Reservation Blues - Alexie Sherman (36 page)

Chess wanted to say so
much to the white woman and her half-Indian son. She closed her eyes,
opened them again, and the white woman and her son were gone. They'd
never been there.

*

"What is it?" Thomas asked Chess. The rest
of Coyote Springs, Big Mom, and Father Arnold had already begun the
walk away from the cemetery. Lester FallsApart and the three dogs
followed closely behind. Chess still stood at the graveside, staring
into the distance.

"Chess?" Thomas asked again."What is
it?"

"Thomas," Chess said and took his hand,
"let's get married. Let's have kids."

Thomas was surprised. He couldn't respond.

"Really," Chess said."Let's have lots
of brown babies. I want my babies to look up and see two brown faces.
That's the best thing we can give them, enit? Two brown faces. Do you
want to?"

Thomas smiled.

"Okay," he said.

* * *

Checkers went straight to bed when they returned to
Thomas's house after the burial. Thomas and Big Mom sat in the
kitchen and talked about making lunch. Victor jumped in the blue van
and drove away. Father Arnold stood alone outside on the front lawn,
feeling unwelcome.

"Checkers?" Chess asked her sister."Are
you okay?"

"Yeah," Checkers said."I'm just tired.
I haven't been sleeping well."

"
Those nightmares, enit? Does Sheridan keep
coming back for you?"

"
It ain't Sheridan anymore. It's Dad who comes
every night now."

"
What?" Chess asked. Luke Warm Water rarely
entered her dreams.

"
Yeah," Checkers said."He stands in
the doorway of the bedroom. Just like he used to. He's been drinking.
I can smell him. He doesn't say nothing. He just stands there in the
doorway, holding his arms out to me. Then I wake up."

"
Do you think it's really him?" Chess
asked.

"
Yeah, it's him."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's crying the whole time."

The sisters sat for a long while in silence. They
held hands; they cried.

"We're leaving soon, you know," Chess said
after a while."Thomas and I are leaving for Spokane. Are you
coming or not?"

"
What are we going to do about money?"
Checkers asked.

"I got a job. At the phone company. As an
operator."

"Enit?"

"Enit. It'll hold us over until you and Thomas
find Jobs."

"Does Victor know?"

"No."

"Does Big Mom know?"

"
Probably. You should tell Father Arnold."

"I don't want to talk to him, " Checkers
said."I don't care what he does."

A knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Chess asked.

"It's me, Big Mom."

"Come in."

Big Mom stepped in, and Father Arnold was right
behind her.

"He wants to talk to you, " Big Mom said to
Checkers.

"Alone."

Checkers shook her head.

"Okay," Big Mom said."How about if
Chess stays?"

Checkers looked at her sister. Chess nodded in the
affirmative.

"Good," Big Mom said and left the
room."I've got some lunch to make."

Arnold closed the door, sat in a chair at the foot of
the bed."

"Hello," he said.

Checkers looked at Chess.

"Hello," Checkers said to Arnold.

"How are you?" he asked. He looked scared.

"
I'm okay."

Arnold looked at Chess, then back at Checkers.

"
Can we talk?" he asked.

"
About what?" Checkers asked.

"
About us."

"Yeah, I guess so."

The three all looked uncomfortable, exchanged
glances, stared at the floor, walls, and ceiling.

"I'm sorry for everything," Arnold said.

"
You should be."

"This is all my fault. I led you on."

"Well," Checkers said, "none of that
matters much now. We're leaving the reservation. So you don't have to
worry about me. I'm leaving and you can stay."

"You're leaving?" Arnold asked, feeling a
combination of sadness and relief.

"We're moving to Spokane. Chess got a job as a
telephone operator."

"
When are you leaving?"

"Soon," Checkers said and reached under the
bed. "And here's a bottle of your Communion wine. I stole it
because I was mad at you."

"Why'd you steal that?" Chess asked,
shocked at her sister.

"
I was going to get drunk. But then Junior shot
himself."

Arnold took the bottle. There was a long silence.

"Do you forgive me?" Checkers asked Arnold.

"Yes, do you forgive me?"

"I don't know. Am I allowed to?"

"Yes, you're allowed to."

"Well, then. I don't think I do. Not yet. I
mean, I still love you. I still feel that, you know? It ain't like
that changes. But I can still tell you to shove your God up your ass.
But I don't know if I mean it. I don't know what I mean. I don't know
nothing, and you don't know any more than I do."

Arnold didn't say anything. He agreed with Checkers.
He'd been just all of the other performers in the world. He'd wanted
to be universally loved. He wasn't all that different from Victor,
Thomas, or even Junior. They all got onstage and wanted the audience
to believe in them. They all wanted the audience to throw their room
keys, panties, confessions, flowers, and songs onstage. They wanted
the audience to trust them with all their secrets. But Victor,
Thomas, and Junior had fallen apart in the face of all of that.
Arnold had fallen apart, too. Junior could never be put back together
again, but maybe the rest of them could.

"
Discipline," Father Arnold said with much
difficulty. It was only one word, but he needed to find the one word
that would make Chess and Checkers understand."I knew how to
pray with discipline. I can do it again."

Chess and Checkers both understood but still felt
suspicious. They'd grown up with priests and their churches. The
sisters had loved them all. The sisters had loved to kneel in the pew
and pray in exactly the way they'd been taught. For years, the
sisters said those same prayers over and over, as if sheer repetition
could guarantee results. As if their little prayers had a cumulative
effect on God, adding one on top of another, until all of their
prayers were as tall as a priest's single prayer.

"Checkers," Father Arnold said, "I
can't believe you stole the Communion wine."

"
Enit?" Checkers asked."Not very
original, was it?"

"
No," Father said. "And that stuff is
awful anyway. How did you ever think you could drink it?"

"Discipline," Checkers said and laughed.
Chess and Father Arnold laughed, too. But it was forced, awkward, as
if everything depended on it.

* * *

After Victor left Thomas's house in the blue van, he
drove around for a few hours before he finally parked at Turtle Lake.
There was nobody else around. He turned on the radio and heard Freddy
Fender.

"Junior," Victor said."What the fuck
did you do?"

Victor closed his eyes and saw Junior sitting in the
passenger seat when he opened them. Junior looked exactly like
someone who had shot himself in the head with a rifle.

"Happy reservation fucking Halloween,"
Junior said, and Victor screamed, which made Junior scream, too. They
traded screams for a while.

"So," Junior said after the screams had
stopped, "are you happy to see me?"

"
Jesus," Victor said. "What do you
think this is? An American Werewolf in London? You're supposed to be
a ghost, not a piece of raw meat."

"Ya-hey," Junior said."Good one."

"I don't believe this," Victor said and
closed his eyes. He heard a rifle blast. He was shaking.

"Are you going to miss me?"

Victor opened his eyes and looked at Junior. He
didn't know what to feel.

"I'm going to miss getting drunk with you,"
Victor said.

"
Oh, yeah, enit? We had some good times, didn't
we?"

Victor smiled. Junior pulled a silver flask out of
his coat and offered it to Victor.

"Hey, look, " Junior said, "somebody
put this in my coffin during the wake. Was it you? Must be worth
fifty bucks. Maybe you can hock it. I don't really need it where I 'm
going."

Victor took the flask, opened it, and sniffed.

"It's whiskey," Victor said."It
must've been Father Arnold. You know those priests."

"Sure. Take a drink."

"
I don't know, man. I've been thinking about
going on the wagon."

"
Since when?"

"Since you killed yourself. I ain't drunk any
since then, you know?"

Junior and Victor stared at the silver flask.

"It's pretty, enit?" Junior asked.

"Yeah," Victor said. "I wonder if
Father Arnold really gave it to you."

"Maybe."

Victor was nervous. He'd never talked to the dead
before. It felt like a first date.

"This feels like a first date, enit?"
Junior asked.

"Yeah, it does."

"So," Junior said, "am I going to get
lucky?"

Both laughed. There was silence. They laughed at the
silence. There was more silence.

"Why'd you do it?" Victor asked.

"Do what?"

"
You know, shoot yourself. In the head."

"You know," Junior said, "I heard some
people talking at the Trading Post after I did it. They thought I
couldn't hear them. But I could. They said I didn't mean to kill
myself. That I was Just looking for attention. Assholes."

"Some people sent you flowers, though, did you
see?"

"Yeah, the assholes."

Silence.

"
You know," Junior said, "I really am
going to miss getting drunk with you. Remember when we used to go out
chasing white women? Before you got fat and ugly."

"Fat and ugly, my ass. Those white women loved
me."

"
Do you remember Betty and Veronica?"

"Of course."

"Those two weren't bad," Junior said."Maybe
we should've held on to them."

"Yeah, maybe. Junior, why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Kill yourself."

Junior looked away, watching the sunlight reflecting
off Turtle Lake.

"
Because life is hard," Junior said.

"That's it?"

"That's the whole story, folks. I wanted to be
dead. Gone. No more."

"Why?"

"Because when I closed my eyes like Thomas, I
didn't see a damn thing. Nothing. Zilch. No stories, no songs.
Nothing."

Victor looked down at the silver flask of whiskey in
his hands. He wanted to take a drink. He wanted that guitar back,
still dreamed about it every night.

"And," Junior added, "because I didn't
want to be drunk no more."

Victor rolled down his window and threw the flask out
into Turtle Lake. It sank quickly.

"I don't need that no more," Victor
said."I'm going on the wagon."

"Here, " Junior said and handed Victor
another flask.

"You better throw this one out, too."

"How many of these you got?"

"A whole bunch. We better get to work."

"
What are we going to do after this?"
Victor asked.

"
Well, I've got other places to go. But I think
you should go get yourself a goddamn job. I ain't going to be around
to take care of your sorry ass anymore."

Like some alcoholic magician, Junior pulled flask
after flask from his clothes and handed them to Victor, who threw
them out the window into Turtle Lake. Those silver flasks floated
down through the lake rumored to have no bottom, rumored to be an
extinct volcano, and came to rest miles below the surface.

* * *

Big Mom lit the sage, and Chess, Checkers, and Thomas
bathed themselves in the smoke. They pulled the smoke through their
hair, over their legs and arms, into their open mouths.

"Who do you want to pray for?" Big Mom
asked.

"Everybody."

Big Mom picked up a 45 record with her huge hands and
gently placed it on the turntable. She placed needle to vinyl, and
they all waited together for the music.

* * *

Spokane Tribal Chairman David WalksAlong sat in his
office, thinking about his nephew Michael White Hawk, when Victor
came looking for a job. His nephew had been getting progressively
worse, going from wandering around the football field in confused
circles to drinking Sterno with the Android Brothers behind the
Trading Post. All those half-crazy Sterno drunks talked some kind of
gibberish to each other that only they understood. WalksAlong was
wondering if he should Just shoot his nephew in the head and end his
misery, just like that Junior Polatkin ended his own misery.