the temperatures drop too low, I return to Faro, the place where I have already spent two winters. I rent a shabby house on the edge of the woods where the neighboring house is a quarter mile away. There is some old furniture inside still: an oak table, three chairs with torn upholstery, and an old-fashioned kitchenette with broken cupboard doors. At night, I sleep on a mat, and during the day, I sit huddled on the floor in front of the large south-facing window, staring out at the overgrown yard: at blackberries, wild roses, and birches.

I unpacked some of Lou’s clothes and put them around the two floors to make it look like she merely took a brief trip. Besides that, I only get the essentials out of the RV. It’s parked in the yard, and every once in a while, I’ll sit at the table inside, close my eyes, and try to remember Lou’s voice. Rarely do I succeed and then I hear her whispering to me. Things from our night under the willow, things that will forever remain my secret.

The temptation to search for her online is great, but I don’t give in to the urge. In the beginning, I read the Vancouver Sun online every day, always hoping to find a story about Lou. Maybe a lurid account of her kidnapping along with a new photo. Maybe I was hoping the police would find me and arrest me. At least then I wouldn’t have to think about how to proceed. But the article never came. Instead, there was a short, factual message without a photo: Lantern girl must have run away. A few lines of text, that was it. Maybe the papers in the States covered more of the story.

So, she stuck to what she said in the parking lot. Somehow, it pierced my heart because it meant she does care about me. And for Grey it matters, of course. What would have become of him if they had put me in jail? But despite my relief, I still have an uneasy feeling because I don’t know if Lou’s brothers will forgive her. Also, I often think of Los Angeles and Compton, of debt and payment. If I’m not jailed for what I’ve done, how will I be punished?

Sometimes, sitting apathetically by the window, I stare at the curry-yellow and purple streaks in the dawning sky. The autumn wind makes the birches tremble and a bare twig ticks lazily against the glass. It’s as if nature was whispering, just like all the pressing questions inside me that I can’t turn off.

Are you all right, Lou? Are you back in school? Do you have nightmares about thethings I did to you? Do you dream of the darkness in the box, the narrowness, the fear of death? Do you still think of me?

Will she ever forgive me when she realizes what the summer really meant to her?

Toward the end of October, the smell of autumn gives way to the clear, metallic character of winter. The scar under the leather strap begins to sting, and the next day, bitterly cold winds bring snow and freezing cold from the north. The city sinks under a high blanket of snow. The few residents shovel the streets and I help because I have nothing better to do. In fact, it’s the first time I’ve socialized since renting the house. I had food delivered for Grey, there are enough supplies in the RV, and didn’t want to expose myself to the public. Faro is small and people are curious. Many elders are First Nations and generally view intruders with suspicion. Same situation as two years ago. Also, I don’t trust my seizures. I haven’t had a flash since the day Lou and I broke up. But that means nothing. I didn’t have any blackouts in the wilderness either, it only started with the picture of Lou.

And now, after a long time among people again, I try to ignore their looks, grunt yes or no when asked something, and otherwise work in silence.

Shoveling the snow, I notice how much my condition has suffered from the lack of exercise and the many cigarettes over the last few weeks. I’m not fit, but the fresh air is good for me. For the first time since September, my head is clearing, my nose is clearing, and I can think better and breathe deeply again.

Even Grey seems to be more upbeat. He jumps around me exuberantly and my conscience bothers me because I haven’t been giving him much attention lately. I let him into the yard, but I think he misses the forest as much as I do.

“We’re going to go back out there again,” I promise him, playfully tossing a snowball in his direction. He pricks up his ears happily, comes to me, and nibbles on my gloves. I smile while at the same time, tears well up in my eyes. “You also miss Lou lots, don’t you?”

At the sound of her name, he looks around in confusion, as if she should be right around the corner. Then, he looks at me questioningly and wags his tail excitedly.

“She’s not here, Grey,” I say quietly. I grab the snow shovel and return to the house.

The very next morning, I keep my promise and walk along the Pelly River with Grey and from there into the forest. The dull winter light bathes the conifers in a spooky haze of gray. All around me, nature is exceptionally still. The fallen snow muffles my steps and I feel like I’m walking through a landscape from a dream. Grey bounces ahead, but not without turning to look at me from time to time.

After a few minutes, I realize how stupid the idea of going for a walk was. Everything here reminds me of the Quiet Lake area. The snow-powdered spruces, the white-gray winter sky, the biting cold. Inevitably, my mind wanders back to the day I discovered Lou. Despite the gloves, I bury my hands deep in my pockets. Back then, I didn’t want to go on living like this anymore. Then again, I’m basically just as lonely today as I was a year ago. Certainly not quite like that now that I have Grey, but Grey is a wolf, not a human.

And yet…something’s different from that winter at Quiet Lake and it’s not because of the few people I’ve joined to shovel snow.

I try to be clear about my feelings.

For a while, I’ve been wondering if I regret the kidnapping. Of course, I didn’t want to hurt Lou, but how could I regret everything else? I don’t think anyone has ever experienced love like we have. In hindsight, it seems like a deep, unfathomable mystery to me. When I think of that love, there’s the heaviness of my darkness that suddenly became so bright, like a thousand stars were rising at the same time. There are whispered words and wild magic, there is the smell of river water, wind, and night, and the many things we never said to each other. There is trust that grew in silence. And a lightness I don’t understand. How am I supposed to regret a love like that when it grew out of something utterly wrong? How can something so beautiful arise from such a false beginning?

I involuntarily shake my head. I don’t know the answer. All I know is that I’m different than I was then. Even today, weeks after Lou’s departure, everything feels pointless. Still, I would never walk across a half-frozen lake with my eyes closed. Maybe it’s only the pain of loss that makes me come alive. A year ago, I felt nothing but emptiness. I found myself again through Lou. This is perhaps the greatest gift she has given me.

I stop abruptly. My breath paints bright little clouds in the winter air. As always when I think of Lou, I am suddenly frightened. Good God, I hope she’s okay. She should have found her way back to her life. It would be cruel if she couldn’t get over the trauma I caused.

Just be okay, Lou, yes?For a moment, I stop and listen, as if she must answer me, but everything remains still. Naturally.

I start moving again. My snow pants rustle with every step and the snow crunches under my soles. My walk is still too sluggish. When you miss someone, it’s like being sick. I wonder if it will ever stop. Will this longing in my chest ever fade? Will I ever be able to remember Lou and feel nothing but joy and gratitude? I still can’t imagine it. Nor can I imagine life without her. A life without Lou…

I should be searching for a job. Every person needs a task so as not to go crazy whether they have money or not. In the wilderness, I’ve been busy trapping, hunting, collecting wood, canning fruit, and making fruit wine, but what if I can never go back there? What if the memory of Lou remains painful?

So, what should I do in Faro? And what happens if I get flashes again? Will I have to move on, from village to village, always on the run from my seizures and their effects? Will people’s fear make me a perpetual nomad? And what am I supposed to do with this life without Lou? Lou wanted a normal life with me and I told her that wasn’t possible because even if I currently don’t have flashes, that can change at any time.

A load of snow falls on my hat from above. Confused, I take off the lined glove and tap off the powder, but some of it sticks to the wool in icy clumps. Did I stop again? I look around. Grey stands next to me and licks my fingers. I automatically squat down and wrap my arms around him. His tongue roughly washes my cheek.

“She was right,” I murmur into the thick, soft fur around his neck, burying my nose deeper into it. Grey howls like he’s adding music to my grief. Again, I smile and cry at the same time. Crazy. Lou told me no love in the world could heal me. I think it’s only now that I understand what she meant. I have the boy’s experiences, but too much has broken inside me. No, love alone won’t heal me. I can only do that myself.

Carefully, I detach myself from Grey and stand. Lou would have wanted me to take care of myself, so I’ll do what I should have done a long time ago.