The Removed

by Brandon Hobson

  For a moment I watched some kids dance in the spray of a fire hydrant down the street. I headed inside, where I saw three guys at the front desk. They were young, probably college age, and only one looked like he lifted weights. The other two were thin and gangly. They looked more like the type of kids who spent summers home from college sleeping until noon and playing video games all day. I asked them where the youth program was meeting, and one of them told me they were upstairs in the game room and should be down any minute. I thanked him and walked down the hall to the vending machines and tables, where I sat and watched a group of elderly women do water aerobics in the indoor pool. I played on my phone a while, until I heard a group of kids and saw them coming down the stairs. They were out of control, hurrying and laughing. I’d walked back down the hall about halfway when I saw Luka running out the door. From the front desk I could see him outside, walking away with Vin. I decided not to follow them and stood still as they got into the car. One of the gangly guys at the desk kept asking me if I needed help, but I didn’t say anything. I waited until Vin drove off before I went out the doors and back to my bicycle.

  THAT EVENING VIN CALLED as I got out of the shower. I hurried to my bed to answer my phone.

  “Do you want to go out to dinner?” he asked.

  “I’d rather just fuck you somewhere,” I said.

  “Whoa,” he said. “Hell yeah. I got a sitter for Luka, so let’s do it. But I need to eat first. I’m fucking starving over here.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  About an hour later he picked me up at my house but waited in the car for me to come out. He wanted to go somewhere nice but couldn’t decide. I suggested we drive to Tulsa and go to the restaurant in the Cherokee Casino because I knew the manager there, and we could sneak into the buffet by entering through the kitchen. Vin said the idea of a buffet sounded good, but I wondered whether he just liked the fact that dinner would be free.

  The restaurant was crowded, so it wasn’t hard for my friend Lucille to let us in. Lucille never let me pay even when I offered. Leave it for the tip, she would tell me, which I told Vin about at our table. Lucille was a friend I’d been at school with years ago, whose mother held a high position in the tribal council. The casino was a gold mine for the tribe when it opened, and it only got better as it increased in size and development, soon adding a hotel and pool next door and bringing in concerts and boxing matches and other entertainment. I hadn’t seen Lucille for a while, so we talked for a few minutes about her family, and I introduced her to Vin.

  As we ate, we settled into a silence that, strangely, felt awkward despite the night we’d spent together. The silence irritated me, I realized as we ate, and I watched him devour his food without saying much. I was unsure what he was thinking about us, or if he was thinking about us at all. I asked him if he ever took Luka out to the casino’s pizza buffet, where kids eat free on Fridays, and he said it was one of Luka’s favorite restaurants, except that the noise of the arcade games and music was too much stimulation for him. It was too much stimulation for all of us, I said.

  “I saw my dad today at his house,” he told me.

  “He’s still sick, huh?”

  “He’s lost a lot of weight. The in-home nurse was helping him. It’s horrible to see.”

  “You have a really cute kid,” I told him, changing the subject. “Luka’s a real doll. You spend a lot of time with him? I could watch him sometime if you need someone.”

  “I guess,” he said, eating.

  “He’s a great kid. He seems interested in lots of things. Artistic, huh? Imaginative?”

  “I guess,” he said. “I’d probably coach Little League sports if the opportunity ever arose, but that’s probably not happening with Luka.”

  Clearly Luka was not at all what Vin had hoped he would be. Because of his autism, he was more interested in sitting outside looking through binoculars at squirrels and birds than throwing a baseball. But I liked Luka. In a way, he felt like he could be a son to me, or a little brother. I was so wounded after Ray-Ray died that I was never a very good big sister to Edgar. I wanted to know more about Luka—what his favorite color was, what he liked to eat and drink. I wanted to know his teacher’s name, his friends’ names, his favorite subject in school, his hobbies. He was a wonderful boy, I could tell, and I knew he liked to ride his scooter in his driveway, play with a remote-control car, and also pretend to be a bird, which was odd for a boy his age. I could teach him Cherokee words—tsisqua (“bird”), osiyo (“hello”), Agiyosi, inalisday vhvga (“I’m hungry, let’s eat”)—and help him do his homework, teach him about girls and school and life. I’d helped Edgar with his homework when we were young because Mom and Papa worked so much. We didn’t have much time for ourselves back then. I could tell Luka I knew what it meant to struggle for time with loved ones. I could tell him I’d always wanted a son.

  “I guess I’m wondering if the middle school years will be too hard socially,” Vin said. “He already has to deal with other kids playing too rough with him, or making fun of him. I want him to like sports or guitar or drums or something like that. But he wants to be in the goddamn chess club.”

  Luka was in a local chess club that met once a week at the community center downtown, Vin said, and one of the kids there had mocked Luka’s behavior. When I asked what this behavior was, he told me that Luka sometimes rocked back and forth during the game, a way to channel his thinking and anxiety, which was not unusual. But it was eccentric behavior for boys not familiar with autism. Vin had witnessed the boy making fun of Luka’s rocking and talked to his mother about it.

  “What did she say?” I asked.

  He took a bite of his corn on the cob and told me he didn’t want to be around her in that moment, so he stormed out before she had a chance to respond. “She needs to learn to control her goddamn kid and learn some parenting skills,” he said. “Her kid needs to learn how to show some respect.”

  At this, I could tell he was getting worked up, bothered by the memory. “Does Luka like any other board games besides chess?”

  “He’ll play anything as long as it makes everyone happy.” He took a drink of his beer. “He doesn’t like conflict. Anything too competitive is hard. He isn’t aggressive enough, and I don’t want him to grow up weak.”

  “Don’t be such an asshole,” I told him.

  “I don’t want him to be bullied. I wish he liked sports.”

  “You want him to be aggressive?”

  “I don’t want him to be a pushover.”

  “He’s so adorable,” I told him. “He reminds me of my brother when he was alive. He looks like him, even.”

  I wanted to tell Vin about Ray-Ray then, but it wasn’t the right place. I wasn’t ready yet for that conversation. Still, I grew irritated. “You don’t want to hear about my life,” I said.

  “I want to gamble for a while,” he said, not paying attention to me. “We saved money from a free dinner, right? Let’s go play while we’re here.”

  I didn’t say anything. I followed him to the slot machines and sat down at a Triple Seven machine and played. I lost twenty dollars quickly, more than I cared to lose. I watched Vin play for a while. At one point he looked around for the cocktail waitress and said he wanted a beer. He handed me a twenty and asked if I’d go to the bar and get him one and buy myself a drink as well. It was this kind of behavior that he was completely clueless about, making assumptions that any woman would immediately do as he told; he was buying my drink, after all, so I’d fetch him a goddamn beer? Or maybe I was wrong, maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. Maybe he had gotten away with it for too long. The quick surge of anger I felt toward him surprised me.

  “Oh sure, let me just run off and fetch you a beer,” I said. “Okay?”

  He kept slapping the button on the machine, his stupid mouth open. He glanced at me. “Don’t be like that,” he said.

  “Like what?”

  “I’m doing pretty good here. Up forty bucks
.” He kept slapping the button and staring into the machine.

  On the way out, after Vin had lost over a hundred dollars and was shaking his head in disbelief that he had allowed himself to drain his cash, I suggested we stop somewhere for a drink. “We should go back to my place while Luka’s still with the sitter,” he said, and put his hand on the small of my back as we crossed the parking lot.

  “With the sitter there?” I said.

  “She won’t mind,” he said. “It’s cool, trust me. She’ll keep him downstairs. She’s cool.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “Not tonight, okay? I should check on my parents. My dad’s Alzheimer’s can be difficult for my mom.”

  “Right,” he said, but I knew he was pissed off.

  He drove me to my house without saying anything. His silence made me uncomfortable. When he pulled into my driveway, I leaned over and put my hand on his leg and rubbed it lightly. I kissed him, running my tongue over his lip, touching his cheek with my hand. He pulled back and gave me a distant look, as if he were unsure what to make of this.

  “I’ll talk to you later?” I said.

  “Yeah, talk to you later.”

  When I got out of the car, he sped away.

  I DIDN’T WANT TO THINK about Vin for the rest of the night. I felt wired and anxious, mainly because I was so annoyed by his behavior. I reminded myself that he wasn’t really a very nice person and probably ignored his son too much. I tried not to think about him for a while, but a strong fear came over me. I have always had anxiety, but this was stronger. I worried he would come back to my house and become violent. He would get drunk and return to confront me. I felt a strong spiritual connection to this warning, but I brushed it off and decided to distract myself with chores.

  I worked in my backyard in the darkness, raking leaves. I watered the grass, watching the sprinkler spray thin arcs of water around the lawn, and as I watched I saw a hawk swoop down and land across the yard at the base of a tree. The hawk spread its wings and took a few steps. It noticed me, or so it seemed, and it watched me. It wasn’t even midnight, but I still felt troubled.

  I decided to clean the basement, where I never spent time. I turned on the light and carefully walked down the stairs. The room was drafty, and mostly empty. My old bed from when I was younger was there, along with piles of old possessions I hadn’t seen in years. I started stacking boxes near a wall—all the framed pictures, old newspaper clippings, toys. There were boxes of Christmas decorations, tinsel and ornaments, colored bulbs, and old-fashioned magazines. There was a shelf holding some books, two empty cans of paint, and some old paintbrushes. There was a half-eaten cube of mouse poison and an old mousetrap from when I had mice last winter. I swept and dusted until the entire basement was neat and tidy, and afterward I removed all my clothes and got into bed with my Colette book and was quite happy.

  Tsala

  FOR MOST OF MY LIFE I was not an angry man. I never expected to feel such fury, but the earth sent us warnings: there was a drought. The summer solstice had burned up the soil, and one could taste dust in the air. The wind rose up and howled. Beloved, it was crucial we paid attention to these warnings. We knew the time was near.

  Our prophets, too, had warned of the soldiers coming to remove us from our land. This was a terrifying time. We were frightened but ready to defend our home. Our people would refuse to leave, even though we had been tricked by the government with their fraudulent treaty. We did not trust them. It was a time, too, for hope. Some of the missionaries introduced us to the Christianity religion and read from the book of Matthew as it had been translated by one of the men from New Echota. We discussed peace and sacrifice. We also talked about the treaty and our humility. During this time, I saw visions of the dying before I understood what it means to die.

  VISIONS OF THE COMING SOLDIERS

  The night before the soldiers arrived, I looked up to the yonder sky, where I saw visions of the dying. I saw people walking alongside oxcarts, carrying their children and their food while soldiers sat in wagons with their guns. I saw the fighting of warriors and soldiers across the land as my people hid in the bloodstained grass. I saw people dying of starvation and disease. I saw the slaughter of the fattest cattle and the passing of the war pipe while our people mourned for the dead. I saw horses dying and snakes lying in the red dust at night. I saw a deaf boy running through a field while soldiers called for him to stop; when he didn’t, they shot him dead. I saw the burning of ranches and stage stations, and afterward the feasting and dancing. I saw a wind sweeping down into a dead body and giving birth to an eagle, who flew away into a red dawn. I saw bursts of fire in the sky and bodies trailing away like smoke. I saw deer and smaller animals running toward the mountains.

  Later in the night I woke to the drumming of spirits, or so I thought. I walked outside to look to the trees. The drumming stopped, but I saw nothing. I looked to the sky: there I saw the great blacksnake, the screech owl, the horned owl, and a group of people walking, all moving toward a giant tree in the sky. The tree was on fire, and burning so fiercely I could feel the stinging in my eyes as I watched. Then smoke began to cover the people, and the ashes fell from the sky like falling stars. I had to cover my eyes and go back inside, where I lay awake until dawn. My wife said this was a strong vision of what was coming our way. All the pain and suffering. All the walking, all the deaths.

  I, too, dreamed of soldiers arriving in Kusawatiyi, and I knew then that we needed to go to the mountains, where they wouldn’t find us.

  THE YUNWI TSUNSDI

  The Yunwi Tsunsdi were believed to be Little People living in the mountains, which worried many of us. You could hear drumming coming from the caves there. Some believed it came from these spirits, as they were quite fond of music and dancing. They had lived there even when our ancestors were alive. In the time of the smallpox epidemic, a hunter in the middle of a snowy winter afternoon found small footprints leading to the mountains, which he believed were the footprints of children. Concerned that these children were freezing to death, he followed the footprints to a cave. A few days passed. People began searching for him, thinking he had been eaten by a bear, but when he returned a few weeks later, he told them that he had become ill with smallpox, and that the Yunwi Tsunsdi people had taken care of him until he was feeling well enough to leave.

  They were no taller than his waist, he said. They comforted him. Their hands and eyes were fire. They were nocturnal, night travelers like owls, and did not wish to be seen. Their teeth were crooked, their eyes bulging. Our people say that if you hear music and drumming coming from the mountains at night, it is likely the Yunwi Tsunsdi. No one knows why they are so secretive, but you can hear them in the mountains. We would soon come to know the mountains very well. The mountains were as mysterious as the Yunwi Tsunsdi.

  But here is an important story of the Little People: in the beginning, people started to believe that the sun was growing angry as it grew hotter outside, and they feared the world would burn during a drought. The land went one hundred days with no rain. The grass and crops were dying, the rivers were drying up; even people were dying during the hottest days. What do we do? people thought, and decided they would go to the Little People in the mountains and seek counsel. When they arrived, the Little People told them that the sun was jealous of the moon because people loved to look at the moon, and they squinted at the sun. The sun did not understand its power over the earth, only that it provided light, which was a good thing. It could not understand why people were so afraid to look at it, shielding their eyes and spending time in shady areas.

  For days a dog howled from the mountain. It was believed that the dog was howling as a signal that rainfall was coming. The dog’s owner could not get the dog to stop howling. He tried feeding the dog, comforting it, but the dog kept howling and howling, pacing back and forth, pacing and howling. The Little People made medicine that changed two men into hawks. Both men flew high into the sky, directly toward the sun, but they becam
e blind and burned and fell to their deaths.

  Soon afterward, the Little People said that the sun felt so sad that it went into hiding, and a great rainfall came, and people rejoiced. The sun loved the earth too much to burn it up.

  It rained for six days and brought a great flood. Rivers overflowed and destroyed houses, and some people died. The man and his dog disappeared after the flood. Their bodies were never found. It is said that late in the night one can still hear the sad howl of the dog’s spirit.

  Beloved: as we packed our clothes and supplies to prepare for the journey, we could hear a sad howl coming from the mountains.

  * * *

  The night before the soldiers arrived, while you were sleeping, I reached down and touched your hair, your back, your forehead. You stirred in your sleep. Across the room, your mother was stripping corn. Your beautiful mother, her hair hanging down her body, facing away from me. I moved silently so I could see her face. Back then we grew corn and squash, sunflowers and pumpkins, and we dressed deerskins together. We walked at night together to be alone. Then I began to silently weep. I lay down beside you and wept, for you, for your mother, and for our people, who would soon have to hide in the mountains. I wept for the people who would be beaten. I wept for the people in wagons and the ones who would walk west. I wept for all who would soon be suffering and dying.

  My son, that night when the soldiers arrived, you dreamed of their arrival. You woke crying. Your mother consoled you until you were able to describe what you saw in your dream: the people dying all around us, in wagons and in fields and snow. You saw the frostbite on children’s hands. You saw people falling to the ground. I told my people that we would need to protect the land from the threat of the coming winter. I had a very unsettled feeling about it all. While you fell back asleep, I lay awake, worried that your prophecy was worse than you dreamed. I was correct. The soldiers arrived a few hours later.