Chapter 20

Eli

I hadn't had any idea what to expect as we drove past the jagged hills that blanketed both sides of the desolate road that led to the reservation. I hadn't seen much from the air because I'd fallen asleep within minutes of the jet leaving Newark and I hadn't stirred until the landing gear had hit the small airstrip just south of the reservation. Like the previous day, Mav and I hadn't exchanged more than a couple of words from the moment I'd gotten up, my body still deliciously sore from his lovemaking.

I had no regrets about sleeping with Mav again and even though afterwards had been brutal and I'd needed to hide out in the bathroom to use the sound of the shower to cover my muffled sobs, I knew I'd do it again in a second if he asked me. But I knew the chances of that were slim since our time together was winding down with every hour that passed. I had no doubt he'd meant what he'd said about not returning to Seattle beyond the time it took to collect his Harley.

Once we'd gotten off the plane, there'd been two cars waiting for us. A simple sedan that Ronan had rented for us and a hearse. Mav hadn't watched the shipping container that carried his mother' s body being loaded into the belly of the plane, and when we'd gotten off, he'd sat silently in the driver's seat until the driver of the hearse had tapped on the window to let us know they were ready to go and that they would follow us. It was nearing lunch time when we drove past the sign indicating we were entering the reservation and within minutes we were driving into a small valley that was nothing more than dust, a little bit of brown vegetation and a smattering of small houses and buildings spread out over a few hundred acres. There was one main road leading into town with a few smaller roads serving as access points to several houses. A feeling of bleakness settled in my gut as we passed one decrepit house after another. Garbage littered the street and front yards along with old appliances, chopped up wood and endless, unidentifiable debris. Junked out cars were all over the place and to my horror, I saw more than one person lying on porches or along the sides of houses. My first thought was that they were dead, but I realized they were just sleeping. Some had blankets, some didn't.

"Oh my God," I breathed before I could think better of it and I instantly regretted it when I remembered that this place had been Mav's home. I shot Mav a glance. He was stiffer than I'd ever seen him and his fingers were curled around the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles had gone bloodless.

There were more people out and about than I would have expected for such a small town and most looked like they weren't up to anything in particular. Many were sitting in broken chairs or on old plastic milk crates in front of their houses or in front of the few stores that lined the main street. Many were holding half empty bottles of liquor in their hands. A few kids were riding their bikes down the street and I saw at least two older boys riding horses bareback with only ropes attached to the animals' halters to help them steer. Stray dogs were sniffing through the garbage and I had to look away when the skinny animals turned on each other and began fighting.

As we made our way past the tiny houses that looked like they would blow over with the next stiff wind, more people began exiting their homes to watch us and I felt an uneasiness settle over me at their blank expressions. "You said you haven't been back here since you left when you were sixteen, right?" I finally asked as I tried to imagine Mav as one of the dirty, scrawny, poorly dressed children riding their bikes alongside our car.

"Yep."

"Was…was it always like this?" I asked, hoping like hell I wasn't insulting him, but still too overcome with what I was seeing to make sense of it.

"Yes," Mav said quietly. "It's been forgotten for a long time."

"Forgotten? What do you mean?"

"The government made the Lakota a lot of promises. Promises they haven't kept in the 200 years since the first treaty was signed. Nine out of ten people in Pine Ridge are unemployed. About the same number of people are alcoholics and about half those people are homeless. The kids that don't kill themselves actually look forward to going to bed every night so they can escape the pain of being hungry all the time."

I swallowed hard as what he was telling me sank in. "How did you survive this?" I whispered in disbelief as I looked around. But Mav didn't answer me and it didn't really matter. I was just glad he'd found a way out, though I hated knowing that it wasn't this cruel, unforgiving place that he'd fled, but a cruel and unforgiving man.

Mav pulled off onto a side street and drove for several miles along a winding dirt road that was more sparsely populated. He stopped in front of a light blue mobile home that in any other place would have been considered unlivable. Several men were sitting on lawn chairs in the front yard and at least half a dozen kids were playing with an old soccer ball. Two women were hanging laundry from a long line strung up between two sparse trees next to the trailer. Three tents were pitched in the front yard. Behind the mobile home I could see what looked like more tents, but they weren't normal ones. They were covered with what looked like burlap tarps or something. In front of them was a big fire pit and off to the side were a couple of long tables .

"Sweat lodges," Mav murmured when he saw the direction of my gaze.

Mav stopped in front of the house, but didn't get out right away. He finally glanced at me and said, "You should stay in here."

"I'd like to come with you," I said softly.

Mav turned to stare out the windshield for a moment and then finally nodded. I got out of the car at the same time he did. He went to talk with the men in the hearse and I saw that they stayed in the vehicle. I walked around the car to join Mav. The children who'd been playing with the ball had stopped to watch us, but instead of approaching us, they hung back, their eyes just as clouded and suspicious as those of the adults I'd seen in town. I fought back the urge to take Mav's hand as we approached the front door where the men were sitting. Only one appeared to be lucid because the others were either swaying back and forth or already passed out. I could see several pairs of feet sticking out of the tents in the front yard. Empty bottles of liquor were scattered all over the place.

"Where is he?" Mav asked the one man who watched our approach in eerie silence.

The man jerked his head towards the door behind him, but said nothing. Mav glanced at the door and then to my surprise, he reached for my hand. I suspected it wasn't so much about needing comfort like in the Coroner's office the day before, but more about keeping me close. I gladly took it and hoped he couldn't feel the slight shudder that kept rolling through me. Things had never been easy for me and my family when it had just been me, my mother and sister, but compared to this place, we'd lived in fucking Shangri-La.

The inside of the trailer was dark and stank of alcohol, rotting food and sweat. Garbage bags sat near the entrance and more were piled on top of the small kitchen table. A couple of men and women were sitting at one of end of the trailer watching an old television set that actually had the old fashioned bunny ear antennas. Another man was passed out on the floor in front of the TV. In the kitchen was a young woman washing a baby in one side of the double sink. The other sink was piled high with dirty dishes, as was the counter next to it.

No one spoke to Mav as we moved towards the back of the trailer and he barely spared them a glance. I had counted at least a dozen adults so far and half that many kids, and I had a strong suspicion that they somehow all lived in this one tiny house. There were three bedrooms in the trailer. The first two had people sleeping on several mattresses that were on the floor, and one had a couple of toddlers playing quietly on the floor with broken, faded toys. I nearly gagged at the stench as we passed the single bathroom and by the time we reached the far end of the trailer, I wanted to cry for Mav. I gripped his hand tightly in mine and he cast me a quick glance. He nodded at me as if understanding my distress, but he didn't say anything.

The last bedroom was the biggest and was empty except for the single man sitting in an old rocking chair in one corner. He was smoking some kind of pipe. His long silver hair was tied in decorative braids and where everyone else had been dressed in either ragged, dirty clothes or only partially dressed, he was wearing clean clothes and had on some kind of leather vest that was fringed with tassels. His braids were tied off with decorative beads along with small feathers.

He didn't speak when he saw Mav, but his jaw hardened when he saw our joined hands. I didn't need to understand the man's language to understand the word that fell from his mouth. Even if I hadn't already heard Mav say it to me when he was telling me about his past, I would have known the slur for what it was.

Winkte.

Two Spirit.

I wanted more than anything to drag Mav out of there as I felt his hand turn cold and clammy in mine.

"Uncle Lyle told you?" Mav asked.

Mav's grandfather nodded.

"I've brought her home to you."

The man did nothing to even acknowledge the statement, let alone thank Mav. He slowly climbed to his feet and took another drag on his pipe before setting it down on a small table next to the chair. Mav didn't wait for him to reach us. Instead he led me back out of the trailer. Several people had gathered around the hearse and were looking in the windows at the back of it. Mav motioned to the two men in the hearse and they quickly got out and went to the back to begin removing the shipping container. Mav never once released me as he went to the trunk of our rental and pulled out a paper bag. I'd seen him with the same bag the night before when he'd disappeared into his room, but I hadn't realized what it was. The first thing I noticed was a picture sitting on top of what looked like some clothing. The picture was worn and faded, but I could make out a young woman with long black hair. A little boy with equally dark hair was sitting on her lap, a huge smile on his face. My heart sank as I realized it was a picture of Mav and his mother and I realized the bag contained the personal possessions the detectives had collected from the crime scene, including the clothes his mother had been wearing when she'd been killed, as well as her purse and all its contents.

Mav only released my hand long enough to hold onto the bag while he closed the trunk and then he grabbed it again. His grandfather had barely made it out of the house when Mav thrust the bag at him. The old man took the bag and then slowly removed the picture and studied it for a long time. I watched in stunned silence as his gaze connected with Mav's just before he dropped the picture to the ground and then stepped past Mav to where the men were pulling the shipping container from the hearse. Mav's grandfather began saying something in Lakota as he stood next to the container and placed his hand on it as he clutched the bag of possessions to his chest with his other arm.

"Let's go," Mav said harshly as he pulled on my hand. As we walked, I reached down and snagged the picture that had gotten stepped on at some point, but wasn't damaged beyond that. Mav noticed me pick it up, but didn't say anything. By the time we were back in the car, Mav's grandfather was leading a processional towards the sweat lodges and the hearse had started the process of turning around.

"Are we coming back for the funeral?" I asked as Mav turned the car around.

"No," he said. "I'm not allowed to attend."

Sadly, the statement didn't surprise me. "We could come back in a couple of days and visit her grave," I offered.

"They won't bury her."

"What will they do?"

"While most present day Lakota bury their dead, my grandfather believes in following the traditions before the reservations were formed. They'll build a scaffold in a tree and leave her body and possessions there."

I shook my head because I couldn't even find words to respond to that. Several minutes of silence passed as we drove out of town, but I found I couldn't contain my need to know more about Mav's former life. "Did…did you live in that house with all those people?" I asked.

Mav nodded. "Uncles, aunts, cousins…one big happy family," Mav mocked, though there was nothing humorous about his expression.

"I'm sorry, Mav. I had no idea-"

"Doesn't matter," he bit out and I knew from his tone that he was done talking about it.

"Are we flying out tonight?"

"You are," Mav said. "The pilots had to fly the plane to Rapid City to refuel, so we'll meet them there."

I barely heard the last part because I was still stuck on the first part of his sentence. "Wait, what do you mean? Aren't you flying back to Seattle to get your motorcycle?"

"No."

No, no, no!

It couldn't be happening like this. I couldn't be down to just a couple more hours with Mav. Pain flooded my chest and I tried to suck in a breath, but that only made the pain worse. "Stop the car," I whispered since that was all I could manage to get out .

"What?"

"Stop the car!" I screamed, but it cost me precious oxygen and when Mav hit the brakes, I stumbled out of the car and immediately fell to my knees. And for the first time since I'd had my first panic attack when I was a teenager, I hoped like hell this one would actually kill me.