Morgan Nyberg - Since Tomorrow

Tyrell was quiet for a minute as he looked down into the hole. “But then one day he was gone. And now he’s come back. I’m glad he’s come back. But I’m not glad he’s come back like this. Most of us here knew Steveston. We won’t forget him. And we won’t forget who done this.” He dropped a handful of dirt into each grave and put his hat on and picked up his bow and spear and arrows and sword and hurried back toward the bridge.

A belly of thick cloud had slid over the sun. The day had cooled, and the wind had picked up. Jessica stepped around a few of those gathered in the graveyard. She came forward and stood beside Frost.

She said “One time, Steveston rigged up the big potato wagon so that as soon as Frost hitched up Beauty and tried to pull it, all four wheels come off.”

Someone guffawed. Old Ryan. Frost nodded solemnly.

“Another time, he built a jack-in-the box out of boards and a spring and a toy snake he traded for at the market. He put it in Brittany’s room. Deas said he heard her scream all the way out at Little Bridge.”

Old Joshua laughed and said to Brittany, who stood near him “I remember. That’s when you stopped growin’.”

Brittany said “I stopped growin’ when I was ten.”

“No, I remember — you were shootin’ up like a weed until the jack-in-the-box.”

“Idiot.”

Jessica went on “It’s an awful time. It’s been awful for a long time, but now it’s even worse. It’s worse than I’ve ever seen it since I come to this farm. Willow and Steveston murdered. It’s harder for Frost and me and the rest of us old ones, because we remember when it wasn’t awful. We remember when things were so different from the way they are now you can’t even imagine it. I don’t just mean cars and planes and electricity. We remember when there was law, and everybody lived by the law and got along. Not like this awful time.”

She was more than six feet tall and broad-shouldered and had a heavy and powerful face. The tanned skin was dark against the white hair that framed it. She scanned every face. She said “We’re going to make a better time. We are. That’s what this farm is about. So we’re not going to stop thinking about what happened to Steveston. I know we all would like to, but we’re not going to. We’re going to keep thinking about what happened to him so’s we never forget what’s got to change. We’re going to make sure Steveston and Willow didn’t die for nothing. Like Tyrell said, Steveston’s come back. He’s come back and he’s put this awful time right in our faces. He’s come back to help us do what we got to do.” She stepped back from the grave. It was silent for some time. A few spits of rain fell.

Frost said “In the days when there was law Steveston would have been called my son-in-law.”

Noor was finally crying, but not loudly. She was wearing Robson’s vest. Will did not cry. His face was blank and empty. He looked down at the ground and put his thumb in his mouth.

Frost said “The woman of this man who lies here learned to walk on a boat anchored near a city called Valparaiso. I wanted to take her into the city so she could practise her walking on a real sidewalk, and also so we could get some food. But we could hear the sound of gunshots all day long and all night long, so we were scared to go into Valparaiso or into any of the other cities we passed. So Zahra practised her walking on deserted beaches. And I found food in villages where every person was dead — not dead from gunshots but dead from something else.

“My woman, Susan — wife was the word we used in those days — she died on that same boat not far south of here. We were sailing along a coast covered in forest. There were eagles in the sky. There were seals in the water. Here grave is… Well, you all know where it is.

“The first people who moved into the domicile with me were Tyrell and his mom and dad and old Mrs. Chow. That first winter we lived on food we found in houses where the people had died. We made our fires outdoors and burned wood we tore out of the houses, or dead branches off the trees. There were a lot of trees then. We drank water from the river. In the spring we planted spuds. More people came. Brittany. Daniel. Jessica. Others, who are sleeping here now.” Without turning he swept his arm to indicate the sprawl of graves. As if that were a signal the rain fell harder.

“My daughter, Zahra, was born halfway round the world in a place called Dubai, a place that was the worst of the good times. In the good times we wanted too much, you see, and Dubai wanted more than too much. I came home and built my boat, and for a while Zahra floated with Susan and me on an ocean that doesn’t seem to know much about change, while on land the good times were falling apart. She grew up here on this farm, a child of this fertile ground. And time went on, and we tried to make something good out of what was left to us.

“One day Steveston came, with something from the Parts Crew. It was four wheels for a wagon that Daniel had built for us. Steveston was pulling the same cart you see BC and Wind pulling when they come by this way — when they used to come by this way — they won’t be coming any more. Zahra was pretty well grown by that time, and I’ve never seen a handsomer young man than Steveston was. And they saw each other, and… well. Next day Steveston came back without the cart. He says, ‘You finished that wagon yet?’ I said, ‘No, Daniel is still working on it.’ He says, ‘Maybe I’ll give Daniel a hand.’ I just smiled and nodded.”

Frost was quiet for a minute. The rain hissed on the grass and splashed on the grave markers. Noor’s soft crying blended with the whisper of the wind as it rose and fell.

“That was my welcome for Steveston. And this is my goodbye.”

Now the rain fell in straight heavy shafts.

“I want to say to all of you — I especially want to say to you, Steveston -” he looked down into the grave, where a half-inch of water had pooled around the plastic-wrapped corpse — “that I’m sorry. In spite of everything, in spite of life being awful, like Jessica says, life was at the same time good for quite a long time. But now….” He tried again. “But now….”

Frost went to the pile of earth beside the grave of Willow and took a large handful of dirt and stood and stretched out his arm and let the dirt trickle from his hand. It rattled loudly on the polyethylene. He said “Goodbye Willow.” He looked at his hand and brushed some remaining mud into the grave. He went to Steveston’s grave and repeated the rite.

People turned to look at Noor and Will. But Will did not go forward to drop earth on his father, and Noor remained beside her brother. So one by one the other residents of Frost’s farm dropped their offerings of earth into the graves. Then they wandered away from the graveyard.

Noor wiped her eyes and kissed her brother on the head and found her weapons and trotted toward the bridge.

Soon Will went closer to watch his grandfather filling the first grave. But he stood far enough away that he could not see where the dirt landed. King stood at the lip of Willow’s grave, keenly watching shovelfuls of earth splash on the plastic. Of the others only Grace now remained. Like someone who felt she did not belong she had been standing back from the rest. She had not come forward to offer earth to the dead. Frost stopped shoveling for a few seconds and watched her until she walked away in the direction of the clinic. Of her and Frost and Will and the dog, she seemed to be the only one who knew it was pouring rain.

Frost said “Do you think you could make it so it can scoop water when the tide is going in either direction?”

Daniel Charlie said “That’s a bit of a design problem. I’ll think about it.”