Read Online Mayday by Jonathan Friesen - Free Book Online Page A

“And what do you see in Crow?”
    The instant the words were out, I wished I could reel them back.
    Please, don’t make a joke about this.
    To Basil’s credit, he did not. He straightened, bit his lip, and nodded.
    â€œFair questions. Mel is a wind, nothing more, you know? Light, breezy. She never takes you anywhere you don’t want to go. She’s a head case, but a predictable one. End of story.” Basil paused, then whispered Crow’s name. “Remember the twister that blew through last year? Probably not, you were in Alaska.” He rolled his eyes. “Sky here turned green and the air hung, thick and heavy, waiting. The world was still, birds muted. There was a moment before the winds, an eye of the storm. That’s Crow. That heavy place where every word is important and everything she does is symbolic and you’re always a moment from a tornado. That’s life with Crow.” He peeked at me. “I couldn’t live without her, but—and no offense to your sister—sometimes the drama gets so heavy you need a light breeze, you know? Just a day at the beach. Enter Mel.”
    I wondered at the deepest words he’d ever spoken. “Ever told Crow that?”
    He frowned and eased back in the seat. “No. I guess I haven’t.”
    We rode the rest of the way in silence. I hopped off at the Park-n-Ride in Maple Grove and trudged toward Elm Creek. Though Basil’s words were still with me, he followed a few steps behind. The walk to Dove’s took four thousand and three steps, just over an hour. I’d always been into counting, a little obsessive/compulsive tendency that must have slid down Mom’s DNA strand into my own mind, and apparently my soul’s.
    Basil caught up to me.
    â€œYou do know where you’re going.”
    I paused. No talk. It cluttered up my thinking. “Yeah. Three thousand five hundred steps that way.” I pointed.
    He bit his lip and shook his head. “You’re a little more like Crow than I thought.”
    I can’t explain the feeling I had with Basil at my side and Dove minutes away. The whole going-back thing, you’d think, would be déjà vu at every turn. But it wasn’t. I mean, this wasn’t. I’d lived to eighteen. My life had filled with five more years of strange twists and vivid memories, and in this young body I felt oddly detached.
    I was a visitor.
    Until I reached Dove’s plot.
    Her lot bordered Elm Creek on the back, shielded on either side by pine trees both tall and full. The grass was wild, just like Dove. Gardens filled the back half of the acreage. “After all,” she said, “I should leave some land for David.”
    Later on, those gardens would take over the entire property.
    I stepped into the tall grass and ran my fingers over its gentle wave. Maybe this is where the field in Lifeless’s dream was born. Dove worked the flower bed and slowly stood as Basil and I approached.
    â€œDove. It’s been so long,” I said, and broke into a broad smile.
    She leaned hard on her hoe. “Do I know you?”
    â€œWell, I’ve heard so much from Crow, I feel like I know you already.”
    â€œThat’s a pile of crap.” She bent over and worked more dirt. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” She looked up. “Nice of you to come, Basil. School treating you well?”
    â€œDay in, day out. You know.” Basil stepped forward. “Ma, this is Crow’s half sister. She needs to find her.”
    Dove paused. “Half sister. Where you from, half sister?”
    I peeked at Basil, couldn’t recall what I’d told him. “Wisconsin?”
    â€œNow I know she’s full of crap.” Dove turned her back.
    Basil walked toward her and whispered in her ear. She peeked over her shoulder and breathed deep. “I’ll be right back.”
    Dove disappeared into the trailer. From the