Nothing. There was silence.
Hollis knew that his own dad, Romeo, had dropped him off with Emmaline and Landreaux sometime around Christmas. He’d been five, maybe six, like LaRose. He’d slept in one of the bunks for a while, but liked the blow-up better. He also knew that he’d been born in some sort of house, not a hospital. His memories of his first years were a jumble of sleeping under tables with people’s feet, or better, in a dog bed with a dog, or with some other kids one winter, all wearing their parkas in the bed. There was a salty skin-dirt smell, overlaid with sour weed and clumped hair, that still closed his throat. The smell was on some people, some kids, and he’d back away from it. He took a shower now every day. He washed his clothes. Liked the smell of ironing. The girls teased him, but they liked it too. Being clean wasn’t something he took for granted, or having his own bed. So, no, he didn’t get involved with this LaRose issue. For safety, he just eased away. But they started up again. He could hear them.
So will you give me away if you kill somebody, Mom?
That was Josette shouting.
Snow stepped forward and slapped Josette, who slapped her back. Emmaline dropped the spoon and slapped them both—she had never slapped her child, or any child, before that moment. It happened so quickly—like a scene choreographed by the Three Stooges, which was what saved it. Emmaline started crying, Josette started crying, then Snow. The three of them clung together.
I want to cut off my hand, wept Emmaline. I never slapped you girls before.
We should each cut our hands off, wailed Snow.
Then making frybread two of us will have to stand together, you know, like each use our remaining hand, pat, pat. Josette and Snow demonstrated.
Pat, pat, how pitiful, cry-laughed Emmaline.
Slowly, one by one, they came back to the stew pot that Emmaline kept on sadly stirring. Hollis had dozed off, a short nap. Coochy had wrapped small things that he had stolen months ago from each of his sisters in order to give them something on Christmas. He placed the packages in the branches. Landreaux came home with two black Hefty bags full of mittens and hats, boots, jackets, all new. Father Travis had picked them out from the mission store before anybody else had been through the donations. Hollis came out of the bedroom and helped haul the bags to the house and sort the gifts. He tried to be jovial but couldn’t. It was in his blood to give off feelings of holiday suspicion, instead of cheer, but that gave the girls reason to pick on him.
Quit making booda, the girls said to Hollis. Get your Christmas game face on and don’t tell LaRose there’s no Santa Claus.
If you see him, said Josette.
Snow slumped.
I’ll find him, said Hollis. He didn’t want to get involved but the words came out. I’ll tell him that Santa’s coming.
Hollis was not exactly handsome. His nose was big. Yet he was bitter and moody, so maybe more attractive than someone truly handsome. His hair was cut so it swept too neatly across his forehead.
He smoothed his hair to the side with the palm of his hand.
Rock it old school, said Josette when she caught him smoothing his hair that way.
She gave him her raised eyebrow, an accidental gesture that made him stare at her in fascination as she turned away.
The girls had decided to bring out the Eau Sauvage for their mom last. They did not trust Hollis or Willard, or even their dad, not to shatter the bottle with their feet. It was like that to live with guys. They just stepped on things, even gifts. Ojibwe girls, traditionally and now throwback traditionally, were taught from a young age not to step over things, especially boy things. Grandma’s friend Ignatia Thunder, their traditional go-to elder, had told them all that their power might short out the boys’ power. It was sexist, Josette said, another way to control the female. Snow semi-agreed. Emmaline went poker-faced. Maybe the Iron women weren’t a hundred percent with the rule, but they still couldn’t get themselves to forget about it.
The girls had bought weird gadgets for their brothers and dad. For the first time ever, Josette and Snow had bought colored tissue. They carefully arranged the boxes wrapped in transparent red paper. They put the box for their mother on a shelf. The glossy bow they’d bought for it shed red glitter on their hands.
What do we do with the presents for LaRose? said Snow.
They pushed aside the stuff on the big table—their beading, the jar lids of screws, the newspapers, schoolbooks—and began to eat their bowls of stew. Josette wanted to go over to the Ravich house and give the presents to LaRose. Snow said she couldn’t stand Aunt Nola because she was picky. Coochy just hung his head down and ate. Hollis looked at him and ducked his head down too. Emmaline watched them until they turned to her.