A Grandmother Begins the Story

Also by Michelle PorterScratching RiverApproaching FireInquiries: poems VIKINGan imprint of Penguin Canada, a division of Penguin Random House Canada LimitedCanada • USA • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • ChinaFirst published 2023Copyright © 2023 by Michelle PorterAll rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.www.penguinrandomhouse.caPublisher’s note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATIONTitle: A grandmother begins the story / Michelle Porter.Names: Porter, Michelle (Poet), author.Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20220223734 | Canadiana (ebook) 20220223904 | ISBN 9780735245372 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780735245389 (EPUB)Classification: LCC PS8631.O7373 G73 2023 | DDC C813/.6—dc23Book design by Kelly HillInterior image this page: (bison) © CSA Images / Betta / Getty ImagesCover art © Lisa Shepherd, Métis Artista_prh_6.0_143455486_c0_r0 For my grandmother, Estelle Light the smudge, breathe deep, from this sacred tobacco, cedar, sweetgrass, and sage, burn all jealousy and hatred from this earth. O sacred smoke, make the world and us whole again; we women, this is what we do: sew and smudge, make the ugly, beautiful.—from the “Mending the Violence of Men” aria, Li Keur: Riel’s Heart of the North, by S. M. Steele ContentsCoverAlso by Michelle PorterTitle PageCopyrightDedicationEpigraphMamé’s afterlife is a fiddleDee hears a rumourCarter negotiates her feeGeneviève forgetsMamé and the crookedness of timeDee fills up on grassCarter makes room in her scheduleGeneviève cursesMamé checks on her girlsDee kicks up dustCarter regrets her curiosityPerkins and Lottery in the passenger seatDee steps into the lightCarter on dyingGeneviève crosses the riverWhere the gates open for MaméDee, in between fencesCarter asks for help with beadingGeneviève and one more goodbyeThe grassland speaks to DeeCarter moves outGeneviève and the ruinsAfterlife and the temptation of MaméDee, the biggest cowGeneviève arrivesDee, walking awayGeneviève takes the elevatorCarter finds a crow’s nestGeneviève lays a cardCarter drinks teaDee asks questionsPerkins and Lottery at the kennelAfterlife, where Mamé can ask for forgivenessThe grassland sees Dee’s pathAllie texts CarterGeneviève sees a ghostAfterlife, where Mamé knows herselfSolin begins a storyPerkins and Lottery hold auditionsCarter lives dangerouslyGeneviève plays a jigMamé, where time unravelsA grandmother tells about the time before fencesGeneviève seeks refuge from the rainCarter, dancingA grandmother finishes the storyGramma, asking CarterVelma looks down and there is GenevièveThe grassland witnesses the beginning of a snowstormAfterlife, where Mamé’s feet still acheThe grassland sees the weakness in the fenceGeneviève asks about rehab in the spirit worldMamé, where the bison roamThe grandmothers go lookingCarter, saying yesGeneviève looks into the fireAfterlife, where Mamé moves alongDee answers questionsCarter seals a baggieGeneviève makes a signMamé’s first journey with the buffaloThe grassland and a thunderstormAllie texts againGeneviève and the trouble with rememberingMamé and tomorrowDee, after the thunderstormCarter at the bus stationWhat Geneviève doesn’t say (to Pam)What Pam doesn’t say (to Geneviève)Mamé follows the herd to the riverDee brings hope alongCarter in the bathroomGeneviève gets a ride in an ambulanceMamé, where a rib is brokenDee catches up to angerCarter texts her mom from the Mamé’s afterlife is a fiddleI had my choice down there, didn’t I? Eve, she chose the apple. That’s the story they tell, the story they told us all. At the school and at the church on the Sunday that was oh so holy. I didn’t want the apple, no. I went and I chose him, the one with the fiddle, the man who put all his restless self into his songs and who made people’s feet dance in their moccasins on the dirt floors and in their fancy shoes on the dance hall’s wooden floors, move in ways they’d never before, step so quick and light they’d wonder who it was that had touched their feet. It was him. Every time. Dee hears a rumourDee heard a rumour spreading though the herd, leaping from cow to bull to calf. The herd would be divided. A truck and trailer would come and load up the chosen. Some of them would be moving on. She had to ask an auntie, What did moving on mean? Carter negotiates her fee So my grandmother—my grandmother who I never met, by the way, because my birth mom refused to get us together saying her mom was a piece of work—called me up to ask if I’d help her kill herself. Which isn’t helping; it’s doing it. I said sure, I’m a part-time assassin. In my spare time. But can you afford my fees? I’m good and I don’t come cheap, I said. She said be serious. I am, I said, dead serious. Then she called me a cunt and a few other things, I didn’t catch them all. Okay then, I said, what’s in the will—you got the money to pay? She hung up.