Two Medicine

by John Hansen

  I got back into my room without meeting any of the staff, but after getting out of my clothes, I heard a soft knock on my door. I put on some shorts and went to the door. It was Katie; she smiled at me sleepily and suddenly pushed her way into the room.

  “What are you up to?” she murmured as she walked over to my bed and sat heavily down on the mattress. Her face was flushed, her hair was done up but in quick and messy way, and her eyes were watery. She looked very drunk, but also seemed to have been crying.

  “I came to your room earlier, but you were gone,” she said, slurring the words. “Where were you?”

  “How much have you been drinking?” I asked, even though it was blatantly obvious that it was way too much, whatever the amount. And it was so out of character for her that I worried that something major had just happened to her. I left the door open.

  She reached down and pulled a small bottle of whiskey from her pocket – whiskey that we sold from the store. She was wearing the same small, white shorts she had on when I first arrived, I noticed. She was also wearing a little white t-shirt, with no bra, and I could see the little, tans caps of her nipples through the material – like she had dressed quickly for a quick undressing…

  I watched as she took a drink from the mostly empty bottle. Her face winced with disgust as she swallowed it down; and then she tossed the bottle over to me and said, “Have a snort.”

  I set the bottle down on the dresser, next to the picture of Alia I had gotten. Katie noticed the picture and got up, putting her hand out on the wall to steady herself. She walked over and looked carefully at the picture.

  “Is that her?” she asked, reaching for the photo. I reached over and put set the frame face down on the dresser before she could grab it. “What’s gotten into you?” I asked. I grabbed her hand and led her back over to the bed, which was still the only place to sit down that I could offer.

  She misinterpreted the gesture, and with a sloppy smile she put her arms around my neck and leaned in to kiss me. Her hands were warm, and the heat coming off of her flushed face was palpable. I pulled her arms off of me and gently set her back down.

  “Katie,” I said softly, “this isn’t going to happen. You’re drunk and I’m pretty sure you don’t really want this from me – not really.”

  She looked offended. “What’s the matter?” she asked, “you only like trailer trash from Browning?” She got up, but too fast, and leaned over and crashed against the far wall, knocking over the lamp that was by the bed.

  She looked down at the lamp for a moment, and then sat back down on the bed heavily, as if giving up trying to storm out. She then leaned over and cradled herself, hunching forward and resting on her knees. I was concerned she might throw up on the floor. I walked over and set the lamp up right again, and then sat beside her. I reached over and rubbed her back softly. Maybe she would just collapse on the bed and go to sleep, I thought, I could sleep in her bed then and be done with this depressing scene.

  “So tell me why you’re now chugging whiskey and making moves…” I asked her. “One Ronnie is enough around here.”

  She put her face into her hands and began to softly sob. I could feel her chest heaving; and I just sat there and rubbed her back for a few minutes as she cried. She soon sat up quickly, as if recovering some dignity, and rubbed her eyes with her hands like she had done on the way back from church. She sniffed and looked at me angrily. I stopped rubbing her back.

  “You were out in Browning tonight, trying to find out about her, weren’t you?” she asked bitterly. Before I could answer, she asked, “Why do you fucking care so much about her?”

  When I didn’t say anything, she turned her gaze from me with disgust and leaned forward again, rubbing her face in her hands. Her little blonde bun of hair was shaking as she did so, her body was trembling again.

  “I talked to my mom tonight,” I heard her say, muffled in her hands. “That fucking bastard has filed for a divorce. A divorce? After all the shit he did to the family?” She looked back to me, angry but with a trembling lip. “Men disgust me.”

  “Jesus, Katie,” I said softly. “You’re all over the place. You need to get a grip on yourself.”

  “Is this where you got a grip on that girl?” She asked, patting the bed with a twisted smile. She laughed and then got up and walked over to the dresser. She grabbed the bottle and twisted off the top. It was like watching someone slowly lose their mind in front of you, stage by stage, one emotion at a time.

  “That’ll just make things worse,” I said as I watched her. “Why don’t you just lay down and we can talk tomorrow.”

  “So you can get a grip on me?” She downed the rest of the whiskey and walked over to the door and closed it, dropping the empty bottle in my waste basket. She turned to me and pulled her shirt off. Her breasts were round, firm, perfect, and she knew how pretty she was. I saw that she was starting to unbutton her shorts; her eyes were glistening with a watery glaze.

  I walked over, picked up her shirt and handed it to her. I felt a stirring, being so close to her, being so near her nakedness and warmth, but at this moment I just felt sad for her – knowing how she was going to feel tomorrow.

  She paused and took the shirt, watching me for a moment. Then she laughed and put it back on, and walked over to the bed. “Figures,” she said, sitting down heavily. “I know you think I’m crazy, coming in here like this; but I certainly couldn’t go over there,” she pointed towards Ronnie’s room.

  I ran some water in a glass from a pitcher I kept by the bed, and handed it to her. She took it and drank deeply. “So I came over here and knocked, but nobody was home. And I knew you were out there looking for her.”

  She pointed over at the frame I had placed facedown. “And I thought, ‘that makes perfect sense.’ You are obsessed with this girl you hardly knew, who you just fucked,” she said the work harshly, like she it tasted bad to her, “and then you spend all you time running around trying to find… something… I don’t know what you are trying to find.”

  She shook her head with frustration. “Men make no sense to me – always chasing the wrong women and fucking things up where they live. And you of all people should know better.”

  I wasn’t sure why she necessarily thought I should know any better, but I took the compliment.

  “Believe it or not I didn’t come to find you to fuck you,” she looked at me and smiled sadly, “I just wanted someone to talk to, to tell you that my dad had finally destroyed my family, once and for all. But then I saw you were gone, I knew what you were doing, and I thought to myself that it was high time I started fucking… since that’s all anyone does around here.”

  “We also make pretty good Huckleberry shakes, here,” I said.

  She laughed inadvertently, and then shook her head. “I’ll probably have to leave Two Med now and go be with my mom.” She looked over at me again. “Why do men pursue the women they do?

  “Love, sex, envy, a thousand reasons,” I said. “With Alia, it just happened. Like it was meant to be, as they say.”

  She folded her arms and stared back down at the floor. “I went down to the kitchen and grabbed the first bottle of whiskey I could find, and drank it. Then I got another, and I just drank that.”

  “Jesus,” I muttered. She was a light drinker at best. “You’re gonna feel horrible tomorrow.”

  “And then I took my shirt off in front of you...” she said, pushing her face into her hands, again. “Oh God,” she groaned.

  I put my hand on her shoulder, and then rubbed her back some more. “You couldn’t help it,” I said. “I’m irresistible.”

  She looked at me and then smiled sadly. “The thing about you Will, is that you are a dichotomy to me. You are like a brother to me in one sense, and innocent and good, but in another you’re like this man who is capable of anything, who can turn into a lover, a friend, a brother and a stranger, one minute to the next.” she said.

  “But mostly, you are a damned good list
ener. And it’s a good thing, otherwise I would of punched you in the face tonight for being a man – or fucked you for being a man… Or both…

  She smiled a little as she looked down at her feet. “The thing about you is that I always feel like I can tell you anything – like what I just said about fucking you. And I’ve never told anyone about my dad’s stuff, but I trust you with it. You just seem to really listen – to think about what I’m saying. Like you’re analyzing it for me…” She trailed off, rubbing her face in her hands again.

  I thought about that for a moment. “When I was a kid,” I said after a moment, “my mom used to take me and my brother and sister down to the museum of ‘Old Georgia;’ it was settlor stuff and Indian exhibits. We’d walk around and see the covered wagons, somebody’s old wedding dress, some Indian arrowheads and carvings... And it was the carvings that always got me.

  “I would stand and stare at an ancient knife handle, for example, carved from a dogwood branch, something like that. And I’d be drawn to it; my eyes would focus in the whittling marks, and I remember that I’d be captivated, imagining some Indian’s dirty, sooty hands working over it, so long ago. As I stared at it I’d wonder what he did that day, what he saw after he got up after working with the knife handle. I imagined the knife handle bumping against his side as he walked, strapped to his waist. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I kept thinking of all the places that knife had been before ending up in that case in Georgia.

  “My mom would finally look around for me and see me just standing in front of the display case, just staring, motionless, like I was in a trance.” I looked down at Katie and smiled at the memory. “She started calling me ‘the professor’ after that. She said I was always analyzing everything too much.”

  Katie smiled back at me, and she fixed her hair back up in a bun. “Well I trust you, Professor. And I’m sorry I called you ‘disgusting’ earlier.”

  “Don’t apologize,” I said. “Men can be disgusting.”

  I watched her for a moment. “That’s why I ‘care so much,’ as you said – about Alia – because I loved her and I can’t imagine not knowing who did it to her. I have to know… I have to know.”

  Katie reached over and grabbed my hand. She squeezed it, her hand still hot and flushed. “I never told you this, but Ronnie said something about Alia before she was killed, after he saw you with her.

  I stared at her. `“What did he say?”

  “He said she was mixed up in some bad stuff and was probably going to end up dead. I didn’t think anything of it, just more of his BS I thought, until she did… wind up that way.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before?” I asked.

  She shrugged and brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I don’t know… Maybe I was worried it would start some trouble between you and Ronnie. I like you guys here; you’re both like my brothers. Even if Ronnie is trying to sleep with me all the time and I’m making drunken passes at you…” She smiled at me but I didn’t hear the joke. My mind was running through all the various possibilities of why Ronnie would have said that. My thoughts kept returning to Clayton and Jake – Ronnie and Alia and those two where the whole story – I was sure of it. I just had to put everyone in their proper places that night and it would all come out. A rush of energy shot through me. I knew that Ronnie had some things to tell me.

  I walked Katie quietly back to her room, and before she slipped into bed she kissed me on the cheek. “I love you, Will,” she said, “Like a brother – don’t worry. Find out who killed Alia, for all of us women who have been fucked around by men.”

  Men may be disgusting at time, I thought as I walked back into my room, but women were an enigma, and just as hazardous in their own, secretive, impactful way.

  Thirty

  A few more days went by at work as I fell back into the routine of the store once again. I kept my questions for Ronnie in reserve for the right time when I could question him in private. I also resolved to visit the diner and keep pressure on Sky until she told me everything she knew about that night. I hadn’t heard from Greg since out last talk, and I wondered if I ever would again after his last move to get the police file. I assumed that I was just going to have to carry the torch alone, from now on.

  Larry was still grossly hostile towards all of us, continuingly finding fault with our cooking, our stocking, cleaning, or our coming up short or over on the register, even Ronnie got a good share of it now. None of us knew what was going on with him, but he seemed to be losing his mind. The vibe of the entire store was seriously off, as Larry created misery wherever he was. For my part, I was unsure how to deal with Ronnie, or what to say, after our talk. Also, Katie was a little standoffish with everyone in the store since her drunken episode, which still embarrassed her I figured. Even Phyllis was moody and distant lately, and rarely came downstairs to work in the kitchen anymore.

  One day at lunchtime Thunderbird showed up again. I was on kitchen duty and Katie was cooking, which normally would mean that we were behind and there’d be a line for food. But this day had been slow, and we were caught up.

  Thunderbird sidled up to the counter with a big grin and said, “Hey Big Will!” He had on a bright red bandana rolled up into a headband, his long hair flowing down wildly underneath it. He was otherwise dressed in his usual black t shirt and old shorts. His thick, hairy calves ended in old and worn leather hiking boots.

  I looked at him and considered that he had the kind of face that always looked like he was smiling, even when he wasn’t. “Smiling eyes,” one might say. He kind of brought in a sense of endless cheerfulness with him, a kind of buoyancy against a tide of melancholy, which we sorely had been needing in the past few days.

  “Hey Thunderbird.” I said, glad to see him “How you been?”

  “Oh just great, Will, just super! The earth has been smiling on me man, just smiling.” He said.

  “Good.” I said, not really wanting to get into all the mumbo jumbo with him, but still glad he was there. “You want something to eat?” I asked him.

  “Nah, man. Hey I was wondering if you had time to step out in a bit, get outside and do a quick walk about. I got a few things to tell you.” He said.

  This sounded concerning, and I didn’t really want to get caught up in more of Thunderbird’s spirituality and oddness – I just wasn’t in the mood for it. But it had been a few days since I had officially done anything in my so-called “investigation,” so I agreed and told him I had a lunch break in an hour.

  “Great!” He said, and grabbed his small day pack off the counter where he had slung it down. “I’ll be outside – I got the teepee set up in camp. Just come and find me!”

  He stomped out the door, his long hair flowing in the wind that came through the screen doors.

  When my break came, I went out the front of the store and walked down the gravel road that led through the camps. I eventually spotted Thunderbird’s teepee, which wasn’t hard because it was taller than other tents and had a bright green pointed top painted on, and I found him sitting in the shade of the tent and talking with some family that had no doubt wandered by.

  He was always talking to someone, it seemed – always engaging someone in conversation. It was so foreign to me, as someone who often was alone and on my own, to imagine always talking to someone. But Thunderbird was that way; he needed to be with people, I could see that. Maybe that was why the council had labeled him their “communicator” – although I still had my doubts about that, and still had a difficult time taking him seriously.

  I still had kept the beaded necklace around my wrist; and I could remember the influence of his statements to me about Alia’s spirit, or at least how it made me feel. But even the effect of that experience was now wearing a little thin; and all I could really see now was that it had at least started me off on my quest to find her killer, if nothing else.

  So there Thunderbird sat, like a wild, American Buddha, with a fat belly in the shade, gesturi
ng over at the mountains to the family of tourists on their way past his teepee as he spoke.

  When he saw me he wrapped up his conversation and got up heavily from the ground, waving me over. “Will! Let’s go buddy. Let’s take a walk about around the lake.”

  I looked over at the lake. “Ok, but I gotta be back at work in an hour.”

  He waved his hand dismissively and started towards the lake path. Once we got down to the lake, right next to where Alia and I had set off in the canoe, we started trudging along the dry, gravel lake shore path. We crunched along in silence on for a moment, before he finally spoke.

  “So, the council told me that you are in, Will. You can go to the powwow!” he said. He said it with a joyful expectation, as if I had been invited to meet the President.

  “They did?” I asked in a lackluster tone. I was concerned about getting caught up in some weird, spiritual experience with Thunderbird that I may end up regretting. If he noticed my hesitation, it didn’t change his energy a bit.

  “It’s the Blackfoot’s powwow – private! The Blackfoot Nation gathers in the park every year to honor the spirits and exchange culture.” he said. “Outsiders are strictly forbidden, Will, but I’ve been telling the council about you and they voted that you can go.”

  “Why do you want me to go?” I asked him.

  He looked at me with surprise. “So you can settle your spirits.” He scanned my face. “I think I can still see her spirit on you, weighing you down. You still don’t feel right, do you?”

  Had I ever felt right before? I asked myself. But I didn’t answer him.

  “You can’t carry two spirits.” He repeating himself from before. “At least not for long. It’ll drive you nuts!” He looked down at my wrist. “Is that helping?” he asked.