The Good Oak

Fifteen: Hamaborzt

fifteen I hamaborzt I woke to voices. They sounded like they were bubbling up from the bottom of a deep well. Streams of unformed words rose, moved together and apart as the voices slowly took shape to break the surface. I sat up. The morning light was hazy. Overhead, a ceiling of clouds matched the building's cement walls. I looked in the direction the voices were coming from and saw Aitatxi talking to a man in a blue uniform. We were caught. Then Aitatxi turned and saw I was awake. "Haugi hunat, gaixua, meet new friend, Mr. Grants," Aitatxi said. I got up and cautiously walked over to where they stood. "You two are quite the story." Mr. Grants held out his hand for me to shake. "Mr. Grants," Aitatxi said, "he work here. He no is police , gaixua." I shook his hand. 104 "My wife is going to flip when I tell her what I found under the Christmas tree." Mr. Grants glanced at his watch. "What time is it?" I asked. "Huh," Mr. Grants said, like he hadn't just checked. "Oh, yeah, coming up on seven." "We should get going, Aitatxi," I said. "Sure, no," Aitatxi said. "We near trail arai. I stay for donuts baina us go." Just then, the three boys from the day before rode their bikes into the building. The freckle-faced boy had a paper sack in his hand. The sides were stained with grease. He came to a skidding stop. "Donut delivery." Aitatxi rubbed his hands together and started toward the boys. "Untxa, chocolate." I turned to follow but was stopped by Mr. Grant's hand on my shoulder. "Can I talk to you a minute, kid," Mr. Grants said, and from the tone of his voice I knew it wasn't a question. He led me a few feet further away from Aitatxi and the boys, then said, "What's your name?" "Didn't you read it in the paper?" ''I'm not good with names." Mr. Grants smiled. His teeth were straight and white. "Matt," I said. "Matt, had an uncle with that name. Look, the thing is ... how old is your grandpa?" "Eighty-one. Why?" "That's not young." Mr. Grants wiped away a line of sweat along his upper lip. "It's going to be a hot one today. Muggy as hell. I even heard there's a chance of an early monsoon." "I don't mind the heat." I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. 105 "You, no, but I'd hate to see anything happen to the old guy." "Nothing's going to happen," I said. Then I added, "Is it?" Mr. Grants clucked his tongue and cocked his head to the side as he again checked his watch. "Things happen," Mr. Grants said. 'World's a crazy place. People need to be careful. You know what I'm saying, Matt? This whole thing is ... well ... over some sheep." "They're his sheep." "Not legally," Mr. Grants said. "But maybe he doesn't know that? You do, though, right?" I watched as Aitatxi ate his donut. There was chocolate smeared on both his cheeks. "Izigarri gozoak dira-they very good." He smiled and waved for me to come over. "I eat them all you no come." "C'mon, kid," Mr. Grants said. "Don't you think it's time you went home?" And that was what I wanted-to go home. To my room, to my bed. No more sheep, no more desert. Mr. Grants was making it easy for me. It wouldn't even be my fault. What could I do? I was just a kid. Still ... Aitatxi was teaching the boys to count in Basque. I heard them repeat after him, "Bagno, bida, hiru, ..." I bit the corner of my lip. "Think of your grandpa," Mr. Grants said. I squeezed my hands into nsts. Dad had told me to look after Aitatxi. Going home was best, for both of us. Gaixua bleated, and I looked over at him and the other sheep in the rope pen. They were all facing me, not making a sound, as if waiting for me to decide. "After all, they're only sheep, kid," Mr. Grants said. And he was right. To him they were only sheep. Neither 106 good nor bad. Nothing to get worked up about. Only sheep. But to...