Lev uncurls himself from an awkward-looking stretch and watches in that opossum way of his to see where this is going.
“I hate it here,” says Connor. “Being in someone’s house, being ‘taken care of.’ It’s turning me into someone I’m not—or at least someone I’m not anymore.”
Lev holds that long look at Connor, to the point that it’s uncomfortable. Connor refuses to be stared down.
“You were never good at being a kid, were you?” Lev says.
“What?”
“You stunk at it. You were a total screwup. You were the kind of kid who would use a poor unsuspecting tithe as a human shield.”
“Yeah,” says Connor, more than a little indignant, “but don’t forget I saved that tithe’s life!”
“An added bonus—but that’s not the reason why you first grabbed me that day, is it?”
Connor doesn’t say anything, because they both know he’s right—and it ticks Connor off.
“My point is that you’re afraid of going back to being that same screwup you were two years ago—but I don’t see it happening.”
“And why is that, O wise clapper tithe?”
Lev throws him a dirty look, but lets it go. “You’re kind of like Humphrey Dunfee. We both are. Torn apart by everything that’s happened to us, then put back together again. Who you are now is nothing like who you used to be.”
Connor considers it and nods, accepting Lev’s observation. It’s a comfort to know that Lev truly thinks he’s changed, but Connor’s not all that convinced.
• • •
Two things happen at dinner that night. Which of the two is worse depends on one’s particular perspective.
Elina arrives home just after dark, followed by Pivane, who brings a pot of rabbit stew he’s had simmering all day. Connor is thankful he didn’t have to see the animal skinned and prepared. As long as there’s no bunny face in the stew, he’ll be fine. At the dinner table, Kele is all blabber about how the kids with predatory animals as their spirit guides have started to bully the kids with tamer animal spirits.
“It’s soooo unfair—and I know that half those kids made up their animals on their vision quest anyway.”
It makes Connor think of Lucas—his own brother—who turned every little event in middle school into high drama. Connor gets a sudden chill from the memory. Not because he thought of his brother—but because he realizes how long it’s been since he’s thought about him at all. Lucas would now be getting close to the age Connor was when he kicked-AWOL.
“Could somebody pass the stew down this way?” Connor asks. Better to focus on the food than get caught in a minefield of reflection.
“They’ll get over themselves,” Pivane tells Kele. “And if they don’t, they’ll pay the price for it in the end. Birds fly north as well as south,” which Connor assumes is the Arápache version of “What goes around, comes around.”
“Hello!” calls Conner to the end of the table. “We need some stew down here.”
While Lev has patience to wait, Connor’s hunger demands attention.
Grace, who always sits right next to Elina, has filled her bowl to overflowing. The tureen is in front of Elina, but she doesn’t notice because she’s also involved in Kele’s drama.
“I can’t tell you how many injuries I see at the medical lodge because kids think their animal guides will protect them from broken bones.”
Then Connor calls loud and clear: “Mom! Pass the stew!”
It’s the way that Lev snaps his eyes to Connor that makes Connor realize what he’s just said. The feeling of normalcy—the thoughts of family—somehow made the word surface like an unexpected belch.
Everyone looks to Connor like he just dropped a turd on the table.
“I mean, just—pass the stew. Please.”
Elina passes the stew to him, and Connor thinks his slip can just slip on by until Kele says, “You let him call you Mom now? I don’t even get to call you Mom.”
After that, no one knows where to pick up the conversation, and so Elina decides to drive the nail home rather than let it sit halfway to nowhere.