What We Bury, page 31
part #4 of Call of the Crow Quartet Series
If you can’t call that’s ok
I’m here if you ever want to talk tho
NAVEED:
Thank you Andi
I’m so tired guess I should go but
I want you to know that you are
an incredible human
and I’m ridiculously lucky
to have you in my life
Talk soon
ANDI:
Yes plz call whenever you can,
my life is sooooo
boringggggggg
Anyway I bet it feels good to
be back in your own bed
Sleep well
NAVEED:
You too
Don’t let the
Barb bugs bite
ANDI:
Lolololol
Good night
44
Naveed
Wednesday, June 29
NAVEED KNOCKED ON THE DOOR. He wiped his sweaty forehead with his long-sleeved shirt. Koffka regarded him with his big dark eyes. “It’s okay, boy,” Naveed said softly. “Just nervous.”
Behind them, Baba was helping Roya up the steps. The two of them had been mostly silent during the long car ride. Naveed had dragged them down here, and he hoped more than anything that it would be worth it.
Frida opened the door and greeted him with a shining smile. “Welcome! Come in.” She shook Baba’s hand and waved at Roya, who waved back awkwardly.
“May I?” she said to Naveed, extending her arms. He nodded and embraced her, grateful that she pulled away quickly to rub Koffka behind the ears. The dog whimpered as she did so. “Missing Astro, are you?” she crooned to him. “We miss him too. But you should meet the new dogs—they are very shy, though.”
Naveed settled his right hand on Koffka’s head. After Astro was killed by Tara Snyder, Gretchen and Frida had adopted two dogs that were rescued from the Pharmabox labs. Naveed didn’t like thinking about what they had been through.
“There’s one!” Roya gestured behind the sofa, where a yellow lab was curled up. “Can I pet him?”
“Approach slowly,” Frida said. “Let him come to you, if he wants.”
Naturally, less than a minute later the dog’s head was in Roya’s lap, and she was singing a soft little song to him as she stroked his head.
“She is good with animals,” Frida said. “Come, would you like some lunch? I was just setting it up outside.”
Naveed mentally kicked himself—he’d forgotten to tell them it was Ramadan. Baba and Roya were both observing it this year, and though Naveed had never found much solace in religion, he was joining them in his own way. Instead of asking for God’s forgiveness, Naveed was trying to show all the people he’d hurt that he was worth forgiving. Which was hard to do since he was still struggling to forgive himself.
“I’m sorry, when we talked earlier I forgot to tell you,” Naveed said. “They’re fasting for Ramadan. Can’t have anything to eat or drink until after sundown.”
“Oh, I see! That’s all right, we can clear it away—”
“Don’t worry about it. You should go ahead and eat,” Baba said.
Naveed was glad for the permission, because he was starving, but still felt a little weird as he loaded up his plate with Frida’s amazing rosemary potatoes. Baba stared out at the orchard. Roya decided to stay inside with her new dog friend. Gretchen, who had been weeding the vegetable garden, clomped up the back steps to join them.
Once everyone was settled, Frida said, “Thank you for coming down to visit. I know we’ve said it before—but we are very sorry, because we feel that we let you down. We’re glad that you are interested in a second chance here, Naveed. And we would be happy to have you back.”
Baba cleared his throat. Here we go, Naveed thought. He squirmed in his chair, suddenly very conscious of the brace on his left wrist.
“As you know, I have some concerns.” Baba sounded so gruff. It had been like this ever since Naveed came home: Baba was stern, strict, humorless. “For one thing, he can’t handle the physical demands of farm work. His arm is still healing. And the fibrosis in his lungs—he just can’t work at the same level as he used to.”
Naveed hated it when people talked about him like he wasn’t there. “But the air’s so much cleaner down here, Baba,” he interrupted. “They did say it might help to be away from the city—”
“And he’s still adjusting to his new meds. He needs to be closely monitored. Plus, he has lots of follow-up appointments in Seattle. We’ve also signed him up for an outpatient counseling program that meets every weekend for three months. So it doesn’t make sense for him to live down here.”
Gretchen was nodding. “I understand your concerns. Perhaps, Naveed, you could just work at the market? That way you could stay in Seattle—”
“No.” Naveed was fully aware of how desperate he sounded. “No. I want to be down here. I can still do farm work, the doctors said it would be okay, I just have to ease back into it gradually, use my oxygen if I need to.”
“We’ve talked about this. I don’t think I can trust you to take care of yourself,” Baba said coldly.
“Baba, you can. I’m doing fine now. It’s not like it was. I’m not going to make the same mistakes—”
“I. Can’t. Trust. You.” Baba gave him that look again, the one he’d been shooting Naveed often. It was a painful expression, hard to look at. Nate always interpreted it as, I hate you, and you disgust me, and I’m ashamed to call you my son. But Nate never got the last word anymore, and Naveed’s spin on it was different. I love you, and you betrayed me, and these are the consequences.
Once again, Naveed had a lot of rebuilding to do.
Gretchen interjected, “If you’re not up for physical labor, Naveed, there is another option. Frida and I saw Blood Apples. It got us thinking about Zetik and… we realized we could do better. We hire many seasonal pickers this time of year. But we do not speak Spanish, and can’t communicate with them well. Perhaps you could help with that. Help us understand the needs and concerns of our workers. Suggest changes.”
“We want to start transitioning out of being full-time farmers, so that we can spend more time with our new granddaughter,” Frida added. “We could use help planning for the future. You’d still be welcome to stay in the cabin when you’re here, even if it’s just for a few days a week.”
Naveed paused mid-chew, consciously willing his jaw not to drop. He swallowed quickly and said, “Yes! I’d love that!”
Of course, Baba wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic. “I still think Naveed isn’t able to handle living independently yet.”
“I can do it, Baba. I’m not helpless. I know how to manage it all, I’ll take my meds religiously, I’ve got Koffka…”
“That’s what you said last time. And look how that turned out.”
Naveed slumped in his chair, defeated. He and Baba had been looping through these same conversational circles for weeks now.
Frida jumped to his rescue. “I agree that the way we handled things last time was not ideal. We would need to work more closely with Naveed to make sure he keeps up on his treatments. But I’m sure we could find a plan that you both are satisfied with.”
Baba shook his head. “That’s very kind, but his medical needs are complicated. It’s a lot to ask.”
Frida stood firm. “It isn’t. Really. I was a nurse for thirty years. Taking care of people is second nature. And this farm, it is a special place, very healing. I’m sorry it didn’t work out last time. But we hope you’ll give us another chance to help him. To help you.”
Baba was watching the swallows out in the distance. They wheeled through the June gloom, playfully dipping and diving from the fields to the trees and back again. Naveed took his silence as a potential good sign.
“Think about it,” Frida said. “You don’t have to decide right this minute.”
Gretchen asked if Baba wanted a tour of the farm and orchards, and to Naveed’s relief he said he did. Roya, who had probably been eavesdropping that whole time, opened the screen door right on cue and said she wanted to join them. Naveed stayed behind and offered to help Frida with the dishes after he’d shoveled down two helpings of every dish on the table, but she waved him off. “I’ll take you up on that some other time. After you move back,” she said with a wink.
“Frida.” Naveed didn’t even know what to say. “I can’t thank you enough. For giving me another chance.”
“The pleasure is mine. Oh, and if you want to head back to the cabin, feel free. We cleaned up a little, but all your stuff is still there.”
Naveed nodded. “Think I’ll do that. Thanks.”
As he walked back to his cabin, he found himself thinking about the changes he might suggest for how their farm was operated. Of course, the first step would be to talk with the workers to see what they wanted to change. And he should contact Ramón… maybe, if he was still having a hard time finding work, Gretchen and Frida could hire him… and maybe they could totally change the structure of the workday… have a communal lunch in the middle of the day so everyone could rest… maybe Marisol could bring her kids along and help with that, since she still had health problems and couldn’t do farm work anymore. Someday, maybe they could even convert Zetik to a worker-owned cooperative.
There were so many possibilities.
Plus, if they could show that their model worked, show the positive benefits to everyone involved, maybe the effects would ripple out, leading to broader changes in the food system.
It wasn’t going to be easy, he knew that. But he was excited to try. And for him, being excited about anything was worth celebrating.
Naveed reached the cabin at the same time Gretchen and Baba walked up. “Oh! Naveed! Come see.” Gretchen led him around the side. The mushroom logs he’d half-buried the day Maman had visited were now covered with ruffled stacks of turkey tails.
“We’ve been watering them for you,” Gretchen said. “These just popped up the other day.”
“They’re… wow. They’re beautiful.” Naveed was surprised at how emotional he felt. He’d planted these mushrooms because he’d heard they could fend off cancer, and even though he knew it was irrational, it felt like they were sending him a message. Everything’s going to work out.
“I’ll let Naveed give you the tour of his place,” Gretchen said to Baba. “Roya’s feeding the chickens. I’ll go keep an eye on her.” She smiled at them before walking away up the dusty road.
Naveed held the door open for Baba. “After you,” he said.
Baba stood awkwardly just inside the doorway. Naveed gestured for him to sit in the same chair Maman had sat in during her visit. He didn’t mention it, hoping that Baba would somehow know, on some level below words and below thought.
“So what do you think? The orchard’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Baba grunted noncommittally.
“I know you don’t want me to do this, but I really feel like it’s the best option. Oh, plus, Frida didn’t mention it today, but when we talked earlier she said they could still give me a stipend, and I’m pretty sure it would cover the monthly cost of my meds and oxygen. Plus, I’ve been in contact with this literary agent that Jamal referred me to, and she thinks she can get me an advance if I put a proposal together for a memoir, so that might help take care of some of the inpatient bills—”
“Naveed-jaan,” Baba interrupted. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. We’re going to be okay—the settlement money finally came through. All you need to do is focus on getting better.”
Those words cleaved something inside him—but in a good way. It felt like being cut free from the invisible sack of boulders he’d been dragging around all month. “Then please let me do this,” Naveed said. “Please. Let me prove that you can trust me. Let me live here for half of the week, and I’ll come home every weekend, and if it isn’t going well, we can re-evaluate. Just give me a chance. Please.”
Baba was silent for a minute. Then, finally, he sighed. “All right. We can try it.”
Naveed wanted to shriek with joy, but he restrained himself. “Thank you, Baba. I won’t let you down. Oh—and I have something for you.”
Naveed crossed the room and took Maman’s phone from its hiding place under his mattress. He traced the starburst crack with his thumb one last time, then held the phone out to his father. “I found it… that day… at the mountain. It’s unlocked. I think she would’ve wanted you to have it.”
Baba’s eyes filled with tears. “Her phone?”
Naveed nodded. “She loved you so much, Baba.”
Baba kept his eyes on the phone. Naveed knew he was trying hard not to lose it.
“I’m sorry for being the worst son in history,” Naveed went on. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”
“I’ll never give up on you.” Baba said through choked sobs. “So don’t give up on yourself. Promise me?”
“I promise,” Naveed said. And this time, he meant it.
“I LOVE IT HERE,” Roya exclaimed as she spread a patchwork quilt over the golden stubble of the fallow field. To Naveed’s surprise, Baba had accepted when Gretchen invited them to stay for dinner after sundown. Once the feast had been devoured, Baba insisted on helping them clean up, so Naveed and Roya went for a moonlit walk.
It had been cloudy all day, but the sky had cleared as the sun set. Naveed lowered himself down next to Roya, who was already on her back, looking up at the sky. Koffka sat next to him, still at attention. Naveed had a feeling that the dog had not forgotten what had happened in those woods. Obviously, Naveed hadn’t either, but he still felt unexpectedly relaxed. It was as if this land could soak up pain and grief just as easily as it could absorb water.
Naveed turned his head towards a glowing orb illuminating the clouds from behind. Soon enough, the moon peeked through. It had been forty days now since Maman had died, and still the moon was shining. Always the same, always changing. Its gravity a steady, unyielding force. An invisible anchor.
Roya spoke. “Do you think… maybe sometime, like later in the summer, Kass could come here for a visit? And Ilyana, we could all camp out or something. They would love it.”
“I don’t know,” Naveed said. “I don’t want any trouble—”
“She wasn’t the one who burned down the barn. I did that, remember?”
“I’m talking about what she gave you at the memorial. Do you know what that tea really was? It was a drug. The same stuff that almost killed Kourosh.”
“It wouldn’t have killed me.” He could practically hear Roya rolling her eyes. “It was a very small dose.”
“Maybe not, but—” He hesitated, not really wanting to admit this, but deciding to do it anyway. “I took it, Roya. I brewed the tea. And the things I saw… the way it made me feel afterwards… I’m just glad you didn’t have to go through that.”
“It’s because you were uninvited,” said Roya. “Kass told me all about it. You’re supposed to take a lot of preparations for it to work right. You can’t just jump in there without knowing what to do, because then it will only show you horrors.”
That was an interesting way to look at it, Naveed thought. But he still wasn’t about to apologize.
They were both quiet for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Naveed took off his wrist brace and flexed his fingers, moving through a sequence of physical therapy stretches. They got a little easier every time. Woodcarving would probably be off the table for a while yet, though.
Out of the blue, Roya asked, “How come you never invited me here before?”
“I didn’t know you wanted to come,” Naveed said. “When I first moved out here, you had your cast on still… you had to do all that PT when it came off… plus I was so busy all the time.”
“You left me.” The depth of pain in her voice caught him off guard. “I really needed you then, and I needed Koffka, he helped so much too, but one day you were like, ‘oh by the way, I got a job at a farm, I’m moving out, see you later’ and left me all alone.”
Those words landed like a gut punch. “You weren’t alone, Roya. You had Kourosh, and Baba, and Maman…”
“No. Kourosh and Baba were never home, or if they were, they were busy with stuff. And Maman… you didn’t see it, did you. I think maybe I was the only one who saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“The demons,” said Roya. “She had these demons inside her. You know, like shayatin. It got really bad after you left.”
“Oh, Roya.” Naveed turned towards her, propping himself up on his elbow. “What did—what did the shayatin make her do?”
“She just didn’t like me anymore.” Roya was still staring up at the moon, but tears flowed from her eyes, running straight down the sides of her face and falling onto the quilt in small drips. “She was annoyed at me all the time. And grumpy. I think she hated taking me to all the appointments.”
“Hey. Come here.” He sat up and opened his arms. She snuggled closer. Sometimes she acted so mature that he forgot her age, but she was only nine. Still small enough to crawl into his lap. “You know what, Roya?” he whispered into the dark. “Something like that happened to her when I was your age. I called it the shadow. It wasn’t anything to do with you, though, I promise. She had depression—a disease, a horrible one. It makes you hurt inside, so bad that sometimes you can’t help taking it out on other people. But she still loved you. So much.”
Roya was quiet for a minute. “Is it going to happen to me too?”
Naveed didn’t know how to answer that. He wanted to soothe her fears, but he also wanted to be honest about this. “I don’t know. It might. But, lucky you—you’ve got me, and I know what it’s like.” Without meaning to, he glanced down at his uncovered wrist, at the scar that shone pink in the bright moonlight. I’ve been through hell, that scar said, all of his scars said. And I survived. “You can talk to me about anything, anytime, and I promise I’ll listen.”
