Free Fly by Night by Andrea Thalasinos

he felt. Too stressed out to manufacture a softer tone.
    He felt Charlotte back away from the stove as if to put a safer distance between them.
    â€œThat wasn’t necessary, TJ.” Charlotte stood holding the dripping spatula in her hand as she glared back.
    Court documents were strewn across the kitchen table. TJ was compiling them into an executive summary before meeting with the GLIFWC attorneys to finalize an injunction to block the wolf hunt. The tribes had tried buying up all the wolf hunting permits to stop the hunt but the DNR had gotten wise to the blockade and quickly restricted the number of permits issued to tribal members. Next a discrimination lawsuit was filed against the DNR since no other group of people had been singled out for restriction.
    TJ was planning a last-minute trip to Madison to persuade state judges to uphold the Endangered Species Act of 1973 and file the injunction. The hunt was to begin in November, less than two months away. TJ’s emotions were so riled he could hardly think. His edginess spilled into everything and he found himself resenting sounds of the wind, crows calling to each other—everything was irritating and seemed to break his concentration.
    Earlier that morning he’d been pacing the living room until Charlotte finally said, “That’s it—take out the dogs, walk to Minnesota if you have to. I’m ready to rip out my hair; you’re driving me crazy, pacing like some Frankenstein man tromping around in a bus station or something.” The hanging decorative plates on the wall were rattling with each footstep that seemed to get heavier than the last.
    â€œA Frankenstein man,” he repeated. “That’s a new one.” That was the only thing that had given him some relief, his mouth agape in a frozen smile.
    â€œJust go.” She turned away, disgusted. And he’d already walked for almost an hour but it hadn’t helped.
    â€œGloria’s attorney called,” Charlotte continued. “He found her e-mail and address.”
    He didn’t look up. “I’m busy.”
    â€œEveryone’s busy.” Charlotte glared back over the stove. “It takes a minute to write an e-mail.”
    He took a deep breath as if just remembering it was a necessary body function.
    â€œWhen will you have time?”
    He turned to face her, wondering if he should say something or not. He could have a rough tongue and would often fight to soften it.
    â€œWhat’s the rush?” He raised his hands about to stand in aggravation. “Mom’s house isn’t going anywhere—it’ll be there in November. Don’t you traditionals always wait a year before executing a will?” His voice was sarcastic. “So what’s with lighting a fire under my ass right now?”
    She’d laughed as he’d said it and TJ snorted in an ironic way, not wanting to sound snide. He thought back to the Spirit House they’d just placed over his mother’s grave. There’d been tension between them regarding his mother’s wedding photo.
    The walls of the Spirit House were two feet tall; it had a slanted roof for snow to slide off, and openings on either side for Gloria’s spirit to come and go until prepared to make the final journey. There was a small internal shelf where Charlotte had placed her mother-in-law’s favorite coffee cup, quilt, and photos of the boys. But then TJ had spotted his wife slipping in the framed wedding photo of his father and mother from Gloria’s fireplace mantel. He’d stepped in to intercept the photo but Charlotte faced him down. Their eyes locked. He backed off. She’d won that one. Hands clasped behind his back he’d walked away, noting the surging green grass that would always sprout with the abundant autumn rainfall and cooler temperatures. He was no match for her.
    â€œNot everyone waits a full year and you know it, Niinimooshe.” She