By Melissa Field
CHAPTER ONE
North Eastern Oregon
Spring
She stared at the small paper crane, following the creases up and around. It sat in her palm, perched on the lifeline wrinkle. She turned her head up, her arm relaxed. The crane fell beside her into the grass. Her gaze went up and up, higher and higher, deep into the crown of the maple tree. A cool breeze passed through the field. A shiver went up her as leaves rustled. Her eyes closed. She listened.
Wind and tree merged. One noise created from two parts. It bestowed a sense of unity on her. Her focus held on herself shivering, the leaves rustling.
Shivering, rustling, shivering.
She stopped. The leaves stopped. All was quiet. The wind passed on, taking the sense of unity with it.
Barefoot, she pushed up onto her toes and put her arms out wide. Somewhere in the high grass were her sandals. She lowered back, wrapping her arms around herself. A black knit shirt was not enough to keep her warm. Hoping her hair would warm her, she unpinned her bun. Thick brown hair fell onto her neck. It smelled of citrus and she pulled a section up, holding it beneath her nose. Once more she shivered. This time, there was no breeze.
It's just like origami.
Jordan squatted and picked up the crane. It twirled between her fingers as she spoke to herself, unable to take the silence any longer.
“It's just like origami,” she said. “A life path, it's like folding up of one of these little cranes. The first fold's important, even though it doesn't show you much. You make more folds, sometimes going up, sometimes down. No matter which direction you go, big or small, they're all necessary. Sometimes you might think there are too many and wish you could skip to the end, but you can't rush. Even if you get lost and can't see the crane forming, you have to keep going. You'll get there, one fold at a time. When you see the wings, you'll smile. Pull them down and fold them into place. Your crane is complete and ready to fly.”
To fly. To fly. Fly.
She threw the paper crane, hoping it would disappear in the grass. It landed right in front of her. As she sat down, she hit a thick root. She moved and leaned against the tree.
Forty-six years of friendship made a lot of folds in a person’s life. Each time something happened with Aviva it seemed more important than the last thing. When Gautam and Aviva got engaged there seemed nothing bigger. Then they got married, that was bigger. And had a baby, that was bigger still. And another baby. And then more stuff happened, it built up, folded in, became something all of itself. Just like the crane.
But it was over now. It was odd how it made Jordan feel so absolute she was forty-eight. Age used to seem flimsy to her. But now it was defined, solid, big and heavy. She was forty-eight. Aviva was forty-eight.
Was.
Gautam was fifty-four. The skin of his face was loosening, making his jaw undefined. He covered it with a coarse grey bread. He’d finally gained some weight, no longer muscular in the way a runner is, but soft, in the way a man is who reads books by window light. Gautam never read though, he’d merely slowed down and begun to enjoy the concept of leisure. Jordan wiped away a few tears. She loved him despite his softening. He had always seemed soft to her, his softness part of his personality. Aviva had seen it too, from the first time they’d met him.
Jordan began to relive her final day with Aviva. They had been sitting together in Aviva's kitchen. Had that really been four weeks ago? It felt like years had passed since Jordan had looked into Aviva's gaunt face.
***
One month prior
Long moments of silence came and went. Jordan tapped her spoon against the table. She slumped down, her eyes puffy and red. Aviva put her bony hand on Jordan's to stop the tapping. Jordan couldn't look at Aviva. She looked so old, beyond old, beyond life. Looming death made her ageless, as if she was already tapping into the eternal place her soul would soon slip to.
"Your hands are like ice," Aviva said.
"I get cold when I'm nervous." Jordan spoke down to the table, her voice weak.
"What are you thinking about?"
Jordan pulled her hand away and resumed the tapping. Aviva took the spoon and placed it beside the sugar bowl. Her thin hand went up to the silk scarf around her neck. She fingered the red fringe dangling on her chest.
Jordan's tired brown eyes were on the table. "I bought you that."
"The sugar bowl?"
"The scarf." Jordan glanced at Aviva. "I bought you that scarf."
"I know. That’s why I’m wearing it.”
Aviva reached into the pocket of her sweater. It draped on her like a blanket. She held her closed hand before Jordan. Aviva opened it and something small and red fell out. A paper crane. It was worn and tattered.
"I unwrapped the scarf and this little crane flew out,” said Aviva. “I threw it away, and then I remembered. You gave it to me. We were in our twenties. I had to dig through the trash to get it back."
"I can't believe you kept that," Jordan said, picking it up. “I gave you the scarf at the same time, didn’t I? When I came back from my trip.”
"I remember. And also, what you said when you gave it to me. About the origami?"
The wrinkles around Jordan's eyes deepened as she thought. She made a single, slow nod. Her lips relaxed as she recalled the day she had given Aviva the paper crane. She remembered the place she had been in her life, that time that had seemed like it could never be anything less than everything. Now it was close to nothing. A faded moment of the past, recalled only after being reminded of it. Her eyes glassed over as she recalled everything that went along with that moment. There were so many things she hadn't thought of in years. Wasn't she returning from sailing when she'd given Aviva the scarf and crane? Yes, she had been sailing. And she’d gone to Turkey. She’d gotten the scarf in a market. Oh yes, it was all coming back...
"It's just like origami," said Aviva. "Remember? That's what you said. A life path, it looks like one of these."
Jordan was surprised to find herself tapping the spoon again. Aviva reached for it. Jordan jumped up from the table and went over to the counter. Her hands wrapped around the metal tea kettle. It was still warm. She laced her fingers around the spout. Rust had built up around it. It brought tears to her eyes, making her feel foolish and weak. Her fingers tightened.
"Why are you holding that?" asked Aviva.
"I was considering making more tea. Do you want more?"
"Come, sit back down. Please."
It's just like origami. Jordan took a deep breath and let her arms go limp. She hesitated before returning to her chair.
"This got me thinking," said Aviva, picking up the crane.
"Are you sure you don't want more tea?"
Aviva again put her hand onto Jordan's.
"About the origami," said Aviva. "I thought about it all day yesterday. I realized something."
Jordan smiled as she fought back tears. “Your life resembles a paper rose?”
“What? No. If you unfold a paper crane," said Aviva, "you can see how it became what it was supposed to be, from beginning to end. The lines are there. You can see the whole process. But without paper, origami wouldn't exist, so you really don't know how it works from beginning to end. You can only see and understand a part of it. To understand the whole process, you have to consider what the origami is made from. What is paper made from?”
“Trees.”
“Where did those come from? Seeds. Where did the seeds come from? Trees. Which came first? How did it begin?"
"What does that have to do with the origami?"
"It shows you what you're afraid of."
"I’m not afraid of trees."
"Death. Life. Neither can be explained. Nobody knows the true origin of life or what happens when we die and it’s scary. But now I can look at that crane and understand something I didn't before. There is no beginning and there is no end. The paper comes from a source that connects it to everything else in time and the world.”
“How so?”
“You throw paper away and what happens? What would happen to it over time?”
“I suppose it would eventually disintegrate.”
“Right. It would fall apart, the fibers breaking apart more and more until it’s dust, and it becomes part of the dirt. And then what? Is it still paper? Or is it dirt? Is it still here even though it’s broken down and becoming part of something else? It’s the same for us. We die, but we don’t really die. We’ll always be a part of something. It's mysterious and amazing. Do you see what I’m saying?”
“Yes, I see. A tree makes paper. Paper makes the origami crane. The paper crumbles and the crane turns to fibers. The fibers become part of dirt, and from that dirt, a tree grows.”
“Exactly.”
Jordan filled the kettle with more water. She watched the stove turn red hot. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“I need to talk about this.”
Jordan didn’t turn around.
“This cycle is ending for me,” said Aviva, “but there’s something else that I will be part of next. It’s the way the universe works, everything gets recycled, it all circles. And I don’t know how I will come back, if I will be me, or maybe a million particles that are spread throughout the ocean floor. Or maybe I’ll be the roots of a tree, I don’t know. I could even be dust on some distant planet a thousand light years away. I just don’t know, but I know there’s more, and I don’t have to be afraid, because this ending is only the beginning. You don’t have to be afraid either. I know you are. But don’t be. Promise me you’ll remember what I’m saying.”
Jordan put the kettle on the hot burner.
"Jordan?"
"Green tea or black?"
***
The leaves rustled. Jordan leaned her head against the tree trunk. The red paper crane poked its head out from the grass. It had only gone a foot in her throw. She reached for it, and then on impulse grabbed a fallen leaf instead. The leaf had never been touched by Aviva. It was easier to hold. It held no memories or attachments to the past. It was just a leaf. She held it up to the sky, the complexity of veins and texture emphasized by sunlight.
Dark pant legs stepped in front of her and she froze. She forgot he was there too. She put her hand onto her chest. The other one closed around the leaf, smashing it against her palm.
"You scared me," she said.
"Are you ready?" Gautam asked. He reached forward with his dark hand. Jordan put her hand into it. His hand was warm and soothing on hers as he helped her up. He clasped her cold, pale hand between his two dark ones.
"Your hands are like ice," he said.
Jordan pulled her hand away. She tucked it beneath her arm. Gautam walked onto the bridge first. Jordan followed. Splinters poked up out of the weathered boards. She looked down at her feet. Dirt was caked between her toes.
Gautam bent down and picked up the small box. He ran his finger over the name. His thumb held over the surname, so that only “Aviva” could be seen. He held it out to Jordan so she too could put her hands on it. Without words, they tipped the box toward the river. The water was moving fast.
Ashes puffed out in a big cloud of grey. The soft, feather light contents fell slow and steady. The gentle breeze returned. It picked up some of the ashes and carried them a few feet away.
Goodbye, Aviva, she thought.
Tears came down her cheeks. Without looking, she knew they came down his also.
The final bits fell into the water. She realized then she still held the leaf. She let it go and watched it flutter down to the water. It whisked away, and she got a strange feeling that as long as she could see the leaf, everything was okay.
The leaf bobbed up and down on the rapids. It disappeared from view and her body tensed up. She looked down at the box, picturing the way the ashes had come out in a soft puff. A small, tight-lipped smile came onto her face.
“Where are you?” asked Gautam.
“I’m right here,” she said, looking at him with surprise. She pulled a small cloth from her pocket. Tears and snot were wiped onto it. She balled her hand up and held the cloth beneath her chin.
"You were lost in thought. I could see it. What were you thinking?”
"Nothing."
"Was it about Aviva?"
Jordan shook her head and looked down. There was a loose nail in the board of the bridge. She put her big toe on it, the small metal shape pressing against her skin. "Something I heard once popped into my head."
"What is it?"
"It's stupid."
"That's okay."
Jordan looked out over the river. She twisted a section of hair around her finger, wondering if she would ever see Gautam again after this.
"What are the northern lights?" she asked.
"I don't know. What?"
"God sneezing."
______________________________________________
The Good Luck Knot is a book about hope, love, forgiveness and finding ourselves in the most unexpected ways.
________________________________________________
Melissa Field went to California State University Chico but unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, depending on your view) spent more time drinking beer than going to class. After dropping out she took jobs in many interesting places (including Antarctica and the Alaskan Arctic) and fulfilled her need to learn. Many kind hearted people have taught her about their lives and also gave her a place to sleep, during her many travels. Besides writing she loves coffee, tea, and gardening. You can learn more about her and her travels through her website, melissafield.webs.com______________________________________________
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