Squaw Girl: A Boxer's Battle for Love

by Abby Winter Flower

  Laura returns to the kitchen without Jenny. “The bedrooms are a mess and the file cabinet is gone from your mom’s closet,” she says.

  “What the hell?” Jack repeats himself. “There’s nothing in that little file drawer but some school records and the bank note for the double wide.”

  I look at the package on the table. “Let’s see what they brought me for my birthday.”

  We gather round the table and I open it. The box is filled with dog shit.

  We’re staring at it when Andy walks in. He’s carrying a birthday cake and wearing a bright smile. He drops the smile when he sees what’s on the table. He drops the cake when he sees Jack’s feral expression and Mom’s tear stained face. The two sides of my life that I work so hard to keep separate abruptly collide.

  “Hey Andy, welcome to Desperation Hollow. Great time to meet the family.”

  Chapter 8

  I get Andy out of mom’s double wide and take him to the abandoned trailer where I really live. From the outside it’s a rusted out hulk at the edge of a tamarack swamp. I’ve worked had to make the inside better.

  “Not plush, but all I need.” I walk him through the inventory. “A second hand computer—a homemade desk—bookshelves made of abandoned planks—a bed, really a cot I found at the casino—very old TV—wood burning stove—a microwave—mini fridge, and, of course, the luxury bathroom.” I point out the only window to the outhouse by the swamp. “I did invest in a water heater and a shower. I’m not a complete savage.”

  “It looks really clean.” He’s still in shock but, true to form, finds something positive to say. “What about electricity and internet?”

  “I rigged a line to mom’s power hookup and bootleg internet from Mrs. Little-Crow’s cable, two trailers up the road. She’s too old to notice the difference.”

  It’s cooling off so I fire up the stove. Andy is wearing a light jacket over a t-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. I give him a pair of wool hunting socks and a heavy flannel shirt. “Now you look like you belong in a squatter’s trailer next to the reservation. How do you like my digs?”

  He smiles—his patented melting variety—and sits next to me on the cot. “It’s different and so are you.” He touches my arm and the melting continues. “Tell me about your family.”

  “First, tell me why you came to the fight.”

  “I was worried about you—the guilt—the attack—not coming to class—not connecting with me.”

  “I saw you walk out.”

  “Levi and Mia mocking you, the blood, the violence—all too much.”

  “Why’d you come to my mom’s trailer?”

  “I thought you lived there. I didn’t know about this place. Today’s your birthday. You seemed so sad, so confused at that awful party that horrible night. I got a cake and wanted to cheer you up.”

  “That it?”

  “No, there’s more and you know it. I need to find out where we really stand. You were like a beam from a lighthouse. You shined on me, gave me hope but then turned away and left me in darkness. You’ve been avoiding everyone, haven’t showed up at school. I’ve texted and called ten times a day—no response.”

  “My phone’s been out there for a couple of weeks, on a rafter.” I point to the shithouse. “A couple of times, I came close to throwing it down the hole.”

  “Layla—Layla, what were you thinking? What have you been doing?” When he uses my name twice in a row, I know he’s serious. When he gives me that merciless stare, I feel like a deer in the headlights.

  “I’ve been taking long walks in the woods, spending time in my thinking spot. Two nights, I slept out there. Been working out at the casino when no one’s around. Been thinking about Roxy, us, my family, what I want to do when I graduate, who tried to kill me, who I really am—little things like that.”

  He moves closer and puts a hand on my thigh. “Lots of heavy stuff.” His voice is soft and so are his eyes. “Come to any conclusions?”

  “About us?”

  “Start there.”

  “I don’t want to lose you again—ever.” He now has one arm around me and the other has moved further up my thigh.

  “And . . . and . . . the rest . . .” His voice is trembling and I can feel him shiver.

  “The rest can wait.”

  It’s been a long time. We’re too nervous and up tight for foreplay. It happens fast.

  The flannel shirt and jacket come off in one piece and I rip the neck of his t-shirt. He tries for my jeans, but can’t find the hook. I get his down to his ankles; he steps out unhooks my bra and I slide off my panties. I step back and we look at each other. “Jesus Christ, Layla. It’s been a long time,” he groans.

  We kiss and crash down on the cot. I’m wet and ready. “Jesus, Layla . . . Jesus … Oh…Layla,” he moans to our increasing rhythm. In a corner of my mind, I remember that Andy is very careful with his language, never swears except during sex, and when he does, it turns me on even more.

  “Godamn . . . Layla . . . Layla . . .,” he chants, faster and faster.”

  The cot tips and we’re on the floor. He pulls me up and we stand in front of each other again in an unplanned break. He puts his hands over my ass and lifts me on the desk top. We’re both ready and it doesn’t take long to get there. “Layla. Layla….god . . . god . . . coming . . . coming ….” He does and so do I.

  He stays over me for a minute. Then we stand. He smiles. “We look like . . . refugees—a strange couple.”

  “Didn’t feel strange to me.”

  “Not that, Look.”

  He pulls me in front of the mirror. He’s only wearing red hunting socks that come up to his knees and I’m clad in a tattered Buck Brush Casino t-shirt with such a sagging neckline, that my Black Bear Clan tattoo shows behind my neck.

  I put the cot back together. It’s too narrow to lay side by side so we wrap ourselves in a blanket and sit. At first we’re quiet, then he takes my hand and says, “You sure focused that lighthouse beam. It was amazingly bright. We need to dim it a bit, make it last longer, savor it. First, I think my batteries need to recharge for a few minutes.”

  “I’ve got time. It’s worth waiting for good things.”

  “Let’s talk about you,” he says. “Your plans after graduation—your feelings about Jack? I want to understand this need of yours to drop your Indian identity and be part of our screwed-up East Side society. I think it has something to do with your family.”

  “It’s complicated, still all tangled up in my head.”

  “Okay, let’s untangle it. Start with your family.”

  “It’s not a pretty story. I’m not ready to talk about my dad or what happened to my mom—sorry not yet.”

  “Tell me about your brother, then.”

  “Jack knocked up Laura when he was a senior in high school. She was a junior. Neither one was cut out for school. Jack wouldn’t have graduated. Laura gave him an excuse to drop out. It was a real shotgun wedding. Laura’s dad is a deputy sheriff over in Duluth. He pulled some strings to clean up Jack’s record if he’d marry her and straighten out. Laura doesn’t know and Jack wants to keep it that way.”

  “Did he straighten out?”

  “Kind of. My Uncle Gus got him a job in security at the casino. Laura works there too. Wears low tops, short-shorts and hustles drinks to the gamblers. It works out for their kid, too. The casino has a day care for employees. She lets them pat her on the ass for tips. I’ve tried it a few times myself—I’d rather box.”

  “Kind of got straight—what’s that mean?”

  “Jack still dabbles in hot cars. They end up on the reservation. The vehicle identification numbers get changed and the buyers ask no questions. That’s where my jeep came from. He still technically owns it but he passed it on to me when he got the truck.”

  “They live with your mom?”

  “Yeah, they moved in after the baby came. It got really crowded. We didn’t get along and I had no place to study. I moved over here when I w
as in high school. I wasn’t old enough to legally live alone, so the record showed I was with mom.”

  He sits back and gives me a serious look. “Layla, what are you going to do about your birthday gift, the break in, and your mom’s cat?”

  “The first thing I’ve got to do is calm Jack down. Deep down he’s a good man but ever since my dad left, he’s had to prove how tough he is. He’s out for blood and wants to go to town now—tonight. I’ll get revenge but I need to get it my way.”

  As if on cue, Jack pounds on the door. We both get up and scramble to put our clothes on. Our second coming has to wait. Andy gets in his little Prius while I try to find a way to keep Jack under control.

  Chapter 9

  I leave class fast, keep my head down and find Jack’s truck in the faculty parking lot outside the physical education center. He’s not supposed to be there but it’s closest to the door. It has another advantage. It’s in the open so I can spot anyone trying to attack me.

  “That where he’ll come out?” His hands squeeze the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white.

  “Be cool. I know his routine. That’s the right one.”

  His breathing is shallow. I see that he’s holding his shoulders high and the cords on his neck are bulging. I’ve kept him under control for the two days since the break in but he’s ready to explode. “I mean it, Jack. Stick to the plan. Don’t blow it now.”

  “Yeah, Yeah—Miss always got a plan—Miss college honor student—Miss super cool,” he rants.

  Just when I think were about to about to get into it ourselves and pass up our chance, I see Chuck coming down the steps. He’s with Karen, a biology major, skinny with a long neck, short body, flat chest, and spindly legs. She’s on the synchronized swimming team and has just come from the pool because I see her mouse colored hair piled up on her head like a wet mop. We timed our visit to grab Chuck after his regular weight room session. He and Karen are an item but I didn’t count on them coming out together.

  “Look at them: a fat frog and a wet scrawny sparrow. Quite a couple.” Humor at someone else’s expense usually distracts Jack. He smiles and I jump out of the cab.

  “Stay here.” I slam the door and don’t give him time to answer.

  Chuck sees me coming and freezes. It confirms what I learned by watching him try to play well enough to justify his bogus football scholarship. Despite his size he’s a coward. Karen’s not. She steps in front of him. “Leave him alone,” she screeches.

  “You need one of them angry birds to stick up for you, Chuck?”

  He doesn’t seem to get my little joke. Probably doesn’t see her as a bird.

  I act fast, brush her away and move beside him, putting one arm over his shoulder, and the other behind his back. Like a dumb plough horse he lets me guide him.

  “Sorry about the party, hope you don’t have hard feelings.” My mouth is next to his ear and I talk loud enough to make him uncomfortable. “To make it up, my brother brought some things for you. You can check out his new truck, too.” He’s almost stupid enough to buy it and moves forward a few feet before pausing. I push a little harder and propel him toward the truck. Karen follows with short, bird-like, hopping steps.

  Jack steps out and takes over. He gets Chuck’s arm in a hammerlock and shoves him in the cab. We didn’t plan on Karen but I pick her up and throw her in too. She ends up on the floor but it’s still a tight squeeze. Jack drives slowly out of the parking lot to avoid attention and we stop behind an abandoned Laundromat three blocks from campus.

  Jack goes to the back of the truck and comes back with rope, duct tape, and handcuffs. I don’t know where he got the cuffs. It’s best not to ask him those kind of questions.

  “Out,” I say, pulling Chuck by the neck of his sweat shirt.

  “What about her?” Jack points his thumb at Karen who is getting up off the floor.

  “She helped him. She comes on our picnic too. Enough food for both of them.”

  “The more, the merrier.” Jack’s happy now.

  “Don’t make trouble,” I say to Karen. You won’t be able to use that scholarship to dental school next year with ten broken fingers. Jack can break them so they won’t heal right, trust me.”

  Karen’s a senior, a good student, and Chuck’s technically in my class but there’s no way he’ll ever graduate next year. North Star’s hard to get in but his dad, a rich alumni from Fargo, pulled some strings and gave the college enough money to get him admitted and keep him eligible. I don’t know what Karen sees in him, but I don’t know what he sees in her either—they both must be desperate.

  We take Chuck to the pickup bed, gag him, wrap him in duct tape and ropes, lay him down and cuff him to an eyelet bolted to the floor. Jack covers him with a tarp and we drive away. Karen stays on the floor, subdued and quiet. I keep my feet on her just in case.

  * * *

  Jack drives slowly with a closed mouth smile that scares me. We don’t talk and Karen stays silent on the floor. I watch us pass through the valley of the shadow of the Lutherans, a spot on College Avenue where, in testimony to the town’s Scandinavian roots, the massive First Lutheran Church towers over the diminutive St. Michael’s Catholic across the street. We turn down the hill toward the river. I look to the right and see the stone posts marking the entrance to College Highlands, the high end East Side development where Levi took me to party.

  Karen squirms, raises her head and says, “Are you out of your minds. This is kidnapping and I’ll—”

  “Shut up and you’ll be fine. Just keep quiet.” I say, pressing my foot harder on her side. This is not a time for her to irritate Jack.

  We pass the row of buildings owned by Mia’s dad, Rolf Olson. I see Mia’s new Lexus parked in front of the new Olson Enterprises office building. Rolf’s away most of the time and when he’s in town, Mia tries to spend time with him. The rest of the Olson complex slides by to my right: a sprawling lumber yard and saw mill, a pulp wood factory, and one of his big box retail stores, Olson’s Hardware and Building Supplies.

  I feel Karen wiggle again. It makes no sense to keep her on the floor any longer. Why make her suffer? First, I need to clear it with Jack. “My foot’s getting tired, let’s let her up.”

  He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Fine, I guess her scrawny ass can fit on your side, those boney hips would injure me.”

  The bucket seat is wide, but our hips do touch and her bone rubs my leg whenever we hit a bump. We cross the bridge and I see the spring flow of water pouring over the falls that gives our town its name. We hit a rut on the West side of the river and her boney hip irritates me again. “Water’s up this time of year. I wonder how long it would take you to reach Two Harbors if I tossed you over the side. I reckon you’d hit Lake Superior by the end of the day.” She doesn’t react but Jack broadens his smile, starts to hum an unrecognizable tune.

  We cross a low lying stand of blighted Jack Pine, gain altitude, and skirt the southwest edge of the Buck Brush open pit iron mine. Buck Brush Falls is on the eastern edge of the Mesabi Iron Range. In tribal language it means “Giant Mountain,” but for Rolf Olson it must mean “Money Pit.” From the side window I can see a freshly painted sign, Property of Olson Enterprises, Keep out. Mia’s dad is better organized than the Arrowhead branch of the Ojibwe Tribe. The only thing I see when we cross the reservation border is an abandoned Texaco station with an old Hamm’s Beer, Land of Sky Blue Waters sign inside the cracked window—it would fetch a good price on e-bay if anyone on the reservation were smart enough to take it.

  Neither of us needs a sign to get to our destination. We know the way by heart and five minutes later we crest a hill and pull into Latex Park, an abandoned picnic ground hidden from the highway. It’s a notorious parking spot that gets its name from the used condoms that litter the ground. I get out, kick away a couple of old beer cans, and open the tailgate.

  * * *

  “Time for our picnic,” I shout through the tarp. “Hope you enjoyed
the ride.”

  I escort Karen to the rotting remains of a wooden picnic table while Jack takes off the cuffs and unties Chuck. He’s stiff from the ride and moves slowly. I watch Jack push him until lurches forward faster. We all meet at the table.

  “First item on the agenda is a change of clothes,” I announce. “Jack found these in your gym locker so I know they fit.” I open the bag he stored behind the seat and pull out a black hoodie and a ski mask.

  “How . . . ?” croaks Chuck. Now he sounds like a frog.

  “He’s got a lot of talents. Opening locked locks is just one.”

  “What about her?” Jack points to Karen.

  “Leave her. We’ll have a woman-to-woman chat while you and Chuck take your stroll.”

  Chuck looks like a disguised abominable snow man with his ski mask and bulky laced up hoodie. “It’s always good to stretch your legs before a meal,” Jack says. He leads Chuck from the clearing and down a trail that disappears into the pines. First he gets the tire iron from his truck.

  “Where are they going?” Karen swivels her sparrow neck toward the trail.”

  “Jack thinks better in the woods. Wants to get a few details straight about your visit to our Mom’s trailer. He’ll be back soon—won’t take him long.”

  I bend down and put my face about five inches from hers. She tries to back away but I put my hand behind her head and pull her back. “Now, let’s talk about you.” I know she feels my breath because her eyes get wide and she tries to jerk her head back. I let go and she bounces back down on the bench.

  “Why’d you do it?”

  “Chuck made me.”

  “Come on Karen, that’s a crock. You’re a feisty girl. I can’t believe anyone can make you do anything.”

  “It’s easy for you. Aside from that scar you’ve got a great body; you’re an athlete, top of the class. You don’t seem to have any interest, but if you tried, you could have almost any guy you wanted. It’s different for me. His family’s got money, mine doesn’t—I could do worse—want to hang on to him until I graduate. Maybe I’ll find someone better in dental school.”