Pow Wow

As things begin so shall they end. Lo-Lo all the time was sharing witticisms like that but you couldn’t hold it against the girl.

“Get in,” she said.

I assumed she meant to climb into the back of the pickup but when I put a foot on the bumper she honked the horn.

“No,” she called out. “Up here. Ride with me.”

I wiped the hair from my eyes and climbed aboard.

“I’m Dolly. How far you heading?”

She was wearing jeans and a tee shirt probably two sizes small that said something vulgar on the front but by the way she bounced she must’ve forgotten to put on a bra today and I didn’t want to stare too hard. Twin black braids hung down to her waist. She pushed back the Stenson she wore to perhaps better survey my face with her startling black eyes. I decided that yes, I’d probably seen prettier girls, though if asked I would have a time remembering just when.

“Pine Ridge. Hi, Dolly.”

I’d been sleeping in weeds for the past week maybe ten days and I was pretty sure I both looked smelled it. I thought how luck was with me that it was a hot day and the windows of the truck were down. Otherwise, Dolly might well have changed her mind about allowing me to ride up front.

When you’re alone and on the road for extended periods of time, you learn to live with yourself. The hunger. The lack of a regular shower. The meanness in general most folk hurl your way. Even now, riding along with Dolly, my mind was pondering the possibilities how I might well have fallen into a trap, though tender it might be.

“Pine Ridge.” She shook her head while giving me a sideways glance. Like she might be readying herself to give me a scolding. “Why you going to Pine Ridge? That place is bad news. You know that, right? They have a shooting a week. Sometimes two.”

“I think my grandfather lives thereabouts.”

I fished through my pack to extract a crumpled near empty box of Kools. After shaking out a cigarette for myself I offered Dolly the last.

“Light it for me.” I right off adored the way her bottom lip curled when she wanted something and how she never said please or thanks. “You must’ve come in from the interstate.”

“Yes I did. Got off in Kadoko and headed south.”

“You better off hitching in from Nebraska. That way you miss having to go through most of this shithole reservation.”

“But I wanted to go through it.”

“You stupid or something? You know with that hair of yours you look mostly white, right? Indians round these parts aren’t partial to your kind. You could be courting trouble just being here.”

Apparently, or so my mother said, my father was a blue-eyed blond haired mongrel who passed along an admixture of those genes to me in the form of dirty blond hair and green eyes. She said how she knew better to go on appearances but to him and much to her chagrin she granted an exception.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Your grandfather,” she said. “You don’t look Lakota. What tribe?”

“Oglala Oyuĥpe.” I took a deep draw, held in the smoke momentarily before exhaling and feeling that familiar first cigarette of the day nausea before exhaling. I kept wondering why she was driving in reverse but figured she’d tell me if she thought I had a need to know.

“I’m impressed,” she said, and I felt oddly exuberant that I had that effect on her. “Nine out of ten Oglala couldn’t even tell you what sub-tribe they are. How is it you know?”

“My mother told me.”

“Your grandfather know you’ve come looking for him?”

“No. I’m not even sure if he’s still alive.”

“You never did tell me your name.

“Daniel.”

“So Daniel. You’re hitching your way through one of the most desolate places on the planet and you don’t even know if your grandfather’s alive? Why? Why would you do that? This is third world shit. You gotta death wish or something?”

I shrugged. I wanted to tell her how growing up in the gangbang Chatham neighborhood back in Chicago probably prepared me for any and all eventualities I might find here or anywhere. But then I thought how that might sound presumptuous. Yep. The girl was warning me about what she perceived as a highly volatile situation and my reveal as to that place I come from might embarrass her.

“I never realized I was Oglala Oyuĥpe till last month. I’m half blood. My father was white, at least that’s all my mom said about him. That and he drank. He left before I was born.”

“That’s sure enough a sob, all right,” said Dolly. I would never be able to tell when that girl was serious or joking or even if she knew herself. “So your mum, she full blood?”

The way she said it told me full blood was close to sacred on the reservation and it sparked the same pride I always felt for my mother.

“She was. She died last month. That’s when she told me about her father. My grandfather. How he lived in Pine Ridge. Said his name’s Daniel. Daniel Mekko.”

“Nope.” Dolly had a way of shaking her head that made her entire body bounce. Especially those boobs. Nope. Dolly did not believe in bras. “Doesn’t strike any bells. What’s his Oglala name? Lots of these old men around here only go by that. Not by their English names.”

“I don’t know. That’s all my moms told me. That I was named after him. Are you from Pine Ridge, Dolly?”

“I grew up here. I still have people around. I live up near Pierre now. I get down once or twice a week to bring my family a few things. Cigarettes. Groceries. Whatnot. It’s a food desert here. Hey. You know I’m sorry, Daniel.”

“Sorry?”

“About your mums. What was her name?”

“Lorraine. Lorraine Mekko. But everyone called her Rabbit. She never said how come.”

“Wait. Rabbit?”

It was the way she looked at me. Like finally. Finally we got something in common, and maybe, just maybe…

“Yeah. Rabbit. Why?”

“Were you born here, Daniel?”

“Yes. Yes I was. I barely remember, though. Moms took me east when I was three maybe four years old. She taught school. Made better money in Chicago. She said the reservation was no place to live.”

“Bear Killer.”

“What?” Oh, I heard what she said. But I needed a moment to process. That and the thing that’d been nagging me since Dolly stopped for me burst into my consciousness.

“That’s your grandfather’s name. Daniel Bear Killer. You must not remember me. It’s been what…”

“Lo-Lo.” The name just came to me and as soon as I spoke it the memories came flooding back. As a kid try as I might I couldn’t get my tongue around Dolly. The best I managed was Lo-Lo.

“You do remember. Now I’m embarrassed.”

“Twenty years, give or take. Why you embarrassed, Lo-Lo?”

“You know why.”

We grew up across from one another, the trailer where Lo-Lo lived so tilted to one side you had to hold onto the wall to walk into it. Her father was too busy drinking himself to death to notice, I suppose. Her mother spent most nights behind the local watering hole her skirt hitched up high round her shoulders as she took on any men and boys who had a dollar.

Looking back, I suppose things like that should have seemed unusual. At the time, though, it just seemed normal. Like driving pickup trucks down dirt roads in reverse. And comparing body parts with little Indian girls while her parents wallowed in self-debasement.

“I thought you looked familiar,” she said, smiling. And I noticed when Lo-Lo smiled the entire world lighted up. “I don’t normally stop for hitchhikers, just so you know.”

I shrugged not knowing but not wanting to admit it either. How far do apples fall from the trees that produce them? Not very, in my experience. But I was willing to forego doubt. At least in Lo-Lo’s case.

“So Lo-Lo. You know my grandfather?”

“I know of him. He’s one of the elders. Most people are afraid of him.”

“Afraid? Why?”

“I’ve heard he’s one weird dude, Daniel. You ever wonder if maybe that’s why your mums left Pine Ridge? To get you away from him?”

“No. Well, maybe. Yeah. She did mention something about Wounded Knee. How her dad had something to do with a protester disappearing.”

“Hey,” said Lo-Lo. “There’s a pow wow later. Wanna come with? Could be your grandfather’ll be there. Can’t promise, but maybe.”

“Sure.”

I envisioned a bonfire roaring in the dead of night with befeathered dancers stepping in time to rhythmic drumbeats. What I got was an afternoon in a crowded gymnasium filled with body odors and caricatures.

“There he is, Daniel.”

We had seats on the wooden bleachers. My ass was just starting into aching when Lo-Lo nudged me. She was one of those touchy people, all the time reaching out to poke or stroke. When I looked she twitched her chin in the direction of the door where an old man stood.

For a second I thought he was watching me but then decided no. It was more than likely someone close to me he recognized.

Then my grandfather looked at me with such a fixed gaze the world as I knew it spun off its axis. I had to grab hold of Lo-Lo to keep from tumbling onto the floor. She mistook it for something else entirely and if memory serves that was our first kiss.

Lo-Lo was one of those people who you feel totally at ease with. There aren’t many, at least in my case. I don’t exactly remember how we ended up back at her place. After the ceremony at the high school gymnasium some of her friends invited us to one of the local bars. God, I never saw so many drunk Indians. They were lining up three and four deep to order drinks.

“You drive, Daniel,” Lo-Lo said, tossing me the keys, which I failed to catch. They landed somewhere in the darkness surrounding the pickup and it was dumb luck we found them. I wasn’t as drunk as she was but still. I drove anyhow. The transmission was shot. Only reverse worked. Maybe it was some weird rite of passage. A test of resolve. I must’ve passed because when I woke up in a strange bed Lo-Lo was next to me and the sun slanting through the window spoke of early morning.

I recognized two things right off. I was naked and so was Lo-Lo. I wondered what explorations had taken place the night before. My head was so fuzzy it took several moments before I realized I could hear noises coming from what I assumed was another room, possibly a kitchen, sounds of pan lids popping and utensils scraping on plates and an occasional shh your mother is still sleeping.

I didn’t want to move. Not ever. But my mouth felt as dry and dank as a toadstool and I had to take a wicked piss as evidenced by the hard-on which I had conveniently pressed between Lo-Lo’s butt cheeks for safe keeping. It was only when I withdrew that she mumbled and woke, staring at me as if unsure who I was or what I was doing there.

“Oh,” she said, rubbing her eyes and rolling over to face me. “Daniel. You’re still here.”

It sounded a lot like a rebuke. Had she asked me to leave? I couldn’t say. Memories of Lo-Lo on top of me swaying back and forth and moaning were trickling into my consciousness. That we hadn’t used protection became obvious too when she draped a leg over me pressing her wetness into my thigh.

“Should I go?”

“No. That’s not what I meant. I just thought… well… mum is up. I better go see if Jazz is ready for school. Stay and sleep, Daniel.”

“Who is Jazz?”

“My little sister. Jasmine. We call her Jazz for short.”

“Oh,” I said. “What pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

I laid there for a moment before deciding I wasn’t about to go back to sleep. I got up. Whenever I looked for them, though, my clothes were not where I remembered leaving them. But in their place was a clean pair of faded jeans and a washed out black tee shirt both which looked my size.

As I dressed, I remembered showering with Lo-Lo the night before. Comparing ourselves to one another. Like old times is what she giggled, and yes. It was. Only our various body parts were definitely not the same as then.

“I’m sorry the water’s cold, Daniel.”

“I’m not.”

When I finished pulling the shirt over my head and buttoning up the jeans, I started to walk out the bedroom door before stopping. What if Lo-Lo would rather I didn’t make an appearance just now? There might be questions. Recriminations. Could be that’s why she said to go back to sleep.

Instead, I went to the window, pulled back the blinds, and looked outside. The yard was filled with an assortment of accumulated trash. A rusted and battered steel drum smoldered. A derelict Oldsmobile Delta 88 sat on cinder blocks, hood open, wheels and doors gone. Old mattresses lounged amid the chickweed. Chickens clucked about. An old black and white dog slept on the porch in the early morning sunshine. Cats prowled.

A screen door slammed. The sharp sound seemed to jolt something loose inside me. A memory of the night before. My grandfather emerging from the shadowy depths surrounding a bonfire.

I’d forgotten. Was it the alcohol? No. I hadn’t drank that much. Being surrounded by strangers and the surreal landscape lent me caution. I nursed a single beer through most of the night despite being inundated with offers of cheap whiskey and rotgut gin.

“Daniel.”

When I heard someone saying my name, I figured they must be talking to another Daniel. Nobody here knew my name. Well, but for Lo-Lo. But this voice belonged to a man.

“Daniel.”

The voice, a little louder this time, had a raspy quality like someone just waking, perhaps. Throat sore from a night of heavy drinking and smoking way too many cigarettes.

I turned involuntarily, the way you do when you hear someone calling out to you, to see who it was. Definitely a man’s voice. But there was nobody there. Lo-Lo was sitting beside me. Leaning into me. I wondered if she’d fallen asleep. If that was why she didn’t hear that voice murmuring my name.

I could feel dark eyes on me. When I looked around the circle where I sat with a dozen Indians, maybe more, they were all staring my way. Was it because I was with Lo-Lo? A white man in their midst?

I decided no. Even in the darkness I could see well enough to make out the features of several others who, like me, were obvious half-bloods.

“Daniel.”

This time I jumped. The voice was right behind me. Just to the left. Like someone leaned over to whisper in my ear. I felt disoriented. My sudden movement woke Lo-Lo and she looked at me.

“Oh. Daniel. Hey.” She pulled out her phone to check the time. “It’s way late. Brr. Chilly too. We should go. Oh, God.”

I felt her shiver as I got up and helped her to her feet. Lo-Lo staggered slightly. I caught her in my arms. Held her a little longer than necessary. She pulled away. I thought maybe I’d overstepped some sort of boundary but then she leaned into the brush to vomit. I held back her hair, like silk between my fingers.

“Thank you.” She spit and then stood up straight. Looked up at me. Hugged herself. “And thanks for the jacket, Daniel. You must be half frozen.”

“Warm-blooded.”

“I can feel that. It’s like you’re on fire inside. Say. Do you have somewhere to sleep?”

I shrugged. I couldn’t pry my eyes from her face, the way the firelight flickered in her eyes.

“Well. Come home with me, then.”

“I don’t want to impose, Lo-Lo.”

“Stop. You are not imposing. But we have to be quiet. Everyone will be sleeping by now.”

“Everyone?”

“It’s too far to drive back to my place. We’ll go by my mums. It’s only a few miles. She won’t mind. You drive. I’m too wasted.”

“Wait. You hear someone calling my name?”

“When?”

“Just now.”

“No. Here. Catch.”

When Lo-Lo tossed her truck keys to me, something flashed in front of my eyes and I missed them. A face, maybe. A premonition. No more than a shadow, like a cloud crossing the moon.

“Oh. Maybe I ought to drive after all.”

“No. Really. I’m okay, Lo-Lo. Didn’t you see that?”

“Daniel. See what?”

“I don’t know. Something. A puff of smoke I guess. Got them.”

I stood up with the truck keys. Opened the passenger door. Lo-Lo climbed in. Turned to look at me. Put a hand in front of her mouth as if testing her breath.

I did not expect the hunger of that first kiss. The urgency. A group of Indians walked past the truck. One of them said how they smelled a honky. Another said to shut up.

“Come on,” Lo-Lo said. “Let’s go.”

She slid over to sit next to me as she guided me into the country, her hand working the zipper of my pants loose. Pulling me out. Stroking. Fondling. Like she found a thing new and unique to her world and did not want to let go. I held off as long as I could, but then…

“Uh oh,” she giggled. “You’re leaking. Turn here, Daniel.”

The dirt road ran down into a valley flooded with moonlight. A rotten barbed wire fence marked the border of our destination as she tucked me back into my pants albeit with difficulty. I was hard again already.

“Let me go in first, Daniel. Go round back and I’ll open a window.”

Whenever I walked behind the house, I saw a man lurking in the shadows. At least I thought I saw him. I nearly cried out in alarm but then stifled myself when I saw what I took to be a person was in fact only a shadow thrown by the moon shining on a pole set in the ground with a cross member nailed to it. Like a crucifix.

“Stupid clothesline,” I muttered. Then the shadow moved. What I took at first to be a man bent over and morphed into the shape of a wolf. No. Too small. A coyote. Was it rabid? I decided no. Nor had it noticed me. Yet. It stood sniffing the air as if not quite fully aware of an unseen danger yet still suspecting.

“Daniel? Where are you?”

As soon as she spoke, the moonlit form set its tail between its hind legs and took off like a shot. Lo-Lo was leaning out of a window and for just a moment I reveled in watching her. Wondering if maybe things might be better for both of us if rather than going to Lo-Lo I melted into the night like that coyote.

I went to her, however. The ache was too sweet. Too insistent. Oh, I could say I just didn’t know. Only I did. I knew exactly how this love affair would play out no matter how hotly it burned.

“I’m sorry I lied, Daniel.”

“Lied? About what?”

We are having breakfast. Eggs and fry bread. Lo-Lo’s mum has retreated into the nether regions of the house though something tells me she isn’t so far off that she cannot hear our discussions.

“Jazz isn’t my sister. She’s my daughter. My mum is raising her.”

I shrug by tilting my head to the left. I’m not sure what to say so I listen instead. It’s always been easier that way.

“I was fourteen, Daniel. I went to this party and, well. I drank way too much. For the longest time I told myself how someone put something in my drink but I always knew better. Anyway. Next thing I knew, I was pregnant. Scared. I had no idea who the father was. Isn’t that terrible?”

“You were just a kid, Lo-Lo.”

“Mum noticed right away. I don’t even know how. Maybe because she’s my mother. Took one look at me and she knew. And you know what? She stopped drinking. Just like that. Said how everything was going to be okay. Cleaned herself up. And when Jazz was born and I was going to put her up for adoption with a white couple from Nebraska, mum took her instead.”

“Does Jazz know?”

“I think she suspects. You know how kids are. I’m sure she’s heard about me at school. About mum too. Anyhow. Mum says we should wait till she’s a teenager before we explain things. But I don’t know. Maybe it isn’t right. Keeping things a secret.”

“Why did you move away?”

“My job. There’s nothing here in Pine Ridge. I found a job at a nursing home in Pierre. It isn’t much. I share a room with three other aides who work there too. That way I have enough money to send back home every week.”

“Why don’t you take your mum and Jazz with you?”

“Mum is old school, Daniel. She’ll never leave the reservation. This is her home.”

“Wow. Pierre. That’s gotta be what. Three hours drive?”

“Yeah. No. More like five. Six. It used to take less. That damned truck.”

“You have someone look at it?”

“They want two thousand dollars to fix the transmission. Maybe more.”

“You ought to be able to get something else for that much. Something better, maybe. Easier on gas.”

“You’d think, yeah. It’s tough, though. If I stayed in Pierre and worked more hours then I’d have the money. But then I’d miss Jazz. And mum. So I just do what I have to do. What my heart tells me. You know? You do. I know you do.”

“When do you have to go back?”

“Saturday. I work four twelve hour days. Sunday through Wednesday. Thursday I drive home.”

“I guess I was lucky.”

“What? Lucky how?”

“That you happened by.”

“I go that way every week.”

“Yeah. But I don’t.”

“You probably need a ride. Right?”

“A ride? Oh. Right. I should leave.”

“No, Daniel. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, Lo-Lo. But no. I don’t need a ride. I’m used to walking.”

“It’s ten miles to town.”

“I’m not going that way. My grandfather gave me his address last night. I thought I’d go by his place. I’m guessing it’s not more than five miles from here.”

“Daniel.”

“Lo-Lo.”

“I’m taking you. Don’t even argue. Let me see that address. Oh. Yes. Rollin Road is just down the way.”

“So if I wanted to stop back by here… I mean, whenever you’re around…”

“It might be better you didn’t, Daniel.”

“I understand.”

“Understand? Understand what?”

“You have a boyfriend.”

“No. Nothing like that. It’s just, well, I don’t know where any of this is leading. You’ll probably be gone by next week and if I… well, I guess I’m…”

“Falling in love?”

“Don’t, Daniel.”

I think a lot about that look he gave me even now, forty years on. The force behind it, the certainty, the resolve. I never left the reservation on account of that stare. How was he even capable of a look like that?

Lo-Lo’s buried next to him as is our son. These days when I look into a mirror my grandfather’s eyes peer out at me. And despite, or perhaps inspite of it, I am happy.