53. Jon-Ante
JON-ANTE
1986
She hadn’t nagged him or said he had to go. After all, Marge understood now. And the way the obituary was composed, he couldn’t attend. Everyone would be there.
“I’ll visit the grave later.” He absolutely wanted to say goodbye to Anna. “I’ll watch Stella. You go ahead.”
She was grateful; she didn’t want to make her daughter come. Stella hadn’t known Anna, and Marge believed children should be spared the experience of a funeral for as long as possible. What’s more, Stella was going through a phase where death frightened her.
Jon-Ante had taken the little girl by the hand and walked to the highest point of the village, where they could watch the caravan of cars following Anna to her final resting place. The usual funeral procession through the villages was a sight that left no one unmoved. The cars drove slowly and oncoming vehicles either stopped out of respect or joined in. Today he expected the caravan to be so long that you couldn’t see the first and last cars at the same time.
Stella wanted to count the cars in Sámi, but she could only count to twenty so Jon-Ante promised to help. There would be many more.
“She’s in the first car, the black one, right?”
“Yes, she is.”
“Mama said she was the nicest person in the whole school.”
“Your mama is right.”
They sat in the grass and had to fend off mosquitoes. Stella found a ladybug and cupped it in her hand, peering in at it through her fingers. Jon-Ante thought of Aslak’s funeral, which he also hadn’t attended, that time with the excuse that he couldn’t trade shifts at work. Einar would have switched without a moment’s hesitation, but Jon-Ante didn’t even ask. Work had gotten him through the day. Enná called that evening to say it had been a lovely service, but he remained silent on the other end. She had only been to the church portion, and Isá hadn’t gone at all.
Jon-Ante had visited the grave the following weekend, where he found frost-edged flowers and candles but no headstone yet. The soil was hidden under new-fallen snow and he had bent down to press his index and middle fingers into it, leaving a V sign.
“You understand why I couldn’t come, don’t you?” That was all he said.
Stella opened her hands to let the ladybug out, but it stayed put, leaving tiny yellow pee stains on her palm.
He held his right hand in front of her, waving mosquitoes away when they landed.
“Do you remember how I told you I hurt my little finger at school?”
“Yes, you fell on it.”
“First I fell, but then Housemother—” He paused. “Do you know what a housemother is? She was the one in charge of us kids in the building where we lived at school.”
“I know,” she said, watching him with curiosity.
“So, anyway, she was very strict and not always very nice.” He fumbled his way on, unsure how much Marge had told her. “And when I fell, she stomped on my hand.”
Stella’s eyes widened and he regretted his words.
“Or maybe she tripped and didn’t really mean to. But she never said she was sorry.”
“You should always say sorry.” She touched his little finger, pressing it against his ring finger, but it sprang back out.
“Anna was the one who took care of me afterward, who bandaged my finger. I will never forget that.”
Stella wiggled her loose front tooth with her tongue. “I think it’s funny when we have a tea party and you do that with your little finger. You look like a fancy lady.” When he laughed, she went on. “And you drink for real, not like Mama, she only pretends.” She slurped the air, into empty space, her hand holding a pretend teacup and her little finger reaching for the sky.
He picked her up, swung her onto his back, being her horse.
“Can you be a reindeer?”
“No, you’ll never get to ride on any reindeer.”
The horse leaped over the grass and she hooted and squeezed his neck. He dashed away from the mosquitoes and gnats.
“Here they come!” Stella called, pointing. She hung from his shoulders as they counted together. At last the final car disappeared around the bend, down past the soccer field. Jon-Ante raised his hand to wave, and Stella did the same. He brought his other hand to his chest and made the V sign. His heart beat against his fingertips.
He released her and she cartwheeled down the hill, her hair whipping the grass.
A certain restlessness came over him, a strong feeling that he ought to go there, that he needed to take part after all. He rubbed his forehead, allowed her to decide.
“Listen, Stella, would you like to take a ride in my fancy car?”
She stopped short and came running back up the hill. “If you put down the roof.”
“You’d have to wear a hat.”
“We don’t have to tell Mama.”
He grinned.
“Where’re we going?” she asked.
“I thought we could go to Gárasavvon after all.”
“I don’t want to see a dead person.”
“No, we aren’t going to the funeral.”
“I know! We can go over the bridge to Finland and buy licorice.”
He looked at his watch. They would make it in time. Some of the funeralgoers would stop outside Anna’s house in A ? evuopmi before traveling on to the church in Gárasavvon. There the casket would be lifted from the hearse and placed on a bed of spruce boughs outside, so Anna could come home one last time.
Stella wanted to run back to the house, and he jogged alongside her. They went inside to get jackets, deciding that they didn’t need to dress up. When she climbed into the front seat, he felt a moment of hesitation. There were no seat belts.
“Take the roof off,” Stella said.
She was so small, her feet stuck straight out from the seat. She giggled as he rumbled through the village and hit the gas a little extra. Her dark hair fluttered on the breeze and the scars above her eyebrow shone white. He drove at a leisurely pace and she began to sing. Mile after mile, she sang.
“This is where Anna lived,” he said as they passed the green house, and Stella waved.
As they drove into Gárasavvon and approached the Sámi school, it clicked for him. This was where Stella should go. Not Láttevárri. That way she could still attend a Sámi school but Marge, and Jon-Ante himself for that matter, wouldn’t have to take her to their old nomad school, wouldn’t have to be reminded. He slowed down and pointed.
“What do you think of that school, Stella? Would you like to go there?”
“I’m going to go to Láttevárri.”
“I think this one is better.”
“Why?”
“I imagine they need a Stella who sings at this school. I bet you’d make lots of friends here.”
She didn’t look convinced, but he had made up his mind.
Over in the churchyard he saw everyone who had gathered, and he gripped the wheel harder.
“They haven’t gone inside yet. Would you like to say hi to your mama, maybe?” He wanted to say hi to Marge, it felt more important than anything—he needed to stand there with his new family. Honor Anna by their side.
“Yeah, let’s go. Can I steer again, like I did that time in the forest when I sat on your lap?
“No, we can’t do that here, in the middle of the village.”
She shrugged, probably couldn’t see that it was any different. “Can I just hold the steering wheel a little bit?”
He nodded as he looked for a place to park. Her small fingers squeezed his right hand gently, pressing his pinkie in place. Unaware of what that did to him.
The engine rumbled loudly and he saw people in the churchyard turning to look.
“Turn!” Stella cried, pulling at his hand.
“I can’t turn here, but we can stop right up there.”
She squeezed and turned as though she were doing the parking. “There!” she said proudly as the sound of the engine faded. “Now let’s go find Mama.”
They climbed out. Her ears were bright red; he cupped his hands around them and she asked what he was doing.
They didn’t have to look for long. Marge had spotted them and was waving.
“There she is!” Stella didn’t run on ahead. Didn’t leave him.
Marge looked surprised as she came over to meet them; she gave him a light kiss on the lips and pulled Stella close. People were staring, he could tell from the corner of his eye, and he stood up straighter although his pulse was trying to run away with him. Stella didn’t let go of his hand, and his little finger felt at home, as it always did in her and Marge’s grasps.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s kind of strange, lots of memories coming up. I’ve been talking to people I haven’t seen in ages. It’s nice.” She switched to Sámi. “What are you doing here? Did you change your mind? You know she doesn’t want to…” She shot a meaningful look at Stella.
“No, no, we’re not coming inside. I just wanted to be here with you for a moment.”
“What are you talking about? We’re going to Finland to buy candy,” Stella said.
“Oh, is that right?” Marge rested her cheek against his for a second. “I’m glad to see you two.”
“We’re glad to see you .” He stroked her hair. “Well, I guess we’re going to head to Suopma, so we’ll see you back home later.”
People had started moving toward the church and she had to go, Anne-Risten was waving at her. Marge put a hand on Jon-Ante’s waist and he pressed his lips to her temple. She took off her glasses and began walking to the church. He felt an unexpected wave of emotion, knowing she had to afford herself extra protection today.
She turned around and squinted nearsightedly their way, a small smile on her lips.