After his death, my mother and grandmother moved closer to Window Rock, a new hogan built by myself and my uncles with the modern convenience of electricity. The small city is where I attended high school.
After paying respects to the memory of my grandfather, I return to my bike and head towards my mother’s home. As I pull up outside, and switch off my engine, I sniff the air, smelling the unmistakable aroma of mutton and fried bread coming from inside. My taste buds salivate in expectation, my lips curve remembering when I lived here I’d longed instead for a Big Mac and fries. I dismount, take a step, then am stopped by a vibration.
At least we’re in the vicinity of a cell tower now. “Yeah, Drummer. What’s up?” I wave to my mom, who hearing my bike has appeared, indicating I’ll be there in a moment.
“You know how long you’re going to be gone?” Prez’s voice booms in my ear.
“Jeez, Prez. I’ve just arrived. Not even said hello to my mom yet.” My mom, who’s not waited, and currently has her arms encircling my waist.
“Got things going on.” I frown, not wanting to have to go back straight away.
“You need me?” I’m not surprised. Shit always seems to land on the club. Satan’s Devils attract it like shit does flies.
“Nah. You’re okay. Just need some info for now. Got a new club settin’ up in our area. Chaos Riders. Check ’em out, will you?”
“Sure thing, Prez.” I make a mental note to do just that. I’ll need to find somewhere I can pick up wi-fi. “Anything else?”
“Not for now.”
At last I’m putting my phone away, and swinging my mom around in my arms. Home.
Chapter 7
Mariana
I don’t know what magic Tse has done to my car, but the next day it seems to run better than it has done in months. The engine turns over and catches straight away. Maybe my luck is turning.
I’ve just dropped Drew off at school, and now am making my way to the college where I’m getting close to completing my second year of studying for my associate’s degree in Nursing. The one thing my mom did impress on me was making the most of the advantages living in the US gave me, and at the top of that list was education. Though it’s been a struggle, supporting Drew and myself, and it’s hard balancing the coursework with the jobs that I do, I’m determined to become qualified and do a worthwhile job, giving something back to my country. Drew’s offered that after his birthday, he’ll get a part-time job too. That should help. Eventually my plan is to work and hopefully complete my four-year degree after I’ve got a couple of years’ experience under my belt. Almost there. Just another few months and I’ll have my first qualification.
As I drive, I think about yesterday. I rarely take a day off, but persuaded by Drew to make time for myself, for the first time in ages I did something I’d long wanted to do. Until I strayed from the path and came face to face with that bear, I was enjoying the beauty of the canyon, which I’d wanted to explore for some time.
But the bear incident brought Tse to me. Last night I dreamed about my rescuer. The man so striking in looks, and so kind. If only I’d been free to indicate my interest in him. His card and number are stuck to the fridge in my trailer, and that’s where they’re going to stay. Though I’d love to, I won’t contact him, won’t do anything to encourage the mutual interest I’m sure I’d seen in his eyes. I won’t even ring to say thank you, even though I know he did more than just swap out a broken bulb last night. A brake light working doesn’t make a car run any better.
For a moment, I imagine what it would be like to have a relationship with a man such as him, or anyone for that matter. Someone who’d be there for me, someone to share things with. Since my mom had been taken away, I’ve had no one to lean on, no one to talk to. No one to share my hopes and fears with. Maybe that was why I’d been so open with Tse yesterday. He’d been easy to talk to. Drew’s getting older now, but even so, there’s only so much I can disclose to him. He’s lost one parent; I don’t like to worry him that he could lose me too. Unlike me, he doesn’t have to fear exposure, he’s a US citizen, with the birth certificate to prove it.
He’s not stupid, that’s why he was upset I was speaking to Tse yesterday. He keeps my secret, doesn’t have friends over, doesn’t talk to anyone about his illegal sister. Talks about his plans to sponsor me. But it’s not just the money he’d need to be earning. What I haven’t explained is that in order to apply for a green card, I’d have to enter the country legally. I’d have to get a visa to cross that border, and take the unlikely chance I’d be allowed back through. It’s safer to stay and take my chances.
Life goes on, each twenty-four hour period the same. I work myself to the bone, study or do work experience during the day, fall into my bed each night exhausted. As days turn into weeks, my adventure in Sabino Canyon becomes just a distant memory. Even though I try to recall it, each day Tse’s face fades in my mind.
“You look rough.” Drew’s critical eyes sweep over me.
I normally do when I’ve had little sleep, but last night was worse than normal. I had a dream, so vivid and real, my unconscious memory dredging up details I lose when I wake, however much I try to relive it. It was impossible to go back to sleep. What was it about Tse that my mind doesn’t want to forget after all this time? I barely met the man, yet he haunts my nights. Last night he was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“Coffee will sort me out.” I fill the pot, glad water’s coming out of the tap today, and wait for it to brew.
Drew’s still watching me carefully. “I hate you having to push yourself the way that you do.”
Putting on my brightest smile, I turn to him. “It’s not for much longer, Drew. I’ll be qualified soon, and will be able to take a nursing job. That will bring in much more money than I’m able to earn now. I won’t be working eighteen-hour days anymore.” My smile becomes genuine as I imagine the future I’m painting for myself.
“Long enough, sis. And what about when your DACA status runs out? What if they won’t renew it?”
Pouring coffee into a cup, I wave him off. “I’ll worry about that when the time comes.” I might sound dismissive, but the truth is, I worry about that all the time. Waiting for my drink to cool, I gaze out of the window. This is the only home I can remember, I have a few shadowy recollections of the place where I spent my first four years, but that’s all. I don’t speak the language, don’t know the people. If I was returned to Colombia, what the hell would I do? Would I still be able to be a nurse? Would the country of my birth reap the benefits of my education in North America? That seems crazy to me.
I shudder, and try to cover it up. I couldn’t leave Drew, and certainly couldn’t take him with me. My pulse races as I face my fears, and the coffee trembles in my cup. I make an effort to still my shaking hands. My back towards my brother, I breathe deeply, trying to get my mind on the day ahead, trying to force my ever-present anxiety into the background. I can’t let it show. Have to be strong for him.
“Got football practice tonight, remember?” Drew reminds me.
“Mal dropping you off after?” The focus on everyday things helps bring me back to the here and now, just take it day by day. I keep my voice light.
“Yeah. You ready to go, Ma?”
I drain my cup and turn around with a cheery smile. “Let’s get this day started, shall we?”
The dream from last night stays with me. Tse’s face, so close, so detailed I felt I could reach out and touch it, his mouth opening and shutting as he spoke a warning. Take care. Why, after three weeks, should I still be thinking of him? Why that dream, why those words of caution? I’m always careful, I think as I drop Drew off. Nothing unusual here. I point my car towards the community college, and, as I normally do, drive carefully.
There’s a traffic light ahead, it’s just turned red. I slow, stopping well in time as I draw up to it. A few seconds while I wait, the signal obstinately refusing to change. Then sudde
nly my car’s moving and my body tries to fly forward, violently halted by the seatbelt. What the hell? My chest hurts, my knees are pushed up against the steering wheel.
Someone’s at my door, trying to open it. Stunned, I don’t even try to help. Then it’s open, and a stranger’s reaching in, turning off my engine—why hadn’t I thought of that?
“Are you alright?”
I can’t answer, can’t speak, just turn my eyes on him. I’m in shock, unable to understand what happened. A crowd has gathered. Got to get out. Got to see what the damage is…
As I go to move, the man places a hand on my shoulder. “Ambulance is coming. Stay there. You don’t know how badly you’re hurt.”
I’ve got to get out and find out. Can’t afford an ambulance. “I’m okay, just shocked.” I find my voice at last. “I don’t need medical help.”
I fumble with the seatbelt fastening, managing to get it undone, then slide my legs out. Pulling myself up by the doorframe, I stand, leaning on the roof of the car while my shaking legs threaten to give out. It’s then I look at the damage. My car’s crumpled up, both rear wheels at odd angles. I know in a flash I’ll never be driving it again. I can’t afford a new car. Then I look at the one that’s driven into me. The driver is out, his eyes shooting daggers in my direction, and he’s gesticulating to the state trooper who’s just arrived and got out of his vehicle.
It’s then I notice the policeman’s partner coming toward me. “Driver’s licence?” he asks when he gets close.
Holding my painful chest, leaning into the car, I take out my purse and pass the document over. He peruses it, then glances up. “Mariana De Souza?”
I nod. Yeah, that’s me.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
I wave back at the traffic light, now a few feet to my rear. “I was stopped on red, Officer. I wasn’t looking behind me, I was concentrating on watching for the light to change. I knew nothing until that car ran straight into me.”
His lips purse. He looks back at his colleague and shakes his head, then to me, he instructs, “Wait here.”
Another police car has turned up. Two more patrol officers emerge. The four cops group together.
The man who helped me has slipped away. “Did anyone see what happened?” I ask, my voice trembling. The cop didn’t believe me. That much is obvious. What did he think caused the accident? How could I be held responsible?
The crowd is dispersing, no one wants to be questioned. No one comes forward to support my account. But then, it’s possible nobody saw anything. It happened so fast, after all.
I’m going to be late. I start taking my phone out of my purse to call my tutor, when the state trooper appears once again.
“I’m going to have to ask you to come to the station, Ms De Souza. There’s some things we need to sort out.”
“You’re arresting me?” I squeak. What? Why? How?
He shakes his head. “We just need to question you further.”
I feel faint, once again resting my weight on the roof. Do they know I’m illegal? But I’m not, I’ve got the DACA papers. “What about my car?”
“It will be towed.”
Another thing I’ll need to pay for.
I suppose I’m lucky he doesn’t cuff me, but I’m led over to the patrol car, and made to sit in the back. He takes my purse off me, and places his hand on my head as I bend to get inside. I gasp as the movement hurts my ribs. Then I’m sitting behind a grill-like barrier separating me from the cops. When the door shuts, I notice it’s got no handle on the inside.
The state troopers get in the front, the engine starts, and we drive off. They’re not talking to me; they’re discussing a ball game they watched last night. Laughing and joking while I’m hurting and scared to death. What’s going to happen to me?
It doesn’t get better. At the police station, they take my fingerprints, before escorting me to a cell. I’m left there. Alone. Worried out of my mind.
I didn’t do anything wrong. It was the other driver’s fault. He ran into me. Why have they brought me here? Why don’t they believe my story? What other explanation could there be?
Tears, which have been threatening to fall for a while, now start streaming. To have a chance of permanent residence, I have to keep my record clean. Have I been arrested? Will I be charged? Will it mean I’m deported? What’s going to happen to Drew?
The door opens. A dour looking woman waves me out. I’m taken to a room where a man is waiting. He’s a doctor, he says, but I don’t take much in. Simply let him examine me. “I doubt you’ve broken anything, but you hit the seatbelt with some force. There will be bruising and you’ll be sore for a while.”
He offers no sympathy, and neither does the female police officer. He makes some notes in a file, then I’m taken back to the cell again.
Why the waiting? Why can’t they get on with it, whatever it is?
Drew. What will happen to Drew? What if I’m not there when he gets back from football? I haven’t got my phone, I can’t even let him know. Last night’s dream was an omen.
I’m going to be deported. Sent to a country I have no knowledge of. Will my father be waiting?
Dread settles inside me as I sit alone, waiting for the unknown.
Chapter 8
Mouse
I couldn’t tell Drummer how long I’d be away. I didn’t know myself. Just as long as it takes for me to regain some perspective about my life. It’s a chance to recharge my batteries, to reconnect with that part of me which calls to the wild and untamed land of my ancestors on my mother’s side. Riding with the Satan’s Devils satisfies the Anglo in my blood, being here quiets the Navajo essence flowing through my veins. I always end up grounded.
Immersed in my heritage, twenty-first century beliefs and teachings fall away as I’m drawn back in, listening and nodding without thinking to question it when my mother and grandmother discuss the sighting of yee naaldlooshii, a skin-walker—a witch who takes on the form of an animal and who causes injury or death to their victim. Conversations abound as to who it could possibly be. I attend a Blessing ceremony given for one of my cousins who’s pregnant. I ride, walk and simply let myself absorb the atmosphere. I have no desire to smoke a joint, or to touch a computer.
I don’t spend time missing my brothers. They’ll be there when I return, and if they needed me, I’d go back immediately. There’s only one person who I seem unable to get out of my mind, and I think about her daily. When I’m enjoying my solitude, for some reason, memories of her come into my mind, and I find myself straining to recall every detail of her features. One puzzle I’m trying to solve is a way that we could explore what I’m certain is a mutual attraction between us. I’m having more difficulty keeping my promise to stay away than I’d have thought.
I wonder whether Mariana ever thinks of me. Ever remembers the firsts I gave her, the two different rides.
Last night I dreamed of her. It may have been the discussion about the skin-walker playing on my mind, or simply being enveloped by superstition, but I dreamed someone was after her. A shadowy figure who I couldn’t bring into focus. All I could do was try to warn her, I’m not sure she heard. I woke with the sensation that she was in danger. I got up and stretched, and put it behind me. But I can’t shake it off. When I return to Tucson, I’ll check up on her. Yeah, I can do that.
I’ve spent the evening reliving old times with Billy. Thom, it seems, has got a good job for himself at the Navajo power station and is living in Page. Billy’s stayed to look after his parents’ horses and sheep. I meet his wife, a tiny woman who seems to rule the household, and their four children ranging in ages from ten to a babe in arms.
Halfway through the visit he opens yet another can of coke, I’m still drinking my second. “Your bike’s a bit better than the one you started on,” he observes.
I chuckle. “You could say that.”
“Where the fuck did your grandfather get it from?”
“The scrap, I think
.” Which makes him laugh.
Yeah, that would have been believable. Grampa had known I was getting restless without some form of transport. He couldn’t afford to buy me a car, so he picked up a heap of metal that was barely recognisable as a motorcycle. My eyes glaze as memories take me back.
“What the fuck is that, Gramps?”
He glares, but doesn’t correct my language. “That, my boy, is your new way of getting around.”
Throwing him a look as if he’s crazy, I walk around the pile of junk, leaning heavily and precariously on its stand, looking like a breath of wind would topple it. I kick the two tires, bare in places, what remains has hardly any tread at all. “Looks more like a death trap.”
“Just needs a bit of love and attention,” the old man says. Then, putting his hand on my shoulder, he continues, “We’ll do it together.”
That’s exactly what we did. New tires, brakes, exhaust, and we rebuilt the engine. At last it was finished, and I was able to ride. From the very first time I sat astride it, I was completely and utterly in love.
We hadn’t bothered about the aesthetics, it still looked like a rat, but went like the wind.
“Thought I was going to come off, first time you took me on it.” Billy looks over with a wide grin. “Thought you were going to pay me back for putting you on that horse.”
The corners of my mouth turn up. “Thought about it,” I admit, then smirk. “Especially when you screamed.”
“Did not.”
“Did.”
His wife, who’s nursing their youngest child, looks up. “You sound like a couple of kids.” Her voice drips with amused scorn. One of the older children giggles. I enjoy the visit, enjoy hearing about Billy’s life on the Rez, while he relishes in hearing about mine with the Devils. Sitting here I feel completely at home and relaxed. Life in Tucson seems a million miles away. I’m not ready to go back yet.
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