6

Iron Hawk

That next Saturday afternoon, in the dark leather seats of their grandparents' sedan, Nick and Lottica avoided making eye contact. They were beginning to see the familiar landmarks of their very recent past, a past that had become a bit surreal. They drove by their old elementary school where kids dotted the playground, climbing, running, kicking balls, and enjoying hearty autumn sunshine.

Lottica smiled as she thought about when they were little. How her dad used to bring them to the playground on weekends to play tag. Or Billy Goat's Gruff, a game in which their father pretended to be a horrible troll living under the bridge that connected two of the playground climbers. He would dare them to cross the bridge and then grab at their legs as they scurried over the bridge. Then he’d chase them up and down the slides until they finally pushed him into the “lava” which was the woodchip pile by the teeter-totters.

The car traveled past a bright yellow house. Nick turned and stared hard at it. All last year, he’d sat next to the girl who lived in that house. She was smart and fun. He liked her, but he’d never gotten up the courage to ask her out. He’d probably never get the chance now.

He felt his stomach sink, as he tried to conjure up a picture of what his life might have been like, if the fire hadn’t happened. He grew even more anxious when his grandparents' car slowed and stopped in front of their old house.

Nobody moved. For Nick and Lottica it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the car and replaced with a stifling fog called the unknown. It pinned them to their seats. Strangely, it was their grandmother's voice that broke the heaviness of the moment. Her voice was soft, even generous. "Would you have me come with you?"

"Yes, thank you, Grandmother Breima," Lottica answered, even before she realized how much she meant it. They got out and Grandmother Briema took her by the hand. Lottica was surpised again when her grandmother squeezed her hand supportively. She felt very much the twelve-year-old she was, grateful to be led by her grandmother up the walkway and to the door.

But there, the fantasy ended. Because the door was gone, as was most of their former home. Ribbons of yellow cautionary tape were still stapled across the entrance and blown-out windows. The entire east wall of the house was down, and the upper part of the front had folded in like the flap of a cereal box pushed carelessly closed.

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This exposed the one feature of the house undamaged by the gas explosion and resulting fire: the iron spiral staircase that had dominated the interior of their home. It was a great testament to their father's sense of whimsy.

He was a commercial architect by profession, and he had designed their home. The staircase was his tribute to his ancestral home in Lebreima which sported a magnificent stone staircase that gracefully curved from the grand entryway. He’d tell Nick and Lottica that was where he romped and played with friends in childhood, pretending to defend the “castle” from monstrous invaders.

Nick and Lottica had always enjoyed the corkscrew behemoth as a special toy, one that they could bound up and down, imaginatively recreating their father's home in that far off land. That wonderfully mysterious place, Lebreima. Their father had rarely spoken to them of modern Lebreima, but he had gladly passed on the fanciful folktales and legends of its past. To Nick and Lottica, it was a fairytale land and that was why they rarely thought of it as a real place.

The staircase their father had designed was straight out of a fairytale. Their father had commissioned an artist in Lebreima to create a wrought iron hawk to adorn the cap the central post. The sublime bird had mighty wings sweeping back from its sleek body and a proud head with fierce and furrowed all–seeing eyes. It was a magnificent creature.

Their father had told them the hawk was the emblem of his family in Lebreima. How the legendary Hawk had rescued his ancestors in times of trouble or need. In one story, Hawk braved the fires of the underworld to rescue the soul of the very first Breima.

On the base of their iron hawk was the inscription: Lebreima lumeinatus de Kareima. According to their father, this translated into "The Heartstone of Lebreima burns with life." His eyes would twinkle when reciting the inscription, as if some mysterious mantra was encrypted within those words.

The sight of the fire-blackened stairwell and the hawk still positioned majestically atop, made Nick smile. To Nick, the stolid creature looking out over the wreckage of their house, seemed to be boasting, What's a little fire to a creature that has braved the nether worlds?

Nick thought about the hours and hours he and Lottica had spent playing chase up and down the staircase or sitting on the steps with Hawk above them as their parents read or told them stories. He had a sudden desire to climb the staircase, rejoin Hawk and see the world from his keen perspective.

But then Nick heard a familiar voice calling his name. He turned around and saw his best friend, Jake Borden, along with many of their former neighbors congregating at a respectful distance from the entryway. Quickly, he broke away from his revery. He took Lottica by the hand, which surprised her for a moment.

Together, they walked over and gave themselves up to an assortment of hugs, tears and greetings. Slowly, they migrated next door to Jake’s house, where the sweet smokiness of good things cooking on the barbecue guided the way.

As they were ushered into the backyard, Nick glanced back at his grandparents who watched this warm reunion of their grandchildren with their old friends from a guarded distance. They did not follow the crowd to the Borden’s backyard. They walked solemnly back to their car. Feeling a sudden tightness in his gut, Nick realized he actually felt sorry for them.