THE WAY IT WENT DOWN: KAY'S VOICE
’Ant’įįhnii — practitioner of the Frenzy Way.
Until May 2003 that was something from my CULTURAL STUDIES AND MORES textbook, $199.95 at the University of Oklahoma bookstore (and Wonderwall was playing on the PA and it had snowed and my boots squeaked on the tiles...and...and...)
Enough. Okay. Start over.
Kay wanted to do it for her PhD. The ritual. The whole thing. She thought it would be great. She needed me, she said. To do it. She needed me to see. But it wasn't about that. It's hard to explain. I grew up with her, but we weren't real sisters; she was a cousin — lived with us. I worshipped her. I followed her to school. I followed her into Cultural Anthropology.
"My Doctors," dad would say, arms outstretched to hug us both. There, in that hug I'd see Kay's eyes, green, watching me between strands of auburn hair. She knew.
Anyway, we went out to the woods to camp one night. Alone. I couldn't help myself. I loved her. I went willingly. Greedily.
Kay sang the huyachi song, the black song, and then she kissed me. We slept together. I wanted to. I had always wanted to. I always did. We slept together.
The next morning, Kay was gone. Then the search and the police and much later, the accusations. Nothing was ever found. I mean, they found her clothes of course, because after the sing, she didn't need them anymore. I told them she was simply gone that morning. I didn't tell them about the dreams.
And here I am, 365 days later. Same night, same place. My father won't call me back. My family won't speak to me. And I'm here and I sing the song because I did it too. I broke the rules. I want to hear Kay's voice, again.
Finally, hours after the song is done. Footsepts beyond the light of the fire.
"Do not look at me," the voice says from somewhere off to the left. Is that Kay?
"Do not look..." another, smaller voice says from behind me.
"Come away from the fire..." the voice says.
"Come and see," the smaller voice says. Then...laughter? Moving in the dark.
I have come so far. I have seen so much.