by Stephen Levy
Banks believed that friendship was based on two peoples’ agreement to use one another. He got the notion from white people while going to high school. He overheard implied bargains between students. If favors were not returned, then friendships would be broken. He never wanted that to happen with Peyton. Sure Peyton could become annoying at times but that was part of the bargain. Banks would wait for the right time and cleverly strike for what he wanted. He knew Julie Powers approved of him. He wasn’t sure about Mr. Powers but white mothers usually ruled the roost.
The tourist season was a flutter. All the cruise ships were in Juneau and the mosquitoes of July welcomed the tourists. At Juneau’s highest points were emerald trees rising to the heavens and the area was impassable. The road ended at Skyline Boulevard where the wealthiest of the wealthy lived. The Powers and the Abrams lived next door to each other. Each lived in a posh two story house with a circular drive way. The Governor could not afford to live here. No Indians lived here. This was white wealth and privilege. This was Banks’ coveted dream. Sometimes he would drive up in his pickup truck and park where no one could see him. He would peer out from the trees and looked at the Powers’ house and pined quietly. He felt like this was Gatsby territory.
Inside the Powers’ house one would conclude correctly by the conspicuously Catholic adornments that the residents belonged to a Catholic Church. The Abrams’ house was not conspicuously Jewish. Both houses had a teenage daughter.
In the Powers’ house, Peyton read the Indian Legends book in Braille. He took a few nuts from a bowl directly in front of him. His hand reached for a glass of soda near the nuts. After licking his fingers and wiping them clean on his shorts, he continued to read.
Tricia studied Peyton from the second floor. She removed her gum and shoes and slinked down the stairs. She was almost sixteen with bosom overflowing. Yes, she was pretty too and was the leader of the ‘A’ crowd at Juneau-Douglas High School. At the core of her soul was Tricia’s charm. Her charm was similar to a flesh eating virus.
At this moment, Tricia silently switched the nut bowl with the glass of soda. Many privileged teenage girls in Juneau were suffering from ennui in July and sought relief from boredom by engaging in malicious acts with their younger siblings. Tricia sat on the staircase and waited with gleeful anticipation. Meanwhile, Julie was in the study playing a somber classical piece on her piano which seemed to punctuate her mood. Julie wore her night mask and played the piano in the blind. She understood the meaning of empathy. She paused, and like Peyton, she hunted for her glass of gin and tonic in almost the same manner that Peyton previously hunted for his soda. She found the glass, took a drink and continued with her music. At that instant Peyton went for his soda. When placing the glass in his mouth, the nuts poured all over him.
Peyton knew immediately what his sister had done, “Tricia, you bitch! I can smell your evil.”
Tricia laughed, “Spazz! Smell my evil! Huh!”
Peyton yelled, “Mom! Tricia did the bitch-switch.”
Julie entered without her mask: “Don’t say bitch, Peyton.” She snarled at Tricia, “Say witch.” Tricia scampered up the staircase as Julie retreated to her piano, mask and alcohol.
On top of the grand piano was a family portrait. The man seated next to Julie was Stan Powers. He was Juneau’s most prominent attorney specializing in tax law. He was a great family provider and sweet Tricia had always been the apple of his eye. Everything was great in Stan’s world except for the lack of sex. Stan compensated quite well. He rarely hungered for sex and was able to attain it in the most surprising situations. A good counselor would tell Julie to join an anonymous alcohol addiction program and for Stan to join an anonymous sexual addiction organization. What the counselor would not know was that Stan already was an active member of such an organization and quite popular with the women members to the point that it had exacerbated his addiction. Weekly, he confided in his Church’s confessional and the priest generally said, “I see, my son, now tell me more.”
Despite Stan’s shortcomings, he considered himself a good father, great lawyer and a mediocre Catholic which came with a modicum of guilt. So Stan provided handsomely, allowed Julie to make family decisions for Peyton and assuaged his guilt by over favoring Tricia. Tricia loved the role of ‘daddy’s little girl’ and milked it for all it was worth. Tricia saw her household as a family of two alliances. That would be her mother and her brother against her dad and herself. Stan would concur.
Banks’ New Look
Banks sat in a barber’s chair. He pointed to a picture of a white movie star in a people magazine. His barber looked at the hairstyle. “I want it cut like this.” The barber took a long look at the picture.
The barber nodded as he said, “A lot of hair is coming off.” Banks removed his trim glasses as the barber asked, “What happened to your thick glasses?”
Banks smiled, “Don’t need them anymore.” The barber began his magic.
Meanwhile, across the street inside Judge Evelyn Sands’ chambers, a pair of lovers climaxed at the same time. On top was Evelyn and on the bottom was Stan Powers. Evelyn groped for her glasses. She resembles a past governor of Alaska. The couple dressed quietly. As Evelyn put on her judge’s robe, Stan attempted to embrace her. She reacts quickly with a back pedal, “My best to the kids, Stan.”
Stan responded, “Tricia’s going on sixteen and—”
Evelyn interrupted, “It was rhetorical, Stan. I don’t like my weekly lube and oil complex.” Making an attempt at a moment of intimacy, Stan went for her arm for a goodbye embrace, but once again she countered by sitting at her desk. There was a long pause between the couple. Evelyn perused her legal instruments. Then she glanced at her watch and puffed a sound announcing her discontent. He was still there with a hurt boyish countenance. Finally she sarcastically queried, “Did you want your parking validated?”
Stan made one final move towards him but she picked up her gavel and slammed it on the table, “Court is adjourned.”
As the barber shook on talcum powder, Banks grabbed his trim glasses. He stared in the mirror in front of him. He took a bit of the powder and rubbed it on his cheeks. The barber was amazed, “Wow you look just like the guy in the magazine…Zac something or other.” But Banks was not thinking about Zac, he was thinking, “White!” Yes, Banks Blackhorse was transforming. Banks looked at his wristwatch as if he had a prearranged appointment. The other party had no idea that his moves had been studied by Banks and Banks put his calculated plan into effect.
Stan walked to his car adjusting his tie as a waving Banks ran after him. “Mr. Powers!”
Stan turned around, “Is that you Banks? Why of course it is…something is different…something is better. How is summer going?”
Banks responded what he had rehearsed, “I miss the kids, especially Peyton, Mr. Powers.” Banks worked this opportunity well.
Stan smiled and said, “Yep, he always mentions you…say, come over for dinner tonight. I’ll call Julie…let’s shoot for six.” Banks thought that this was perfect. He manipulated this moment including dinner with the family. Finally, Banks Blackhorse was granted audience to the top of the world.
In a state of elation, Banks was proud of this ‘chance meeting.’ All that time he had followed Stan Powers to the Judge’s office had paid off. Banks was in a state of proud jubilation as The Monarch Raven looked on.
At the Tlingit compound in Marilyn White Owl’s apartment Banks looked on as Marilyn chopped off the head of a wiggling fish. “Marilyn, it’s my first white dinner…what should I bring?”
She picked up the dead fish, “You can never go wrong with halibut.” She laughed at him.
Not appreciating her sense of humor he added, “Marilyn, I’m serious, I want to do everything—”
“Everything white.” Marilyn interrupted, “I know. I know. Okay, I’ll tell you but Chief will be pissed.” Banks angered and Marilyn gave in: “Wine, flowers or chocolate. The rich white people like to imbib
e amongst the scent of the lovely colors of flowers. Then, once finished with dinner, they eat sweets to prepare for a smooth bowel movement. This is the essence of fine white dining.” She laughed as she removed the head of another halibut.
Tricia’s glee of teasing Peyton had worn off. She needed something new to battle the summer of boredom. Tricia noted that Julie was sound asleep on the study sofa. The window of opportunity was wide open. She skipped upstairs to her mother’s purse and grabbed the car keys. In case her dad found out, she would tell him that she only wanted to surprise the family with a full tank of gas. Her alibi was intact and she bit her lip gleefully. Tricia was almost sixteen and had a driver’s permit, so she needed an adult to accompany her on her journey. An adult, in Tricia’s opinion, was sixteen. She picked up her cell. After completing her call, she made herself attractive with her mom’s lipstick and exposed more cleavage while dabbing her chest with Julie’s expensive perfume.
As she skipped down the stairs, Peyton perked up, “Bitch. You’re up to something and your wearing mom’s perfume!” Tricia retorted with whispering, “Spazz, freak, scumbag, mental…Indian lover!”
Ann Abrams was the only child of Dr. Murray Abrams and his wife Hadassah commonly referred to as Dassi. Murray hoped that Ann would find a branch in medicine that she enjoyed and keep up with the Abrams’ doctoring tradition. Dassi agreed with Murray for different reasons. Dassi wanted her only daughter to find a ‘nice Jewish guy’ in medical school to keep up with her family traditions.
The neighbors referred to Ann as the Doctor’s daughter, or the Jewish girl or the plain girl-what’s-her-name. When Ann was seven, she took a school gifted test. When the gifts & talent’s teachers decided that she scored very high, they had her IQ tested. The result was in the 140’s. Ann was placed in advanced classes for third, fourth and fifth grade. Ann determined when she was in sixth grade that there was an indirect correlation between giftedness and popularity. The higher the IQ, the lower the popularity. And popularity was the name of the game, especially in high school. So Ann did the right thing. She dumbed it down. She tried to become invisible. She watched Tricia from a distance. Tricia was the most popular girl in middle school. Ann decided that Tricia was to become a role model and perhaps some of her station and status would rub off on her. She studied Tricia’s dress, her mean talk and her flirtation with boys. Ann was an apt pupil and wanted to be liked for what she wasn’t instead of what she was. Tricia found her to be a necessary friend.
About a year ago, Stan was uncomfortable with the silence at the dinner table. He decided to have the Abrams’ over for dinner. Tricia complained, “Oh dad, do we have to have the Abrams over for dinner again? Their daughter is a total bore and decreases my social standing.”
But Stan’s best friend was Murray and he’d never invite the Abrams over without their daughter. So Stan would say, “A great daughter would be tolerant to her father’s wishes. Also the Abrams’ girl what’s-her-name had many good qualities,” Stan noted the disgust on Tricia’s face and pulled out his credit card. “I think you need a new outfit.” This resulted in a smile and the continuation of a great friendship. After all as Banks would think, friends are simply two people who agree to use one another.
At the instant that Tricia exited the house, the girl next door popped out with ear to her cell. Tricia’s friendship with Ann sheltered Ann from the jeers of the high school elite. But Tricia elicited a price and the one thing that Tricia needed from Ann was the fact that she was sixteen with a driver’s license. Tricia may lie and scheme with her mother Julie, and may taunt and tease her brother Peyton; but she’d never disappoint her father Stan…never. Also her father secretly promised her a car on her sixteenth birthday. She had better not screw that up.
Moments later, Tricia and Ann were in Julie’s SUV and Tricia sped to Douglas Island via the Juneau-Douglas Bridge. Ann was delighted to be sitting next to the most popular girl in high school. She was so happy that their parents were best friends. Ann studied Tricia’s sense of style: The lipstick, the revealing blouse and her sexy sashay in public. Ann could never carry it off. She would like to share her thoughts of the world and local politics with a friend, but this would be a turnoff and Tricia would just give her one of those looks and crack her gum in response. Ann was quite aware of Tricia’s faults but somehow Ann believed that her own thoughts were actually flaws in her character and therefore were unseemly to others. But now she was with her friend on a private adventure. Being with Tricia was an escape from her conservative Jewish upbringing and therefore a journey into normalcy. Life was good.
Ann knew that Tricia’s lipstick, perfume and cleavage and the fact that they were on Douglas Island, only meant one thing…the hunk. Johnny was seventeen muscular and Alaskan rugged. His shirt was tied around his waist. His pecs and abs swayed like tropical waves as he sanded the hull of his boat. Tricia left Ann in the SUV as she approached Johnny seductively.
Tricia greeted, “Hey, Johnny.” As he continued to sand, Johnny scrutinized Tricia…he liked what he saw and the tempo of his sanding increased in rhythm.
Johnny’s eyeballs were shamelessly fixed on Tricia’s boobs as he asked, “Driving already, Tricia?”
As Johnny’s eyes rose to her face Tricia licked he lips and said, “You know I’ve always liked you.” He grinned as he hoped that she had in mind what he did.
Tricia added, “Johnny, do you like me for who I am, or for what I got?” He laughed nodding yes apparently to both. “I’ve got to get home. Peyton’s student teacher is coming for dinner and I have to help my mom.”
Johnny asked, “Your brother still blind?”
Tricia answered, “Always was and always will be.”
Johnny exclaimed, “You’re a good sister, Tricia!”
Tricia batted her eyelashes, “That’s what my mom and brother say…call me sometime, Johnny.” Tricia runway-walked to the SUV. She turned before entering and blew Johnny a kiss. His sanding went into hyper gear.
As soon as the SUV was out of Johnny’s sight, Tricia chewed and cracked gum. Ann explained to Tricia the importance of wiping off the lipstick, hiding the scent of perfume and buttoning her blouse. Additionally, they must have an alibi for the impending grill and drill, and it would be wise for Ann to drive into the Powers’ house.
In response to all this, Tricia cracked gum. She appeared to think about Ann’s suggestion and in between cracks she asked, “So do you think Johnny likes me?”
Ann passed her a Kleenex. “Let’s stop at Safeway. They’ve got turkeys and they are always out in late October…that will be our alibi.”
Ann mimicked Julie, “Thinking ahead for Thanksgiving. What a thoughtful daughter you are!”
Tricia completed the imaginary discourse, “Yes, mom, yes I am.”
Banks parked his truck on the Powers’ driveway. He inserted drops into his eyes. His eyelids fluttered indicating that with much practice he could unstick the gooey residue from his lids. In the mirror, he rubbed his face, as if to whiten it with talcum powder that he used before the trip. Unknown to him, Julie watched from the living room window. Banks grabbed the chocolate, flowers and wine and exited the car. He paused for a moment and scrutinized the entire neighborhood. He was at the top of the world as he looked down on the cruise ships, glaciers, airport and the Juneau-Douglas Bridge. Banks thought to himself that this was life at the top. And this grand world was rich, beautiful and white. This was the land of Gatsby. He smiled as he took in the July air. Julie seemed to understand all. She felt the she had Banks’ number.
Tricia placed the turkey in the freezer. From the living room, Julie yelled, “Banks Blackhorse—”But Tricia interrupted, “That Indian is so old and his hair is skanky mangy. His glasses make his eyeballs look like a Martian.” As she turned Banks entered with Peyton.
Banks smiled, “At least I have good hearing.” Awkward.
Peyton broke the silence, “See, Banks, I told you she’s a witch!”
Julie walked
in juggling wine, chocolate and flowers. “Banks, you really went all out.” Banks was not sure whether Julie’s comment was a good thing or bad thing. Marilyn had mentioned that one would have to listen closely to what they say as if one were deciphering code. It might be bad thing. Marilyn repeated that white folk often said what they didn’t mean. Banks reacted by placing has hand on Peyton’s shoulder. At that exact moment, there were chirping sounds from birds. The sun shined directly on Banks. The others looked at him as if someone turned on a spotlight. Was this some sort of synchronicity? Tricia studied Banks’ great looks. She had never seen him in this ‘light.’ Banks glanced at Julie.
Simultaneously, Tricia to Banks and Banks to Julie: “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
This extra ordinary moment ended as Stan Powers entered and kissed Tricia, “Hello, Sweet pea.”
Julie ended Banks’ suspense with, “No, Banks, you didn’t insult me, I just hope dinner warrants these lovely gifts. Peyton, show Banks around the house.”
In the study, Peyton led Banks to the grand piano, “This is Mom’s special place.” Banks touched the piano top. He caressed the ivory keys and thought about the elephants’ tusks that produced the keys just for rich white folk. They walked through another door which was Stan’s private study. It was filled with the latest technological devices. After giving Banks a moment to take it all in, Peyton said, “I’m going to learn this stuff once we get the assistive technology.”