"I am telling you the truth. I don't know if your mother was a prostitute. The other things RJ said were true. Your father did bring her back here to us when she was pregnant. He left with you and your mother when you were still an infant."
Robert turned his back to Anthony, dismissing the boy, facing his tool bench again. He reached for a screwdriver and started fiddling with a part that had been left next to his toolbox. He would do anything to avoid looking his nephew in the eyes. Their family carried a shame, and he'd felt like a hypocrite talking to the boy earlier about honor and pride. He'd done his best to do what he thought was right. But he also didn't know if there was truth to the family secret. Still, Anthony had the right to know. They couldn't be certain because of Rosemary's history with men, but Robert's instinct told him it was most likely true.
When Anthony didn't respond to the last comment, Robert swallowed thickly and turned back to face the boy. There was more, and Robert had to tell him what he knew.
Anthony’s eyes widened when his uncle explained that he was almost certain Nisha was Anthony's half-sister and the real reason Anthony’s father, Daniel, left was to avoid not only the responsibility of a second child, but statutory rape charges. Robert had no doubt that Rosemary had been willing, but that wouldn't have mattered. She had been underage.
The lawnmower he’d been pushing started to stall, pulling Anthony from his thoughts and back to the present. He yanked on the choke to revive it and was grateful when it came back to life. The sooner he finished this lawn, the better. He abhorred working in Ocean Manor Estates, the upscale neighborhood that was home to South Florida's most affluent residents. His mind wandered back to that pivotal conversation with his uncle.
When Robert told him that the family suspected Nisha was his half-sister, Anthony's heart swelled with pride. In the two years that he'd been living in his uncle's home on the reservation, he'd come to love Nisha. He smiled when he thought of how she'd been a fighter. She may not have been winning them before Anthony came along, but she was a feisty little thing, and he realized that he was proud to have a sister. If in fact she was his sister. There was no way to know for sure.
Daniel Bear being Nisha's biological father was a secret that was known by only a few on the reservation, yet was never discussed out of respect for the Tribal Chief. Robert explained to Anthony that the family was not ashamed of Nisha, but rather the man that was unfaithful to his wife and left a pregnant teenager to raise an infant daughter alone.
"As far as your mother leaving you and your father, I can't tell you when that happened, Anthony, or where she went. That is the truth." His uncle looked at him with a sad but relieved expression. He'd been carrying the burden of Nisha's suspected paternity for years. He'd done his best to help Rosemary. He at least made sure the child had clothes to wear and food in her stomach. But due to the cost of his wife's healthcare, he’d not been able to do much else.
Anthony digested everything his uncle shared and pondered his situation before replying. He’d come from deplorable living conditions. When his father died, Anthony was certain his dad had never loved him, and only kept the boy with him as a means for survival. When Daniel realized that Anthony had inherited his mechanical skills, he made sure his young son knew how and what type of auto parts to steal.
They'd been nomads, always moving from city to city, never planting roots. Anthony couldn't understand why a man with his father's abilities couldn't hold a job, but Daniel Bear carried around a bitter and resentful attitude that would manifest itself in the worst ways after he'd been drinking. They'd wandered the country and occasionally found odd jobs with mostly white people who treated them disrespectfully.
Shaking off the sour memories, Anthony reflected on his current living conditions. Wary and a bit skeptical at first, he'd finally embraced his new life with his uncle's family. He'd made mistakes, but was learning about honor and pride and honesty.
Warming up to RJ was a challenge and probably always would be. Aunt Carolyn's health was a concern, and Anthony hoped what the doctors predicted wasn't true. That the cancer was expected to slowly drain the life from her. He was becoming attached to his aunt, the only woman he'd ever respected, and didn't think he could bear the pain of her dying. Believing that RJ was right and that the family didn't need the complication of raising another child when Aunt Carolyn was so sick, he'd come to a decision. He would leave. Feeling somewhat relieved, yet sad, he convinced himself it was the right thing. He didn't want to be more of a burden than he already was. Taking a deep breath, he decided to share what little he knew about his mother before he walked out of his family's life forever.
"I already know about my mother leaving," Anthony stated.
"So your father told you about her leaving or do you remember it?" Robert asked, his curiosity now aroused.
"He didn't have to tell me," Anthony answered, his voice void of emotion. "I helped him bury her when I was eight."
Shaking his head as if it would help to ward off sad memories of that specific talk with the uncle he’d left behind in Oklahoma, Anthony detected movement in the yard to his left. He looked over and saw that a woman had come out to the backyard and was making her way past the oversized pool and heading in his direction. He turned off his mower and walked toward her as he took in her ridiculous appearance.
She staggered toward him with a martini in one hand. She was wearing a white bikini with a white fur coat over it. A fur coat. In Florida? She had on red high heels that were clicking loudly on the concrete patio and bright red lipstick which was smeared on her left cheek. Her bleached blonde hair was teased ridiculously high. He guessed that she was the owner of the home he was working at and had just returned from her neighbor’s pool party.
“Boy! Oh, boy, come here. I want to talk to you,” she slurred.
Anthony stiffened and stood still. She came to a stop in front of him. When she started to lose her balance, he reached for her arm to steady her. She pulled away from him like she’d been burned.
“Are you a real Indian?” she asked him. “Like a real, tomahawk throwing, cutting off scalps Indian?”
Anthony rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked this. “I’m a full-blooded Native American,” he retorted. “And I have to finish mowing your lawn. My boss will be back to pick us up soon.” The other two men on the crew were trimming bushes in the front. Anthony preferred the mower. Pushing it wasn’t easy, but it kept him strong and helped burn off the pent-up energy of a rambunctious kid on the brink of his teenage years.
“He’s an Indian!” she shouted. “I told you he was an Indian!”