Echoing Strength

Author's note: This is a piece written for a creative fiction writing class in college. Tobias, you'll notice, is a name I use in more than one work, though I don't like to recycle names. This is less of a recycling and more of the beginnings of a character that only becomes more significant in BROTHERS' CURSE-- an emblem of strength. 

Greyson entered the coffee shop, wincing as the door hit the bell on the frame, announcing his late arrival. He didn't want his presence known just yet, but his sister was waiting and glanced up from her seat at one of the center tables, a burning hatred radiating around her petite form. She was just as he had seen her last with her uncombed dirty-blond hair hanging loosely to her elbows and one of her baggy sweaters barely hiding the coatrack body it clung to. She used to be healthy, with round cheeks and bright eyes, but her cheeks had deflated with time, sinking into dips, and her eyes fell under the dark shadow of her brow bone. Greyson was nearly ten years her senior, yet he felt as if she was aging faster than himself.

Greyson ducked his head in greeting, refusing to look at her for long, and headed to the front counter to order a cup of black coffee.

"So, the devil has arrived, has he?" She didn't allow him to ignore her as he had hoped but stood, her shoulders squared, and her feet set in defiance. Even at thirty-eight, she was a ferocious little thing, always ready for victory in the next sibling quarrel.

Greyson exhaled slowly as he ordered his beverage, still facing away from her. "If that's an insult it's a rather pitiful one." He chuckled despite the tension building up in his spine and chest. He had dealt with these interactions since she was old enough to speak, and his experience taught him that the only way to keep this meeting from giving him a metal-grinding sort of headache was for him to stay completely calm. He finally turned to her-his countenance pleasant-and took a seat at her table.

She glowered, her cheeks crimping as if she was tasting yesterday's coffee grounds from the dumpster outside. "I was hoping you'd take it as a compliment." She plopped into her chair, waving to the barista who was approaching with Grayson's coffee. "Cappuccino. Stat," she demanded, her upset tone and mannerisms not softening for the unsuspecting worker.

"Well we both know the devil is easy to get along with," Greyson said, nodding his thanks to the poor high-schooler that set the cup of salvation before him. He felt the comforting warmth of the mug ease the stiffness of his muscles, and some of his anger seemed to slip from his fingertips.

His sister cringed, nervously tugging a loose strand of her stringy blonde hair. "What are you implying?"

"You know what."

"I don't want to hear another one of your speeches, Greyson. All you've done for years is tell me that I'm doing something wrong. Just let me live my messed-up life and get out of it," she said.

Greyson sipped his coffee, nearly choking on the hot liquid. "What about Tobias, huh? I know what you're going to say. He's fourteen. He's not a kid anymore. He can take care of himself." Greyson paused, noticing the glaze in her eyes. "Damn it! I feel like I'm talking to a teenager!" He wanted to keep his voice steady, but her stubborn attitude was beginning to fuel the boiler in his core.

"You're talking to yourself," she said, leaning back in her chair, scowling.

The barista timidly brought her cappuccino and set it on the table before slinking back toward the register, yet Greyson's sister didn't move, waiting for Greyson to combat her words.

Greyson closed his eyes, now desperate to keep his cool. "I'm sorry I did this to you," he said, finally, focusing on the dull, sunken eyes he had come to recognize as his broken sibling. All those years of his ignorance pulsed through his mind. He had never meant to hurt her, but she was young and impressionable. She had watched him throw his life away, and, in response, she had decided to do the same. When Greyson finally did find solid ground, she was still washing away in the current, refusing help from him or anyone else.

"It won't change anything," she shot back, avoiding the apology.

"What can I do to keep Tobias from that?" he pleaded.

She blew at the foam in her drink then took a sip, gulping as if the heat didn't faze her. "Take him."

"What?"

Her eyes rolled. "If you're so concerned about him living with me and having to deal with all the crap in my life, then just take the bastard."

-----

When Tobias was informed of his mother's decision, he didn't know what to think. He hadn't spoken to his uncle in years and wasn't elated at the thought of living with the man, but it was late September, and something about going to that old mansion deep in the woods lightened his spirits. He'd always enjoyed autumn, and memories of visiting the place during the fall were all he could think about. He remembered birdwatching and playing with Greyson's dog in and between the maples that dotted the front yard. The leaves always turned a brilliant, fiery orange, stark against the clear blue sky, gray house, and browning grass. During early spring, the maples would be tapped for syrup, and, in summer, they were the best for climbing, but fall really brought them to life. Tobias was so focused about reminiscing on childhood memories that it softened the hurt of being tossed to the side like his mother's empty beer bottles.

As soon as Tobias' mother dropped him off at the house and drove away before he could say goodbye, he was greeted with a flurry of camping equipment and luggage in the front yard instead of the picturesque scene he has envisioned.

"She's not one for conversation, is she?" Greyson greeted his nephew, glaring at the empty driveway where dust still hovered in the air from his sister's car. "Never mind. We'll forget about her for now. It's just you and me, just like old times. Remember that camp I used to talk about? I was able to snag a weekend there all to ourselves. We'll go canoeing and fishing and birdwatching if you'd like. Your mom told me that you still have that bird guide I gave you." Greyson acted as if it was only yesterday that he saw Tobias last and not years ago when his sister decided they would stop visiting the man. "Do you still use it?"

Tobias shrugged, lifting the very book to his face as he sat on the cement porch steps. While he was packing his things earlier that morning, he had pulled out that old bird book, flipping through the pages for the first time since he was ten. He didn't understand why he had shoved it into his suitcase with the rest of his essentials, but he did. Perhaps it was the thought of going to live with Greyson that gave him the idea. Whatever the reason, he had it now, drawn and ready when his uncle mentioned it.

Greyson's face brightened in surprise. "Wow, I didn't think you cared much for it anymore." He took the book, running his fingers along the spine and opening it to a marked page. "Here's a question. Do you remember that conversation we had about the differences between crows and ravens? Man, that was years ago... you probably don't remember, do you?"

On the contrary, Tobias knew exactly what his uncle was speaking of, and memories of that day came back in a torrent. He had been walking with the man on a woody trail surrounded by yellow poplars on an autumn afternoon very much like the one presently. As they walked in silence, he had watched a large black bird fly from one tree to the ground only paces ahead of the pair, and Greyson had taken that moment to have Tobias peruse the bird guide to figure out what type of bird it was. Greyson had taken him on many walks before, but this trail had stood out for some reason. Perhaps it had been the serene stillness to the air or the contrast of the yellow leaves to the black bird or the carefree mood Tobias seldom had had since that day. No matter the reason, the memory was a photograph framed and walled in Tobias' mind.

Greyson seemed to notice the recollection in Tobias' face, for he nodded as if his nephew had answered. "You really wanted that bird to be a raven, so you could teach it to talk, if I remember correctly. So, I have a surprise for you." He turned his face toward the sky, letting out an ear-piercing whistle. In response, a large black bird emerged from the foliage of one of the maples, spreading its wings and gliding down toward the two.

"She's no wild raven, but she really is a magnificent animal," Greyson said as the bird landed notably close to Tobias on the porch railing.

Tobias jumped, scooting away from the animal, more astonished than frightened. Did his uncle truly get a pet raven just because of that time they talked about the birds? He knew Greyson to be obsessed with birds of all kinds, but Tobias was the one that wanted a raven.

Greyson seemed quite pleased with Tobias' reaction. He winked, turning toward the camping equipment that cluttered the ground. "Well, while you two get acquainted, I have a vehicle to pack," and with that, he sauntered toward his jeep, leaving Tobias with the frightening creature only inches from him.

Tobias gawked at the animal, unable to take his eyes off it. He wanted to touch it, but the freeness of its wings and sharp talons frightened him enough to keep his hands away. Still, it was a beautiful bird that pulled the frustration of the morning from his mind. He wondered if this raven could talk like the ones Greyson had described to him when he gave him the book. Tobias looked to Grayson for an answer.

The man was tying his weathered, green canoe to the top of his matching jeep, the scarlet bungee-cords stark against the muted tones. His spritely actions were deceptive; he could have been a jaunty twenty-year-old the way he moved about, connecting the elastic cords around the canoe and under the rack on the roof of the vehicle. He stopped only to cast an enthusiastic smile at his nephew, the crow's-feet at the edges of his eyes showing vividly. "You have to speak first," he said, his deep-set eyes twinkling.

Tobias glanced at the bird's feet and back at his uncle, finally understanding why the smile lines were called crow's-feet. The slight wrinkles forming on Greyson's face were toes and talons, so long that they nearly reached his ears. When Greyson raised his eyebrows, his forehead seemed to have been slashed in three distinct places from the sharp claws, and his speckled complexion, full of a sun-tinted, leathery texture seemed like a sandy beach where sea birds trod. His slowly receding hairline was dark at the roots, lightening to a silvery grey where it swooped down, a wave of bubbling surf on that beach of footprints, and his eyes were tidal pools harboring deep-sea colors of murky green and aqua blue and a ring of dark brown like wet sand where the pools end. This man was much older than Tobias' mother, but he had a glimmer of play in him that Tobias' mother had lost long ago.

Tobias shrugged again. He timidly reached out and touched the bird's breast, surprised at the smoothness of those florescent feathers.

The bird cocked her head, her glassy eyes staring right through the boy. "Speak first," she cawed, the syllables distinct and human-like, in the voice of a middle-aged man.

Tobias jumped, letting out a squeal, realizing quickly that the sound he made was worse than the raven's man-voice. "Whoa!" He stared, his eyes as wide as the jeep's wheels. "It does talk."

Greyson laughed, a hearty chuckle that covered the embarrassment of Tobias' scream. "I wasn't lying. And, it seems, neither was your mother." He finished fastening the last bungee-cord and turned to the boy, adjusting the leather vest he wore over his blue button-down.

Tobias stroked the bird again, this time with a shaking hand. "Lying about what?"

"That you also talk. You haven't said a thing since you got here. I was beginning to wonder if some unforeseen calamity stole your vocal cords."

"Calamity," the bird said.

Tobias drew his hand away from the raven, keeping his gaze on it rather than his uncle. "There's nothing important to say. Does she know anything else, or does she just repeat things?"

"She can quote part of 'The Raven.'" Greyson held his hand out to the bird, his fist closed tight.

In response, she hopped to his arm, her large talons nearly wrapping around his wrist. "Nevermore," she said, nibbling on Greyson's hair. "Nevermore."

Tobias laughed, momentarily forgetting his disdain for his family members. He used to be so close to his uncle, but since his mother lost her job and got another boyfriend who was worse than the last one, Tobias had drifted from anyone that called him family. Perhaps it was the savage he always saw in his mother when she played the family card to manipulate him.

"You hate me. That's why you're doing this to me," She had said when he returned home at 2:00 a.m. last Saturday night. She and Joe had been sitting on the living room couch, the entire room stuffed with the thick smoke of burning tobacco. Tobias had nearly gagged when he tried to enter the house unnoticed, but Joe had heard his cough and alerted his mother.

"I don't hate you," Tobias had tried to reason, his slightly blurred vision and buzzing tongue causing more annoyance than he would normally have with her, though he tried to conceal it. He'd had a few beers with his friends, but he knew better than to defy his mother when Joe was there, even if he himself was a little drunk. He decided it best to avoid conflict. "I'm going to bed." He turned toward the stairs, hoping that would be the end of it.

The woman glared, stumbling to her feet. "Don't you turn your back on me," she said. She had to lean against the couch's arm to keep her balance. Almost a full pack of drained beer cans, crushed and beaten, lay at her feet, and Joe held a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.

Tobias knew this wasn't going to be good. He clenched his fists, feeling his jaw tighten then quaver in unannounced fear. "I don't hate you," he repeated, his voice gentler in hopes of getting her to back off. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize the time. I'm sorry." His tone turned into a half-pleading whine, one he tried to keep as steady as possible, but he only managed to cause an unpleasant squeak to erupt.

Joe stood at this point, setting his whiskey on the coffee table with strange precision. He was a big man, his burly arms tensed and ready. "Your momma expects more from you, boy," He said finally, the scope of his eyes focused and ready to fire. He looked like a bulldog, his bulging muscles making up for his shorter stature. He had the biggest beer belly that Tobias had ever seen on a man, yet he was scarily nimble, a factor that Tobias had to take into account. With the liquor on his tongue, and meth probably in his brain, he was a time bomb just waiting to go off.

"I know. I'm sorry." Tobias was ready to run, but he stood his ground, repeating the only words he believed would help. "I'm sorry."

His mother rolled her eyes, scratching at her head as if she had lice. Her scalp snowed dandruff over the sweater that hung loosely on her body. She always wore sweaters. Even on the hottest summer days, her pale and frail body was decked out in a winter wonderland of reindeer, Christmas trees, or gingerbread men crafted to a knitted sweater two sizes too big. That and black leggings and large Ugg boots were all she ever wore. Sadly, the joyous tidings the sweaters portrayed rarely made their way to the woman who wore them. "Is this how you should treat your family?" Her words hung in the smoky air, force-fed to Tobias like raw onions and horseradish.

Joe growled like a grizzly bear when Tobias didn't reply. "Answer your momma, boy!" His raised voice hit the air, sending vibrations through the smoke.

"No," Tobias mumbled. He swallowed, his larnax glued in place.

"What?" they both yelled, their drugged-up expressions reflecting their rage.

"No. This is not how I should treat you."

Joe lunged forward, grabbing Tobias' arm in what felt like a bone-shattering grip. "No, it's not. Your momma and I don't deserve this disrespect. What do you think? Should you get away with your misdemeanors? Answer me!"

Tobias bit his tongue, tasting metallic blood. "I shouldn't." He shook his head, no longer in control. He knew what was coming, and he couldn't stop it. If he had never come home or had found a quieter way to enter the house, he could have avoided this. The tears tingled in his eyes and forehead and all he saw was grey-smoky, earthy, deadly grey.

"Her name is Echo." Greyson's voice suddenly reached into the swirling waves of memory and pulled Tobias' drowning body back to the present-the peaceful and clear present that didn't have drugs or liquor or his mother's angry boyfriend.

Tobias shook the smoke from his head, blinking the sting of it from his eyes. "What?"

Greyson laughed, his voice strangely comforting. "I said her name is Echo. I thought it was pretty obvious why she's called that, but maybe not so much." He stroked the bird's back, giving his nephew an inquisitive glance. Did he know where Tobias' mind had been? The man had given the cigar burns on Tobias' arms a few quick glances when his nephew first arrived, but he hadn't brought it up or pointed them out. Yet he had the observing eyes of an eagle, and Tobias had a feeling he was looking for answers.

"No, it makes sense since she repeats things." Tobias pushed the thoughts of home from his mind, trying as best he could to forget. There were so many good memories of Greyson and this house filed back behind Tobias' teenage experiences, and all he had to do was bring those further forward in the filing cabinet. If he could show a pleasant attitude, then perhaps the events of the past few weeks would simply fade away.

Greyson nodded. "Sometimes I can't seem to get her to shut up."

"Shut up," The raven said as she hopped from Greyson's arm to Tobias' shoulder. Her surprising weight caused the boy to lose his balance for a second.

He was beginning to get used to the strange pet, and he didn't flinch as he did before when she first spoke. "I think it's endearing," he said.

"Well, you wouldn't be wrong." Greyson backed away, grabbing their suitcases from the porch steps and hauling them to the jeep. "You know, I didn't expect to keep her. I found her as a baby and raised her for release, but, wouldn't you know, she just couldn't quit this place. I mean, I let her go multiple times, but she just keeps coming back. I don't even have to put a tether on her. She just stays with me and follows me around like a dog." He packed the luggage into the back of the Jeep as he spoke, his sprightly body moving here and there to make sure the packing was perfect.

"She really likes you, huh?" Tobias tried to bring Echo to his arm where he could see her, but she fluttered from his wrist to the ground, leaving light scratch marks on his burned arm. "Ow!"

Greyson paused his work, glancing up, his eyes scoping. "You okay?" He jogged to the porch, concern etched in his furrowed brow.

Tobias wrapped his arms behind his back, gritting his teeth. "Fine! She just surprised me." He lied, sitting on the porch steps.

"Surprise!" The bird said, hopping up the steps awkwardly.

"If you say so." Greyson took a seat next to his nephew, scooping Echo up in one motion and placing her on his lap. "And yes, either she likes me too much, or is too lazy to find her own food and shelter."

"Lazy," Echo said.

-----

Greyson took his nephew to a camp he and his sister went to as children. His sister was eight when he became a counselor at the age of seventeen, and he was excited to show her what he had experienced when he was her age. One day, during her first week, Greyson got to take her out on a canoe to what the campers called Otter Island. This island used to be a part of the camp's programing, but, due to a drought that brought the wild rice further out, the island's bay was overgrown, and no motorized boats could penetrate it. Only campers that used canoes and kayaks could reach shore, and even then, it was a risky endeavor. The bravest, the strongest, and the elite were the only ones allowed to take a trip to the forbidden isle to the north of the main campground. On this particular day, however, Greyson broke these rules by giving his sister a ferry ride to explore the legendary place.

"I want to be just like you when I grow up," His sister had said as she watched him paddle the canoe for the both of them, his arms straining at the pull.

Greyson had grinned, pride seeping into his muscles, bringing the canoe to a rhythmic glide across the rippling water. "Just like me? Why?" he had asked.

Her bottom lip jutted out in thought as she tugged on one of her corn silk pigtails. "Because you're strong and can do things like this."

"You can do them too. You have a paddle; you can help," he laughed, pulling his canoe paddle from the water and feeling the tipsy boat slow. "Just push with one arm and pull with the other, then switch sides."

She kept her paddle stretched across her lap, not making a move to try what he showed her. "No, I mean not just paddling, I mean... you know things and you do them without having to ask mom if you can. You're just grown up and I want to be like that."

Greyson nodded, continuing his paddling. "I see. You want to grow up too fast, is that it?" he asked, focusing his gaze on the island ahead.

She leaned her elbows on her knees, the large lifejacket she wore making her look like a little fat marshmallow. "Not too fast. I just want to be like you."

"Someday you will be. I guarantee it."

Greyson's life fell apart after that summer. He could barely remember his sister during that time, and when he finally went to rehab and straightened himself out, she was already grown. Now, her teenage son was in her place, holding that paddle on that bench in that canoe headed to that same island. He was a spitting image of her younger self; except for his thicker hair and lighter skin, they could have been identical twins. His smile was dimpled the way hers was when she laughed-a single indent on his left cheek. Even his eyes gave Greyson the exact curious glances that his sister's did when she looked up to him.

"I hear a killdeer," Tobias said, breaking the silence that had settled between them. The Saturday afternoon was warm and still, and the two didn't need to converse much to enjoy the world around them. They had been quite quiet, only speaking when necessary, a prime time for Tobias to think deeper about his current situation. He was upset at his mother for kicking him out of the house, but he felt a wave of relief when he realized that Joe would not be bothering him anymore. He still lived close enough to his school to keep up with the same friends and classes, so he wasn't too worried. And the time he did spend with Greyson proved to be considerably relaxing. He was not too thrilled when Greyson brought up the weekend trip idea as if he was trying to get Tobias on his good side. Tobias had had enough of father-figures in his life trying to prove that they were good enough dads. They all failed. Greyson was a good uncle, and Tobias knew he should stay that way if this was going to work out.

"What's so important about this island?" Tobias asked.

"I guess you could call it a coming of age sort of tradition." Greyson answered Tobias' question after a few moments of silent paddling. "The older campers that would be graduating from summer camp would canoe out here late at night to prove themselves worthy. They each had to paddle a canoe by themselves and make it to shore without getting caught in the rice and dead trees' branches."

"That's it?" Tobias asked, leaning on his elbows just as his mother had done nearly thirty years ago.

Greyson stopped paddling and placed his paddle in the boat. "That's it exactly. It can be a breeze in a kayak, but canoes are a bit difficult. Try it." He motioned for Tobias to take a turn at bringing the boat across the water.

"Try it," Echo repeated from her perch at the head of the canoe.

Tobias complied, dipping his paddle in the water and pushing it roughly against the waves. The canoe tipped uneasily from side to side from his effort, causing Echo to flap her wings, agitated. He tried again, this time forcing the boat forward and at an awkward angle to the left. He continued paddling on the same side, not looking toward the island but down at the paddle, and soon, the boat was facing the opposite direction and tipping wildly.

Greyson held the sides to support himself. "Try from the other side," He said, his voice full of amusement.

Tobias glanced up, frustrated. "How'd we... all I'm doing is rocking it and turning the wrong way." He observed, his shoulders drooping.

Greyson laughed, waiting for the water to settle before moving to the bench closer to his nephew. "Go with the water, not against it. Dip and pull, like this." He showed the boy with Tobias' paddle before turning toward the front of the boat and reaching for his own, demonstrating. "Get the rhythm of a drum in your mind as you go, dip and pull, switch sides. Dip and pull, switch sides. Dip and pull, switch sides. Got it?" He continued his demonstration for a few more beats before pulling his paddle from the water to allow Tobias to drive the boat forward. Based on the rhythmic beat of Tobias' own paddle, Greyson knew he was getting the hang of it.

"This is harder than I thought it would be," Tobias said, speeding his paddling, all the while bringing the boat to a slower pace.

Greyson nodded, joining in at a slower tempo. "No kidding. Keep the beat slow and flowing. If you speed up, you tire faster and don't dip the paddle deep enough to push the boat."

The two continued on for a while in silence, the pulsing rhythm of the paddles and water the only sounds that filled the air. It was soothing and brought the island nearer and nearer.

Tobias again broke the quiet of their journey, his words surprising his uncle. "I don't blame you," he said.

Greyson kept paddling, confused at this comment. "What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes on the beautiful island that loomed before them.

"For how my mom is. And what Joe does. I don't blame you." Tobias' voice was steady, unwavering, and there was a strange peace in his tone.

Greyson stopped. They were gliding through the wild rice and collected debris. Stalks shooting from the water sailed by, some brushing his arms, but he didn't flinch at their slight sting. He thought a moment, unable to breath or speak.

"Family is a strange thing. I hate it, but I also really like you and I couldn't hate my mom even if I wanted to. I want to be like you. You're so calm about things." Tobias said as he paddled.

Greyson glanced up at the towering orange and yellow and red trees that shot from the island to the sky like a wild fire. They were so close that he could almost feel the muck between his toes that would greet him at the island shore.

"I want to be like you" his sister had said her first time at this camp. Tobias had repeated this phrase, his words sincere. Greyson didn't know how to react to this.

"I want to be like you too," he found himself saying in a hushed voice.

It was Tobias' turn to be confused. "What? Like me? Why?"

"Because you're strong," Greyson said, feeling the canoe lurch a bit as it hit the shore. They had reached the island.

Echo spread her wings and flapped to the nearest tree. "You're strong," she called midflight. "You're strong!"

October 30, 2019. C. Borders. All Rights Reserved.