Chapter 17
The Lion’s Gate
My 18th birthday was approaching. I thought little of it, but April was ecstatic.
“Rodion! This is amazing. You’re going to be 18, and the date this year. It’s the Lion’s Gate, but even more amazing than usual. 08/08/08!” She clapped.
“Who cares?” I shrugged.
“That’s special. Even the Olympics in China, just think about it. The entire country of China thinks the date is special. They picked this special date for the big event. We have to celebrate.”
“How?” I gave April a kiss. “It’s just a number.”
“So you don’t wanna celebrate at all?” The expression on April’s face was gentle, and I looked away. I could tell she was about to ask about my mom and talk about feelings. I couldn’t have that, so I agreed.
“I guess we could do something. Just the two of us?”
“Remember, we talked about visiting my aunt? The one who does past life regressions?”
“The weird aunt?”
“Yes. The one. She said she can do the regression if you’re eighteen. So that might be a cool thing to do for your birthday. What do you think?” April reached for my hand. “It could be our special time, right before I leave town.”
“Okay.” I nodded. I was trying to avoid speaking about April’s imminent departure, and the way it made me feel. Powerless and weak. Like I would lose her forever.
“Alright, I’ll tell Aunt Molly we’re coming.”
April had her driver’s license and had access to one of her parents’ cars, an old Volvo station wagon. I found it pretty ugly, but April was immensely proud of it.
“Don’t you think it looks like a refrigerator?” I’d tease her.
“No, it’s cute. It’s their signature shape, and it’s very safe!” She’d smile and pet the car, as if the Volvo could understand her. Maybe it did, because that Volvo, despite being at least twenty years old, worked like clockwork. Its motor purred and when April pulled up to pick me up on the morning of my birthday, I could have sworn the car winked at me.
“Ready?” April asked. “I brought us some snacks.” She pointed to the back seat where I saw bottles of water and a cooler. April, with her planning skills, never seized to impress me.
“Listen, I thought we’d take the scenic route. Not the turnpike.” She noted as we drove out of the city.
“Sure.” I did my best to show an understanding, though I’d only been out of Pittsburgh a handful of times since moving there from Moscow. Thirteen years, I thought, suddenly remembering the anniversary of my arrival in Pittsburgh had passed almost unnoticed. April put her hand on my knee and I put my hand over hers. As usual, holding her hand in mine settled me.
We got on Route 30 and, just a few minutes after leaving the city, the scenery changed completely. Gone were the strip malls, the houses, the streets of the city. Instead, the road took us along green hills, with the occasional farms. I saw cows and horses grazing peacefully.
“This is so nice.” She murmured.
“It is. Cows!” I exclaimed, fidgeting in my seat. It was the first time I’d seen cows in America.
“Oh yeah. I guess we’re entering farmland.”
April turned to me for a second and I squeezed her hand. I was in love and she was the closest person I had in the whole world.
We turned off Route 30 onto a country road. She did it with such determination that I didn’t ask her if that was the correct way. We drove in silence for a bit longer, the shared magic between us, and then the road got narrower. April pulled her hand away from mine and scratched her head. I started to get worried. Then, April exclaimed:
“I see it!” She braked hard, and the seatbelt tightened. We came to a stop. A sign hung on a tree. It read: “Molly’s Organic Farm.” It looked old, but at some point some had cared enough to draw cherries and leaves on it.
“This is the place.” She said. “Aunt Molly’s farm. I haven’t been here in a few years.”
A few feet behind the sign, we saw a yellow arm barrier blocking the way.
“I forgot about this thing.” April shook her head. “I think we better leave the car here. I’m not sure how to move this thing. What do you think?”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Here’s what I think.” I turned to her and kissed her on the mouth. I knew it sounded corny, but it was the only thing I could think of doing at that moment. She kissed me back, then leaned to me and looked me in the eye.
“I love you.” April mouthed.
“Love you too.” We sat like this, staring ahead of us, not moving. I wished the moment would last forever.
“Shall we?” April asked.
“Yes.” We walked around the barrier, leaving the car sitting on the side of the road. The gravel road climbed uphill. It got darker and darker, the tops of the dense forest above us. And then we came to a clearing and saw a house.
It was painted dark brown, its color blending with the tree trunks. All around it there were tall trees, their leaves rustling. Next to the house was a path leading to a meadow that was covered in flowers.
“It looks so pretty. Every time I come here, I feel so peaceful.” April smiled and at that very moment, the door of the house opened and a woman appeared on the threshold. She looked to be in her forties and was dressed in all black, a long skirt, a long-sleeve shirt and a black apron over it. Her hair was slicked back and was also black with streaks of gray in it.
“April! Come here, sweetheart.” The woman smiled brightly.
“Aunt Molly!” April exclaimed. “This is Rodion.” She looked at me and I said:
“Nice to meet you.”
“Great that you made it out here. And where’s your car?”
“We left it by the arm barrier.” April said.
“I should have moved it out of the way. Mike!” the woman yelled into the house.
“Yes, honey.” We heard a low voice.
“You forgot to life the arm barrier. April is here!” Aunt Molly yelled. Then, turning to us, said: “Come in, come in!”
Aunt Molloy was about to say something else, but a large man appeared by her side, as if materializing out of nowhere. Everything about the man was oversized: he was very tall, broad shouldered, large protruding belly, had huge hands, and even his beard was long.
“Hello there!” He smiled at April, then, turning to me, rumbled,
“I’m Mike.” He extended his enormous hand to me and I shook it.
“Have a seat,” Aunt Molly fussed, leading us into a cluttered kitchen. There was a round table, several chairs, a buffet, and a bookshelf. On the ceiling hung ropes with drying mushrooms and berries. On the stove that was in the corner of this strange-looking kitchen was a huge pot of water, boiling over, steam rising.
“Honey, I was just preparing the brine.” Mike noted, and, grunting, took a seat at the table.
“Yes, alright.” Molly turned the pot off. “Mike is a taxidermist.” She said, as if that explained anything. Only then did I notice the animals. Two huge deer heads hung on the walls above the kitchen entrance. Several taxidermy rabbits were on the windowsill. A squirrel was on the kitchen table. And in the corner of the kitchen stood a life-sized taxidermy bear. “Did April mention this?” Aunt Molly asked, turning to me.
“No.” I said, staring at the animals.
“I always say our house is like a zoo. Only the animals are dead.” Mike chuckled.
“Oh, honey.” Aunt Molly shook her head, as if at an adorable child.
“Do you hunt?” I asked.
“Occasionally.” Michael noted. “But mostly I work on animals clients bring to me.”
“You made all of these?”
“Yes, of course. Have been doing this for over fifty years.” The man surveyed the room proudly. “Started when I was 13.”
“Mike, tell them how you got started, honey. It’s a great story.” Molly gave her husband an adoring look.
“Killed my first eagle when I was 13, and my uncle told me to stuff that sucker up. So I learned. Back then, I did it through a subscription catalogue. And never stopped. Been going strong all these years.”
“That’s amazing.” April stared at the man. Molly brought a plate with cured meat.
“This is bear meat. Fresh. We prepared it last night.” Michael noted and took a slice of the meat. “You can really taste how fresh it is. Bears are tricky.” He took a bite and nodded in approval. “If a bear eats trash, like those city bears do, the meat won’t smell as fresh. But this guy came from the mountains. Fresh-smelling meat.”
“Excellent, honey.” Aunt Molly gave her husband a smile of approval.
“Thank you.” April rose from her seat and started after Aunt Molly. As they were nearing the door, she turned to me. “Aren’t you coming?” I liked sitting at the table and listening to Mike, but I rose and followed April out. Barbara led through the meadow to a garden that had been concealed from view. It was partly shaded and meticulously maintained.
“This is my farm. I do everything here myself. Everything.” She explained. She walked, showing us the plants, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash. “Getting ready for Halloween.” She noted, showing us the pumpkins. “And a little to the side is my orchard, remember it?” The woman turned to April.
April nodded.
“And this is our water tower.” She pointed to a large container. “We’re very careful with water here.”
We spent over an hour touring the farm, and by the time we got back to the house I felt exhausted. April appeared to have been invigorated by the walk. She gave me a radiant smile and squeezed my hand. Mike was sitting at the table.
“Ah, here you are. While you were out, I prepared a surprise.” He handed us a small package wrapped in cloth. “I made one for each one of you.”
“Thank you.” April accepted the gift on our behalf. She unwrapped the cloth, and we saw two large claws. “These are real bear claws. Fresh from the brine. I just prepared them for you.” Michael smiled. “You can wear it for good luck. Native Americans used the claws to protect themselves from harm. It’s a symbol of bravery.”
“Thank you so much!” April said again, and I also thanked our host for his generosity.
“Thank you!” I ran my finger on the claw and added: “You know, my grandfather left me a knife. A hunting knife.” Now, it wasn’t entirely true. My grandfather didn’t leave me the knife. He died long before I was born, but it didn’t matter. I had the knife, and I’d been named after my grandfather. So it made sense.
“Oh? That’s interesting.”
“Yes, I have it. It’s a Soviet hunting knife.”
“What a great story. Come back and bring it here some time.” Mike offered.
“Sure.” I nodded. It wasn’t until then that I remembered April’s suggestion to do a past life regression. I looked at her, hoping to jog her memory, but she was chatting animatedly with Aunt Molly. I was about to say something, and that’s when I saw it. It was a taxidermy fox and it was standing right by the door, as if greeting me. The fox looked exactly like Stewart, the version of Stewart I’d seen in my dreams. I felt a knot form in my stomach. I wanted to get out of this strange place as soon as possible.
We were halfway to Pittsburgh, when April gasped.
“Rodion! I completely forgot! We were going to do the past life regression.”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I figured it was for the best.”
“But it was going to be my present for your birthday.”
“It’s alright. Next time.” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze.