House Made of Dawn

by N. Scott Momaday

  One day I came by for him and we went out to Westwood. Sometimes, when I’m pretty well caught up on the line, Daniels lets me take the truck out on a delivery. It’s a nice break, you know, because you get a chance to see everything and get some fresh air. When there wasn’t a big hurry and I had to go way out someplace like that, I would take him along. Daniels never found out, or I guess I would have been fired. Well, it was a nice day, and he was just sitting around up here, like he didn’t know what to do, so I told him to come on and he seemed pretty glad to go. We went out on Wilshire, and it was a nice day and it was getting on toward noon. I didn’t have to be back until one, and it was only going to take a few minutes to unload. I figured when I was through we would have time to get a hamburger and drive down by the beach. I always liked Westwood, and it was a nice day and there were a lot of people walking around on the streets. I backed the truck into the alley and pulled up to the dock. The cab was out a little way on the sidewalk, and the people had to go around. He waited in the cab while I unloaded. It wasn’t a big order, and I was through pretty quick. I got back in the truck and started to pull out, but he told me to wait. “Let’s go,” I said. We just had time to beat the noon-hour traffic on Wilshire and get on down to the beach. But he made me wait, and we were just sitting there, you know, and I didn’t know what was going on and I was getting kind of mad. Pretty soon a woman came out of one of the shops, and he nodded and wanted me to look at her. She was all dressed up and just walking along kind of slow and looking in the windows. She passed right in front of us, you know, and he leaned back a little like he didn’t want her to see him. I didn’t know what was going on. She was good-looking, all right, but she wasn’t young or big anywhere and I couldn’t see anything to get excited about. She was rich-looking and kind of slim; you could tell that she had been out in the sun and her skin was kind of golden, you know, and she had on a plain white dress and little white shoes and gloves. She was good-looking, all right. She had on sunglasses, and her mouth was small and pretty with some kind of pale color on her lips, and her hair wasn’t long but it was neat and shiny and clean-looking; there was one streak of silver in it, clean and wide, and all around it the dark, shining hair, almost copper-colored in the sun. We watched her out of sight.

  He said he knew her. He used to work for her, I guess, and she liked him. She was going to help him, he said. She liked him a lot, and, you know, they fooled around and everything, and she was going to help him get a job and go away from the reservation, but then he got himself in trouble. He kept saying that: that she liked him and was going to help him in some way, but he got himself in trouble. I didn’t believe him at first, and I was kind of mad because he was going on like that, bragging and joking about some white woman. But I found out later that he was telling the truth. When he got hurt, you know, he talked about her and said her name, and he was hurt bad and out of his mind, and you could tell that he wasn’t making it up. It’s funny, but even at first, when I thought he was kidding around, he acted somehow like he knew all about her and she was special and good and she liked him a lot. I saw her again at the hospital. She was good-looking, all right, like those women you see in the magazines.

  He didn’t look for a job anymore.

  I wish we had remembered to close that window. Rain. I wish it would stop raining. This place is always cold and kind of empty when it rains. We were going to tear out some pictures of horses and cars and boats and put them up on the walls. Milly brought some curtains over one time, but we never did get around to putting them up. Maybe I’ll put them up tomorrow. She’d get a kick out of that. We used to kid him about that little suitcase. It was over there in the corner, and there was one little spider that always wanted to make a web across it. Milly would come in and brush it away, but that little spider got right to work and made another web in the same place. It never gave up, and finally we told her to leave it alone. That spider was our roommate, we said, and she didn’t have any right to come around all the time, trying to evict it. Then she was always talking about how nobody, even a spider, ought to live in a suitcase and she was going to bring some tin shears and make a doll house out of it; that spider ought to have a little rocking chair, she said. It gets cold in here when it rains. It’s a good place; you could fix it up real nice. There are a lot of good places around here. I could find some place with a private bathroom if I wanted to, easy. A man with a good job can do just about anything he wants.

  Old Carlozini ought to be getting home pretty soon. She’s old, and she ought not to be out in the rain like that. One of these days she’s going to just fall down and die in the street, or they’re going to find her all alone in that little room of hers. She has a few little things, you know, some dishes and spoons, and every morning about five-thirty you can hear her moving around down there. She always wears that old black hat when she goes out. It looks funny on her because it’s big and the brim droops down all around her head and there’s an old beat-up flower that hangs down over one eye and bounces around when she walks. She never says hello or anything, but she’s always watching you, like maybe she thinks you’re going to sneak up on her or steal something from her. She can hear you on the stairs, you know, and she always opens her door a little, just a crack, and watches you go by. That’s about all she has to do, I guess.

  One time we were going out, and old Carlozini was sitting down there on the stairs, all bent over and still, like she was going to sleep. The door of her room was wide open, and she was just sitting out there on the stairs, and it was the first time we had ever seen the inside of her room. It was real dark and dirty-looking, and even out there on the stairs we could smell it. I guess it was the first time that door had ever been left open like that. She never takes a bath, and you know how old people smell and how they like to shut themselves up in the dark. It was pretty bad, that smell. Well, we started to go around her and she said something. We turned and she was looking up at us and her eyes were all wet. “Vincenzo is not well,” she said. “It is very bad this time.” She had a little cardboard box in her hands and she held it out to us. We didn’t know what she was talking about, but we looked inside that box and there was a little dead animal of some kind, a guinea pig, I guess; it had black and white fur and it was kind of curled up on its side and there was a dirty white cloth under it. “Oh, it is very bad this time,” she said, and she was shaking her head. We didn’t know what to say, and she was crying and looking at us like maybe we could make it all right if we wanted to. It was like she was being real friendly and nice to us, you know, so we would make it all right. “His name is Vincenzo,” she said. “He’s very smart, you know; he can stand up straight, just like you gentlemen, and clap his little hands.” And her eyes lit up and she had to smile, thinking about it. She went on like that, like that little thing was still alive and maybe it was going to stand up and clap its hands like a baby. It made me real sad to see her, so old and lonely and carrying on like that, and she kept saying “you gentlemen” and everything. We didn’t know what to do, and we just listened to her and looked down at that little furry animal. And then after a while he said he thought it was dead. At first I thought he shouldn’t have said that; it seemed kind of mean somehow, you know? But I guess she had to be told. I think maybe she knew it was dead all the time, and she was just waiting for someone to say it, because she didn’t know how to say it herself. All at once she jerked that little box away and looked at him real hard for a minute, like she was hurt and couldn’t understand how it was, why on earth he should say a thing like that. But then she just nodded and slumped over a little bit. She didn’t say any more, and she wasn’t crying; it was like she was real tired, you know, and didn’t have any strength left. I asked her if she wanted us to take Vincenzo out to the alley, but she just sat there and didn’t say anything. She was just sitting there on the stairs, holding that little dead animal real close to her, and she looked awful small and alone and the night was coming on and it was getting dark down there.
It’s funny, you know; that little animal was her friend, I guess, and she kept it down there in her room, always, maybe, and we didn’t even know about it. And afterward it was just the same. She never said anything to us again.

  There’s always a lot of rain this time of the year. It isn’t bad; it lets up after a while, and then everything is bright and clean. It’s a good place to live. There’s always a lot going on, a lot of things to do and see once you find your way around. Once you find your way around and get used to everything, you wonder how you ever got along out there where you came from. There’s nothing there, you know, just the land, and the land is empty and dead. Everything is here, everything you could ever want. You never have to be alone. You go downtown and there are a lot of people all around, and they’re having a good time. You see how it is with them, how they get along and have money and nice things, radios and cars and clothes and big houses. And you want those things; you’d be crazy not to want them. And you can have them, too; they’re so easy to have. You go down to those stores, and they’re full of bright new things and you can buy just about anything you want. The people are real friendly most of the time, and they’re always ready to help you out. They don’t even know you, but they’re friendly anyway; they go out of their way to be nice. They shake your hand and pay attention to you; and sometimes you don’t know how to act, you know, but they try to make it easy for you. It’s like they want you to get along, like they’re looking out for you. The Relocation people are all right, too. It’s not like Tosamah says. They know how it is when you first come, how scared you are and all, and they look out for you. They pay your way; they get you a job and a place to stay; I guess they even take care of you if you get sick. You don’t have to worry about a thing.

  “No, sirree, Benally, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” That’s what Tosamah says. He’s always going on about Relocation and Welfare and Termination and all, and that little fat Cruz is always right behind him, smiling and nodding like he knew what it was all about. I used to listen to Tosamah. He’s a clown, and you have to laugh at some of the things he says. But you have to know how to take it, too. He likes to get under your skin; he’ll make a fool out of you if you let him.

  Let’s see…let’s see; Manygoats gave me three dollars, and I bought a bottle of wine. I wonder who that great big girl was. I have two dollars and eleven cents. I wish I had some more of that wine. I wish I had another bottle of wine…and a dollar bill…and two dimes…and two pennies.

  Ei yei! with a name like that, and she had dimes…dimes on her shoes.

  She’s from Oklahoma, I think.

  Henry, you keep that dollar bill and those two pennies. Give me twelve shiny dimes. For old time’s sake, Henry, give me twelve shiny dimes. Time’s dimes, shine wine.

  Maybe the rain will let up for a while.

  He didn’t look for a job anymore. It’s funny, you know? Everything happened real fast. We had a fight. I couldn’t talk to him. He was always drunk. We used to get drunk together, and it was all right because it made us loose and happy and we could kid around and forget about things. But after a while, after that night when Martinez…or maybe it was before that; I don’t know. Maybe it was Tosamah, too, and that white woman, everything. But it wasn’t fun anymore. The liquor didn’t seem to make any difference; he was just the same, sitting around and looking down like he hated everything, like he hated himself and hated being drunk and hated Milly and me, and I couldn’t talk to him. Every time I tried to say anything, he just got mad. It had to stop, you know? I could see that something real bad was going to happen if it didn’t stop, but I couldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t let anybody help him, and I guess I got mad, too, and one day we had a fight. He was crazy drunk and ugly. He had thrown up all over himself, and he couldn’t do anything about it, I guess, and he was just sitting there and saying the worst thing he could think of, over and over. I didn’t like to hear that kind of talk, you know; it made me kind of scared, and I told him to cut it out. I guess I was more scared than mad; anyway, I had had about all I could take. I was tired of worrying about him all the time, and he was getting worse and something bad was going to happen and I didn’t want any part of it. He just went on and it was worse and he was mad and snarling those things at me, and I was sick of it and I told him to get out. Pretty soon he got up and staggered around and he was all red and sweaty and shaking, and he was looking wild, you know, and I didn’t care because I was mad. O.K., he said, that was it, and I could go to hell and he was leaving. He was going out to look for culebra, he said; he was going to get even with culebra, and I told him to go ahead, I didn’t give a damn. He went out and slammed the door, and I was glad, and I could hear him on the stairs, like he was crazy and was going to fall and hurt himself, and I didn’t care.

  I cooled off, and right away I was sorry and I started to worry about him. But I figured it didn’t do any good. It had to stop, you know; something had to happen. He didn’t come back, and I was worried. I waited up for a long time, and it was getting late. I had a hard time going to sleep. I kept listening for him, but he didn’t come back. I kept telling myself that maybe it was a good thing, him going out by himself like that. He was drunk and sick, you know, and he couldn’t get very far. I figured maybe he had been picked up and thrown in jail; maybe they could see that he was sick and they would get a doctor to take care of him. He didn’t come back that night, and the next day I had to go to work and I was glad to be busy. I worked hard on the line, and it was like everything was all right. He would be there when I got home, and we would straighten everything out.

  He didn’t come back for three days. I went right home from work every day and he wasn’t there. I kept going down to Henry’s place and all around, back and forth, and nobody had seen him. He wasn’t in jail. I didn’t know what to do. Then, three nights later, I woke up and heard something down there on the stairs. I went out and turned on the light in the hall, and I could see him down there in the dark at the foot of the stairs, like he was dead. Old Carlozini’s door was open just a crack, and she was looking out at him. The light from her room made a line across him, and he was all twisted up and still. It was him, all right, and he was almost dead. I thought he was dead, and I didn’t know what to do. I ran down there and I couldn’t think and I forgot about that light not working and I tried to turn it on. I yelled at that old woman to open her door, but she just stood there, and I had to push her out of the way; I pushed hard, and maybe she fell—I don’t know—but I got that door open. He was lying there on his stomach and I turned him over and I wanted to get sick and cry. He was all broken and torn and covered with blood. Most of the blood was dry; it had dried up on his clothes and in his hair. He had lost an awful lot of blood, and his skin was pale and yellow in the light. His eyes were swollen shut and his nose was broken and his mouth was raw and bleeding. And his hands were broken; they were broken all over. That was all I could see, his head and his hands, and I didn’t want to open his clothing. I had to look away. It was the worst beating I had ever seen. I wanted to bring him up here, you know, but he couldn’t get up and I was afraid to move him. I got a blanket and covered him, and then I went out and called an ambulance. Pretty soon it came, and they put him on a stretcher. He couldn’t talk to them, and they told me I had to come along.

  The rest of the night I waited around down there at the hospital. There were lots of doctors and nurses hurrying all around, and they wouldn’t tell me anything, and I thought maybe he was dead or going to die, and I was just sitting there waiting, not knowing where he was or what was happening to him. After a while it got light outside, and one of the nurses came up to me and started asking me a lot of questions. They were silly questions, all about his family and his medical record and insurance and everything like that. I didn’t know how to answer most of them, and I kept trying to get her to tell me how he was. She just went on, like those questions were the most important thing of all and acting like maybe I wasn’t telling her the tr
uth. She said they were going to have to file a police report, and she wanted to know exactly what had happened, and did he have any relatives who could come right away. And finally she said he was unconscious, and the doctor didn’t know yet if he was going to be all right. She said it would be quite a long time before I could see him, and I told her I would wait. I guess she could see that I was pretty worried, and after a while she brought me a cup of coffee. Later, I remembered about going to work, and I called in and told Daniels that I was sick. He said O.K.

  I waited all day. Late that afternoon they took me up to his room. It was dark in there and he was lying on his back asleep. They had cleaned him up pretty well and his head and arms and chest were all bandaged. They said I could sit in there by the bed if I wanted to. They had done about all they could, I guess, and everything seemed to be all right for the time being. Every once in a while a nurse would come in and look at him. He didn’t wake up, and finally they told me I had to go home.

  That night I called that white woman; I don’t know why, but I figured I ought to do it. I didn’t want Milly to know what had happened, and I couldn’t think of anybody else to call. I guess I got all mixed up on the phone. She didn’t know what I was talking about at first, and she kept asking me who I was and why I was calling her. I said I hoped she didn’t mind me bothering her like that, but he was hurt pretty bad and I didn’t know what else to do. She got real quiet for a minute, like she was thinking about it, you know, and then she thanked me and hung up. And two days later she came to the hospital.