The United States of Us

by Kate Sundara

  ‘Sacajawea was beautiful and smart. She spoke various languages and, of course, she knew the land. The men realised she’d have her uses if they took her with them on the expedition: if they came into contact with other tribes she could translate, or negotiate for horses and if the party ran into trouble she could be a token of peace. As for her intention, she was probably hoping they’d run into her tribe, the one she’d been kidnapped from all those years ago.’ Rosa takes a long drag on her pipe – it doesn’t smell like tobacco – smoke lingering about her so that she sits in a self-conjured cloud. ‘It was a tough route, through mountain, forest, desert, prairie, all the way to the Pacific Coast. There were no roads back in 1805. Trekking through all that in moccasins with a baby strapped to her back! She didn’t complain…

  ‘The party ran out of food and might have died of starvation, but Sacajawea dug up plant-roots to eat, as she didn’t want to be eating dog or horse. She collected wild foods, pointed out the way, lifted the party’s spirits when they felt blue. Lewis and Clark were fond of her and her baby, but her husband had other Indian wives and tried to offer up Sacajawea to the men in the expedition. Clark came to her rescue, saying he’d terminate his position if her husband carried on that way. Though no doubt she would’ve stuck up for herself.’

  Mia pictures the party sitting around an open fire on a cold starry night on the plains: the mistreated Indian princess in her buckskins, smooth skin glowing in the fire-light as she strokes her swaddled baby; starchy-looking men with their waxed moustaches and little round specs, all hunched-up and nervous as coyotes yip in the distance.

  ‘Was she reunited with her tribe?’

  ‘Oh yes. They ran into her people and there amidst the crowd was Sacajawea’s brother. It must have been emotional. Lewis and Clark would’ve been happy too – with her there they finally got horses in exchange for food and guns.’

  ‘What happened to her afterwards?’

  ‘Ah, well…’ Rosa sucks in another long lungful. ‘There’s a whole lotta controversy about that, many legends and mysteries. The historians, with their itty-bitty documents, say she travelled with her meanie husband on a riverboat, got sick with fever and died around the age of twenty-five. The Indians – some of them – reckon the historians were referring to her husband’s other wife and that Sacajawea went off by herself and lived to a ripe old age. They say she travelled from tribe to tribe, eventually settled with the Comanche, married a warrior by the name of Jerk Meat and had more children with him. She was known by different names too: Bird Woman, Lost Woman, Boat Launcher. That confused things. There’s talk she wore a bronze peace-medal with President Jefferson’s head on it and died when she was a hundred years old.’

  ‘That’s quite a difference.’

  ‘Ain’t it quite.’

  ‘What do you believe?’

  ‘I believe we live in a nation that reveres the written word over oral tradition. I guess that’s why I tell these stories – to those I choose. We’ve had so many beliefs beaten out of us – rituals denounced savage or heathen, customs outlawed. Storytelling’s one way we can hold onto who we are. The details are hard to know because Sacajawea never boasted about her quest. Well, one can hardly blame her. Figures some of those Indian villagers might not have been oh-so-thrilled about her showing the Europeans the way; after all, way they see it, she helped the first white folk cross the continent. That route allowed others to follow; soldiers, traders, businessmen – anyone who ever cared to come this way.’

  ‘Well, people were going to figure it out eventually, right? I mean America’s so huge and it’d already been discovered. People were going to come sooner or later.’ She contemplates the brief and bizarre course of American history. ‘I can’t believe I never knew this stuff.’

  ‘Oh, well why would you? You’re not from around here. Figures you would’ve been taught a different history at school – kings and queens. I told you, this valley’s full of stories. Stories are everywhere when you start to look.’

  ‘I wish I could find a story.’

  Rosa looks intrigued. ‘What you seek is seeking you.’

  ‘Rumi?’

  ‘You’re well-read too.’

  Mia shrugs. ‘Just searching.’

  ‘You’ll find your story,’ Rosa tells her.

  * * *

  Mia wakes in April’s van the next morning desperate for a shower. Now her hair’s getting greasy from working at the shelter, she’s started wrapping it in scarves. April’s shower is still broken. Mia tried to repair it. The past couple of days she’s been wrestling with her own limbs over toilet and sink in that cupboard-come-washroom. April’s been washing either at the record-store or at the home of her most recent fling, Todd.

  ‘I thought you were with Ryan from The Mach Band?’ she asked April yesterday.

  ‘It’s a kinda open relationship,’ she replied with a look that implied it wasn’t her decision. From some of the other things April said, it sounded like a degree of free-loving went on in her van too.

  Since Mia has neither a proper job nor various beaux to call upon, April drew her directions to Todd’s house on an organic cereal packet and said she could go there to shower, that he wouldn’t mind if she explained she’s April’s friend. Mia searches for the cereal map but that, like so many things, is lost in the mess. Probably for the best, she decides, it’d be weird rocking up at the home of some guy she’s never met, clutching wash-bag and towel, asking if she could come in for a shower. Ruth would be a better bet if she were home, which she isn’t. I don’t have to deal with such practicalities.

  Mia misses Zak. The nice Zak. Her heart hurts and she longs for reconciliation. She knows that it’s within her reach. At least Zak is in the land of the living.

  She thinks about stealing over there to use his shower like he offered, but that’d be weak and she has to stay strong. She is strong. Besides, she doesn’t know what she might find: another naked nymph in his bed?

  Two more messages on the machine and he’s sounding sorrier than ever. If he’s that bothered, she thinks, why doesn’t he come find her? She just can’t shake that fairytale thinking.

  Mia revisits her list of positive things to do but none of it takes her fancy. She calls Wil to ask if she can shower at the Dale house before the beach bonfire he invited her to tonight, gathers her things and heads on over there.

  One of the Dale house girls, Megan, lets her in. Wil smiles when she enters their kitchen with her towel, says he has a little welcome to the valley gift for Mia. He seems almost embarrassed as he hands it to her.

  Mia looks at him intrigued. ‘What’s this?’ she asks, peeking into the paper bag.

  ‘When you were here at the party the other night… you mentioned how you’d like to know about local legends and traditions… it’s just a little something…’

  ‘A little something? Wil!’ exclaims Mia, pulling out a big book, leafing through wonderfully illustrated pages of mystical beings, gods and goddesses, local stories, traditional tales and totems. ‘This is amazing!’ It must have cost a fortune but she doesn’t mention it – Wil already looks flushed. He seems naturally modest, almost shy.

  ‘Thank you so much! It’s perfect! How thoughtful.’ Eyes glistening for the first time in days, she rests it on the living room table and goes for her much anticipated shower.

  Because of holding onto me and the past, Mia’s grown into a woman unaware of the power in her beauty. Close to nature, she’s of the wild, but her sensuality remains an undiscovered part of the forest. She doesn’t notice how the male residents of the Dale house watch her as she emerges from their bathroom in a towel, how Brent carefully re-grooms himself and even gentlemanly Wil can’t help that surreptitious glimpse. I know her well enough to know she’s not trying to be provocative. Not consciously.

  When she’s dried off and dressed she curls up in the hammock of the Dale house back garden and passes an entire afternoon immersed in her new book. She lets imagery of animals and
strange strong beings be her inspiration, absorbs the meaning behind different totems and what the different moons for each month mean. Between Wil’s book and Rosa’s teachings, Mia’s beginning to bond with the landscape. Since her soul is yearning for connection – and she’s too riled to respond to Zak reaching out – she’ll strengthen her relationship with herself in nature instead.

  * * *

  ‘If you go out in the woods today, you’re sure of a big surprise – woo!

  If you go out in the woods today, you’d better go in disguise

  La la la la ba-ba be ba-ba.

  Today’s the day the teddy bears have their piiiiiic-nic.’

  Mia sings quietly to herself as the group trudge in line along the dark woodland path.

  ‘It’s not the bears you gotta be afraid of here so much as the cougars,’ warns Brent, walking in front of her, moon-shadows sliding across his T-shirt as he moves between the pine trees.

  ‘Cougars?’

  ‘Mountain lions. They can stalk ya for hours before they attack. They’ve been known to steal human babies, but they’ll go for adults too if they’re hungry enough.’

  Mia turns to Ruth. ‘Lions and cougars and bears, oh my!’ Ruth chuckles as Mia helps pull her up a muddy ledge. ‘Brent’s only telling you this stuff hoping you’ll want to stick close by him for protection.’

  ‘He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with,’ says Mia, flicking a twig off her Red Riding Hood top, her favourite – now near threadbare – garment, a zip-up she bought at the start of her travels three years ago. I remember the day she got it.

  Chatter bounces along the line as the dozen friends hike the mountain path, stopping to reach out for one another when it comes to the difficult parts. Laughter comes easy to this bunch; all the guys and girls of the Dale house seem to get along and since meeting them all at their party they’ve welcomed Mia into their tribe. She can’t help even liking Brent. Every so often he turns to stretch out a hand to her through the dark – not that she needs him – helping her over a fallen tree or slippery rock, right up until the last time she puts her hand in his and after that he doesn’t let go.

  ‘You’re pretty good at this for a city girl,’ he tells her.

  ‘I’m not a city girl. I grew up in the country. I’ve been doing this stuff since I was a kid.’

  ‘It shows,’ says Brent. ‘You’ve a great body. Real tight and athletic.’

  Mia’s aware he’s all too focused on the physical, but could use a compliment so she takes it.

  Wil’s leading the party, he’s at the front of the line, navigating their way to the beach – not a real beach, this is the middle of the Rockies – rather a huge man-made clearing beside a great natural lake. Mia’s not so worried about the water tonight, since Wil said they wouldn’t be going anywhere near it. It’s glacial, i.e. freezing, and it’d be too dark even to see. She trusts him. Mia’s seen photos of other lakes in the region, the sorts of lakes she’d imagined swimming in with Zak.

  Mia, swimming? With Zak? It must’ve been a dream…

  Something’s stirring inside her, brought about by that book Wil gave her today. She’s as angry at herself as much as Zak. Caught up in their love affair, she’d started to forget the fundamentals of who she is. She’d even almost started to forget about me, but not fully. Never fully. The water always leads her back to me.

  Yes, she’d dreamt of swimming with Zak – although she couldn’t imagine how she’d get over her fear of the water – but he hadn’t given her that chance because he wasn’t interested enough. One mini adventure up the mountain, that was it. He’d rather spend his downtime with band-mates and groupies.

  Wil reminds Mia of a tour-guide or Venture Scout Leader the way he takes them through the wilderness. He has that responsible but friendly air about him, watching over, making sure everyone’s okay. Mia figures that Ruth, unlike herself apparently, finds nice, dependable attributes appealing.

  ‘They say there’s a banshee living in these woods,’ says Brent as they stand waiting for the others to catch up. ‘They say that if you hear the screams…’ Mia rolls her eyes, gently pulls her hand from his. She and Brent are not hooking up and she doesn’t want word getting out to the contrary. I appreciate her assertion. Not that I have the right nor desire to control her decisions. I just want what’s best for her, as she did for me.

  Reaching the edge of the woods they come out onto miles of smooth moonlit sand, above it an infinity of stars. Some friends of the Dale crowd, who Mia recognises from the party, have beaten them here and started a bonfire. They gather around it, cracking open beers. Ruth keeps looking to where Wil and the guys are gathered around Jake’s truck that he drove down an alternative route. Heather and Megan from the Dale house run to get drinks from the cooler.

  ‘Ruth Badger! Are you checking someone out?’ clocks Georgia – one of the other friendly girls from the Dale house Mia met the other night. She leans over and takes a swig from Ruth’s growler of beer. Mia drops her eyes. She promised she’d keep schtum about Ruth’s secret love for Wil.

  ‘Who me? No!’ she denies. ‘I think Mia has herself an admirer in Brent,’ she says deliberately.

  ‘Yeah, like I didn’t see that coming,’ replies Georgia. ‘Brent’s a player but he can be sweet. And he may seem pretty slow at times, but he’ll graduate in the top one percent in chemistry. But what’s the deal with you and Ryder? Is it true you guys had a holiday romance in Europe, that you came all this way to be with him?’

  Mia nods and doesn’t know what else to say.

  ‘Hey, I don’t mean to pry. Tell me to mind my own business. The girls and I were just curious.’

  Ruth offers Mia a supportive smile. Megan and Heather, back with their drinks, lean in.

  ‘I’m not sure what’s going on,’ answers Mia – the honest answer. A sense of loyalty that’s starting to feel misguided stops her disclosing any more than, ‘Maybe he’s not who I thought he was.’

  The girls look at her almost sympathetically.

  ‘Well no matter,’ says Georgia. ‘You’re here in your own right. You’re your own person. We don’t have to talk about it ever again, unless you want to.’

  Without Zak, Mia doesn’t know what she’s doing here and feels self-conscious about it. No matter how many friendly sympathetic faces surround her, she’s out on a limb.

  Brent’s gazing over at her with more spark and smoulder than the flames. He gets up and appears at her side, taking up the edge of her blanket so that it covers both of their shoulders. Semi-confidently, he slips an arm around her waist. Mia downs her drink then shares Brent’s growler of beer.

  ‘You’re neat, Mia. I hope we get to hang out while you’re here,’ he says. He can pursue her all he wants, she thinks, it’s never going to happen. I’m glad of that.

  Wil comes over to join them and they all chat awhile. Still doing his tour-guide bit, he asks Mia what she’s seen so far in the valley. She’s touched by his intellectual interest in her, especially after giving her that book earlier today. Unlike Brent, Wil seems more into her mind than her body, she respects that. She thanks him again for the gift.

  ‘I’m happy you like it,’ says Wil. ‘You seemed pretty engrossed all afternoon in our hammock!’

  Mia laughs. ‘It’s interesting,’ says Mia. ‘Some of the legends and characters in the book are local but then lots of them are generic: mermaids, goddesses, wizened women and little people.’

  Wil agrees. ‘Oh sure. It’s a mix. The lines between local and universal aren’t always defined. There are certain mythological creatures that crop up in many cultures and ancient illustrations all over the world. Take the mermaid, for example. She exists in Native American legend, Celtic, Aboriginal…’

  ‘Known as the yawk-yawk in Australia,’ adds Mia.

  Wil smiles, evidently impressed.

  ‘I’ve always been interested in world cultures,’ she explains. ‘I’ve travelled a lot.’

  ‘Right,’ says Wil. ‘
And what I find amazing is that these ancient cultures had no known physical interaction with each other, yet they share these similar archetypes!’

  ‘So it could be that we share a collective consciousness, a universal imagination?’

  ‘Exactly! In part… I believe so, at least.’

  Mia and Wil smile and nod at each other in understanding. Ruth’s wide-eyes flitter between the two of them in the firelight. Then the other guys call Wil away.

  ‘Wow,’ says Ruth, after he’s gone.

  ‘What?’ asks Mia.

  ‘Waxing intellectual?’

  Mia snickers a little. ‘Oh, we’ve a shared interest, that’s all.’

  ‘The guys are all swarming around you,’ remarks Ruth. ‘You’re like honey to the bees.’

  This strikes Mia as a skewed observation – the guys and girls seem equally as friendly. Then she realises Ruth’s referring specifically to Wil. ‘Hey, don’t worry. He’s just being nice. I guess it’s in his nature being a student mentor. Besides, the only guy I’m interested in isn’t here, remember? I came to be with Zak.’

  Mia doesn’t blame Ruth for being touchy. Ruth’s not the only one feeling insecure in matters of the heart.

  Later, on their trek back through the trees, the party come face to face with a wolf stood on their path, its eyes two reflective saucers in their torch lights. Staring straight at them, a quiet panic ruffles the group. ‘What do we do? How do we scare it off? Shoo, go away!’ They edge back. Everyone moves out of its way except Mia. She stands staring right back at it – connected, transfixed – their eyes locked together. Girl and wolf.

  ‘Mia, get back here!’ orders Brent, but she’s captivated. She’s never encountered a wolf in the wild, and she’s not conditioned to be afraid like the others.

  Wil steps forward to intervene, snapping the creature’s focus. It scampers away.

  As they continue their hike, Brent turns to Mia. ‘What were you doing?’ he demands. ‘You know it could’ve attacked you!’