“Yeah.”
“Did you punch Jerry in the chest?”
“I did.”
Jack ran his fingers along the wolf’s head. It was then that Askuwheteau looked at the animal for more than a fleeting second.
“Why’d you punch him in the chest, Jack?”
“Because I couldn’t get to his face.”
The man shook his head and smiled, exposing a gold tooth on his incisor.
“Jack, your candor is refreshing. Also disturbing. Anyway,” he coughed into his fist, “you’ve been avoiding me. You knew I wanted a word with you.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been busy. Like I said. We don’t talk much. We never have, but we talk when we need to. It’s just the nature of our friendship.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’m worried about you.”
“Yeah? Well don’t be. I don’t want you to worry about anyone but yourself. You just got over your illness. Focus on—”
“You are in love.” Askuwheteau cut him off, peering at him with those resolute, dark eyes of his.
The sun fell lower in the sky, and the deep purples emerged as they stood in silence for a short while.
“And that worries you?”
“To some degree. I heard you’re seeing that waitress from down at Gus’s. The Black woman from up North.”
“Yeah, I am. Is that a problem?”
“Jack, don’t you find the timing of all of this curious?”
“The timing of what?” Diesel turned around a few times, making the wood on the patio creek from his slow prancing, then hunched down beside him.
“You’ve been on a warpath. I saw that you were talking to the news again recently about Chad, and I’ve seen the new flyers around town, too. He’s on a billboard, and you launched a website.”
“The website was my girlfriend’s idea. Everything else was mine. What’s your point?”
“Jack, you’ve gone beyond the point of return.” The man’s tone filled with pain as he spoke, a frown on his face. “You’ve opened yourself. It’s this woman… When you open yourself, things can get in. Like love. And they can get out, too. You were closed off for years. Full of hatred. Anguish. It was yours to have. I’m not judging you. Now that you’re open, it’s happened. What I told you would happen years ago is manifesting. I see you are in the presence of a wolfman spirit.”
Askuwheteau and Jack had a strange, tangled past. The man was too young to be his father, and too old to be a brother. They came upon each other thirteen years prior, working the land in the park. Jack had showed the man, an excellent ice fishing pro in his own right, a trick or two, and they’d been friends ever since. He was like family, and their children also connected. Dinners and experiences were shared. Askuwheteau was profoundly spiritual. He had a deep voice but spoke quietly. He moved like waves and the wind, and his limbs reminded Jack of tree branches. The man’s past was checkered—with alcoholism, violent fights, poverty—but he’d transformed and transcended, and became one of the only people who’d been there for Jack when Chad had died. One of the only ones to show no fear and speak out, and say that what happened wasn’t right.
“It’s a wolf, Askuwheteau. Just a wolf.”
“No,” Askuwheteau stated calmly, shaking his head. “We’re going to call things what they are, Jack. It’s a wolfman spirit. He belongs to you. You belong to him.”
“Askuwheteau, why are you really here? You know I don’t believe in these things. I respect you, so I keep my opinions about these things to myself, but you’ve come twenty miles to talk to me in circles. What is going on?”
Askuwheteau took a deep breath. “I know you will do what you’ve done for years and try to dismiss what I have to say, but I am going to say it anyway. Jack, I had a prophetic dream about you.”
Jack rolled his eyes, slid the pack of Chad’s cigarettes out of his back pocket, and lit up.
“I’m serious, Jack.”
“I know you believe you are, Askuwheteau,” he said, taking a drag from the cigarette.
“I’ve always known you to be a very honest man, to your own detriment. But this is one lie you consistently tell yourself. Maybe it’s the only lie.”
“What am I lying about?”
“That you do not believe.” Their gazes hooked. “When you and I first met, I could see through you. I saw that you were a good man. You were a good fisherman. You knew the land. You respected it. As our friendship grew, you told me I drank too much. I told you to mind your business. We became even closer friends after that. We became mirrors for one another. I figured you were just another entitled White man in Alaska, trying to tell the Natives and the Inuits what to do. You weren’t. You cared. We developed a true friendship. One of give and take. You’re a true friend. A stubborn man. A real man. When your sun died, your S.U.N., he took a piece of you and your world became dark. I saw you change. I saw you become more easily agitated. Withdrawn. You built a beautiful house…”