Sweetheart Braves

by Pamela Sanderson

Tommy got a cup of coffee and sat at the monitor with them, watching the film clips.

  "Everyone is so much more interesting than me," Ester said.

  "I believe that is called imposter syndrome, and you are not an imposter," Rayanne said.

  "I'll get over it," Ester said. She opened a paper bag and handed Tommy something wrapped in foil. "You look like you need this more than I do."

  "I don't need your food, Ester," Tommy said.

  She slung an arm over his shoulder. "I think you do."

  "Ester, you said you were starving," Rayanne said.

  "Now I'm too nervous. It's a breakfast burrito. Theo made it. If you don't eat it, I'll throw it away."

  Tommy got up and found a plastic knife and sawed the thing in half. "Share."

  "Fine," Ester said. "What's going on?"

  "Nothing. Didn't sleep well last night," Tommy said. The burrito was lukewarm and delicious. It took all his power not to gulp it down.

  "You look like hell," Rayanne said.

  "Get off my back." The words were quiet but the tone savage. It surprised all three of them. He bit back an apology. "Linda coming in?"

  Rayanne blinked a couple of times and he braced for her retort but instead she said, "She and Arnie have to go do their thing at the new tribal consortium that's forming for urban issues. When all else fails, start a new committee."

  "This is good for us. I think the center is going to be okay," Ester said. "The city already showed them an alternate site."

  "That Linda said was a post-apocalyptic wasteland," Rayanne said.

  "You know how dramatic she is," Ester said.

  Tommy showed her his phone. "You have a charger for this?"

  Ester took it from him. "Doubt it. I'll check when I'm done eating."

  The coffee had no effect and he couldn't stop worrying about Angie. If he went home, he could shower, put on clean clothes, get his phone charger, and check on her.

  That unopened bottle was still in the house.

  "There's one thing on your calendar this morning," Rayanne said to him. "Are you going to be in this afternoon? When Linda's here, we need to strategize for Ester's absence."

  "Stop saying that, it makes me nervous," Ester said. She dug through a box under her desk. "No charger, my friend. Sorry."

  Tommy checked the calendar. "I'm driving some folks to the Native veterans' center. I'll be back after lunch."

  "Great," Rayanne said. "We'll get everything organized then."

  30

  When Virgil had told Linda to meet him at his office before the tribal consortium meeting, it seemed like a good idea. Now that she was sitting there, she realized it was a mistake.

  "This is a terrible layout," Virgil said as if reading her mind. The attorneys had individual offices, but they were partitioned with glass panels. From where she sat, she could see each person who came through the front door, and all the tribal leaders in the conference room waiting for the meeting to start. In one office, an attorney finished a sandwich. In another, a woman slumped over her desk, her hand propping her head up.

  If Linda could see them, they could see her, too. For reasons she couldn't clarify, she didn't want Arnie to see her there.

  Linda rehearsed what she wanted to say to Virgil and how to say it. She'd given it a lot of thought. She wanted to take this thing to the next level. Make more time for each other. Coordinate their schedules. She was never going to fall for a man that she couldn't spend time with.

  But Virgil wouldn't stop talking. "This pile here," he said, indicating a stack of expanding files, "is from the last two weeks of the hydro case. These here"—he waved at a stack of books and file folders—"are the research for the timber issue. That stack on the floor is fisheries litigation. And those are the fun projects." He rattled the stuff off with fidgety charm.

  She wasn't sure how to start. Maybe she should propose a dinner date. Maybe just invite him over for dinner. Wasn't that code for “Let's start doing it”? The shelves of law books and stiff-backed chairs gave the air of a discussion more serious than it had to be.

  Virgil rattled on, stringing together more sentences than he had the entire time she'd known him. His hands tidied up piles of paper and adjusted his computer keyboard. He mentioned framing his law school degree, his tenure with the firm, the associates who would be dividing up his work when he left.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arnie come through the door and pause at the reception desk. She imagined he spotted her and she felt her cheeks flush. She let her hair fall into her face.

  Virgil sat across from her. His hands never stopped moving, one minute searching through a desk drawer, the next lining up pens on his desk, then darting up to rake through his hair.

  The words finally sank in. "Did I hear you say you're moving to Colorado?"

  He nodded and grabbed the empty coffee cup in front of him and looked inside, took a sip of nothing and set it back in front of him. He gave her a nervous smile. "It's a great opportunity."

  She glanced up long enough to see Arnie slip into the meeting room. He wore a light gray suit with a dark gray tie. She liked his darker suits better. He worked his way around the room, shaking hands. He said something that made them all break into laughter.

  She returned her attention to Virgil.

  "I know how crazy it sounds." He had the cup again and turned it around in his hands. "I'm telling you regardless of what happens between us. There's a position in an established urban Indian center. Not director, now, but they want to groom the person for that. Given your challenges here, I wanted to mention it."

  She could feel each breath with her entire body, her heartbeat in her ears. It was as if a trapdoor had sprung open and she teetered on the edge, not sure whether she should stay in the room or let herself fall into whatever was waiting below.

  "That's a lot to process," she said.

  Virgil was moving to another state. The news left her feeling...what?

  All the feelings she'd been cultivating scattered into a confused mess. Her eyes flicked back to the door, wishing she could sneak out and pretend this never happened.

  "I know," he agreed. "I should have mentioned it sooner, but I wasn't sure I would get the job."

  "I can see that," she said. She could feel Arnie's eyes on her and tried to imagine what he saw. Virgil, alert and earnest, and what did she look like right now? Stunned? Reeling? He wouldn't care.

  "I won't be leaving until fall. I'd like to spend time together," he said, hopeful. "Lots of time to talk about this."

  A move would be a fresh start. A new community. Different opportunities. "Yeah," she said, not sure what she was agreeing to. She gulped a few breaths because she still had a meeting to get through. "We'll talk more."

  It figured the first thing he saw when he walked into the law firm was Linda hunched over in private conversation with Virgil. Arnie tamped down the confusing mix of feelings. The consortium was the most important duty, and he and Linda needed to make their best impression.

  He gave her a professional smile when she joined them. He recognized that look; something had just happened. She could always muster a cheerful face, but if something was bothering her, it showed in her eyes.

  "You going to start?" she asked when she sat next to him. He detected a tremor in her voice, but she poured herself a glass of water and gave him one of her ambitious it's showtime looks.

  "It's all yours," he said.

  The meeting went as well as they could hope. The tribes identified their priorities and ideas for urban Indian issues, and Linda talked about Crooked Rock's goals and setbacks. The leaders got a little salty about her funding priorities and gave her some grief about the delays with the property purchase, but Arnie jumped in to stick up for her, and by the time the meeting ended, everyone was feeling more positive about the future.

  Linda waited for him after the meeting, waving to Virgil as they left the office and got on the elevator to the lobby.

  She sighed
a big long sigh. "I need to talk to you."

  He knew what that meant. Bad news. What was it this time? Was Margie sick again or Tommy's cousin causing more trouble? Maybe Ester was rejected from her film workshop.

  "Here? Or go somewhere?"

  The elevator doors opened. The office building lobby had a couch and a few chairs. She crossed the floor and sat in a chair but stared out the revolving door without speaking.

  "Lulu?"

  A flinch. She remained matter-of-fact. "Nothing is decided. I'm not even sure how seriously I'm considering it, but I promised no secrets. I don't want you caught off guard. Virgil is moving to Denver. There might be something for me there."

  Few things could have surprised him more. It was like the air disappeared from the room and he forgot how to breathe. He was surprised to find himself feeling panicked, like she was on a boat that pushed away from the dock and he could see her drifting away and there was nothing he could do about it.

  In spite of what he told himself, he cared about the UIC measurably less if she wasn't a part of it. He wanted to be angry. She'd never been one to give up or walk away, but no one had made this any easier for her. The disappointment made his heart ache, and he didn't know how to say it.

  He cleared his throat and did his best to keep his voice even. "I had no idea you two were that serious."

  Linda kept her eyes on her feet. "It just came up. I need to think it through."

  "Do you have a timeline?"

  "End of summer. That coincides with the one-year deadline you guys gave us at the retreat last fall. There's a lot of ways we could do this." She still wouldn't meet his eye. "I shouldn't have said anything."

  "I appreciate it. I don't like surprises." He tried to imagine saying goodbye to her. They'd run into each other at a conference or NATG every couple of years. They would become people who knew each other a long time ago.

  "Me either," she said.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out. Any other time, he would have ignored the call, but he held it up. "I gotta get this. It's Katie," he said, apologetic, as if there was no avoiding it. "Tell me what you decide. If you go, we'll need a succession plan."

  "I'll talk with the staff," she said. "If I do."

  31

  Elizabeth hated driving. She hated stopping for gas. She hated the big rigs and the fast-moving sports cars. The whole exercise wasn't any less terrifying except that while she was doing it she was so busy doing it she couldn't worry about it.

  What she was worried about was Tommy.

  Is it too late to talk to you?

  She'd texted. She'd called. No answer. No response. She'd expected to talk to him first and explain her plan. Except she didn't have a plan. The idea was to find him and sit him down and find out what was wrong.

  All she knew was she didn't want the highlight of her week to be standing up in a sequined dress, watching people spin a wheel so they could win a steak dinner.

  Her phone bleated out the directions to campus. Just like the first trip, there was a mass of cars packed into the intersections, and bike lanes crowded with bikes, while on every corner giant mobs of people waited to cross. Her heart pounded like she was fleeing a swarm of angry wasps. If she could, she would pull over and leave the truck. The desire to be parked and safe and not driving was overwhelming. She'd forgotten how controlling a vehicle could manifest such a cold, buzzy, physical terror.

  "Turn left in two hundred feet to destination," the phone said.

  "Left? Two hundred feet?" There was no way to get into the left lane, and there were any number of driveways. How was she supposed to know where two hundred feet was? She inched forward in the lane she was in, hoping she didn't block the intersection if the light changed.

  "Arrived at destination," the phone said with unearned joy. "Arrived at destination."

  "Thanks for nothing," Elizabeth said. She made a right turn into a parking lot and rolled through the crooked lanes with a million other cars, all trying to find a place to park. She was desperate for this part to be over. There should be a reward for challenging your fear, and that reward should be a parking place.

  A car ahead began backing out. She exhaled with relief, her anxiety notching down one tiny increment. A horn blared behind her and her heartbeat ratcheted up again. The guy in her rearview mirror waved impatiently.

  How did people live like this?

  She pulled into the spot and sagged with relief. Now all she had to do was fight through all the people and cross the huge and confusing campus to find Tommy's office. She got out of the truck and followed one of the pathways snaking off in every direction until she found a campus map. She studied it as if she knew what she was looking for. The UIC wasn't on the map and she didn't know the name of the building.

  She looked around the campus, trying to see if anything looked familiar.

  A guy on a bike stopped. "You need help?"

  "Urban Indian Center?" she said.

  "Urban what?" He shook his head.

  "How about the longhouse?"

  He waved to one path and then turned around and waved to another. "Not sure."

  "Thanks anyway," Elizabeth said, turning back to the map. She was on her way to the longhouse when she spotted a familiar figure with a bulging computer bag slung over her shoulder, eyes downcast and an expression of doom on her face.

  "Linda!"

  "You're back," Linda said, surprised.

  Elizabeth threw her arms around her and hung on, still shaky from the drive. "Granny kicked me out."

  "You're joking."

  "More like a love tap," Elizabeth said. "But not kidding. I need to learn about repatriation."

  "You could have called me to ask about that," Linda said.

  "Really, I need to see Tommy. Something's wrong, and I'm worried." Elizabeth was relieved to let Linda lead the way.

  "We all are," Linda said.

  "He texted me late last night that he needed to talk, and he hasn't answered me since."

  "Ester sent me a note that said he looked like he slept in a dumpster last night, but he wouldn't say a thing. She emphasized he didn't smell like he'd been drinking."

  They crossed back across the busy street. Elizabeth couldn't wait to get to know her way around this place. She said, "I think he's solid with the not drinking. It's the not talking that worries me."

  "He's been like that as long as I've known him. I know almost nothing about his personal life. I guess you two did hit it off. He never said a word, but he's been miserable."

  "I left the rez for a boy. I drove Leo's truck up by myself. Yes, we hit it off. I'm changing my whole life around for him, if he'll have me."

  Linda wore a look of suppressed grief, but she didn't say anything. She pointed to a door that Elizabeth would never have found on her own.

  Tommy stood in the middle of the room as if he'd been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. Ester wasn't kidding. He looked exhausted, circles under his eyes, thinner—if that was possible. His clothing was rumpled, his expression: utter defeat.

  Ester and Rayanne looked at her in surprise.

  Now that they were in the same room together again, Elizabeth hesitated. What if she'd misread this entire thing?

  "Hey," she said, though it came out like a hoarse whisper. "I couldn't get ahold of you."

  His eyes squeezed shut. He didn't say anything. One shaky hand worked into his pocket. There was no sound other than the bumblebee buzz of the fluorescent light overhead.

  Elizabeth crossed the room and circled her arms around him. After a second, he hugged her back, tentatively at first, but then stronger, as if he was afraid she'd disappear. His entire body shook with misery.

  "What's going on?" she whispered.

  "We're going to grab coffee," Ester said brightly. "Give you guys a few minutes."

  "Don't," Tommy said, choking the words out, his arms still holding tight. "Don't go." He cleared his throat. "I need help."

  There
were no words for the burst of relief he felt when she came into the room. Now that she was holding him, and he felt how real she was, she was probably the only thing keeping him on his feet. Every setback and failure stacked up in his mind. She’d come for him, and he was more of a wreck than ever. He'd run away from her on the rez, and after all that, she’d still come to him, warm and soft, smelling like peppermint and the road.

  "You want to talk now?" she said.

  He had all their attention but didn't know how to start.

  Elizabeth released him and guided him to a chair. A painful surge of emotion made his chest tight, and he took a deep breath to keep it from spilling out. She pulled up a chair next to him and held his hand.

  "What's going on?" she whispered.

  "I slept on the bus."

  Ester brought him a cup of water, but when he tried to drink, his throat was too tight.

  "Angie," he managed to say.

  "What happened?" Linda asked.

  "She's drinking," he said, his voice tight. "She hid booze all over the apartment. We got in a big fight. She stole money from me."

  Rayanne made a sound of fury.

  Linda gave her a look he missed, and Rayanne went quiet again, her chair making a thump when she settled back into it.

  "I don't want to let everyone down, but..." He couldn't find the right words to explain. "I—I can't do this."

  Elizabeth squeezed his hand. "It's someone else's turn."

  She looked out of place in the room. She had on another one of her outfits, a lacy green dress, and boots. She'd knotted her hair on top of her head, but it was coming loose.

  "You look nice," he said.

  Her expression was heartfelt concern, but her eyes were amused.

  "I missed you, too," she said.

  Rayanne cleared her throat. She shuffled through a stack of paper on her desk. "Forgive me, but I have been keeping tabs on a bed in a rehab place. It's not native run, but they have a recovery track that has native influences."

  "She'll never go," Tommy said, already convinced they should give up. He'd brought it up before, when Angie was low and without hope, but every conversation ended with her at his place getting sober with his help.