Crazy Horse's Girlfriend (9781940430447) (8 page)

“C
á
lmate, Kitty!” Jake said.

“You calm down. You asshole,” I said.

“I'm sorry little cousin, I couldn't help it. It really is cute, really.”

“Cute hell, you're just happy he isn't going after Julia.”

“Julia who?”

“Hilarious, really.” I looked at my watch. It was 4:00 in the morning.

“Man, I—” Jake said, and stopped. People were yelling.

“What's going on?” I asked.

“Cops!” Someone yelled.

“Oh fuck,” Jake said.

Jake pointed with this lips and his hand at the window. “Someone must have seen us in here,” he said. We looked over at the window we'd come in through and it was crammed with people trying to get out of it. Jake took my hand.

“This way,” he said, “let's head towards another apartment. Another window.”

“What's happening?” Julia asked.

“Cops,” Jake said. “Get your shit and move.”

“Fuck!” she said. “What are we going to do?”

“Follow me,” Jake said, leading the way out of the apartment. We followed him, my breath caught in my throat. Jake led us out into the hallway, but we could hear the cops breaking in through the doorway at the entrance and so he turned into another apartment, one that was different than the one Mike and me had just been in, the door off the frame and lying in the corner like an abandoned child.

“Fuck, fuck!” Treena said.

“Shhh,” Julia said and we all walked into the apartment and stopped. Toys were everywhere; it was as if someone had had to move out on a minute's notice. It was awful to look at: the kinds of things that very young children played with, dolls with missing eyes and legs, covered in years of dust. Jake ran over to a window and kicked at the wood criss-crossing it.

“Hey!” We heard behind us. We could hear footsteps in the hallway.

“Shit!” Treena yelled.

The wood was coming loose and Jake continued to kick, hard. Finally both boards came loose with a crack. Jake kicked quickly at the remaining wood and glass and then got out of the way.

“Go!” He yelled and I hesitated. He pushed me forward and I began to scramble out the window.

“Jake!” I said, looking back.

“Go!” He repeated. Outside, I could see that we were by the highway, and a few seconds later, Julia and Treena got out behind me.

“Stop!” I heard right behind us.

“Go!” Jake yelled. We ran.

 

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4

 

The next day, I woke up to a hangover. And guilt. I turned to the phone and dialed Megan's number.

“Hello?” It was Will. Guess the fucker was back.

“Hey, so, uh, did Jake come in last night?'

“No,” he said. I closed my eyes.

“Oh, God.”

“What he do now?”

“I… we… had a party in this old, empty complex and the cops came. And most of us got out, but Jake didn't.”

“That crazy fucker,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes. At least Jake was a non-dickface crazy fucker, which was more than I could say for Will.

“So where you been?” I asked.

“Nowhere.”

“Will, Megan's gonna kill you, man.”

“Whatever. Bitch'll have to deal.”

“You, my little friend, are going to die.”

“Not by that fat bitch's hands.”

“Man, you're rough on her.”

“Well, she's a fucking bitch.”

“A fucking bitch who took you in.”

“Why don't you shut the fuck up?”

“Whoa, whoa cowboy. Calm down,” I said. I could hear the click sound of Will's lighter and then an exhale. “Look. Jake's probably in trouble. My guess is that his parents were called.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing, Will. Jesus. Look, I have to work today and I'm grounded but I'll come by tonight. Jake might need some of his stuff.”

Jake had just gotten a shipment from Denver, and the plan had been to get the rest of it after the party so that I could transfer it to my place.

“OK, laters.”

“Bye,” I said, and hung up.

I grabbed for the baggie and pipe under my bed. Smoked. Laid back down. Eventually, I trudged up the steps and saw Mom sitting at the table, grading. I went and fixed a bowl of cereal and sat down.

“So, your auntie called this morning. Jake didn't show up at home last night, and he just got caught by the police. Turns out he and some other kids were partying last night somewhere they shouldn't have been. You know anything about that?”

“Uh… no.”

“Margaritte, if I find out that you were there, I am really going to be angry. And so is your dad.”

“Dad,” I repeated, rolling my eyes.

“Your dad has every right to be angry at you.”

“I guess.”

“I don't know what we're going to do with you, Margaritte. You just keep doing things that are going to destroy your life. Do you know where your cousin is? Again? Juvie. And your Auntie told me that if he is caught doing one more illegal thing, he will be tried as an adult. Did you know that?”

I was silent. I hadn't known that. But I'd wondered. I was just glad that he'd sold out of the weed that he'd brought to the party.

“And do you want to end up in juvie?”

I shuddered. Jake wasn't the only kid I knew who'd done time there. And Jake did OK, because he was big. But not everyone did so well. There were fights, and people molesting people. One girl I knew had a scar on her face, a big, angry pink pucker from the right side above her eye to just above the left side of her mouth. From a knife. Because she'd refused to let some other girl fuck around with her in the middle of the night.

“No,” I said, my voice flat, moody. I went up to the counter and poured myself some coffee, put cream and sugar in the cup and looked out the open window, the dingy curtains flapping in the breeze. The window faced the street. It was sunny, and watching the cars pass by, the people on their way to work, something came over me, into my stomach.

“Where is Dad?” I asked, still looking out. There was a robin that came every spring. It would sit in the tree outside of the window, cock its head at the reflection of the branches and fly into the window. It did it over and over again. I was wondering when it would make its annual appearance and start knocking its head on the glass.

“Work.”

I turned around and she was grading again. I suppose she'd given up on trying to change me for the better for the moment. I finished my cereal and went into the living room to watch TV with the twins, who clapped their hands at the images every few minutes and then went silent, staring into the box.

I'd watched about an hour's worth of kiddie shows with them when Mom asked me if I could give them a bath.

I hung my head. “Sure.”

“No!” Carrie yelled.

I spent the morning taking care of the twins and actually doing some of my homework. Afternoon, I drove over for my shift at the Sugar Plum. It was slow as hell and I only came home with five dollars in tips. There had been two tables the whole time. A townie family, who gave me five bucks. And a yuppie family, on their way to something else, probably a ski resort, probably Vail or some shit. They hadn't tipped at all. I drove home in a funk and ate dinner with Mom, the twins, and a silent, drunken Dad. By the time night hit, I was more than ready to make my escape.

I waited until everyone had settled down for the night, the sounds of television from the living room and Mom's bedroom drifting downstairs before I opened the window and crawled out. I drove over to Megan's, the evening growing cold and the streets empty. When I got there, Megan was just getting home, slowly coming up the steps a little ahead of me, her baby on her back. She always complained that the cost of daycare barely made working worth it. I called her name and she looked over her shoulder at me, sweat pouring off her brow even though it was dark and cool. She said nothing as I helped her carry her groceries in, her large, yellow arms unloading into my wiry yellow ones. We put the groceries away, Megan glancing over at Will like she could rip his head off and shit down his throat. He was sitting on the couch, watching us, a fucking petulant ass expression on his face. I figured they had been fighting about bills, again. I don't know how Will wasn't afraid for his life. Megan was a tough broad. Talked all the time about the fights she used to get in on her rez when she was a teenager. Like jumping on chick's heads and scratching at their eyes kinda stories. I made sure to never get on her bad side.

She breastfed the baby and went into her room to put her down for the night. I watched them go, the baby's dark, fuzzy head peeking sleepily over Megan's shoulder. It was cute as hell but cried all the time. When I first started hanging at Will's, just watching the baby sleep made me want to pop one out. But after a while, I started calling it birth control 'cause just seeing how much you had to do to be a parent was exhausting, especially when you were alone. It was hard enough being a part-time parent for the twins, who were at least old enough to shit on their own. I couldn't imagine how Megan did it. Her husband is this Ute guy who had ended up in prison and because it was cheap to live here, she had asked Will, who was living with a bunch of deadbeats in Denver at the time, if he wanted to live with her. She had gotten a job waitressing at the Derby. Will had gotten lots of jobs, and been fired from, or quit, all of them.

The weird thing about Will was though he could be a giant shithead, he could be real sweet with the baby. He would even change her diapers. Sometimes, Megan would get so tired from her job and the baby that she'd fall asleep in front of the TV while she was breastfeeding. Her head just would roll back into the couch and the baby would wake up and cry and Will would come. He'd gather her up in his arms and sing to her in Lakota, which impressed the hell outta me. I mean, the last person in our family who'd spoken Indian was my grandma, though my mom and auntie know a few words.

Megan came out of her room and fell into the couch like it was her final resting place. She took her sneaks off and started rubbing her feet, her eyes closed and her mouth in a tight, angry line.

“My feet feel like they're falling off every time I get home. And the people, goddamn, they're so fucking annoying. It's like, this isn't good, give me a side of some shit, could I get more ice tea. Jesus. Spoiled fucking wasichus never had to worry about a thing besides getting more ice tea.”

“So you don't feel like it's a calling?” I asked. She looked over at me like now it was my throat that was in danger of being ripped off and shit down. Megan was just real serious and sometimes didn't get when I was kidding.

“Like it's spiritually fulfilling,” I said.

“You're an asshole,” she said, cracking a smile.

“So, you're gonna stay with it. For the spiritual fulfillment.”

“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I should get a goddamn eagle feather for coming in every day. No joke. It just gets harder and harder to give a fuck.” I nodded. I mean, I wasn't sure what I was gonna do with my life, but if I was still waitressing in my thirties, I'd want to fucking lose my shit too.

Will was silent during this conversation. And even though I'd gotten Megan to laugh a little bit to distract her from the fact that a big, stupid leech was sitting on her couch, I could feel the tension rising.

“Who wants to have a smoke?” I asked, and Will got up and followed me outside.

“So, how's it?” I asked, handing him a cigarette.

“It's cool. Just trying to think about how I'm going to get out of here. This town is just not for me.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, looking at my watch. I had to go soon, do a couple deals.

“Once I save up, I'm gonna get my ass back to Denver,” Will said. “Get a real job, one that pays, and never look at trash again. I had a good job for a while there, on my rez. I was a manager for a construction company and told all of these wasichus running the show that they could hire Lakotas to do the work a lot cheaper than their regulars. So, they did, and then they promoted me. Had this kick-ass car with Navajo rug type car seats.”

“Wow,” I said. But what I was thinking was, what the fuck ever man. You ain't no reincarnated Geronimo. I used to believe him when he talked about getting things he said he wanted, cars and houses and that, but after a while I realized he wasn't never gonna get that stuff. He's thirty-five and has never held a job for more than a month or two and he doesn't even have a degree. And he hangs with high school kids and losers. And I'm not exactly a debutante, but goddamn if Will isn't one of the crudest guys I've ever met, and that's saying a lot, unfortunately. He just isn't the kind of guy that's gonna make money, it doesn't matter how much he wants it. Stupid fucker can't even pay the rent or the bills and keeps charging the phone bill up with sex numbers.

We were high enough up that in the far distance I could almost see the 7-11, the dirty, faded neon lights glowing faintly, and I imagined the kids hanging out in front of it who were always hanging out in front of some convenience store somewhere, smoking, angry, young; their dirty black t-shirts and jeans covered in years of working shitty jobs too early in life, the skin of their hands cracked open with the soap that they make us use to clean things that will never be clean.

I sighed heavily and looked over at Will. “There's this crazy girl who hangs out at the 7-11 until dawn and asks anybody who'll listen if they want to see a picture of her baby. So one day I was crazy drunk and it was about two in the morning and there she was. I marched up to her and said,
Yeah, I wanna see it
. She pulled out a picture of a dead baby. I guess maybe I know Indians that crazy but she was one fucked up white girl, I tell you what.”

Will laughed and said, “Well, that's not the kind of people I wanna to hang out with.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. The kind of people I want to hang out with have class.”

“Class?”

“You know, the kind of people who want good, tasteful things, not trash.”

I rolled my eyes at him and then said, “Will. Nobody wants trash. Nobody.”

“I guess,” he said.

We finished our smokes and I went back inside to tell Megan I was leaving, and to thank her for letting Jake stay with her but she was asleep. Will sat down on the couch as far away from her as he could. I sighed, picked Jake's stash up, and left.

Thursday, I was sitting on the stairwell, eating lunch and reading. I'd come out through the large metal doors, a part of the endless stream of bodies, the smell of people everywhere, and into the sun, happy to no be in a classroom for awhile. I'd been able to talk to Jake once on the phone. He'd told me he was going to be in for a month. That maybe that was best, as his parents didn't want to talk to him, wouldn't take his calls. I figured I could do our deals by myself, though I missed him. And I hated going to the house in Denver where we got our supply. It was full of creepy guys who always eyed me hard, with paranoia or interest or both.

I'd been trying to do my homework, too. I was just bad at it. I'd get home from school, and I was just so tired, and then Mom would need help with dinner and the twins, and you never knew what kind of mood Dad was gonna be in, which was draining. So by the time I got to my homework, if I'd avoided once of Dad's drunken monologues, or him trying to bond with me by pushing me to watch the
MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour
with him or
NOVA
or some shit, it was 10:00. So most times I rushed through it, if I even did it at all.