Free Disposition of Remains by Laura T. Emery Page B

rather than just shriveling away. So I jumped in and covered my eyes.
    “You really don’t want to do that.”
    “Yes, I really do.”
    Wilbur fired up the engine and let it warm for a short while. In the meantime, I peeled my fingers away from my eyes and faked a good smile—right after I leaned out and threw up.
    “That’s better,” Wilbur said as I buckled myself back and tucked my hands stiffly beneath my thighs. “You’ll want to see this.”
    I wondered what Wilbur thought of my somewhat regular vomiting, but he played it off as though he didn’t notice.
    Within seconds of liftoff, I realized exactly where we were. We flew only a few feet above a plain and then the ground dropped out from under us. For a brief moment my heart dropped with it. The Grand Canyon was much more enormous and incredible than I ever could have dreamed. We flew weightlessly over the layered rocks, hills, cliffs, and valleys. All at once, I abandoned my fears and found myself entering into some sort of alternate celestial universe. I was completely overcome by the splendor of the Canyon from our bird’s-eye view. I fantasized that I was a little closer to Heaven, if there were such a place. It was complete nirvana. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but for fear of appearing psychotic, I simply smiled.
    “This is incredible!” I gushed.
    “Just wait; it gets better.”
    Wilbur then began to fly down into the canyon. It was unnerving at first, but then I saw it. It looked like some sort of island paradise at the base of the Canyon—a misplaced movie set. There were beautiful waterfalls that were an unnaturally gorgeous blue.
    “What is this place? The land that time forgot?”
    “Do you really not know?”
    I shook my head.
    “It’s Havasupai,” Wilbur explained with a stupefied expression.
    I was suddenly overwhelmed with alarm and dread.
    “No, stop! We—we can’t go there,” I stammered as I shook my head. My mother had never wanted me to visit her home. She ’d warned me over and over again throughout my childhood. The only thing I really knew about being Native American was that one respects his elders. I desperately wanted to respect my mother’s wishes, but then as I saw how breathtaking Havasupai was, curiosity got the better of me. Wilbur could read the change in my facial expression. 
    “Haven’t you ever wondered about your roots?” Wilbur asked cautiously.
    “Yes…and no. My mother painted a dismal picture of reservation life. She wanted us to live the American Dream. She warned me to never look back—bad things would happen,” I yelled over the roar of the helicopter’s engine.
    “What sort of bad things?”
    “I never knew, but she raised me to believe there was some kind of evil to our past. My mother was all I had, so I didn’t want to push too hard. Besides, she made it clear I was never going to get any more out of her. She was emphatic that the past be kept in the past. I didn’t even know what tribe she was from until I found her birth certificate after she died. I’m not sure I feel right about being here.”
    “No disrespect to your mom, but there’s nothing evil here. This is an incredible place with decent people. I think you owe it to yourself to form your own impression. I’m sure your mother would understand,” Wilbur said just as we were touching down.
    There was no more waffling to do. I would either have to get out and face my heritage, or stay put and remain in denial about everything: my past and my future.
    As we climbed out of the helicopter, a young Native man approached us, eyeing me curiously. I felt delusions of persecution as he looked me up and down in a you don’t belong here sort of way. But he was personable enough—at least toward Wilbur.
    “Wilbur, my man, greetings!” he enthused as he bumped knuckles with Wilbur.
    “Stacia, this is Jimmy. He works in the Supai Lodge.”
    “Welcome to Havasupai, and the people of the blue-green waters,” Jimmy