Poem: "That Light Bulb in Your House with a Short in It"
This poem is spillover from the July 4, 2022 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by Dreamwidth users Readera and Fuzzyred. It also fills the "Amazing Bad Ass" square in my 7-1-23 card for the Fireworks Bingo fest. This poem belongs to the Shiv and Iron Horses thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.
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WARNING: This poem contains material that may disturb many readers. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which may be spoilers and also triggers. It includes awkward relationships, an Omaha Nation boy improperly placed with a white foster family, the Iron Horses asking Shiv to help them rescue the boy, Shiv's massive pile of issues with Nebraska Family Services, graphic descriptions of Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder, vulgar languages, asking for help and getting it, extreme but justified suspicion, boundary issues, Shiv's memory of wrecking a dirtbike and subsequent quandary over riding a motorcycle, the inside of Shiv's head is always a warning, and so is the Adder house, removal of a child from improper foster placement, baby drinking cola, cartoon wall art of a black girl playing with a monkey, a black toddler in a dog cage, Kyle Highwolf is having as hard a time with this as Shiv, obnoxious racist / ablist / bigoted remarks, grabbing a child, Shiv threatening to maim the foster mother (for cause, and he meant it), crying child, cape politics, trivial accidental self-injury, minor medical details, Shiv is painfully awkward at giving comfort, hungry child, terrible self-image from foster care, Shiv is running out of cope, impact of foster care on whole Omaha Nation, and other mayhem. WARN ALL THE THINGS! If these are touchy topics for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before deciding if this is something you want to read. However, it's the beginning of the Foster Fiasco story arc, which you can continue on Dialecticdreamer's blog with "An Echo of War Drums," so skipping it would leave a big gap.
"That Light Bulb in Your House with a Short in It"
[Monday, September 14, 2015]
Shiv had gone out to the Omaha Reservation,
carrying some messages -- ever since he had
straightened things out with the Iron Horses,
everyone had been trying to communicate
better so they didn't tangle like that again.
It was still a little awkward, hesitant,
but it was a lot better than it had been.
Smoking Breath was sorting through
the set of messages that Shiv had
brought when Joseph Elkdog
and Ben Big Rock came in.
"We got the paperwork,"
Joseph said, offering a file.
Smoking Bear opened it
and skimmed the contents.
"Good work," he said.
"We could use an extra,"
Joseph said. "No point
making it easy for anyone
who wants to complain."
Smoking Breath looked at Ben.
"What do you think?" he asked,
tilting his head toward Shiv.
"I think that we should be
so lucky," Ben replied.
"Well, Little Lynx, might you
be willing to do us a favor?"
asked Smoking Breath.
"Depends," said Shiv.
"What kind of favor?"
"The kind where we
could use someone who
looks white, but takes after
our side instead," said Joseph.
Shiv looked down at his hands,
where he'd stuck on a Sunspot in
in his usual alabaster to make sure
he didn't forget and stay out too long.
"Yeah, I look white," he admitted,
"until I open my mouth. Dymin
tried to teach me to talk better,
but I gotta concentrate to do it,
and I can't when I'm upset."
"Really, all we need is the look
of it," Joseph assured him. "That's
enough to squelch the kind of fuss
that we're hoping to avoid here."
"And what're you up to that you
need that kind of backup?"
Shiv said. "You want me
to just stand there, or
actually do anything?"
Ben and Joseph looked
at each other, then nodded.
"If it comes to that, pitch in,"
said Joseph. "I've heard that
you work as a bouncer for
Blues Moon sometimes."
"Yeah, I have," said Shiv.
"Done a bit of bodyguarding
too. Folks don't notice me. Got
no training for social aid though."
"Great, then forget about bouncing,
bodyguard it is," said Joseph. "We
need to go pick up an Omaha boy
from a white foster home that
he shouldn't even be in."
Shiv looked at Smoking Breath.
"You want to give me some
background here?" he said.
"Cause I'm feelin' pretty lost."
"All right, first of all, tribal children
are supposed to go other members
of their tribe if their parents can't
care for them," said Smoking Breath.
"State authorities do not always
follow the laws as written."
Shiv snorted. "Yeah, no,
Family Services follows laws
like nutjob supervillains -- if
they damn well feel like it,
and otherwise fuck you."
Joseph muffled a laugh.
"You are not wrong," he said.
"Now, the next part has to do
with what happens when women
get drunk while they're pregnant,"
said Smoking Breath. "You may
not have encountered this, but --"
"Oh, I seen it, grew up with 'em,"
Shiv said. "Lotta foster children,
their parents were drunks or druggies,
and that messes up the kids pretty bad."
Ben raised his eyebrows. "Okay then,
how would describe what you saw?"
Shiv thought about the kids he'd
grown up with, trying to sort out
the ones who'd been shaken or
dropped from the ones who had
drunk parents from the ones who
were just fucked up for no reason
like himself -- far as anyone knew,
since you couldn't trust the records.
Then he had to think about how
to explain that to someone else.
"A drunk's kids can't quite think
straight," said Shiv. "Their brain's like
that light bulb in your house with a short in it.
Sometimes it works fine and shines all day --
other days it flickers on and off. Then, there's
the days where no matter what you do, the light
ain't comin' on at all. You just gotta figure out
which one, on which day, so you can cope."
"That ... is the simplest explanation I've
ever heard," said Smoking Breath.
"Thank you, Shiv, I'll write that down
so I can share it with other people."
"Uh, sure," said Shiv, who was still
not used to people doing that with him.
"So foster shit, and drunk's kids, and what?"
"Alcohol abuse is very common on
many reservations, no matter how we
try to stop it," said Smoking Breath.
"So the rate of alcohol-affected children
is also much higher -- up to one in four,
or even one in three, although not all
of the children show the same symptoms."
"Yeah, I seen that too," Shiv said. "Some's
almost normal, others barely move or else
they're bouncin' off the walls all the time."
"Then you can imagine how hard that is
for parents to handle," said Smoking Breath.
"Often they can't cope at all, so children wind up
being raised by aunts or grandparents. Well,
these caregivers asked the tribe for help,
because the children needed more than
the families could provide for them."
"It took us a while, but we put together
a home for such children," said Joseph.
"It's called Little Tortoise Lodge. Since it
opened, the tribe has been going through
old cases to find children and bring them back
to the reservation from wherever they are now."
"Of course, even with proper paperwork,
white people do not like getting 'raided by
Indians' and they file complaints," said Ben.
"Having someone who looks white can
cut way down on that. You up for it?"
Shiv thought about the long list of
shitty group homes he'd been in,
which were almost always worse
than even the crappy family homes.
But there was at least one group home,
and at least one wilderness camp,
that had actually sucked less.
"You show me the place,"
Shiv said, lifting his chin.
"You show me it, and then
I'll give you my answer."
So Joseph and Ben took
him over there to see it.
Little Tortoise Lodge had
been made from one of
those prefab homes, with
a wheelchair ramp out front.
Shiv kicked the ramp, and it
hurt his toes, it was that solid.
The middle-aged Omaha lady
who opened the door for them
just about filled it, she was so wide.
"Little Lynx, this is Orla Porter, who
runs Little Tortoise Lodge," said Joseph.
"Orla, this is our friend Little Lynx, who
is thinking about helping us today.
He wants to look around first."
Orla gave him a good look
up and down, then said,
"Come in, look around, but
don't touch the kids. Some
of them are skittish and hate it."
Shiv grinned. "No worries from
me," he said. "I hate that too."
Orla gave him an even sharper look.
"Thank you for understanding."
Inside, the foyer had a stack
of plastic bins for lockers, some
with names written on the front,
and actual locks so that the kids
would have some private space.
Didn't see that very often. Half
the reason Shiv stole stuff was
because he never really owned
anything growing up -- it was
all just stuff lying around.
The living room had one of
those huge not-a-couch things
that wrapped around one corner,
and toys on the floor, but not so's
it made an obstacle course.
The kitchen was clean,
didn't stink, and had bowls
of fruit and rolls on the counter.
Shiv could count on one hand
the foster places he remembered
that left food out where anyone
could grab it whenever they wanted.
It took him a minute to figure out that
the weird contraption covered with
bubble wrap was a kiddie stepladder
with sides so they couldn't fall out.
One kid toddled past him, climbed up,
grabbed a roll, then climbed down.
There was even a kiddie corner
with a water jug and stuff, alongside
a floor stand with pint-sized tools
like a broom and a dustpan.
Imaginary gold star on the kitchen.
The bathroom had another of
those kiddie stepladders, stickers
of clownfish on the walls, and
a Lego shower curtain.
It was cute as all hell,
and it didn't stink either.
In fact the whole place
smelled like pine floor wash,
and the dark wood floorboards
were all smooth underfoot.
Shiv peeked into the laundry room
and got a real surprise. Sure, it had
a pair of washer-dryer sets, a sink,
and a little built-in desk in back.
But it also had an art station
cleverly set up over the tile floor,
with low shelves holding supplies
and a table with paint smears on it.
A young woman sat there beside
a little girl, showing her how to paint.
"Hi," the teacher said cheerfully. "I'm
Willa Halloway and this is Niza Fuller.
Would like to come play with us?"
"Uh ... no thanks," Shiv said.
"I'm just here with some friends."
Behind him, Joseph murmured
a greeting, and both girls waved.
Then Shiv peeked into a couple
of the bedrooms -- didn't go in,
just looked from the doorway.
The toddler room had low beds
up against the walls, with a letter
over each to show which was whose.
Dolls and pillows lay on each bed,
most of them looking homemade.
The wallpaper had deer heads on it,
and the floor had several furry rugs.
The next room had child-sized beds,
one with a tent over it, and in between
a little dollhouse with rag rabbits inside.
Shiv swallowed hard, remembering
his own ragdoll bunnies from before.
"Yeah, okay, this's fine," he said,
backing up so fast he stepped on Ben.
"Sorry, didn't see you behind me."
"It's all right," Ben said, and
fortunately didn't touch him as
they went back to the living room.
Shiv had seen enough to know
that the place wasn't dirty or
hiding the food, but that didn't
tell him what the kids thought.
So he watched. He stood there,
and he watched, and he listened.
He saw that the children played
with the toys, and laughed, and he
didn't hear them picking on each other.
"What do you think of our lodge?"
Orla said, not like she was prying, but
like she really cared about his opinion.
"It's ... better than I thought," Shiv said.
"I don't see any problems. Can I go outside?"
"Of course," said Orla. "We have set up
a little playground for the children."
Joseph led Shiv outside to look,
and yeah, it was pretty well done.
The main piece was made of wood,
two levels tall, with a big slide and
a long arm to hold the swings.
A sandbox with a lid lay on
the other side from the swings.
Shiv ran his superpower over all of
the playground equipment, feeling
how sturdy it was, and searching for
rough spots that could hurt someone.
He only found one, hidden under
a metal joint, and rubbed his thumb
over the burr to smooth it away.
Joseph caught him, and smiled.
"So, what's your answer?" he said.
"I'll come," Shiv agreed. "Wisht I had
a place this good, when I was growin' up."
"Thank you," said Joseph. "We're all
glad to have you backing us for this."
"Here's the kid, Tommy Robinson,"
Ben said, showing Shiv a picture. "He's
seven, but sometimes acts younger."
Shiv looked, and yeah, Tommy had
the look of a drunk's kid, his face
just a little off. Hair stood up too,
which Shiv could sympathize with.
"I know the type," he said, nodding.
"I'll keep an eye out for the kid."
Following Joseph, Shiv realized
that he might've made a mistake
when he saw the other Iron Horses
leaning against their motorcycles.
"Problem?" Ben murmured. "If
you're not familiar with motorcycles..."
"Uh, not exactly," Shiv said. "I used
to ride a dirt bike, until I wrecked it.
Haven't been on anything like it since."
He was trying really hard not to recall
how he'd wiped out and taken the skin off
one knee. Under his jeans, the scar itched.
"Should we take a truck?" said Joseph.
"We're hoping a motorcycle will be different
and interesting enough for the kid, and less
likely to have triggers from a nasty past."
"No, it's fine, I'm fine," Shiv said,
trying to convince himself.
"You can ride with me,"
Ben offered, beckoning.
"You're too big and he's
too small," Ron pointed out.
"I can carry a passenger."
"Okay," Shiv said, licking
his lips. "Let's do this."
Ron's bike was a thing
of beauty, turquoise and
cream paint with leathers
of rich brown done in fringe.
Tentatively Shiv settled into
the back seat, and then Ron
showed him where to put
his feet. Shiv couldn't help
petting the velvety leather.
Then Ron swung into
the front seat, making
the whole bike rock in
place. Shiv squeaked
and clutched at him.
"Try to relax," Ron said.
"If you stiffen up, then you'll
just throw off our balance."
"Relaaax," Shiv echoed
in a mocking singsong.
"Easy for you to say!"
Ron grasped Shiv's wrists
and pulled both arms firmly
around his waist. "Here.
Feel me breathing. You
are perfectly safe with me."
And damned if it didn't work.
Shiv was suddenly, sweetly
reminded of sitting with Rosie,
back to back, just breathing, and
all the tension melted out of him.
"There, see?" Ron said. "That's
much better. Hang on, here we go."
It felt like flying. Ron's bike was
a lot bigger and more powerful than
Shiv's old dirt bike, and Ron was
clearly a better driver to boot.
Shiv pressed himself against
the warm, solid body in front
of him and just enjoyed the ride.
The bike rolled to a gentle stop
in front of an ugly brown house,
an old ranch style with a breezeway
that connected it to a newer garage.
Rickety wire fences separated the yard
from neighboring farms, little more than
an acre or so of half-dead grass.
The Iron Horses formed up
into a snug pack as they
headed for the front walk.
Joseph and Ben marched
right up to the front door
and knocked briskly.
Ron had Shiv with him,
Kyle and Mick behind them.
The woman who opened the door
was red-cheeked and chubby and
clearly winding up to scold them.
"Blanche Adder, we are tribal warriors
sent by the Omaha Nation to collect
Tommy Robinson, who should never
have been placed here," said Joseph.
"This is the relevant paperwork."
"Well, just because -- hey!"
she squawked as the men
pushed past her into the house.
The Iron Horses fanned out,
quickly searching for Tommy.
Just looking around the room
made Shiv so mad that he
could hardly see straight.
There was junk piled up
everywhere, toys on the floor,
a television on -- the old heavy kind
you could pull down and conk yourself
with, not the light viewscreen kind --
and a radio playing over the television.
One white baby was in a crib, and
another wobbled along with one hand
holding the edge of a coffee table and
the other clutching a bottle of cola.
Shiv could hear more kids fussing
in the background but couldn't
see them from where he was.
There was writing on the walls,
numbers and letters, kids' names,
and even a cartoon black girl
playing with a fuckin' monkey.
There was a toddler bed
shoved up against the wall
like there wasn't supposed
to be, because he knew
the rules about kids having
to sleep in Real Bedrooms.
But the part that made Shiv
want to scream was seeing
the black kid, couldn't be more
than a toddler, lying on the floor
inside a goddamn dog cage.
The Omaha boy they were
actually there for was sitting
on a kiddie chair. In a corner.
"Just breathe," Ron murmured,
and it wasn't to Shiv, it was to
Kyle, who looked fit to explode.
"Remember, we're here to fix this."
Shiv breathed, because the room
was starting to fade at the edges,
and he knew that wasn't good.
He breathed, and he opened
the fists he didn't remember
closing because he might
need his hands for work.
He really kinda hoped that
he'd need his hands for work,
because right now he wanted
to break the shit out of something.
Blanche was still ragging on Ben,
her voice a grating screech like
chalk skidding on a blackboard.
"As I was saying, you can't just
barge in here and take one of
these children. Somebody has
to civilize them, can you do that?
I have to call the social worker and --"
She dropped a broad hand onto
Tommy's shoulder, making
him flinch and scramble away.
Instantly Shiv spun on his toe,
sweeping the boy behind him
with one hand and flicking out
a knife with the other hand.
"Bitch, you touch that kid again
and I'll cut your fuckin' fingers off,"
Shiv snarled, waving the knife.
"Let's take Tommy outside
where it's quieter," Ron urged.
That wasn't as hard as Shiv
had expected, because Tommy
was clinging to both of them
as he hid behind them, while
Joseph and Ben closed ranks
in front of them to block Blanche.
Shiv opened the door a flick of
his mind, swung it out of the way,
then shut it to cut off the noise
as soon as they were outside.
Since it wasn't needed, his knife
disappeared back up his sleeve.
Tommy was sniffling now.
Well hell, Shiv didn't know
what to do with a crybaby.
Ron did, though. He peeled
Tommy off of Shiv and produced
a handkerchief from somewhere.
That was enough for the kid
to latch onto Ron instead.
Pretty soon, the others
came out of the house --
apparently Blanche had
given up or been shut up.
Shiv went right over to Joseph.
"We need to get them other kids
outta that damn house too."
"We only have paperwork
for one," Joseph pointed out.
"And the white ones are hers,
poor things," Ben added.
"So what, you just throw 'em
to the wolves?" Shiv snapped.
"Them two's just babies, Ben,
they're completely helpless!"
"Do you have any ideas?"
Joseph said. "Preferably not
black-hat ideas, since we were
just here and don't need anyone
asking awkward questions about
the timing of the two events."
Shiv had plenty of ideas on
the black side of the cape,
sure enough, but Joseph
had a point -- you didn't
want to attract attention.
So he thought about
other options as well.
"There's always the Finns,"
he said slowly. "They sure do
enjoy stompin' people who make
that kinda trouble. I think Tolli and
Simon mentioned meeting someone
from the foster system in Omaha
who wasn't a waste of space, too."
"Will they help with this if you
ask them?" Joseph said.
Shiv nodded. "Yeah. Just
let me send a few messages,
see what that shakes loose."
"And if that doesn't pan out,
then we think again about
black-hat solutions," said Ben,
"because I wanted to smack
that woman's head right off."
Shiv paused in typing.
"Did anyone get pictures
of that shithole living room?"
"I did," said Mick. "You all
made such a great distraction
that I got the living room, kitchen,
bathroom, and closest bedroom."
"Gimme what you got," Shiv said,
holding out his phone. Mick sent
him the pictures. Shiv didn't open
any of them. He just tacked them
onto the messages that he sent.
And felt glad that Tolli and Simon
were in North Carolina while Dr. G
was in California, because when
they saw that dump, they were
gonna blow their stack for sure.
Shiv put away his phone,
shaking his fingers to work out
the cramps eating at them.
"Let me see that hand,"
Ben said, beckoning to him.
Shiv shied away out of
sheer habit. "I'm fine."
"You're dripping blood,"
Ben said. "Let's try
not to scare anyone."
Shit. The kid.
Shiv looked down at
his right hand, and yeah,
he had squeezed his fist
hard enough to nick himself
on the slivers of metal he
kept under his fingernails.
Hadn't even noticed, and
usually he was more mindful.
"Fuck," he muttered. "Now
what'm I supposed to do?"
"Just give it here a second,"
Ben said. "I've got a patch kit."
Shiv surrendered his hand,
and Ben swiped over it with
InstaSkin to seal the tiny cuts.
Ben gave him a critical look,
then patted his shoulder and
let him go. "It's fine now,
you didn't get any on you."
"Thanks," Shiv said. "Didn't
nobody need to see that."
"Hey, Little Lynx, if you've
got a minute, could you come
talk with Tommy?" said Ron.
"I think he's missing you."
"Yeah, I'm coming," Shiv said.
He could see Tommy clinging
to Ron and peeking around him.
Shiv thought about his history
in the foster system, and how often
he had wished for someone to come
and save him, before he got old enough
to realize that nobody was ever coming
and he'd damn well have to save himself.
He thought of all the things he wished
someone would say and do for him.
Then he crouched down in front of
the shivering kid and did his level best
to squeeze out some of that for him.
"Hey, kid," said Shiv. "It's gonna
be okay. You're safe now. We'll
take you somewhere a lot better than
this. I seen it myself, and it's real nice."
"You said the F-word," Tommy squeaked.
Shiv groaned out loud. He was sure
gonna pay for that one later on.
"Yeah, yeah, I shoulda used
a different word," he said.
"You just said what all of us
were thinking," Kyle muttered.
"Anyhow, Tommy, you get
to come with us," Shiv said.
"You don't have to stay here
anymore. We're going to
Little Tortoise Lodge. They
had a whole bowl of fruit
sittin' out for kids anytime."
"Really?" Tommy said. "I'm
hungry. I missed lunch
'cause I was bad again."
Shiv gritted his teeth so's
he wouldn't swear again.
Ben whipped out a piece
of salmon pemmican, and
Tommy scarfed it down like
he hadn't seen food all day.
"I met a couple ladies who work
at the lodge," said Shiv. "Orla
showed me around a bit, and
Willa was painting with a girl.
I bet they'll love to meet you."
"No they won't," Tommy said,
shaking his head. "Nobody
ever wants me around
'cause I'm all broken."
Shiv groaned again. How
often had he heard shit
like that, growing up?
Way too often.
So what could he
say instead of that,
to keep it from sticking?
Then he remembered
all the stuff that the Finns
told him when he talked
about himself that way.
"You're not broken,"
Shiv said. "You're
just dinged up a bit
after a rough time."
"Am too," said the boy.
"I can't do nothin' right.
People gotta do it for me."
Just like listening to a mirror.
A really fucked up mirror,
echoing all his nightmares.
"You might need help doing
some things, but that's okay.
Everyone needs help sometimes,"
said Shiv. "If anyone says they
don't, well, they're fibbing."
"Can I ride with you?"
Tommy asked, looking at
the Iron Horses' motorcycles.
"Sorry, kid, I don't have a bike and
couldn't drive one anyway," said Shiv.
"I'm riding with Ron. How about you
ride with Joseph? He's good at this."
"I'd be happy to take you with me,"
Joseph said, beckoning to Tommy.
The boy was reluctant to let go
of Ron, but Joseph was patient
with him and got him on the bike.
Just as Shiv was settling onto
the back seat, Ron said, "I'm
really glad you came today.
You are an amazing badass."
"I'm nothin' special," Shiv said.
"I just lost my shit with that bitch."
"Oh, I think Tommy will remember
you putting yourself between him
and her," said Ron. "That's special."
Shiv flashed on Tolli saying something
similar about the chayne incident in
prison, and shoved the memory down.
The ride back to the reservation took
longer, because they were going
slower to avoid spooking Tommy.
They rolled into the parking lot
of the Little Tortoise Lodge as
a smooth pack, then stopped
and dismounted gracefully.
Shiv groaned as he got off
Ron's bike. It had been a while
since he'd done anything like this,
and his thigh muscles nagged him.
"When you get home, take a hot bath,
that'll help," Ron murmured, offering
a hand to steady his first steps.
"Yeah, I know the drill," Shiv said,
checking to see if Tommy was okay.
Joseph had picked him up to carry
him up the ramp to the lodge.
Everyone else followed along
to make sure he got in safely.
Orla was already showing
Tommy around the living room
and the kitchen beyond it.
The kid looked hesitant,
but not spooked the way
he had at the other place.
Then Tommy scampered
over and tugged Shiv's shirt.
"It's nice here," he said.
"Yeah, it is," Shiv agreed.
"Time to say bye now."
"Will you come back?"
Tommy asked him.
"Oh, he'll be around, so
you'll maybe see him
again," said Kyle.
But Shiv knew that
any sort of 'maybe'
mostly meant 'never'
and the kid would
hear it like that too.
Once again he got down
so he was looking Tommy in
the eye. "Yes. I will come back.
I don't know exactly when, but
I always come for the Powwow,
count on that," Shiv said evenly.
"Good," said the boy, and
hugged him again, tight.
Hot potato, hot potato ...
Shiv didn't say it out loud
but he sure was thinking it.
The nice lady who ran the home
came and peeled the kid off Shiv
so he could fuckin' breathe again.
He skittered out the door and
leaned against the wall, trying
to calm down and stop shaking.
Today had been too much ...
everything for his poor nerves.
The Iron Horses followed him
out but didn't crowd him, just
drifting back to their bikes.
Shiv pushed away from
the wall, unsure what to do.
"Good job. You said all
of the right things to Tommy,"
said Joseph. "How'd you do that?
I thought you told us that you
weren't trained for this stuff."
"I'm not," Shiv said, rubbing
his hands over his arms. "I just
thought of stuff I've heard from
the Finns, or Boss White. Dunno
if I believe any of that, though."
"If you don't believe it, then why
did you repeat it?" Joseph said.
"Cause it's better'n the other crap
I heard all my life," Shiv snapped.
"Even if it ain't true, it hurts less."
Memories boiled in him like oil,
and the house inside his head gave
an ominous gurgle from the basement.
So much of his life had been defined
by foster care, by other people wanting
to make him into something else and
not caring how much they hurt him
by pulling off pieces of his personality,
or how the words got under his skin
like splinters he'd never get out, until
he just stopped feeling anything.
Shiv paced back and forth, trying
to settle himself. Didn't work.
"You okay?" Ben asked,
his eyes warm with concern.
"Do I fuckin' look okay
to you?" Shiv snapped.
"I doubt any of us are
okay today," said Joseph.
"We'll get there, though."
"Together," said Ben.
"We'll get there, together."
"Yeah, I guess." Shiv
dragged a hand through
his hair, damp with sweat.
"It's just ... hard. Thinking
about how fucked up
the foster system is."
"It's hard for all of us,"
said Joseph. "Even
the ones who didn't
grow up in it, we know
folks who did, because
that scar cuts across
our whole nation."
Shiv fidgeted as
the words crawled
down his back like
icewater, making him
shiver at the wet chill of it.
These men, they understood.
They knew what that kind of
upbringing could do to a kid.
And they had asked for his help
because they knew he understood.
It wasn't just about how he looked,
it was also about how he lived.
Shiv licked his lips. "It's hard, but
maybe we made a rough day
less worse than it coulda been."
"We sure appreciate your help
today," said Joseph. "You did
make a shit job a lot better."
Something in the words helped
smooth down Shiv's hackles.
He took a deep breath,
and then let it out slow.
"You need me again, you
call me," he said. "I'll come."
"Thanks, cousin," Ben said as he
gave Shiv a forearm handshake.
"We all owe you one for this."
Shiv thought about that, and
the look on Blanche's face
when she'd seen his knife,
then he shook his head.
"Nah, not for this," he said.
"I just been itchin' to do
something like this for years."
"Haven't we all," Mick muttered.
"What matters is we got it done,"
Joseph said, draping his chin over
Shiv's shoulder in a horsey hug.
Ron nudged him from one side, and
Ben from the other, and just like that
Shiv was in the middle of everyone,
even Mick and Kyle in there somewhere.
It should have driven him nuts, but it
didn't, and he couldn't understand why.
Maybe because nobody was trying
to grab or hold him, just sorta ... there.
All Shiv knew was that, for some reason,
his life suddenly felt a little less like
that light bulb with a short in it.
* * *
Notes:
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WARNING: This poem contains material that may disturb many readers. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which may be spoilers and also triggers. It includes awkward relationships, an Omaha Nation boy improperly placed with a white foster family, the Iron Horses asking Shiv to help them rescue the boy, Shiv's massive pile of issues with Nebraska Family Services, graphic descriptions of Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder, vulgar languages, asking for help and getting it, extreme but justified suspicion, boundary issues, Shiv's memory of wrecking a dirtbike and subsequent quandary over riding a motorcycle, the inside of Shiv's head is always a warning, and so is the Adder house, removal of a child from improper foster placement, baby drinking cola, cartoon wall art of a black girl playing with a monkey, a black toddler in a dog cage, Kyle Highwolf is having as hard a time with this as Shiv, obnoxious racist / ablist / bigoted remarks, grabbing a child, Shiv threatening to maim the foster mother (for cause, and he meant it), crying child, cape politics, trivial accidental self-injury, minor medical details, Shiv is painfully awkward at giving comfort, hungry child, terrible self-image from foster care, Shiv is running out of cope, impact of foster care on whole Omaha Nation, and other mayhem. WARN ALL THE THINGS! If these are touchy topics for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before deciding if this is something you want to read. However, it's the beginning of the Foster Fiasco story arc, which you can continue on Dialecticdreamer's blog with "An Echo of War Drums," so skipping it would leave a big gap.
"That Light Bulb in Your House with a Short in It"
[Monday, September 14, 2015]
Shiv had gone out to the Omaha Reservation,
carrying some messages -- ever since he had
straightened things out with the Iron Horses,
everyone had been trying to communicate
better so they didn't tangle like that again.
It was still a little awkward, hesitant,
but it was a lot better than it had been.
Smoking Breath was sorting through
the set of messages that Shiv had
brought when Joseph Elkdog
and Ben Big Rock came in.
"We got the paperwork,"
Joseph said, offering a file.
Smoking Bear opened it
and skimmed the contents.
"Good work," he said.
"We could use an extra,"
Joseph said. "No point
making it easy for anyone
who wants to complain."
Smoking Breath looked at Ben.
"What do you think?" he asked,
tilting his head toward Shiv.
"I think that we should be
so lucky," Ben replied.
"Well, Little Lynx, might you
be willing to do us a favor?"
asked Smoking Breath.
"Depends," said Shiv.
"What kind of favor?"
"The kind where we
could use someone who
looks white, but takes after
our side instead," said Joseph.
Shiv looked down at his hands,
where he'd stuck on a Sunspot in
in his usual alabaster to make sure
he didn't forget and stay out too long.
"Yeah, I look white," he admitted,
"until I open my mouth. Dymin
tried to teach me to talk better,
but I gotta concentrate to do it,
and I can't when I'm upset."
"Really, all we need is the look
of it," Joseph assured him. "That's
enough to squelch the kind of fuss
that we're hoping to avoid here."
"And what're you up to that you
need that kind of backup?"
Shiv said. "You want me
to just stand there, or
actually do anything?"
Ben and Joseph looked
at each other, then nodded.
"If it comes to that, pitch in,"
said Joseph. "I've heard that
you work as a bouncer for
Blues Moon sometimes."
"Yeah, I have," said Shiv.
"Done a bit of bodyguarding
too. Folks don't notice me. Got
no training for social aid though."
"Great, then forget about bouncing,
bodyguard it is," said Joseph. "We
need to go pick up an Omaha boy
from a white foster home that
he shouldn't even be in."
Shiv looked at Smoking Breath.
"You want to give me some
background here?" he said.
"Cause I'm feelin' pretty lost."
"All right, first of all, tribal children
are supposed to go other members
of their tribe if their parents can't
care for them," said Smoking Breath.
"State authorities do not always
follow the laws as written."
Shiv snorted. "Yeah, no,
Family Services follows laws
like nutjob supervillains -- if
they damn well feel like it,
and otherwise fuck you."
Joseph muffled a laugh.
"You are not wrong," he said.
"Now, the next part has to do
with what happens when women
get drunk while they're pregnant,"
said Smoking Breath. "You may
not have encountered this, but --"
"Oh, I seen it, grew up with 'em,"
Shiv said. "Lotta foster children,
their parents were drunks or druggies,
and that messes up the kids pretty bad."
Ben raised his eyebrows. "Okay then,
how would describe what you saw?"
Shiv thought about the kids he'd
grown up with, trying to sort out
the ones who'd been shaken or
dropped from the ones who had
drunk parents from the ones who
were just fucked up for no reason
like himself -- far as anyone knew,
since you couldn't trust the records.
Then he had to think about how
to explain that to someone else.
"A drunk's kids can't quite think
straight," said Shiv. "Their brain's like
that light bulb in your house with a short in it.
Sometimes it works fine and shines all day --
other days it flickers on and off. Then, there's
the days where no matter what you do, the light
ain't comin' on at all. You just gotta figure out
which one, on which day, so you can cope."
"That ... is the simplest explanation I've
ever heard," said Smoking Breath.
"Thank you, Shiv, I'll write that down
so I can share it with other people."
"Uh, sure," said Shiv, who was still
not used to people doing that with him.
"So foster shit, and drunk's kids, and what?"
"Alcohol abuse is very common on
many reservations, no matter how we
try to stop it," said Smoking Breath.
"So the rate of alcohol-affected children
is also much higher -- up to one in four,
or even one in three, although not all
of the children show the same symptoms."
"Yeah, I seen that too," Shiv said. "Some's
almost normal, others barely move or else
they're bouncin' off the walls all the time."
"Then you can imagine how hard that is
for parents to handle," said Smoking Breath.
"Often they can't cope at all, so children wind up
being raised by aunts or grandparents. Well,
these caregivers asked the tribe for help,
because the children needed more than
the families could provide for them."
"It took us a while, but we put together
a home for such children," said Joseph.
"It's called Little Tortoise Lodge. Since it
opened, the tribe has been going through
old cases to find children and bring them back
to the reservation from wherever they are now."
"Of course, even with proper paperwork,
white people do not like getting 'raided by
Indians' and they file complaints," said Ben.
"Having someone who looks white can
cut way down on that. You up for it?"
Shiv thought about the long list of
shitty group homes he'd been in,
which were almost always worse
than even the crappy family homes.
But there was at least one group home,
and at least one wilderness camp,
that had actually sucked less.
"You show me the place,"
Shiv said, lifting his chin.
"You show me it, and then
I'll give you my answer."
So Joseph and Ben took
him over there to see it.
Little Tortoise Lodge had
been made from one of
those prefab homes, with
a wheelchair ramp out front.
Shiv kicked the ramp, and it
hurt his toes, it was that solid.
The middle-aged Omaha lady
who opened the door for them
just about filled it, she was so wide.
"Little Lynx, this is Orla Porter, who
runs Little Tortoise Lodge," said Joseph.
"Orla, this is our friend Little Lynx, who
is thinking about helping us today.
He wants to look around first."
Orla gave him a good look
up and down, then said,
"Come in, look around, but
don't touch the kids. Some
of them are skittish and hate it."
Shiv grinned. "No worries from
me," he said. "I hate that too."
Orla gave him an even sharper look.
"Thank you for understanding."
Inside, the foyer had a stack
of plastic bins for lockers, some
with names written on the front,
and actual locks so that the kids
would have some private space.
Didn't see that very often. Half
the reason Shiv stole stuff was
because he never really owned
anything growing up -- it was
all just stuff lying around.
The living room had one of
those huge not-a-couch things
that wrapped around one corner,
and toys on the floor, but not so's
it made an obstacle course.
The kitchen was clean,
didn't stink, and had bowls
of fruit and rolls on the counter.
Shiv could count on one hand
the foster places he remembered
that left food out where anyone
could grab it whenever they wanted.
It took him a minute to figure out that
the weird contraption covered with
bubble wrap was a kiddie stepladder
with sides so they couldn't fall out.
One kid toddled past him, climbed up,
grabbed a roll, then climbed down.
There was even a kiddie corner
with a water jug and stuff, alongside
a floor stand with pint-sized tools
like a broom and a dustpan.
Imaginary gold star on the kitchen.
The bathroom had another of
those kiddie stepladders, stickers
of clownfish on the walls, and
a Lego shower curtain.
It was cute as all hell,
and it didn't stink either.
In fact the whole place
smelled like pine floor wash,
and the dark wood floorboards
were all smooth underfoot.
Shiv peeked into the laundry room
and got a real surprise. Sure, it had
a pair of washer-dryer sets, a sink,
and a little built-in desk in back.
But it also had an art station
cleverly set up over the tile floor,
with low shelves holding supplies
and a table with paint smears on it.
A young woman sat there beside
a little girl, showing her how to paint.
"Hi," the teacher said cheerfully. "I'm
Willa Halloway and this is Niza Fuller.
Would like to come play with us?"
"Uh ... no thanks," Shiv said.
"I'm just here with some friends."
Behind him, Joseph murmured
a greeting, and both girls waved.
Then Shiv peeked into a couple
of the bedrooms -- didn't go in,
just looked from the doorway.
The toddler room had low beds
up against the walls, with a letter
over each to show which was whose.
Dolls and pillows lay on each bed,
most of them looking homemade.
The wallpaper had deer heads on it,
and the floor had several furry rugs.
The next room had child-sized beds,
one with a tent over it, and in between
a little dollhouse with rag rabbits inside.
Shiv swallowed hard, remembering
his own ragdoll bunnies from before.
"Yeah, okay, this's fine," he said,
backing up so fast he stepped on Ben.
"Sorry, didn't see you behind me."
"It's all right," Ben said, and
fortunately didn't touch him as
they went back to the living room.
Shiv had seen enough to know
that the place wasn't dirty or
hiding the food, but that didn't
tell him what the kids thought.
So he watched. He stood there,
and he watched, and he listened.
He saw that the children played
with the toys, and laughed, and he
didn't hear them picking on each other.
"What do you think of our lodge?"
Orla said, not like she was prying, but
like she really cared about his opinion.
"It's ... better than I thought," Shiv said.
"I don't see any problems. Can I go outside?"
"Of course," said Orla. "We have set up
a little playground for the children."
Joseph led Shiv outside to look,
and yeah, it was pretty well done.
The main piece was made of wood,
two levels tall, with a big slide and
a long arm to hold the swings.
A sandbox with a lid lay on
the other side from the swings.
Shiv ran his superpower over all of
the playground equipment, feeling
how sturdy it was, and searching for
rough spots that could hurt someone.
He only found one, hidden under
a metal joint, and rubbed his thumb
over the burr to smooth it away.
Joseph caught him, and smiled.
"So, what's your answer?" he said.
"I'll come," Shiv agreed. "Wisht I had
a place this good, when I was growin' up."
"Thank you," said Joseph. "We're all
glad to have you backing us for this."
"Here's the kid, Tommy Robinson,"
Ben said, showing Shiv a picture. "He's
seven, but sometimes acts younger."
Shiv looked, and yeah, Tommy had
the look of a drunk's kid, his face
just a little off. Hair stood up too,
which Shiv could sympathize with.
"I know the type," he said, nodding.
"I'll keep an eye out for the kid."
Following Joseph, Shiv realized
that he might've made a mistake
when he saw the other Iron Horses
leaning against their motorcycles.
"Problem?" Ben murmured. "If
you're not familiar with motorcycles..."
"Uh, not exactly," Shiv said. "I used
to ride a dirt bike, until I wrecked it.
Haven't been on anything like it since."
He was trying really hard not to recall
how he'd wiped out and taken the skin off
one knee. Under his jeans, the scar itched.
"Should we take a truck?" said Joseph.
"We're hoping a motorcycle will be different
and interesting enough for the kid, and less
likely to have triggers from a nasty past."
"No, it's fine, I'm fine," Shiv said,
trying to convince himself.
"You can ride with me,"
Ben offered, beckoning.
"You're too big and he's
too small," Ron pointed out.
"I can carry a passenger."
"Okay," Shiv said, licking
his lips. "Let's do this."
Ron's bike was a thing
of beauty, turquoise and
cream paint with leathers
of rich brown done in fringe.
Tentatively Shiv settled into
the back seat, and then Ron
showed him where to put
his feet. Shiv couldn't help
petting the velvety leather.
Then Ron swung into
the front seat, making
the whole bike rock in
place. Shiv squeaked
and clutched at him.
"Try to relax," Ron said.
"If you stiffen up, then you'll
just throw off our balance."
"Relaaax," Shiv echoed
in a mocking singsong.
"Easy for you to say!"
Ron grasped Shiv's wrists
and pulled both arms firmly
around his waist. "Here.
Feel me breathing. You
are perfectly safe with me."
And damned if it didn't work.
Shiv was suddenly, sweetly
reminded of sitting with Rosie,
back to back, just breathing, and
all the tension melted out of him.
"There, see?" Ron said. "That's
much better. Hang on, here we go."
It felt like flying. Ron's bike was
a lot bigger and more powerful than
Shiv's old dirt bike, and Ron was
clearly a better driver to boot.
Shiv pressed himself against
the warm, solid body in front
of him and just enjoyed the ride.
The bike rolled to a gentle stop
in front of an ugly brown house,
an old ranch style with a breezeway
that connected it to a newer garage.
Rickety wire fences separated the yard
from neighboring farms, little more than
an acre or so of half-dead grass.
The Iron Horses formed up
into a snug pack as they
headed for the front walk.
Joseph and Ben marched
right up to the front door
and knocked briskly.
Ron had Shiv with him,
Kyle and Mick behind them.
The woman who opened the door
was red-cheeked and chubby and
clearly winding up to scold them.
"Blanche Adder, we are tribal warriors
sent by the Omaha Nation to collect
Tommy Robinson, who should never
have been placed here," said Joseph.
"This is the relevant paperwork."
"Well, just because -- hey!"
she squawked as the men
pushed past her into the house.
The Iron Horses fanned out,
quickly searching for Tommy.
Just looking around the room
made Shiv so mad that he
could hardly see straight.
There was junk piled up
everywhere, toys on the floor,
a television on -- the old heavy kind
you could pull down and conk yourself
with, not the light viewscreen kind --
and a radio playing over the television.
One white baby was in a crib, and
another wobbled along with one hand
holding the edge of a coffee table and
the other clutching a bottle of cola.
Shiv could hear more kids fussing
in the background but couldn't
see them from where he was.
There was writing on the walls,
numbers and letters, kids' names,
and even a cartoon black girl
playing with a fuckin' monkey.
There was a toddler bed
shoved up against the wall
like there wasn't supposed
to be, because he knew
the rules about kids having
to sleep in Real Bedrooms.
But the part that made Shiv
want to scream was seeing
the black kid, couldn't be more
than a toddler, lying on the floor
inside a goddamn dog cage.
The Omaha boy they were
actually there for was sitting
on a kiddie chair. In a corner.
"Just breathe," Ron murmured,
and it wasn't to Shiv, it was to
Kyle, who looked fit to explode.
"Remember, we're here to fix this."
Shiv breathed, because the room
was starting to fade at the edges,
and he knew that wasn't good.
He breathed, and he opened
the fists he didn't remember
closing because he might
need his hands for work.
He really kinda hoped that
he'd need his hands for work,
because right now he wanted
to break the shit out of something.
Blanche was still ragging on Ben,
her voice a grating screech like
chalk skidding on a blackboard.
"As I was saying, you can't just
barge in here and take one of
these children. Somebody has
to civilize them, can you do that?
I have to call the social worker and --"
She dropped a broad hand onto
Tommy's shoulder, making
him flinch and scramble away.
Instantly Shiv spun on his toe,
sweeping the boy behind him
with one hand and flicking out
a knife with the other hand.
"Bitch, you touch that kid again
and I'll cut your fuckin' fingers off,"
Shiv snarled, waving the knife.
"Let's take Tommy outside
where it's quieter," Ron urged.
That wasn't as hard as Shiv
had expected, because Tommy
was clinging to both of them
as he hid behind them, while
Joseph and Ben closed ranks
in front of them to block Blanche.
Shiv opened the door a flick of
his mind, swung it out of the way,
then shut it to cut off the noise
as soon as they were outside.
Since it wasn't needed, his knife
disappeared back up his sleeve.
Tommy was sniffling now.
Well hell, Shiv didn't know
what to do with a crybaby.
Ron did, though. He peeled
Tommy off of Shiv and produced
a handkerchief from somewhere.
That was enough for the kid
to latch onto Ron instead.
Pretty soon, the others
came out of the house --
apparently Blanche had
given up or been shut up.
Shiv went right over to Joseph.
"We need to get them other kids
outta that damn house too."
"We only have paperwork
for one," Joseph pointed out.
"And the white ones are hers,
poor things," Ben added.
"So what, you just throw 'em
to the wolves?" Shiv snapped.
"Them two's just babies, Ben,
they're completely helpless!"
"Do you have any ideas?"
Joseph said. "Preferably not
black-hat ideas, since we were
just here and don't need anyone
asking awkward questions about
the timing of the two events."
Shiv had plenty of ideas on
the black side of the cape,
sure enough, but Joseph
had a point -- you didn't
want to attract attention.
So he thought about
other options as well.
"There's always the Finns,"
he said slowly. "They sure do
enjoy stompin' people who make
that kinda trouble. I think Tolli and
Simon mentioned meeting someone
from the foster system in Omaha
who wasn't a waste of space, too."
"Will they help with this if you
ask them?" Joseph said.
Shiv nodded. "Yeah. Just
let me send a few messages,
see what that shakes loose."
"And if that doesn't pan out,
then we think again about
black-hat solutions," said Ben,
"because I wanted to smack
that woman's head right off."
Shiv paused in typing.
"Did anyone get pictures
of that shithole living room?"
"I did," said Mick. "You all
made such a great distraction
that I got the living room, kitchen,
bathroom, and closest bedroom."
"Gimme what you got," Shiv said,
holding out his phone. Mick sent
him the pictures. Shiv didn't open
any of them. He just tacked them
onto the messages that he sent.
And felt glad that Tolli and Simon
were in North Carolina while Dr. G
was in California, because when
they saw that dump, they were
gonna blow their stack for sure.
Shiv put away his phone,
shaking his fingers to work out
the cramps eating at them.
"Let me see that hand,"
Ben said, beckoning to him.
Shiv shied away out of
sheer habit. "I'm fine."
"You're dripping blood,"
Ben said. "Let's try
not to scare anyone."
Shit. The kid.
Shiv looked down at
his right hand, and yeah,
he had squeezed his fist
hard enough to nick himself
on the slivers of metal he
kept under his fingernails.
Hadn't even noticed, and
usually he was more mindful.
"Fuck," he muttered. "Now
what'm I supposed to do?"
"Just give it here a second,"
Ben said. "I've got a patch kit."
Shiv surrendered his hand,
and Ben swiped over it with
InstaSkin to seal the tiny cuts.
Ben gave him a critical look,
then patted his shoulder and
let him go. "It's fine now,
you didn't get any on you."
"Thanks," Shiv said. "Didn't
nobody need to see that."
"Hey, Little Lynx, if you've
got a minute, could you come
talk with Tommy?" said Ron.
"I think he's missing you."
"Yeah, I'm coming," Shiv said.
He could see Tommy clinging
to Ron and peeking around him.
Shiv thought about his history
in the foster system, and how often
he had wished for someone to come
and save him, before he got old enough
to realize that nobody was ever coming
and he'd damn well have to save himself.
He thought of all the things he wished
someone would say and do for him.
Then he crouched down in front of
the shivering kid and did his level best
to squeeze out some of that for him.
"Hey, kid," said Shiv. "It's gonna
be okay. You're safe now. We'll
take you somewhere a lot better than
this. I seen it myself, and it's real nice."
"You said the F-word," Tommy squeaked.
Shiv groaned out loud. He was sure
gonna pay for that one later on.
"Yeah, yeah, I shoulda used
a different word," he said.
"You just said what all of us
were thinking," Kyle muttered.
"Anyhow, Tommy, you get
to come with us," Shiv said.
"You don't have to stay here
anymore. We're going to
Little Tortoise Lodge. They
had a whole bowl of fruit
sittin' out for kids anytime."
"Really?" Tommy said. "I'm
hungry. I missed lunch
'cause I was bad again."
Shiv gritted his teeth so's
he wouldn't swear again.
Ben whipped out a piece
of salmon pemmican, and
Tommy scarfed it down like
he hadn't seen food all day.
"I met a couple ladies who work
at the lodge," said Shiv. "Orla
showed me around a bit, and
Willa was painting with a girl.
I bet they'll love to meet you."
"No they won't," Tommy said,
shaking his head. "Nobody
ever wants me around
'cause I'm all broken."
Shiv groaned again. How
often had he heard shit
like that, growing up?
Way too often.
So what could he
say instead of that,
to keep it from sticking?
Then he remembered
all the stuff that the Finns
told him when he talked
about himself that way.
"You're not broken,"
Shiv said. "You're
just dinged up a bit
after a rough time."
"Am too," said the boy.
"I can't do nothin' right.
People gotta do it for me."
Just like listening to a mirror.
A really fucked up mirror,
echoing all his nightmares.
"You might need help doing
some things, but that's okay.
Everyone needs help sometimes,"
said Shiv. "If anyone says they
don't, well, they're fibbing."
"Can I ride with you?"
Tommy asked, looking at
the Iron Horses' motorcycles.
"Sorry, kid, I don't have a bike and
couldn't drive one anyway," said Shiv.
"I'm riding with Ron. How about you
ride with Joseph? He's good at this."
"I'd be happy to take you with me,"
Joseph said, beckoning to Tommy.
The boy was reluctant to let go
of Ron, but Joseph was patient
with him and got him on the bike.
Just as Shiv was settling onto
the back seat, Ron said, "I'm
really glad you came today.
You are an amazing badass."
"I'm nothin' special," Shiv said.
"I just lost my shit with that bitch."
"Oh, I think Tommy will remember
you putting yourself between him
and her," said Ron. "That's special."
Shiv flashed on Tolli saying something
similar about the chayne incident in
prison, and shoved the memory down.
The ride back to the reservation took
longer, because they were going
slower to avoid spooking Tommy.
They rolled into the parking lot
of the Little Tortoise Lodge as
a smooth pack, then stopped
and dismounted gracefully.
Shiv groaned as he got off
Ron's bike. It had been a while
since he'd done anything like this,
and his thigh muscles nagged him.
"When you get home, take a hot bath,
that'll help," Ron murmured, offering
a hand to steady his first steps.
"Yeah, I know the drill," Shiv said,
checking to see if Tommy was okay.
Joseph had picked him up to carry
him up the ramp to the lodge.
Everyone else followed along
to make sure he got in safely.
Orla was already showing
Tommy around the living room
and the kitchen beyond it.
The kid looked hesitant,
but not spooked the way
he had at the other place.
Then Tommy scampered
over and tugged Shiv's shirt.
"It's nice here," he said.
"Yeah, it is," Shiv agreed.
"Time to say bye now."
"Will you come back?"
Tommy asked him.
"Oh, he'll be around, so
you'll maybe see him
again," said Kyle.
But Shiv knew that
any sort of 'maybe'
mostly meant 'never'
and the kid would
hear it like that too.
Once again he got down
so he was looking Tommy in
the eye. "Yes. I will come back.
I don't know exactly when, but
I always come for the Powwow,
count on that," Shiv said evenly.
"Good," said the boy, and
hugged him again, tight.
Hot potato, hot potato ...
Shiv didn't say it out loud
but he sure was thinking it.
The nice lady who ran the home
came and peeled the kid off Shiv
so he could fuckin' breathe again.
He skittered out the door and
leaned against the wall, trying
to calm down and stop shaking.
Today had been too much ...
everything for his poor nerves.
The Iron Horses followed him
out but didn't crowd him, just
drifting back to their bikes.
Shiv pushed away from
the wall, unsure what to do.
"Good job. You said all
of the right things to Tommy,"
said Joseph. "How'd you do that?
I thought you told us that you
weren't trained for this stuff."
"I'm not," Shiv said, rubbing
his hands over his arms. "I just
thought of stuff I've heard from
the Finns, or Boss White. Dunno
if I believe any of that, though."
"If you don't believe it, then why
did you repeat it?" Joseph said.
"Cause it's better'n the other crap
I heard all my life," Shiv snapped.
"Even if it ain't true, it hurts less."
Memories boiled in him like oil,
and the house inside his head gave
an ominous gurgle from the basement.
So much of his life had been defined
by foster care, by other people wanting
to make him into something else and
not caring how much they hurt him
by pulling off pieces of his personality,
or how the words got under his skin
like splinters he'd never get out, until
he just stopped feeling anything.
Shiv paced back and forth, trying
to settle himself. Didn't work.
"You okay?" Ben asked,
his eyes warm with concern.
"Do I fuckin' look okay
to you?" Shiv snapped.
"I doubt any of us are
okay today," said Joseph.
"We'll get there, though."
"Together," said Ben.
"We'll get there, together."
"Yeah, I guess." Shiv
dragged a hand through
his hair, damp with sweat.
"It's just ... hard. Thinking
about how fucked up
the foster system is."
"It's hard for all of us,"
said Joseph. "Even
the ones who didn't
grow up in it, we know
folks who did, because
that scar cuts across
our whole nation."
Shiv fidgeted as
the words crawled
down his back like
icewater, making him
shiver at the wet chill of it.
These men, they understood.
They knew what that kind of
upbringing could do to a kid.
And they had asked for his help
because they knew he understood.
It wasn't just about how he looked,
it was also about how he lived.
Shiv licked his lips. "It's hard, but
maybe we made a rough day
less worse than it coulda been."
"We sure appreciate your help
today," said Joseph. "You did
make a shit job a lot better."
Something in the words helped
smooth down Shiv's hackles.
He took a deep breath,
and then let it out slow.
"You need me again, you
call me," he said. "I'll come."
"Thanks, cousin," Ben said as he
gave Shiv a forearm handshake.
"We all owe you one for this."
Shiv thought about that, and
the look on Blanche's face
when she'd seen his knife,
then he shook his head.
"Nah, not for this," he said.
"I just been itchin' to do
something like this for years."
"Haven't we all," Mick muttered.
"What matters is we got it done,"
Joseph said, draping his chin over
Shiv's shoulder in a horsey hug.
Ron nudged him from one side, and
Ben from the other, and just like that
Shiv was in the middle of everyone,
even Mick and Kyle in there somewhere.
It should have driven him nuts, but it
didn't, and he couldn't understand why.
Maybe because nobody was trying
to grab or hold him, just sorta ... there.
All Shiv knew was that, for some reason,
his life suddenly felt a little less like
that light bulb with a short in it.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character ( Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4), setting, and content notes will appear separately.