Winter Counts(18)

9


Black shadowy clouds gathered on the horizon as I loaded up the car. The TV had said a bad storm was coming, probably heavy rain and thunderstorms. We’d agreed to take Marie’s much nicer and more reliable car to Denver. I was grateful for this, as I’d been worried about the dependability of my old banger.

But first I had to take Nathan to his auntie’s house. I’d packed a load of groceries, all of the junk foods I knew he liked to eat, his schoolbooks and cell phone, and forty dollars I’d taken from my stash. He’d been complaining all morning, lobbying to be left alone at our house while I was gone.

“You know I’m old enough to take care of myself,” he said. “And what about not going to school? It’s stupid to be all the way out there.”

I kept my eyes on the road as I drove out to Audrey’s house. “You can miss some school while you rest up.”

“What am I supposed to do there? She doesn’t even have TV or internet.”

“Maybe catch up on your schoolwork, get ahead if you can.”

“How am I supposed to know what we’re working on if I’m not there!”

I swerved around a large tree in the road. “You can call your teachers or have Jimmy give you the assignments.”

“Do I have to go? Please, will you turn around and take me back home? Please?”

Part of me wanted to let him stay home alone. At fourteen, I’d been almost completely independent. But Nathan was still recovering from a drug overdose. The best thing for him was to take some time off—maybe he’d think about things and get his head straight.

“Dude, I know you want to stay at home. But I need to let Auntie Audrey look after you for now. That’s the way it has to be. And help her out, all right? Remember, she’s pretty old, she needs help gathering firewood.”

A big sigh. “When will you be back?”

“I don’t know, maybe a week.”

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

We were quiet for a long time as I drove. After a while, I turned the car radio to the local rez station, which was playing country music.

“Can I ask a question?” Nathan said. “Like, something kind of weird?”

I nodded.

“Well, I’ve always wondered about this thing, but never really asked. Maybe I didn’t want to know.”

I wondered where he was going with this.

“You remember when Mom died, you know, in the car accident?”

How could I forget? I nodded again.

“I guess . . . Was she, like, drunk when she crashed?”

I glanced over at him. He looked worried, scared even. I flashed back to that terrible day, the phone call I’d gotten from the tribal police, the drive to pick up Nathan from school, the wreckage of her vehicle at the tow yard, the handwritten Post-it note from Nathan miraculously still stuck on the ruined car’s dashboard, proclaiming I LOVE YOU, MOM.

“No, bud. She wasn’t drunk, not at all. She was driving to work when the other driver crossed over into her lane. He might have been, but she wasn’t.”

He looked somber. I wondered if he’d been carrying this weight around since her death.

“I guess I got one more question.”

“Yeah?”

“If something happens to you, where do I go?”

It took me a second to understand what he was saying. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“Leksi, I’m not stupid. I know what you do. Everybody knows, okay? So, if you get, uh, killed, what do I do? I won’t have no one, except Auntie Audrey, and she’s like ninety years old, she could pass on at any time. What happens to me then?”

“I guess you’d go to Audrey, and if something happened to her, you’d . . .”

My voice trailed off, and I stared at the road, the pine trees and the long grasses rushing past us.

AFTER DROPPING NATHAN OFF and saying my goodbyes, I drove over to Marie’s place. She looked great, wearing jeans, a navy-blue V-neck shirt, and beaded earrings that looked like purple tulips. She had only one suitcase, so there was plenty of room in the hatchback of her car. I’d taken my beat-up gym bag, which was stuffed with a few pairs of jeans, some Tshirts, underwear, socks, and a toothbrush. At the bottom of the bag I’d stashed my gun and plenty of ammo, a knife, and some brass knuckles I’d inherited after a fight many years ago. Made sense to come prepared.

“Hold on a sec,” she said, and went back into her house. She came out with a large bowl filled with something I couldn’t see.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Dog food,” she said, putting the bowl down by the side of the street. “A few dogs come by every so often. I’m worried they won’t have anything to eat while I’m gone.”

“Oh.” I suspected that other animals would get to the food first, but I kept quiet.

Because of the weather, we decided to take the shortest route to Denver, even though it meant plenty of driving down two-lane highways. We’d take Route 18 through our rez and into the Pine Ridge reservation, then swing down into Nebraska and eventually get onto the big highway into Denver. I was glad to skip the longer drive through the Badlands—those strange rocks and formations gave me the creeps.

As we started off, I felt some guilt at leaving Nathan behind at his auntie’s house, but also a sense of freedom as we drove away from all the daily rez dramas and problems. And excitement, I had to admit, at being with Marie for the first time in years.