I stand in the orange cloth that I normally use as a nightgown and try to work out what is happening. My grandmother's introduction falls flat for me. She always had a bit of laughter in her voice that makes everyone feel giddy, like they should be celebrating something no matter what the situation is. For once, I'm not feeling that right now.
It's more like I'm standing at the edge of great hole that has no bottom. I could walk around it and safely get away from it, or step into it and see what lies down below even if it will destroy me. Something major is approaching in my life and just for this moment, I am frightened at the prospect of it.
Not to mention the large man that towers over my grandmother. He is massive. Thick bodied. I wouldn't label him as being overweight. Just immense. I am not a short woman, like my mom and grandmother but he's big, even against me. I played a little basketball in college in the amateur leagues. I've always stood at a height of 5'10 but somehow, this man dwarfs me and I can feel it.
"Hello."
Finally, I push the greeting forward but I stay behind and only make eye contact once before glancing to my grandmother. In that one small examination of him, I can see something akin to darkness and a thirst for power. Yet, something else stirs beneath him. That cannot be seen. It can only be experienced as a shadow.
This "Maxim Horvath" politely tips his head to me. I copy his movement. Both of us seem like huge giants looming over my tiny grandmother while she studies us with a stiff expression on her face.
"Wonderful. Now, let's be on our way."
She turns around at a speed that I have never witnessed her accomplish and marches through the doorway. I almost trip over my feet when I notice that Grandma Iris is walking without her walker. What is happening? None of this is makin-
Her voice reaches through the night, "It will make sense once we go! Grab your stuff and c'mon! Maxim, come wait with me. She has to say goodbye to her mother!"
Without looking directly at him, I can still see his features. They look wild in how they stare at me. Not angry or savage but bewildered and interested. As though I hold something unknown but valuable. I listen to his steps as he moves across the wood floor. It's obvious that he takes great care to be gentle and graceful in his movements because the boards do not creak under his weight as they normally do under mine. Then I hear his feet touch the concrete and I am left in the silence of my house.
I do not understand why a man like him would be with my grandmother. I will admit that she is a strange woman and that she does entertain many questionable characters. But somehow this is different. This is suspicious in an entirely different way.
"Here."
Rough fabric brushes against my arm. My arms take the backpack that is being shoved at me. Suddenly, my mother's face is peering up at mine with something of desperation and sadness.
"Why do I have to leave?" Her demeanor makes me feel like a small child of ten years and not a woman of thirty eight.
Hands hold my shoulders in a frenzied grip while an ominous voice of strength and heartache speak, "Listen to me, Alexandra. You must go with her. There is no time for me to tell you everything."
I cannot believe any of this. All of it is completely crazy.
"You know what your grandmother is." She offers that tidbit up as though it should answer everything, "She's taught you about your line and everything else."
"Mom, I was just a child when she talked about all of that."
I would go on but she has that gleam in her eye. That intense light that mothers tend to get when they want you to shut up. I almost want to challenge her, as I used to when I was a teenager. I want us to fight and rage and storm at each other; then make-up and laugh and cry over how stubborn we both can be. I want to capture that light in her eyes and hold it forever. But as my mother searches through my own face as well, that shine fades.
She brushes my hair out of my face, despite the fact that it always breaks out of its styling. I lean into her warm hand and listen to her with my whole heart.
"You were born to do more than just stay on the rez. You've gone through many trials in your life and you always make it." One tear finally escapes and runs from eyelash to chin in a single line and cuts through my heart, "I want you to take this opportunity and start anew. I want you to live as you were meant to."
More worry comes over me. What is she talking about? I grab her wrist and shake my head as though that will clear all of our troubles away. Her warm skin burns my cold hand. She always remarked on how my hands could never seem to heat up. Will I never hear her complain about that?
As my hand touches her skin, a smile comes through all of her sorrow. A sad trinket for me to take and keep. I know that it is all that she has for me. In the end, what can a mother give, except her unyielding devotion to her children?
"Will I ever see you again?" It's a plain question that might make everything more painful but I must ask.
I wait. I hold her tragic glare and hope for her to say yes. 'Yes, I will see you tomorrow,' or 'you'll be back in three days. Grandma just needs you to drive her somewhere.' Without realizing it, my breath has been held for the past few seconds.
But she is saying nothing. Instead, her arms wrap around and pull me tight. Much tighter then I have ever been held before. I grab onto her. Taking as much from her as I possibly can. The scent of lavender soap and fabric softener. The texture of her cotton shirt and how it smoothes under my fingers. The sensation of her shoulders forcing me down to her height. This must be it. I will never see her again and this is all that I will take with me.
With a small push, she steps back and wipes her face with the back of her hand, "There's clothes in there and everything else that you'll need. Also, tell Iris that I put the box in there too."
Not understanding what the box is but knowing that I should leave now; I smile.
"Thank you, Mom. Thanks for everything."
Her reaction is just to smile back. Warm, open, and proud. Her hand lightly guides me to the door. Then that rush of having a life-changing event overtakes me when I step off the perch. Everything is going to change.
The tepid air whispers against my skin and tells of what is to come. Voices down the street and across the desert reach me. A coyote is there sniffing around a bush and I feel his heartbeat tap out into the night. The earth pulsates with activities that are taking place thousands of miles away but it hums against my feet.
I don't look back. I just keep stepping forward as the magic that I left behind all those years ago as a young child sweeps into my bloodstream and awakens the line of Morgana.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Alexandra. The name remains floating in his mind even though it was said hours ago. Alexandra, the Prime Morganian.
The name does contain somewhat of a ring to it. He must admit to that. However, he didn't expect his apprentice to be so 'mature.' Yes, the word is 'mature.' Her age is much closer to his than he had expected. Something that will either work against him or aid him when teaching her.
He, Maxim Horvath, had been 50 years of age when Merlin had placed the immortality charm on him. It was only supposed to last until Morgana was defeated and that was only supposed to take a few centuries, or at least, that is what his master had told him and the others.
But that is not how it happened. Maxim has not aged a day since that incident. His life did not go according to the plan that was set forth. Additionally, his apprentice is so very different from whom he was hoping to mold into the Prime Morganian.
Maxim lays awake in his sleeping bag, what a repugnant name, and outlines his thoughts on the matter of the woman that is sleeping only 8 feet away. All three of them, Alexandra, Iris, and himself were camped out in some sort of undesirably empty area that the old woman had transported them to. She said driving would take too long and that the sooner she familiarized magic with Alexandra than she would be able to 'get back into the groove faster.' He still has no idea what that means. Of course, the old woman decided that stopping time would be the most logical move and so they were currently sleeping through the dawn which was not helping him at all.
A small crumbling stump of fiery coals stood between all of them with not nearly enough warmth in his opinion. With a wave of her hands, his new apprentice had an entire camp set within seconds. Yet, his mind still reels over how her magic had appeared in its full bloom.
With her first flick from the wrist, the sandy ground itself produced stones for their campfire by rolling the rocks the in from all directions. Maxim recalls the amazement he felt at how the earth itself produced everything that they needed. Water flowed through the air from some far location and filled their cups. The plants cleared themselves from the site and hid the place from anyone that might pass.
Maxim watched the potential that she had. It could be unending and unbreakable. It fascinates him that this is how he is thinking at the moment but on their way here, his thinking was further away than ever.
During their short walk to this location, a tiny valley of sand and brush, he had marched behind the women in silence. Iris spoke not a word until they set camp. However, Maxim noticed that the younger woman hadn't said anything since their departure from her home. Her shoulders had stayed upright and firm when she led them. She wore that irritatingly bright cotton wrap but thankfully, she had brought another one of dark red for more cover.
She is so very unusual, hums Maxim in his head as he keeps his eyes closed and tries to forget that the sun is starting to rise. In a way, she reminded him of Veronica. The still that they both possessed. The power of being able to work and continue without a word with nothing but the utmost concentration. Yet, he could see without a doubt that Alexandra carried none of the other characteristics of his lov-
His nostrils flare as he pulls his thoughts away from those sorts of ideas. He doesn't want to think about that right now. Sentiments like this were more than likely what led to his defeat and now, he must stomp them out so that they may never be used against him.
A scuffle. He turns his head and his gaze crosses over the dying fire. Through the thin waves of smoke, he is able to see a restless figure turning in their sleep. His new apprentice, the one who will change everything and succeed where all the rest have failed.
She folds herself over and over again.
He watches the continuous tumble until finally she flops onto her back and remains there. Her long pitch black hair splays carelessly about the black blanket. She made it very clear to both of them that she was not fond of sleeping bags as well. Her diaphragm noticeably puffs up then goes down in exhalation. He calculates the meaning of her obvious frustration and the answer easily surfaces.
Maxim remembers his first evening away from home, after Merlin had shown up unceremoniously at his father's home. Two days before the old wizard's arrival, Maxim had set fire to his father's wheat fields by simply staring too long at a camp spider on the ground. The incident was an accident in itself but his father was quite shaken up by it and ordered Maxim to remain silent about it.
The disturbed revelation on his father's face was so alien to him at that time. As though the man knew something about him as a young boy that he was terribly afraid of. Maxim knew better then to ask about any of it but he would never forget the tense atmosphere of those days.
Merlin's unexpected presence, of course, was a welcome. The sorcerer explained everything to Maxim. He was kind and honest. Yet, what was more comforting was that he understood Maxim's own fear of what he was. Merlin told him after they left his father's house, "Do not worry about your father missing you. If you wish, I may make it so that he forgets about all of this."
Initially, Maxim had assumed that he would one day return to his home but then he had searched within his own heart and those knowing eyes of Merlin; from there, he knew that he could never go back. So, he agreed to his master's offer and with a few ancient incantations, his former life was erased.
From his childhood memories, Maxim returns to his examination of his apprentice. Yes, he knows her feelings right now, even if she is as old she is. This 'Alexandra' must worry about what she is leaving behind and how she can ever go back to any of it.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
I can't believe what you said to me…
The last song that I danced to with my students. One of my freshies chose it for me to choreograph. I liked it because it reminded me of the many times in my life where I experienced that exact same thing.
I openly gawk at the pink sky of dawn from a sandy pit in Death Valley and I wonder about everything outside of the magic world. The action causes so many things to come up inside of me. There's frustration, hurt, and fear at what is to come. Plus, a little heartache at giving up my profession.
I am a professor at a dinky little community college in the middle of Nevada but that's fine. I love it all. I love the students and the 'magic' that comes from exposing people to something that they never imagined.
I've taught dance for 8 years now. My ex-husband thought that I should have been a star or something when he first met me. I was a dance major at Michigan University when I met him. He was a physics major who enjoyed the wild life of campus while I was about as exciting as a stump in a swamp.
I was on scholarship and I always felt a little out of my league when I was in college. I knew that I was good but I always felt that people were pushing me to do better when I was already at my best. Their expectations were just too high. It made me into a social recluse. After all, I couldn't be out every night when I felt that I always had to be at the level of perfection.
So, that's how I lived. Other college students went and hung out, while I practically lived in a dance studio. I did everything that anyone could ever imagine dancing to. Ballet, hip-hop, ballroom, tap, Broadway, modern, Flamenco, and all other cultural dances that could be thought of. It was like oxygen to me and I never held back from any of it.
But my ex-husband caught me by surprise. He was native, like me, and he was cute. It was easy to connect with him because I was so far away from home. The day that he introduced himself, I knew that I liked him. His crooked smile and quick jokes. The way his voice had our rez accent when he said, "Hey, I'm Jordan Spears. What's your name?"
Of course, I was shy. When I was at home, I was related to almost everyone which meant that I never really dated unless it was a boy from another rez. So, I just told Jordan my name then went on my way.
In a few weeks, we were dating. He got me to go with him to all the campus events that I never went to. Parties, dances, and everything else. Jordan was able to get me to try everything that I wouldn't before.
Before I know it, I had my first beer. Then my first joint. Then my first binge of anything that I could get my hands on. I knew where it was heading because it's the typical story, native girl starts partying and messing around, gets knocked-up, then has to quit school and works on the gas station on the reservation for the rest of her life. Thankfully, I wasn't that interested in it and all of that had scared me to death because of what I had to lose.
I broke up with him after that. I got my grades back up and went back to dancing. Surprisingly, I was much better than before. I think that because I knew how close I was to losing all of it that I knew I had to fight for it then.
Jordan stuck around. I would see him on campus but we never talked to each other. He was dating other girls, so I heard. It was hard for me but I knew that this was better for both of us.
Until one day, he came up and started talking to me. He said that I was right and that he understood. At the end of that conservation, we decided to be friends. Than before I left, he kissed me in a way that he had never done before. It would haunt me for days afterwards.
I always knew that Jordan was an addict when it came to life. He liked drugs and drinking but he could switch from those in a heartbeat to something else. The next addiction that he shared with me was sex.
My lack of experience paralleled his abundance of knowledge when it came to being physical and in a short time, we were back to dating with everything else that comes with that. Well, months passed and I noticed that sign that every girl hopes to never see. I was late. Then after one terrible test, I was confirmed as pregnant.
I cried that entire night. I called my mom in the morning and she was supportive. I thanked every deity that existed for her when she said, "It's ok. I'm here to help you. You're going to get through this. Me and grandma are here."
Telling Jordan was much easier than telling Mom. He was ecstatic. He said that the baby would be beautiful like me and have his brains. He also said that he loved me and that he was going to do the right thing. So, within a few weeks, we were married.
It was a small and cheap ceremony but it was done. I knew that my life would much more difficult but I did love him and I knew that I would love that baby so much. Especially, because it was our child and we were going to build a life around it.
We moved off-campus and started renting a place nearby. Jordan was almost finished with his MS so he started looking for a part-time job. I was left with thinking of how I was going to help support us as well.
Being pregnant and dancing at the level that I was at wasn't physically possible. My professors were very disappointed in me. I could see the crumbling ambitions that I never had in their eyes when I told them I had to change my major.
Only one professor was helpful. Professor Jennifer Orme. She was a cultural dance professor who majored in African dance. She was the one who suggested that I become a dance teacher. Her advice changed not only my plans on that day but my life.
Quickly, I spoke to counselors and arranged everything accordingly. Jordan worked at a small market next to our home and I would tutor on the side for extra cash. By time, I hit my 5th month, everything felt fine.
My life didn't fall apart as I feared and I wasn't going to have quit college with Jordan being so close to finishing his degree. I was happy every day. Happy to have the baby inside of me, happy to wake up next to Jordan, and happy that I was able to keep dance in my life. In a way, everything was more perfect than ever before.
But sometimes, life isn't thinking along the same lines as everyone else.
In a single morning, I woke up almost swimming in my own blood and with a throbbing pain that I'll never forget. We went to the hospital and within a few hours, my luck had changed. I had miscarried.
We had a small funeral, just between Jordan and me. My mother and grandmother mourned accordingly to tradition back home in Nevada but we decided to stay at school. The baby wasn't named. Jordan didn't like the idea because of his people's beliefs and I didn't have the strength to disagree.
Surprisingly, we didn't divorce. I can't say why. It just seemed that we had survived some sort of major traumatic event and now we were survivors together. I didn't want to leave him because in a way, life lost its joy and being with him was the closest resemblance to the happiness I felt before.
He finished his schooling and took a position with a law firm. It was supposed to be a surprise to the baby and me that he had double-majored. I had smiled and congratulated him but it was empty. When we made love that night, I felt the lack of want in our arms.
I continued working towards my teaching degree for another semester. After it was officiated, I went to see Prof. Orme one more time. I told her about everything that had happened with the baby and where I was in life. She listened quite intensely then after a few moments, she suggested that I shouldn't stop there.
"Why not be a professor? You're pretty smart and you'd be at the top. You never know, you might teach the next Chita Rivera or Gregory Hines."
I knew she was right and that I was capable. I wanted more than just to teach at a high school level. I wanted to inspire experienced dancers as she had done for me. Plus, it had been a long time since I felt that rush of fire in my veins over anything.
It became my new goal. A PhD in cultural studies in dance. By that time, we were a middle-class couple. With his rising position in the firm, we bought a house in a better neighborhood and we could afford my pursuit. Thankfully, Jordan was so embedded in the life of a lawyer that he hardly blinked when I asked. I should have paid more attention to that reaction but I was too relieved at feeling something so strong again.
In time, I had it. I was 29 years old and I was at a doctorate level. I almost wept with happiness that I had gotten so far, despite everything. Immediately, I began scoping out universities and different institutes. During my time in college, of course, my writings were of wonderful quality. A small perk of intellect that I have always been grateful for. It took months of waiting and praying and interviews but finally, I was considered for a short trial at Michigan University.
A few months in my new surroundings had me completely floored. It was hard work and after everything, it was more than I had expected but I was so happy. Completely liberated in a way that I had not been before. Prof. Orme helped me if she had the time but I normally didn't ask her because I despised being seen as 'needy' or 'incompetent.'
Then I came home early one day. I was setting groceries on the kitchen counter. The market was fairly empty so I was able to get home faster than usual. Unfortunately, I was privy to a phone conversation in the den that I was not supposed to hear.
My husband was in love with another. Admittedly, I wasn't surprised at this. When I stopped and truly thought about it, it made perfect sense. We hardly touched each other. Dinner was only a daily update of whether the other person even existed. He was late practically every night and I never questioned the reason behind it.
What did surprise me was how much I didn't care. It didn't hurt to think that another woman was kissing him and taking a tumble with him in bed. I wasn't heartbroken by the idea of him telling her how much he loved her and how much he wanted to leave his wife so that he could be with her. I just felt nothing. I didn't even care who it was.
That same evening as we brushed our teeth and prepared for another uneventful sleep, I completely floored him.
"You're in love with another woman."
He said nothing but continued to stare in the mirror and brush.
"We should get a divorce."
The mouthwash came next and was quickly deposited into the sink.
"It's obvious that you love her and should be with her. So, I was thinking. We sell the house and split everything. 50/50. I won't ask for alimony or bring up the affair, if you pay off the rest of my student fees and everything else."
A tired hand ran through his short black hair as he finally made eye contact with me in a very worn down way, "That's all you want? After all these years?"
"Well, I can hardly give you anything so I can't ask for much. I have a banking account that holds a few thousand. My pay at the college is quite limited and I really miss my family and home. What did you think was going to happen?"
"I was scared to ask you. It feels like we haven't really talked in years."
"We haven't but honestly, she can probably give you more than I can give to you," His eyes had become unbearable because he knew what I was referring to, "Jordan, you always wanted kids and a big family. You know that I am physically unable to give that to you. We were a great couple at 21 but we're almost to our 30's and that's way too young to feel like this. Like we're trapped and we haven't started life yet."
It had to be done. The next day, he faxed me the divorce papers. It seemed that he'd been planning to ask me this for quite awhile. I had another lawyer skim over them and everything was in agreement as I had asked. The house was put on the market and I sent my resume to the community college in Nevada. Within a few months, I was living with my mom again but I felt more at home there than I had in years living in Michigan.
It's been almost a decade since all of that. Life has been pretty good. I thought that I would just live and be content like that for the rest of my years. I had forgotten about Iris and her 'magic.'
Slowly, I hear those words come back to me from that song and I am reminded that I'm back at my old training grounds. But I worry about that later. For now, I'll just let the sound carry me away like wind upon sand.
I can't believe what you said to me…