carry over to
her own coming of age?
Sophie remembered when her
own flow had begun. She felt obliged to tell her grandmother, had
gone looking for her, not because she wanted to tell her, but because
she thought she should. Deer Woman had been sewing a pair of
moccasins when Sophie found her. "The bleeding--it's begun for
me," she blurted out.
Deer Woman put her work
down. "My little Sophie--not so little now." She smiled a
melancholy smile. "With my tribe you would go to the 'hunagen'
now."
Sophie felt herself tighten
inside. Her grandmother meant well, but she was always talking about
things that had nothing to do with Sophie's life. And she had talked
about them fondly, when to Sophie they sounded queer and awful. "I
wouldn't go," she said.
"To the menstrual
lodge? But why?"
"They couldn't make me
go. Why should I be sent away like that?"
For a moment her
grandmother didn't say anything. Then, gently: "It isn't
punishment. It never was for me. It was something to look forward to.
Often there were babies there, and always friends and talk and
laughter..." Her voice trailed off as if she realized her words
were useless. After a moment she lifted her arms, waggling her
fingers, and Sophie walked over and let herself be drawn into her
grandmother's embrace. But inside she held herself rigid and aloof.
The world Deer Woman spoke of seemed alien and unattractive, and she
wanted no part of it.
"There!" Esther
announced. "I've got everyone I need in this one. Come see, Aunt
Sophie."
Sophie knelt on the floor
beside her and saw that Esther had arranged the pictures from the
mantelpiece into a family tree. At the top was a photograph of Joe
and Deer Woman in middle age, both of them looking uncomfortable in
the clothes they were wearing. Joe had on a dark jacket and dark
pants, a suit Sophie had never seen him in, though this old picture
had made it familiar to her. Deer woman was wearing a dress with tiny
buttons and lace ruching, holding herself awkwardly within its stiff
folds. She'd worn white women's clothing so rarely, she never had
learned to seem at ease in them.
Below the picture of Joe
and Deer Woman, Esther had placed a drawing of Sophie's mother and
father. Joe had told Sophie once that this drawing was a good
likeness. But Julia looked startled, Sophie thought, and the young
lieutenant's face seemed blurred. She picked it up to examine it and
realized that although it portrayed a younger generation, it was
older than the photograph of Joe and Deer Woman, perhaps as much as a
decade older. By the time the picture of Joe and Deer Woman had been
made, this blurry figure was in his grave and the surprised young
woman had run away.
"I do wish I had a
picture of Paul's father," Esther said. She was gesturing toward
a group of pictures, and Sophie saw that she had tried to set up a
family tree for the Bellavances too, but she had only two pictures to
work from, one of the Widow Bellavance, the other of Paul, Anna May,
and their five children, all grown and gone now.
"You do need Emile
Bellavance, don't you?" sophie said. "I'll ask Paul if he
doesn't have a picture of his father. Perhaps..." Sophie broke
off as she set the picture of her parents down and looked at the
photographs arranged below it. The picture of Helen--it had been
defaced! She picked it up and saw that someone had gone over all the
lines in its with ink, gone around the eyes, the irises, and even the
pupils, blacked in the lashes and brows; outlined the lips until the
face looked like a harlot's, or like a corpse on whom the undertaker
has too lavishly applied his art. "Esther, what's happened to
this picture?"
The girl looked up, seeming
unconcerned. "Oh, Sally did that. Every so long ago."
"No, just yesterday I
looked at it, and it was fine."
"You must have looked
at another picture. There's more than one of Mother on the
mantelshelf."
Sophie was sure this was
the picture she'd been looking at, but before she had time to resolve
the matter,
her own coming of age?
Sophie remembered when her
own flow had begun. She felt obliged to tell her grandmother, had
gone looking for her, not because she wanted to tell her, but because
she thought she should. Deer Woman had been sewing a pair of
moccasins when Sophie found her. "The bleeding--it's begun for
me," she blurted out.
Deer Woman put her work
down. "My little Sophie--not so little now." She smiled a
melancholy smile. "With my tribe you would go to the 'hunagen'
now."
Sophie felt herself tighten
inside. Her grandmother meant well, but she was always talking about
things that had nothing to do with Sophie's life. And she had talked
about them fondly, when to Sophie they sounded queer and awful. "I
wouldn't go," she said.
"To the menstrual
lodge? But why?"
"They couldn't make me
go. Why should I be sent away like that?"
For a moment her
grandmother didn't say anything. Then, gently: "It isn't
punishment. It never was for me. It was something to look forward to.
Often there were babies there, and always friends and talk and
laughter..." Her voice trailed off as if she realized her words
were useless. After a moment she lifted her arms, waggling her
fingers, and Sophie walked over and let herself be drawn into her
grandmother's embrace. But inside she held herself rigid and aloof.
The world Deer Woman spoke of seemed alien and unattractive, and she
wanted no part of it.
"There!" Esther
announced. "I've got everyone I need in this one. Come see, Aunt
Sophie."
Sophie knelt on the floor
beside her and saw that Esther had arranged the pictures from the
mantelpiece into a family tree. At the top was a photograph of Joe
and Deer Woman in middle age, both of them looking uncomfortable in
the clothes they were wearing. Joe had on a dark jacket and dark
pants, a suit Sophie had never seen him in, though this old picture
had made it familiar to her. Deer woman was wearing a dress with tiny
buttons and lace ruching, holding herself awkwardly within its stiff
folds. She'd worn white women's clothing so rarely, she never had
learned to seem at ease in them.
Below the picture of Joe
and Deer Woman, Esther had placed a drawing of Sophie's mother and
father. Joe had told Sophie once that this drawing was a good
likeness. But Julia looked startled, Sophie thought, and the young
lieutenant's face seemed blurred. She picked it up to examine it and
realized that although it portrayed a younger generation, it was
older than the photograph of Joe and Deer Woman, perhaps as much as a
decade older. By the time the picture of Joe and Deer Woman had been
made, this blurry figure was in his grave and the surprised young
woman had run away.
"I do wish I had a
picture of Paul's father," Esther said. She was gesturing toward
a group of pictures, and Sophie saw that she had tried to set up a
family tree for the Bellavances too, but she had only two pictures to
work from, one of the Widow Bellavance, the other of Paul, Anna May,
and their five children, all grown and gone now.
"You do need Emile
Bellavance, don't you?" sophie said. "I'll ask Paul if he
doesn't have a picture of his father. Perhaps..." Sophie broke
off as she set the picture of her parents down and looked at the
photographs arranged below it. The picture of Helen--it had been
defaced! She picked it up and saw that someone had gone over all the
lines in its with ink, gone around the eyes, the irises, and even the
pupils, blacked in the lashes and brows; outlined the lips until the
face looked like a harlot's, or like a corpse on whom the undertaker
has too lavishly applied his art. "Esther, what's happened to
this picture?"
The girl looked up, seeming
unconcerned. "Oh, Sally did that. Every so long ago."
"No, just yesterday I
looked at it, and it was fine."
"You must have looked
at another picture. There's more than one of Mother on the
mantelshelf."
Sophie was sure this was
the picture she'd been looking at, but before she had time to resolve
the matter,
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