Wild, Animal Love

“It’s just that I’m so sick of my Dad telling me what to do,” Chris said. I had come in for a cup of coffee where he worked, the Steaming Bean, and he’d taken a break to sit down with me.

“Then move out,” I said, “He’s your best friend and he’s forty-nine.”

“He’s not my best friend, OK, and I don’t do what he says. I have my own section of the house,” he said, and drank from his chipped brown coffee cup.

“Right,” I said.

“I’ll be back there in two shakes,” Chris said to one of the girls who worked behind the bar. She looked at me and smirked, her long peasant-style skirt swishing around her legs as she walked. I shrugged. I knew that Chris had hooked up with her and half of the girls he still worked with. It didn’t matter to me. He wasn’t my boyfriend.

“So, what are you doing Friday?” he asked.

“I’m going out with some friends,” I said, looking around. The art on the walls was local, and full of strange abstract splashes of color.

He laughed. “Since when do you have friends.”

“Since I started going to the Indian Center,” I said, shifting around in my seat. Chris had wanted to sit on the barstools and I found them incredibly uncomfortable.

“You’re not gonna get all political on me, are you?” he said.

“Maybe,” I said. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” he said, and it was true.

 

Christine and I were sitting in a booth in Francisco’s. We had decided to go get dinner before we met up with the others at Solids. It was pretty in there, with all the wood and blue and white tile.

“Well, my boyfriend’s white. Though I cheat on him. Constantly,” Justine said.

“Well… I’ve never been faithful to a guy, but none of it’s been completely serious,” I said.

“I’ve always had very serious boyfriends, and I’ve always had guys on the side,” Justine said. “And I do want to marry John. It’s just that he can be so boooring,” she said, and laughed loudly.

“Then why do you want to marry him?” I asked.

“Well… because he’s good to me. And he’s good looking. And he’s a lawyer and wants to support me through graduate school, which I’ll probably do in the States. He’s already got his degree. And he hates it down here, but he came down for me. Though of course he threatens to leave me every month,” she said, laughing. “But I’m suicidal. So you can’t blame him.”

“Huh,” I said.

“Do you ever think you’re an alcoholic?” she asked and I was taken aback. I hated it when people assumed that of me, just because I was Indian.

“No,” I said, “My Dad was, but I am not.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said definitively. She was making me angry.

“Because I am. And my Dad is…” she said.

“Jesus, why do you drink then?” I said.

“Because… I think I can control it.”

“OK,” I said. I didn’t get it.

“Is your Dad Native?” She asked, and drank from her margarita glass.

“No. He was white. And I never knew him, I never even met him.” I hated talking about this. About the fact that I was an orphan.

“Oh, wow,” she said. “What about your Mom? Because I hate my Mom. She’s Czech, from the Czech Republic. And a bitch. My parents are divorced.”

“I guess that happens,” I said.

“Yes. And I love my father, I looove him,” she said, looking like she was going to cry.

“My foster Dad was pretty cool,” I said, realizing that I had to open up a little.

“Foster Dad?”

“Yeah, my Mom left when I was four, so I didn’t know her really, either. Though sometimes she’d come and visit me, but she was a methhead, so I didn’t really like it when she came.”

Justine leaned in. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That must have been hard.”

“It’s OK,” I said, taking a drink and laughing. “I remember one time my Mom came to visit and she brought me a cat. I don’t know where she got that thing but it was pretty much wild. So, she tries to hand it to me and it claws the hell out of my arm and then climbs straight up this tree. All the kids in the foster home were like, ‘Oh my God a cat’s up a tree,’ so, finally, one of them goes and gets my foster Dad and he climbs up, the cat wailing and scratching and peeing on his head the whole time.” I stopped and started to laugh but I could see that Justine was crying.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your poor father!”

“Well… he was OK,” I said, “He drank a little too much himself but he was basically a good guy. And he wasn’t really my father.”

“Yeah, but I can’t believe he did that!”

We were silent for a while and then Justine clasped my hand. “You need to tell me more about your pain.”

I was silent. I took another drink and regretted letting her in. Letting people in was always a mistake.

“You know, you really might be an alcoholic,” she said, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“Well, didn’t you say you drink alone?”

“Sure. But that’s because I spend a lot of time alone. I mean… do you drink with your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, those are the nights I drink alone. And I don’t drink a lot.”

“I don’t know…”

“I tell you what,” I said, “We don’t have to drink when we hang out. We could do other things. And I don’t think you’re an alcoholic.”

“You don’t know me very well,” she said.

“Well… I don’t,” I said. And then, “So, are you ready to shake it at Solids?”

“No, no, I don’t like to dance lately. I’ve gained too much weight and I feel self-conscious,” she said, eyeing me. “What size are you?”

“Justine!”

“Oh! Sorry… I just, didn’t realize at first that there was such a big difference between us, and now I realize that I’ve just gained so much weight in so little time that I don’t even realize what I look like anymore.”

“Justine. It’s not like you’re Native the hut, OK?” I said and she laughed.

“Do I look Native to you?” she asked. “I think I look Chinese.”

“Chinese?” I shook my head. “Hell, you look more Native than I do.”

“Really?” she said, “Tell me how.”

“Uh,” I said, looking at Justine, her straight, silky, long dark hair, and slanted dark eyes and felt muddled.

“I want to look more Native,” she said.

“I’ve gone through that. And the opposite. I wanted to look more white for years,” I said.

Justine laughed. “I never wanted to look white!”

“OK,” I said, feeling chastised.

“Oh! Sorry! I hope I didn’t offend you!”

“No…” I said vaguely. It was almost as if she had wanted to – and then realized I was calling her on it. Strange. No. I was sure I was wrong about that.

“So, you’re at least coming to Solids?” I asked.

“Oh, OK, but I’m not dancing,” she said.

“That’s cool,” I said.

At Solids we saw Elyse, Keokuk and a couple other Indians I had seen at the meeting. “Hey,” Keokuk said and before I could respond, he turned to his phone.

“I’ll go get us drinks,” I said and Justine nodded. By the time I came back, she was gone. I asked Elyse what had happened to her. “Oh, she said her boyfriend was like, getting off work and that she should probably get home to see him or whatever.” She was talking to me and texting at the same time. I looked over at Keokuk and then inched closer. He was also texting.

“So, where you from?” he said, not looking up.

“Colorado. Small town called Idaho Springs about an hour West of Denver.”

“Oh.”

His phone beeped again, indicating that he was receiving a text.

“Crazy,” he said and he texted back. I looked over at Elyse, who was texting furiously.

“Are you two… texting each other?”

“Yeah,” he said, “That and this girl I know. And my cousin Macina.”

“I see,” I said.

“I’m going to dance,” he said.

“OK,” I said and then I realized that he wanted me to follow him onto the dance floor. I set both of my drinks down. It was nice dancing with him, but after the song we’d been dancing to ended, he walked quickly over to two girls who had been eyeing us the whole time and started dancing with them. I left the floor and walked over to Elyse, who was texting furiously.