Even
though it was years and years ago, I remember the scene like it was yesterday.
I was
maybe three or four years old. Old enough not to need to be picked up and
carried but young enough to enjoy it when I was. My father had me perched on
his broad shoulders and he was pointing out the night sky to me.
"There,"
he said, his finger outstretched, "Do you see that pinpoint of light,
Stella? That's where you came from. You're not from here, do you understand?"
I said
that I did, because at that age, adults were always right. If my father had
told me I was a cow, I would have agreed with him and believed it to be true.
When I
was older, I reasoned that my father was just yarning with me, as people are
wont to do with the very young. That was before I turned thirteen.
Nobody
told me that turning thirteen would change everything.
===
I woke
up at the crack of noon like any self-respecting freshly minted teenager on a
summer day. I crawled out of my bed into the bathroom. I turned on the water in
the shower, stepped in and let the hot water pound my back. I stretched like
the cat does, arching it until it felt supple and loose. I let out a moan of
satisfaction and washed my hair.
I
stepped out of the shower and shook my hair out. I reached for my toothbrush
and glanced at myself in the mirror. I froze. What was happening to my eyes? My
irises were darkening and turning a dark purple with a metallic sheen. I wanted
to cry out but I was, at the same time, fascinated. And then, just like that, they
faded to their usual light blue. Was I dreaming? I left the bathroom with my
head in a whirl.
My
mother called me into the kitchen to help with the chores. I said nothing about
my eyes to her. If she noticed that I was unusually quiet, she did not remark
upon it. She has never been one to speak a paragraph when a word will do and
I'm sure she enjoyed the stillness. We chopped potatoes and shucked corn
together while I pondered what had happened to me. Finally, when all of the
kitchen work was done, I nerved myself to question her.
"Mum?"
"Mmm?"
"I
wasn't born on another world, was I?"
"Why
would you ask such a thing?" She looked at me like I was being very silly.
"It's
something Dad told me when I was little."
She
crossed herself, "Your father, God rest his soul, was a great one for foolish talk."
"Oh."
Should I
mention what happened to my eyes? I wished that my father was still alive. I
could have talked to him. He was my touchstone, my Merlin. Something in my
mother's eyes made me doubt her. Like they were haunted or something. I asked
to be excused and went back to my room to stare at myself in the mirror. My
eyes stayed stubbornly blue. I told myself to snap out of it and went outside
to get some fresh air.
I walked
into the woods behind our farm. At once, I could hear a whispering.
"A
human walks among us!"
"Get
the children into the tree!"
"Does
it have a dog with it?"
"No!"
"It
comes this way!"
"Hide!"
What was
I hearing? Were some children playing a joke on me? I spoke up. "Who is
there?"
"Don't
answer her," came a hoarse whisper from a thicket circled by alders off to
my left
"Do
you think I'm an idiot?" came the reply.
"I
can hear you whispering," I said angrily, afraid that I was being played
for a fool.
"Impossible!"
cried the first voice.
"You
might as well come out!" I said, striding right to the thicket.
Out
tumbled a pair of squirrels looking extremely nervous. I gaped at them in
astonishment.
"You're
not kids," I said stupidly.
They
shook their heads vigorously.
"How
is it that I understand your speech?" I asked.
"Why
do you ask us?" said the bigger of the two. "We've never known a
human to speak the language of the Wood!"
"But
you're speaking English," I protested.
"What's
that?" asked the smaller squirrel.
"It's
the language that we're all speaking!" I said.
"We're
speaking Woodish!" said the bigger squirrel. "And so are you!"
"But
I don't know your language," I cried.
"You're speaking it!" said the smaller
squirrel pertly.
"Oh."
"Now,
if you'll excuse us, we have nuts to hide!" said the bigger one. Off they
went chittering into the branches.
I walked
deeper into the Woods. I picked my way over to the small stream that ran
through the woods. I sat on the bank and let the water run over my feet. I
pulled my hair out of the braid that I'd put it in and shook it. It always made
me feel free to do that, like I'd let my hair out of cage or something. I
pulled it to my eyes and inspected the ends for splits. It was doing something
odd. It was moving like a living thing, pulling itself into serpentine bends
and loops. My scalp tingled with electricity. And then the hair turned colour,
darkening into a burnished ebony. Sparks fizzed slowly out of the ends of my
hair, like the strings of bubbles in Grandfather's champagne glass on New
Year's Eve.
My brain
began telling me things like a tiny computer link had just been connected.
"Gaia-Rah-Non,"
said my brain. "Your report is due."
I saw,
in my mind's eye, a writing that reminded me of Sanskrit and hieroglyphics
without being either of them.
"What
report?" I asked.
There
was no response. It felt like my connection had been dropped, like cell
coverage in a tunnel.
I sat
down under a fir tree to think. I felt like a person stuck in a labyrinth who
finally sees a way out. But out to where, and out to what? I remembered a dream
where I was lost and alone and suddenly
my Dad came up to me and held out his hand to show me the way home. I cried in
the dream and I cried now. Oh Daddy! How
I need you now.
===
She
knows. Shit. And now I'm going to lose her.
I
remember the day she came to us so well. I was walking restlessly in the cool
of the night; I simply could not sleep. Ever since the doctor had given me the
negative prognosis, I'd felt like a stranger in my own skin. What was this body
that I thought I knew so well? It was a traitor, refusing to give me what I
wanted so much. Jamie told me to relax, to trust God but it was always so easy
for him. He was not the one with the barren womb.
I told
him to divorce me and find a woman who could give him children but he had just
looked at me with those big wounded eyes and said nothing. I burst into angry
tears and then fell into his strong arms.
Later, I
wandered far afield like some woodland sylph, yearning for some kind of rest to
come to my racing mind. I could see the stars through an opening in the canopy
of the trees where a big fir had taken a lightning bolt. I lay down in the
grass and looked into the heavens. I prayed, if bitter questioning and accusation counts as prayer.
I saw a
star change its color just for an instant. It was giving birth to another star,
like a cedar fire spitting out a spark. The freshly born star was moving toward
earth, streaking like a comet. It came toward me, slowed down, and then hovered
in circles around me. You can believe that I was paralyzed with fear.
It
burned brightly and released a silver sphere which floated on the wind like a
dandelion seed. I ran after it.
The
sphere set down gently in a meadow between the wood and the village. Its silver
skin turned transparent and then began to open as though it was a germinating
seed. I saw, nestled in a bed of textured fabric, a tiny baby. Her eyes were
like grey pearls; her hair a waving mystery of dark, curling knots. Her skin
was like glass, clear enough to see veins and capillaries just under the
surface. I touched the baby and as I did, it began to change. I could see her
eyes turn colour until they were the mirror image of my own. I gasped and
snatched away my hand. Her eyes began to return to their original alien hue. I
touched her again; her eyes transformed again and this time her hair did too
until the baby was crowned with the lanky dirty- blond hair with which God saw
fit to bless me. Her skin turned the colour of roses and cream and lost its
glow. I beheld my child. For she was my child, given to me by the holy angels
of God.
I took
her home and showed her to Jamie. I told him that she came from the heavens
like Baby Jesus. I told him that we would call her Stella but that she was
never to know that we weren't her natural parents. He was stupefied and called
me presumptuous. I didn't care. I had my Stella and I would never give her up.
She was my gift from God.
I went
to St. Patrick's next Sunday and had her baptized in the name of the Father,
the Son and the Holy Spirit. I faithfully attended Mass every Sunday
thereafter.
What did
we tell people? Nothing. It was none of their business.
+++++
I
decided that I had to have it out with my mother. At the very least, I needed
to hear the truth from her own lips.
She was
in the kitchen drying dishes. She had a faraway look in her eyes. I picked up
the other towel and started helping her.
"Mum?"
"I
lied to you," she said abruptly. "Your father was telling you the
truth." And then she slumped over the sink and started to shake. I could
see tears run down her cheeks into the dishwater.
I
touched her shoulder but she wouldn't even look at me.
"You'll
always be my Mum," I told her. She turned to me and rubbed her eyes. Then
she pulled me into her arms and hugged me fiercely. She told me about how I had
come to her.
"I
always thought that God sent you to me," she said quietly.
"But
why am I here, Mum? I mean, what's my purpose here?"
"I
don't know Stella. You should ask God."
"What
if God isn't God from where I come?" I wanted to know.
"Shame
on you Stella! You know from your catechism that God is God of everywhere."
I
shrugged. It was all so confusing. I thanked her for telling me the truth and
went back to the woods to think. Maybe I'd ask the squirrels for advice.
+=+
What do
I tell her? That she is Jesus to my Mary? A saint, sent down from Heaven to
lead us in returning to you, Lord? Why else would you have sent her? And I've
done my part, haven't I, Lord? Raised her in the fear and admonition of the
Lord, I did. Took her to Mass every Sunday, even after you took my Jamie away
from me. Made sure she attended parochial school from pre-school to the
present.
I turned
to Holy Scripture and read the passages that I knew so well: the Magnificat of
Mary, the baby Moses hidden in the rushes, and Eli's counsel to the young
prophet Samuel. I pray and pray and pray. Are you listening, Lord?
===
What
would you do, Jesus? You were from somewhere else, weren't you? How did you
handle walking with humans when you were Other? Did you want to just go back
home? Something in me just wants to talk to my own kind, whatever we are. I
feel so lonely.
Well,
this was getting too morose. I needed to walk; maybe I'd hike to the top of
Cassiar Hill. The view from up there always gave me more of a perspective. I
started up the trail stopping every now and again to pop a ripe blackberry in
my mouth. I could see bear scat but it wasn't fresh so I didn't worry about it.
The hike
was helping. There's something about working my muscles that calms my anxious
thoughts. I pushed aside the branches of a Douglas fir which hid my secret
trail to the lookout. I came from the restful dimness of the trees into the
bright sunshine and a great view of the flatland to the south. I could see all
the farmers' fields spread out like a patchwork quilt. I breathed deeply.
I saw a
turkey vulture glide on a thermal just below me. I sighed.
I sat
down and let the sun warm me. I looked down at the traffic rolling along on the
highway far down below. My brain started clicking again as though a connection
was once again reached.
"Are
you there, Gaia-Rah-Non?"
"I
am," I said. I noticed that my hair was sparking again. I picked up the
ends and I noticed that my skin was turning transparent again.
"We
have not had a report."
"A
report?"
"Your
progress on that little planet."
"I
really don't know what you're talking about," I protested. "I've
received no instructions."
"Nothing?"
echoed the voice dully. "Your operating system should have given you
ongoing instructions from the day you landed there."
I
assured the voice that I had not. Then, a silence, as though a conference was
taking place that I was not privy to.
"What
have you been doing since your mission began?"
"But
what is my mission?"
"You
were sent as our eyes, Gaia-Rah-Non."
He went
on to lay out for me the plight of my people, clinging to life on a decaying
world, desperate for a new start on a world that could sustain us. I was to
learn all I could about Earth to enable an Exodus.
"It
was only today that I have heard from you," I said.
"Then
you have done nothing." The voice was flat and empty.
"Nothing."
"Please
understand Gaia-Rah-Non, our time is extremely limited. You have the span of
two moons to infiltrate the corridors of power on your planet."
"This
is not possible," I said. "I have the body of an immature female. On
this planet, an immature female
generally has a very low status. Here, important decisions are the property of males
who have reached middle age."
"Then
we must give you another body," said the voice decisively. "Prepare
for transformation."
I tensed
myself. The skin on my hands were flickering so that they appeared now
transparent, now pink but that was the extent of my transformation.
I
reported this to the voice.
"This
is not good Gaia-Rah-Non!" Another pause while my voice consulted with the
others. "You must do what you can with the body of an immature female. All
our hopes rest with you."
"Understood,"
I said for want of a better word. I understood the problem but I had no
solutions. I pictured myself addressing the United Nations and pleading for my
dying race. They would laugh me to scorn, of that I was certain. How would
humans react to our Diaspora? Would they revert instantly to the fear of the
unknown and annihilate us? Of course they would. They have no problem
slaughtering each other, choosing to see differences in ethnicity, religion or
politics as more critical than shared humanity. What would they do with us, an
alien people?
One of
us would be a curiosity, worthy of study, but several million of us would be
perceived as an unacceptable drain on planetary resources.
I needed
some help. And then God sent me a mentor.
A black bear came trundling through the fir
trees and started in on the blackberries. He didn't notice me in his greed for
the ripe fruit. I cleared my throat and he turned to me.
"What
are you doing there?" he mumbled, his nose a glossy purple.
"I
need advice," I said.
"I
don't have no truck with humans," he said.
"Ah,
but I am not a human. I'm from one of those little fires in the sky."
"Little
fires? Do you mean another planet?"
"Um,
well, yes."
"Planets
aren't fires, you know. Good thing. Otherwise our feet would get pretty
hot," he chuckled.
"I
need advice." I was desperate.
"Tell
me everything," he mumbled, continuing to chew berries from the canes.
I told
him everything. He stopped eating and peered at me long and hard.
"That
is quite a tale," he said.
"It's
true!" I cried, my voice high and stretched.
"I'm
not calling you a liar," he said.
"Can
you advise me?"
"Nobody
looking at you would think that you were anything less than completely
human," he noted. "You might tell your people to blend in, instead of
appealing to human mercy. Go in camouflage. That's how lots of we animals
survive."
"But
there are so many of us!" I protested.
"You
must choose places to come which are away from the cities and towns. Tell your
people to come to the forests and deserts, the rocky places and tundras, the
high plateaus and the steppes. Once you have garbed yourselves appropriately,
what is there to prevent you from filtering into the more promising areas?"
"We
only have two months."
"Then
you had better get started," said the bear tartly.
+++
Her eyes
were troubled; her body taunt with a secret she had no strength to bear alone.
Mothers know. I patted the seat beside me on the couch. She was able to say
nothing for a few minutes. I contented myself with marveling over her porcelain
skin and expressive eyes. How could she not be my child, when she modeled her
human body and face after mine? Every mother should have such a daughter.
"Mum?"
"Honey?"
"It's
beyond terrible!"
"Tell
me..."
She
poured out her story. So my little Moses in the Bulrushes was all grown-up and
being called to lead her people in an Exodus.
"How
can I help?"
"Help
me research places that I can direct them to," she said. "I need to
know latitude and longitude."
"You'll
also need to explain to them how we reckon latitude and longitude," I
said.
"How
do I do that?" she squeaked.
"Show
them your atlas," I said. "They'll understand quick enough."
===
There is
a simple way to say it, but of course it is terribly misleading by its very
simplicity. We did it. We infiltrated the planet even as the bear said we must.
And now
we walk among you. We are your hairdressers and traffic cops, your professors
and architects. We have won no Nobel prizes, for we must maintain our masks.