Moonfire

by M. Rae Gogetap

  “I thought he was dating Fia, and she ditched us at the bar-“

  “I had a headache. And I did text you-“

  “You drank alcohol with him?”

  “What do you care, as an old friend of Chelsea’s?” Fia asked with eyebrows raised. She smirked, looking from Dan to me, with her hands on her pink linen pajama covered hips.

  The sounds of another couple fighting on their way to the building distracted me momentarily. More students returned from downtown Flag. I glanced at my watch- it was 2:00 am.

  “Dan I think you better go,” I said. “We can talk more this weekend-“

  “I’ve got plans,” he said, avoiding any further eye contact.

  I shook my head, eyes closed. My head, too tired to deal with the bi-polarity of Dan tonight, started feeling heavy. Nothing changed in the last five years. Hot and steamy like a Jamaican summer afternoon one minute, then colder than an arctic breeze the next.

  “Ok, well, let me give you my phone number, which you can use to contact me in another 5 years, if you feel the need,” I said.

  Fia’s smirk turned to syrupy sweetness. “Thanks for stopping by, Dan Levi.” She turned and opened the sliding glass door to her bedroom. “Oh, and Dan, if you would be a darling and exit the more traditional route, that would be peachy.”

  Dan turned towards me when she closed the door. “How did you get this apartment?”

  Unable to ascertain his train of thought, I bit my lip. Dan’s eyes darted to the movement, his lips parting.

  “Craigslist,” I said, trying to concentrate on his question and not the signals his body sent mine. Would we ever be able to tame the sparks between us? Did I want to? Maybe I should tell reason to take off on a jet plane and…

  That was the last thing I remember saying that night. The next thing I knew I awoke from a deep sleep late Saturday morning.

  Chapter Nine

  Another day, another pahana

  AFTER THE FRIDAY night welcoming committee fiasco of Fia, Kale and Dan, I spent Saturday afternoon and evening in my room, despondent and depressed. Had I made the right decision to come out to Flag? My roommate was sort of crazy. Her boyfriend was a jerk, and either hated me or feared me, or maybe both.

  Another jerk, my ex, appeared on my balcony only to make out with me and abandon me. Again. In fact, he had left me in the cold after I passed out drunk on a chair on the balcony with only his sweatshirt as a blanket. If Fia hadn’t woke me and dragged me to bed in the middle of the night, I might have spent the whole night exposed in the chilly mountain air. I could have developed pneumonia.

  Thoughtless Dan strikes again.

  But I made a vow. He would not hurt me again. The whiplash I suffered from Dan’s mood swings nauseated me worse than intense auras.

  The rest of Saturday and all of Sunday I spent re-evaluating my life and re-charging my mind and body. Four hours of crying, three vanilla malts, two Will and Grace marathons, and a ten-mile run later, I no longer hated the universe.

  Fia vegetated in her room. She knocked once; I told her I was staying in bed because I had a cold. She said nothing after that, but I knew she stayed home because from what I could hear through the walls, she had two visitors. A guy who delivered a pizza and another encounter made me blush and regret forgetting my noise concealing headphones in Nebraska.

  Dan didn’t rudely reappear on my balcony, or call. Sure, I didn’t give him my number. Why would he call? But I hadn’t given him my address, either, and that hadn’t stopped him.

  Monday, my bitter feelings were tempered by purposeful hopes, to become a great nurse. To take care of the world, one patient at a time. At 4:30 a.m., I woke to my alarm blaring “Feelin’ Groovy” and bounced to the shower. Taking a hot shower and dressing in a cute pair of hot pink scrubs further recharged my motivation. Humming music from another decade, I pulled my wavy auburn hair into two loose braids. I applied water-proof mascara.

  The silence of the apartment sounded too loud.

  Sighing, I walked through the living room to Fia’s bedroom door and knocked.

  “Fia, it’s 5:30- we need to be on the road in 15 minutes!”

  Silence.

  I knelt to tie my black, orange, and pink tennis shoes, then pounded again. No answer. I fumbled with her door knob, but it didn’t give way.

  My phone chirped with a text.

  Go away, I’ll call in sick.

  “Ok, hope you feel better,” I said through the door. Couldn’t call out the kettle after I was the pot this weekend.

  Missing three days of practicals with the patients would not go over well with Carmen. But Fia was a big girl, and she’d have to deal with the consequences eventually.

  Since Meredith hadn’t delivered my car yet, Gabe planned on driving us to the reservation. Gabe owned a practical Honda Accord, whereas Fia’s environmentally friendly Tesla maxed out at 250 miles per charge, making it impractical to drive out the 260 miles round trip to Polacca, home of the Hopi Wellness Center.

  I made a mental note to call Meredith to check on delivery preparations of my Infiniti G37. Meredith had insisted I leave the car with her so she could get it tuned up before sending it out to Flagstaff by courier. She refused to consider me driving to Flagstaff.

  Our apartment bell buzzed. I grabbed my purple weekender suitcase and my purse before yelling good-bye to Fia.

  Gabe’s cheerful smile before the sun had fully risen made me grin back. Dressed in a lavender shirt with a black and white tie sporting mini mortar and pestles, and perfectly pressed slate colored pants, he looked ready for a board room, not for home health visits. Cheery energy emanated all around Gabe. At least I knew one uncomplicated person in Flagstaff.

  “Good morning sunshine,” he said, “Ready for an amazing three days on the rez?”

  “Hey Donald Trump, Jr.” I grinned back. “Although we’ll be one ray of sunshine short this trip. Fia isn’t feeling well.”

  Gabe’s eyebrows rose in concern, “Oh no. Seriously? I hope she’s okay. Is there something we can do? Maybe we should call a doctor-“

  I placed a hand on Gabe’s arm, reigning in on my impulse to reach out meta-physically to calm him. My energy needed to be reserved for more appropriate interventions, and I didn’t need to wear myself out first thing in the morning.

  “She’ll be okay, Gabe. It’s probably just a headache,” I said. “She can call her parents or something if she needs any help.”

  “Okay,” he said. He frowned, deep in thought, but he took my bag and placed it next to his in the trunk. As he shut the trunk, he grinned. “It’s a long drive- we won’t have time to ‘stand on the corner in Winslow Arizona’, but we’ll be able to drive through the town.”

  I smiled and sat in the passenger seat. “I love the Eagles! I’ve got some road trip play-lists on my iPod, want to listen?”

  Gabe drove us I-40 west towards Winslow, and we listened to my 1970’s Road-trip Rock. We chatted the whole way, first about music. It turned out Gabe enjoyed pop, but he tolerated my playlist and even sang along with a few of the songs. Later, we reached Winslow, a small town of about 10,000. The morning air filled with the smokey smell of barbecue from a street vendor, and Gabe and I made a deal to stop for lunch there on Wednesday on the way back to Flag. Gabe drove highway 87 north towards the Hopi reservation and the town of Polacca.

  About 20 minutes away from Polacca, the car jerked. Gabe slowed and his car thumped to the shoulder of the highway.

  “Seriously?” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “Is this God’s way of telling me I need to learn how to change a flat?”

  “Didn’t you have to change out your tire on Friday night, too?” I snorted, and Gabe raised his eyebrows. This inconvenience couldn’t suppress my bubbly mood.

  “Are you kidding? Friday I called AAA- that’s what I pay them for, right?” he said. “After the tow truck took forever on Friday night, I downloaded this handy Car trouble app. Let’s see, ‘My car will not start’ -no…
my car makes noises- no…”

  I shook my head. “Gabe, do you have a spare tire?”

  “Of course I do. In the trunk,” he said, still messing around with his app. Gabe seemed to be tech smart, but not very street smart. The necessity to change a car tire had never presented itself before, but I knew the basics. Gabe tapped at his phone, and I glanced at my watch. 9:00 am. We were already late to our first meeting with the nurse supervisor at the HWC, and a phone couldn’t change a flat.

  The sun shone warm and bright in the sky, now, but a strong wind whipped my braids around my face as I popped the trunk. I inhaled the fresh, dry air, taking in the vista. Vast expanses of blue skies touching sun-dappled hills and buttes dominated the land surrounding the highway. Small green shrubs and blue-green native grasses blanketed the ground. The landscape appeared determined, ancient, infinite; alive in its own way. It was as if the mountains and mesas held many stories and secrets and didn’t need to bother with elaborate plants to make them beautiful anymore.

  As I removed the spare tire, lug wrench, and the jack, I saw Gabe toss his phone in the car before he walked towards me, shaking his head.

  “I need to get into app development,” he said with a sigh. “This car problems app is completely useless- it’s telling me to call for assistance! If I weren’t already into pill pushing, I’d totally teach myself coding and develop a useful app. Guess I’ll call AAA. But tt’ll be a few hours until they can drive out here.”

  I smiled at him. “Luckily, they still make good old fashioned car manuals- want to go get it, and I’ll do the dirty work here? You’re not exactly dressed for the occasion.”

  Gabe complied. He read the first line of the direction, before stopping mid-sentence. Hunched over, maneuvering the lug wrench, I called out to him.

  Gabe muttered something about the competition.

  “No, Gabe. I don’t think it’s a competition. I’m sure you could change a flat, too-“

  I stopped mid-sentence as my skin prickled with electricity. Putting the lug wrench on the ground, I stood as a cop car pulled in behind us. Solid, impenetrable dark brown eyes glared into mine. My skin covered in waves of goosebumps.

  What. On Earth. Was he doing here.

  Kale opened his car door and kept his gaze on me as he stepped out, walking towards us.

  As he approached, I took in his muscular, yet slender body. In a uniform, he looked more like a guy that a bachelorette party would order, rather than an actual police officer. His long black hair was plaited in a braid hanging to his mid-back.

  “Good morning,” he said in his voice that reminded me of a deep canyon. “Where’s Fia?”

  “Hey, Kale, good to see you.” I smiled at him, all nerves and prickly energy. My stomach fluttered. Wait, was I nervous, or excited? What the hell. Whether I liked it or not, my energy responded to Kale. “Ah… Fia’s sick. She couldn’t make it out to Polacca.”

  Kale shook his head. “I’m not sure why she applied for the internship. She’s not one to rise before noon.”

  “She’s made it pretty clear mornings aren’t her favorite,” I said with a nod, wiping loose strands away from my already damp forehead.

  “You know how to change a flat?” Kale raised his eyebrows as if surprised.

  “Well, I’m going to learn.” I said.

  “Let me help.” Kale took the wrench from my hand, and his sage scent filled my nose. My heart rate sped. I retreated a safe distance while he worked, confused by my reaction to him. Distraction. I needed a distraction. I grabbed a notebook from the car, shuffling through nursing paperwork, but my eyes kept drifting to copper brown muscles working on the tire.

  Damn.

  Kale was ripped.

  And I was only human.

  Twenty minutes later, Kale brushed the dust from his pants and helped Gabe stow the blown tire.

  “Here’s my info, in case you get lost on the rez,” Kale said, writing on his business card and handing it to me. As his fingers touched mine, I felt a burst of energy, like an electric shock. Kale crinkled his eyebrows and dropped my hand fast like my palm sprouted cactus thorns.

  “Seriously. Don’t bother my people, Chelsea. Do your job then leave our land,” he said in his deep voice. With that pronouncement, he walked to his cruiser and sped away.

  Gabe, busy calling the mechanic near Polacca to procure a full-size tire, didn’t hear Kale’s illogical demand.

  Why would I bother his people? I scowled. He gave me his number, then told me to get lost?

  More than anything, I wanted to use my gift to help people. But Kale’s animosity towards me made my stomach twist in knots. Maybe his attitude had something to do with my power. I knew Kale sensed it Friday night. Did he think I practiced witchcraft with a malicious intent on his people? I bit my lip. We were late and needed to get to the meeting with our supervisor.

  Gabe’s car eventually took us to Route 264, where we headed east towards Polacca. Modest trailers and houses dotted the road. Mesas towered above the highway. One mesa had stone homes growing from the top. At least, that’s how it looked. I couldn’t tell where the mesa stopped, and the homes began. Fifteen minutes later, we pulled into the Hopi Wellness Center, a modern looking facility.

  The security guard at the HWC compound, a short, friendly Hopi native in his 60’s named Martin, instructed us to park in the lot nearest the hospital. He gave us directions to walk to a U-shaped grouping of small apartment units on the east side of the compound.

  As we parked, a dark-skinned man dressed in black scrubs and crocs walked towards our car. A clean cut goatee shadowed his face, and warm eyes that crinkled slightly at the corners were the only hint he was probably in his mid 30’s.

  “Hey interns, way to make an entrance on your first day!” he said with a laugh. “You’re late! Carmen had to take off to make her appointments for the afternoon. I’m Stephen Yoweri, ER med staff supervisor here.”

  I took his outstretched hand. “I’m Chelsea Shephard. I’m so sorry about our tardiness. We had a flat outside of town.”

  Stephen waved his hand. “No worries, time’s relative here on the rez. Let me show you all your rooms before you leave for your appointments. When you get back, we’ll do a tour of the compound.”

  Stephen showed us to our apartments, which were tiny but would suffice for the three days and two nights we’d be staying. After putting our suitcases in our respective rooms, we went to the public health nursing trailer with Stephen. He gave us the keys to a government vehicle nurses used on the reservation, and a short list of patients to visit. Two people needed their medication deliveries and one needed her medications organized. We took the bags of meds and a late model sedan and headed out on our first day.

  Our first house was in Sichomovi, on First Mesa. The directions reminded me of a Native American treasure map; instead of road names we had with directions like “turn right at the Cellular One sign, take a left at the blue roofed shed, sharp right at the end of the road.” The car climbed a steep, one-lane road. I kept my eyes closed most of the time.

  “Wow, would you look at that view? We must be hundreds of feet up,” Gabe said as he drove.

  Acid burned my throat. “Please don’t talk about heights right now,” I whimpered, sweat beading on my forehead.

  “What’s that? I mean, this is incredible. It looks like the valley goes on forever. All the way to the San Francisco peaks. I’ve never seen anything so-“

  Gabe slammed on his brakes. I screamed, expecting my stomach to drop. A small goat stared at us for a moment before continuing his decent on the road.

  “Just a goat, dude, relax,” Gabe said.

  “Oh my god, Gabe please keep the car on the mesa,” I said. “And stop talking about how high up we are!” I hit him on the shoulder. He laughed.

  “Oh, you’re afraid of heights, huh? Guess I’ll be doing the driving on the mesas.”

  For the rest of the climb, I kept my eyes closed, despite Gabe’s insistence I’d
feel less ill with them open. Several minutes later, we arrived at the village, a motley of original stone and cement block houses. The ground was covered in pavement, matching the houses. Driveways, sidewalks, and road were all one. Gabe barely hit the gas through the small village. Farther ahead, more traditional homes jutted out of the ground, the same color as the ground, as if they were part of the earth. Children watched us from the side of the road. One boy stopped a ball game to wave at us.

  We found the home with the “brown shutters” and I listened as Gabe described the medications our first patient, Lena, a short woman with white hair, in her 70’s who spoke a little English. Today was a pharmacy oriented day, giving me the opportunity to learn more about medications.

  Lena had a toothy grin and was eager to share the history of her village. It turned out she had lived farther up the mesa, in a village called Walpi, until a few years ago. Lena was proud to share that Walpi was the oldest known village in the United States, dating back over 1000 years. It turned out her grandchildren had insisted that she move into their home which had electricity and running water, but she still gave tours of the village and invited us to join her one weekend. We promised the next weekend we were in town, we’d be there.

  At the second house, no one answered.

  Afterward, Gabe drove us out of First Mesa. My stomach twisted on the descent, and nausea boiled up my throat as we returned to lower altitudes on Route 264.

  “You look sort of pale, like more than usual,” Gabe said. The fluttering from earlier in the day turned into a squeezing pain. My stomach felt like it was folding in on itself, and I groaned.

  “Here, you need an anti-histamine.” Gabe pulled the car into the parking lot of a small grocery store. He opened his backpack and pulled out a portable supply bag each nurse carried. He handed me a pink and white capsule.

  “Gabe, I’m not having allergies. I think it’s vertigo, maybe. I shouldn’t have looked down from the mesa… ugh, I hate heights.”