I helped pack a bag of hand-me-down clothes from the ladies at church.
On the front porch, Mom and Aunt Val hugged.
“We don’t see enough of you,” Mom said.
“I know. We keep saying we’ll get together, but it doesn’t work out.”
“What about Christmas? Even if you and Liam are busy, maybe the kids could come for Christmas.”
“That’d be nice. I know Wavy would like that,” Aunt Val said.
I didn’t know if she would, because when they left, she walked out to the car carrying a grocery bag of clothes, and didn’t even look back at me. It hurt my feelings, but when I went to bed that night, I found the bracelet Aunt Val had given Wavy under my pillow. Maybe it didn’t mean anything to her, but it meant something to me.
12
KELLEN
July 1978
Most days, after school let out, I took Wavy to the shop, let her hang out while I worked. After Old Man Cutcheon showed her what the adding machine was for, she opened the folder of receipts and started adding them. She was good at math, unlike me and Cutcheon. Her deposits and receipts always added up the same. The garage was kinda run down and grease-smelling, but she seemed to like being there, even if she didn’t quite belong there. Sometimes, I’d come in from the shop and find her at the desk, like walking in on a wild fawn balancing the books.
With school out, I didn’t get to see as much of her, but that afternoon, when I came back from the cemetery, she was in the office. She was kneeling in my chair, looking at the parts catalog. Seeing me come in so hot, she smiled and turned the fan on the desk toward me.
Sweat was dripping out of my hair, and my dress shirt was so wet it stuck to me as I peeled it off. For a couple minutes, I stood in front of the fan, trying to get dry enough to put on a fresh shirt. On the corner of the desk stood a pop bottle. I picked it up, still cool and half full. As soon as I tipped the bottle to my mouth, Wavy jumped out of the chair with this yelp. Startled me so bad I damn near choked on a mouthful of pop.
“Germs,” she said.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking. I’ll get you a new one. I know you don’t want to drink after me.”
She shook her head. “My germs. In you.”
“Your germs? I’m not afraid of your germs.” I winked at her, feeling like an idiot for making the mistake, and took another swig of her pop.
She frowned at me so hard her forehead wrinkled up. I offered her the bottle. I didn’t figure she’d take a drink, but she put it up to her nose and sniffed. When she handed it back to me, she didn’t have anything else to say about germs. Instead, she took my sweaty shirt and put it on the hanger I’d left lying on the desk.
“I went out to put flowers on my ma’s grave. I’m the only one left around to do it. It’s stupid, but I guess I always feel like I oughta dress up a little. Try to look nice when I go out there. I shoulda gone earlier, before it was a hundred goddamn degrees.”
I took the shirt from her and went to hang it in my locker. While I rummaged around for a dry shirt, I could feel her watching me. When I turned around, she pointed at me and drew an X in the air.
My tattoo. There I was with my shirt off and that musta been the first time she’d seen it.
“It’s a calumet. You know, a peace pipe, and the three arrows for the tribal districts. For the three Choctaw chiefs: Apuckshunnubbee, Mushulatubbee, and Pushmataha. Like my belt buckle. I got it after I left home. Went down to live with my granny on the rez. Hung around, thinking I was gonna … be an Indian or something. Pissed my granny off. She wanted me to stay in school.”
The calumet’s pipe bowl was just under my left collarbone. The three arrowheads came up and touched the right. They crossed over my chest, all the way down to the bottom of my ribs. I never thought much about it, but it kinda embarrassed me. Not the tattoo, but trying to explain it with Wavy giving me the look that meant I was important. I got to blushing with her staring, memorizing me, so I pulled on the first shirt I could lay my hand to. An old uniform shirt from four years back when I first started working for Cutcheon, Jesse Joe embroidered over the breast pocket and tight in the shoulders. I buttoned it on anyway, because I felt strange having my shirt off now that Wavy had seen my tattoo.
When I sat down at the desk, I saw what she was doing with the parts catalog. She’d gone through all my scribbly notes and filled out the order form. I drank up the rest of her pop while I checked it over. She didn’t get annoyed about that. Like she figured I was the boss so she needed to get my okay.