Smoke Screen

by Suzanne Ouimet

Carmine sat down. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Sandro told him, “Go on, you might as well continue with your story?”

  “Alright,” his brother agreed. He sat back down, helped himself to another cinnamon bun, in control of his emotions at last. “When I came back to the States in June of ’64, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought of returning here, but somehow just couldn’t face coming back. So much had happened to me over there I couldn’t talk about. I didn’t think anybody here would understand what I’d been through. There’d be questions I couldn’t answer. I felt I didn’t fit in anywhere, felt incredibly disconnected.

  “On my way out of Nam, I met this guy, an Apache, named Tony Garcia. He told me a group of forty Sioux had occupied Alcatraz only months before, in March of ’64. They occupied the former prison island, claiming an 1868 treaty entitled them to take over surplus federal land, which Alcatraz was at the time. Can you believe it? They actually had the nerve to offer the federal government 47 cents an acre for it! It was only meant to be a publicity stunt to make a point – ‘treaties are not irrelevant and the Indians have not forgotten them’. Obviously the Feds weren’t too happy. They didn’t stay on ‘The Rock’ very long. It was pretty amazing. Maybe you heard about it? It was really big news when it happened.”

  “Yeah, I remember,” Sandro said, tersely. “I remember thinking it was pretty damned foolhardy, to tell you the truth.”

  Ignoring him, Cal pressed on. “In 1969, another group went back, took possession again, intending to start an Indian university there. They stayed for two years, under terrible conditions, enduring constant government harassment, blockades. Eventually they were starved out.”

  Sandro replied, “I’m not interested in all this Indian stuff , Carmine. But, yeah, we heard about it. But what’s it got to do with you not coming home?”

  Val interjected. “By that time we were settled in our own lives, Cal. We were never much involved in Indian affairs. My parents were involved with the Indian community but didn’t believe in protests.”

  “Allow me, please. You say you want to know why I didn’t come home, so just listen.” It was obvious to both Sandro and Val that Carmine was used to lecturing, used to being listened to, so they listened.

  “Did you know, by the late ‘50’s, more than half our people were living in cities, because the federal government wanted to get rid of the reservation system? Our young people were being lured off the reserves by the thousands, by promises of a brighter future – free bus fares to the city, education, jobs, homes, you-name-it. At least 200,000 of our youth relocated under this program. Why they believed the Feds would follow through with their promises is anyone’s guess. I mean, have they ever? A third of them went back to the reserve when things didn’t work out, but most ended up in city ghettos. Many turned to drink. Many, many, ended up in prison. What nobody dreamed, at the time, was the young urban Indians would get smarter, more educated, more radical. They began to identify with the blacks and the white students who were staging peace protests all over the place.”

  “Don’t you think it’s kind of weird that’s all stopped now?” Val pondered, allowing herself to go off subject. “All that protesting?”

  “Well, for one thing, the FBI has everyone who ever protested anything, anywhere, on a list now.” Carmine responded cynically. “Nobody wants to stick their necks out to get arrested — or worse — anymore.”

  “I still don’t understand what all this stuff has to do with you not coming home!” Sonny snapped.

  “Hang on. Listen, will you? Let me explain.” Exasperated, Carmine stared at his brother until he felt he had his full attention.

  “While I was in ۥNam, I met this Vietnamese guy, name of Tran – I think I wrote you about him. He and I had many interesting discussions. Because he was so proud of his heritage I started thinking about my own. I got all fired up, starting reading all I could get my hands on about what was happening on the reservations, which wasn’t much actually, now I think about it. I don’t know if it was deliberate or not, but it seemed the Navy never allowed two Indians to stay together in any one unit for very long. If, by some chance, another Indian was assigned to our unit, he was transferred out, pronto. I probably had contact with only seven or eight other Native Americans the whole time I was over there. And a lot of Indians served in that war! Anyway, I sure didn’t see many of them… But, I managed to learn a lot from those I did.

  “These guys were from all over — the east coast, the plains, the northwest. Ojibwe, Cherokee, Cree, Mohawk – you name it, the one thing they all had in common was pride in their heritage, despite reservation life pushing them down. They all resolved to improve things when they got home. We never lived on a reserve, Sandro, but you know how we were treated at school. You too, Val. Admit it, we all experienced bullying and bigotry.

  “Anyway, when I finally got out of the Navy, I went to San Francisco, where I’d heard many of the Indian vets were going. I realized the first thing I should do was get more education. So soon as I got there, I enrolled in college to become a teacher.

  “Thought you wanted to go into medicine?” Sandro asked sarcastically.

  “Yeah, well, turned out I didn’t have nearly enough education to get into pre-med. Not only that, it takes ’way too long to become a doctor, and I was in a hurry. Anyway… I began to meet a lot of pro-active people and eventually joined a group called the National Indian Youth Council. They were gaining a high profile in many places across the country. Several groups and clubs in Oakland brought our people together to discuss what could be done to improve conditions for Indian people generally, both on the reservations and in the cities. Too many of our young people were hanging around in bars, drinking. Too many were ending up in a life of crime, spending years in prison, as I said. And a lot of hopeless, homeless people living on the streets. Things on the reservations weren’t much better. The strange thing was, the people in these groups, they were from all over the place, not just the west coast. And they all wanted to help improve things.”

  “Our people?” Sandro asked sarcastically.

  “Sonny, when I say ‘our people’ I don’t just mean our relatives, I mean all the aboriginal peoples of North America.

  “Did you two, by any chance, get involved in the fishing protests here in ’64? Marlon Brando came here to support the fishermen in a protest over treaty rights given to ‘our people’ in the last century. Which of course, as usual, the governments didn’t honour.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Sandro replied dismissively. “If I remember correctly, I was away at University at the time.”

  Val nodded in agreement. “Yes, we were away,” she said. “Not that we’d have gotten involved anyway. Was Brando really arrested, Cal?”

  “Yes, he was. Of course, they let him go almost immediately because the government didn’t want a media frenzy. Native fishermen, for years, had been hassled and arrested for dropping their nets and catching fish. Probably still are, even now.”

  “He gave up his Oscar in 1973, didn’t he, over the same issue?” Val asked.

  “Well, he didn’t actually give it up, Val. He just didn’t appear on stage. Sent a young Indian actress, Sasheen Littlefeather, to collect it for him.”

  “It’s getting late.” Sonny suddenly announced. “I need to get some sleep.”

  “The siege at Wounded Knee – I was there.” Carmine almost boasted, not caring what time it was. He wanted to tell them everything.

  Val interrupted. “Tell us about Wounded Knee tomorrow, Cal. It’s not that we aren’t interested but we go to work early; we have to get some sleep. You stay in bed as late as you like in the morning. There’s lots to eat, so you won’t starve. Make yourself at home. We should be back about 4:30”

  “I thought I might go see Lisa.” Carmine said, standing up and stretching. “Would it be okay if I called her from here?”

  “Good plan.” Sonny agreed. “But call first, for sure, don’t just show up,” he advised, remem
bering his shock the night before when he’d discovered Carmine on the doorstep.

  Before going to sleep, Sandro confessed to Val he was still angry with his brother. She told him she’d forgiven Carmine long ago.

  “He leaves me with Ben, then goes off and joins the Navy. He doesn’t even bother to let us know where he is, and then expects us to forgive him, just like that!” Sonny complained. “It’s okay for you – you probably still love him.”

  “I don’t love him anymore,” Val protested. Not in that way anyway. “Not in the least. But he is your brother.”

  “He’s not mad at our Dad anymore, either. I’ll bet he expects me to forgive Ben, after how he destroyed my life.”

  “Don’t say that, Sonny. Your life wasn’t destroyed. There’s no use staying hurt. It’s a total waste of emotion. You and I have our lives in front of us. You need to let all the old wounds heal so they don’t infect your new family. I know you’ve been injured, darling, but you have to move on. Forget about the past. Please. Just move on.”

  “I wish I could. I really wish I could,” Sandro sniffed, turning his back to her.

  “Don’t be such a baby. It’s you I love, you know that. You and our baby.” she assured him, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her warm, pregnant belly up against his back to comfort him. “Don’t you think it’ll be good for him to have his Uncle Cal in his life?”

  “You think it’s a boy?” he asked, cheering up a little, clasping her hands in his.

  * * *

  Next morning, when Val woke up, the brothers were sitting at the kitchen table.

  “I’m not going in this morning,” Sonny informed her. “I called Fletch; he’s going to sub for me. I want to stay here and visit with Cal, okay? We may go over to visit Lisa, together. Later, if she’s home.”

  Val was overjoyed. Obviously her chat with Sandro the previous night had done some good. Maybe he’s finally ready to move on.

  After Val had left for work, while they were still at the kitchen table enjoying their third cup of coffee, Cal leaned over and touched his brother’s hand. “I’m glad you and Val got married, Sonny.”

  “Obviously I do, too.”

  “Was she very upset? You know, when I stopped writing? I was worried about her.”

  “Of course, she was. We both were.” Sandro replied, still a bit rankled.

  “When did you get together? In college?” Carmine felt he had to drag information out of his brother. Sheesh! This is like pulling teeth…

  “We were only friends then. We got together in 1970, awhile after the fire. I guess you don’t know about the fire.”

  “No. What fire was that?”

  “The one where my baby daughter died.”

  “What!!?”

  “It was all Ben’s fault….”

  “Wait a minute. You were married to somebody before Val?”

  “No!” Sandro, silent for a moment or two, sighed, then continued. “We weren’t married… Shit! I don’t know how to tell you about this.”

  “Start from the beginning, Sandro. You had a daughter. Who was her mother? What was her name?”

  “She was Aunt Marilyn’s daughter, Frannie.”

  “Our cousin, then?”

  “Our cousin… Yeah…

  “And our sister…” Sonny added, not looking up. Picking at his cuticles, he stared into his coffee cup.

  “Okay….” Carmine was shocked, almost speechless. “Wait a minute! That explains something. Do you know why I decided to leave home, back when we were kids?”

  “I thought you didn’t like the babies crying all the time. That’s what you told me before you left.”

  “Well, there was that. Stupid, of course, being jealous of those tiny, little things. For some reason, I couldn’t stand watching Mom nursing them, cuddling them. But it was the fight I had with Ben that really did it.”

  “What fight? I don’t remember any fight.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. We had it out back behind the shed, Ben and I. I shoved him and he shoved me back. It was over Marilyn. I had seen him and Marilyn together and confronted him about it. One thing led to another and we ended up fighting. Actual fisticuffs.”

  “You saw him and Marilyn together? When? How?”

  “I was riding my bike one night, just after dark, over on Main and I saw them coming out of the Star Motel,” Cal recollected. “They were hugging and kissing, really into it. After a bit, they got into their cars and drove off. I knew there was something going on, so I told Dad I’d seen them and challenged him to tell me what was going on or I’d tell Mom. He was pissed off and told me to mind my own business. I was pretty angry about him cheating on Mom and gave him a shove. It went on from there.”

  “Who won?”

  Carmine grinned. “Neither one of us, I guess.” After a minute, he asked, “So, what you’re telling me is that Dad and Marilyn had a baby together? How old is she?”

  “About Lisa’s age. Her name’s Frannie.” Sandro replied. “To make a long story short, I met her at a school dance, we fell for each other in a big way and she ended up pregnant. We were going to get married, but right after the baby was born, there was this big fire at her apartment and they didn’t get out. It was Dad who rescued them – Frannie and our baby, Nichole. At first, Nichole was okay, but then the poor little mite died, a few days later, from smoke inhalation.” His eyes began to tear up, his voice weakened.

  “Did you know Frannie was our sister? When you first got together, I mean?”

  “Of course not! Do you think I’m nuts?”

  “When did you find out?”

  “After the baby died. After the fire.”

  “Who told you? How do you know for sure Frannie’s our sister?”

  “I know. Marilyn told me. I believe her. She was really upset. And mad at Dad too, I think. She didn’t even know we were Dad’s sons. Before he told her, right before that fire.”

  “Where’s Frannie now?”

  “She and Marilyn went back up to Canada. She’s married now; apparently has a couple of kids. I never saw her again after the fire. Marilyn wouldn’t let us see each other. I never knew how she was. I couldn’t be there for her. Nobody would let me.”

  Carmine could tell his brother was still heartbroken. “I can just imagine how you must have felt.”

  “No, you can’t.” Sandro insisted, distraught, in tears. “I hate Ben. I hated him when I left the year after you did. I never wanted to talk to him again, ever. Then this happened and — I’ve must tell you, I almost killed him! It was only Val that kept me from buying a gun and shooting him.

  “It was all his fault! To keep us secret from each other, to deliberately keep us separate! How could he? Ben – always the big hero! If only people knew. How could he have been so damned cruel?”

  Shocked by his brother’s story, Carmine said, “He was probably ashamed of what happened with our mother. I believe he was always ashamed of us. I was hurt he wouldn’t tell anybody we were his real sons… didn’t acknowledge us.”

  “So was I. Still am! I can’t get over it. Do you know he wrote some letter that more or less accused me of setting fires?”

  “You’re kidding? Why would he do that?”

  “Search me, but the cops came calling a few weeks ago. They’re looking into the cause of the fire, the one where Nichole was killed. Apparently they believe it was arson and murder because of our baby dying and they’ve reopened the investigation. They found this thing he wrote. I have a copy if you want to see.”

  “Do they think you’re to blame?”

  “Oh, no. No, I don’t think so. I was away at university with Val at the time. But they’re questioning a lot of people, I think. Actually, they’re quite nice, these cops – a young man and woman. They know I didn’t do it.”

  “What about Dad? Did you ever confront him? Did he ever apologize to you for all this?”

  “Are you kidding? He was never to blame for anything!”

  “I’m going ov
er to see him. I’ll give him a piece of my mind. How is Mom? I can’t wait to see her.”

  “You can’t see either of them. They’re dead. Didn’t you know?”

  “No. I didn’t!” Another shock. “When was this?”

  “Ben had a heart attack right after the fire. According to what we heard, he was in bad shape for quite awhile. Then in ’82, he and Mom were killed in a car accident. We didn’t go to the funeral, Val and I.”

  “Geez! I didn’t know.”

  “How could you? You weren’t here.”

  “Yeah, sorry. Yet again… Geez, Sonny!” Cal exclaimed, suddenly realizing the enormity of what Sonny had been telling him. “God, you’ve been through so much. I had no idea.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes. Then, Sonny stood, took their cups to rinse them at the sink and suggested,

  “I’m tired of talking about this shit. Let’s give Lisa a call, see if she’s home.”

  “Does Lisa know about Frannie? About Marilyn and Dad?”

  “No she doesn’t. Not as far as I know anyway. I guess we’ll find out… Maybe her kids will be there, her twins. You’ll like them.”

  “She has twins? How old are they?”

  “About eleven or twelve, I think. A boy and a girl — Jack and Sami. She also has an older boy, Peter. I haven’t met him, yet.”

  “More twins! They must run in the family. Who knows, maybe yours will be twins.”

  “You knew Val was expecting? Well, she isn’t having twins. That much we do know. Val thinks it might be a boy.”

  “You’ve left it a late to have children, Sonny.”

  “Yes. Well, we had some trouble. Val kept having miscarriages. We finally found a doctor who figured out what was wrong. So now it looks as though, finally, everything is okay. Are you married?”

  “Yes. My wife is a Cree girl named White Feather, christened Theresa, so we call her Terry. She’s Leo’s sister.” Carmine handed his brother some photographs from his wallet.

  “This is your family?” “Yes, Terry and our two girls, Tanya and Kim. Maybe you and Val could come down to Rosebud and visit us sometime, Sonny. It’s really beautiful down there. You’d love it.”