Bordello Walk

by Melissa Bowersock

  “Antelope,” Sam said.

  She laughed, remembering back to her first meal on the reservation when they jokingly had tried to convince her she was eating horse meat, but this time no one laughed with her.

  “Really?” she asked.

  Sam nodded. “Really. Like it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It’s different, but it’s good.” She bent to it, thinking here was another entry on her never-done-this-before list.

  After diner, there was more dancing to be done. Kira started, with Gabe tapping out the beat on her drum. Again she wore a blanket over her shoulders and pulled the fabric along her outstretched arms, soaring and gliding like an elegant bird of prey. At Gabe’s encouraging look, both boys joined in, and Lacey couldn’t help but move to the youthful, energizing rhythm. She tapped out the beat on her own thighs until Roxanne passed over a leather knee band of copper bells; then Lacey played that like a tambourine.

  It comforted her to see this three-day ritual as the social gathering that it was; a celebration not only of restoring health and harmony, but of cementing the timeworn values of family, tradition and connection. She wondered how many members of this family had celebrated the same way over the past years, decades and centuries. It was mindboggling to imagine other Fireclouds performing the same rituals all the way back to time immemorial.

  After the dance, the ritual turned serious again as Ben slipped into the hogan and returned with the staff and the strings of ghost beads. He raised the staff to the sky and began an earnest chant, walking around Sam, still seated on the rug. For all Lacey knew, he was calling on the gods to free and protect his grandson, and thought her guess was a good one when he laid the necklaces of ghost beads over Sam’s head, one by one, so they lay against his chest.

  Knowing that she had helped create those strings of ghost beads gave her a warm sense of satisfaction.

  More chanting rose up from the encircled gathering, Ben’s voice surprisingly strong, the voices of the others often added in, accenting a particular section of the ritual. Through it all, Sam sat quietly, eyes closed, breathing deeply, as if he drew in the healing energy offered up by his family, and breathed out the harmful spirits that would have drawn off his life force.

  By the time Ben finished the chant and signaled the end of the day’s activities, Lacey felt drowsy with a pleasing sense of comfort.

  She snuggled up close to Sam in the truck and he held her all the way home.

  ~~~

  TWENTY

  After breakfast the next morning, Lacey felt like she was ready for whatever was next—if she ignored the fact that Sam hardly ate anything. She certainly wished that some of his strength would return so he could fight this thing, but how could he gain strength when he wasn’t eating?

  “What’s the plan for today?” she asked him, keeping her voice even.

  He frowned. “Today we get into the nitty gritty of the Evil Way,” he said. “I’m going out to Grampa’s for the morning. This part is just between me and him.”

  Lacey didn’t like the fact that this was a private thing, that Sam was facing a more serious trial, and she really didn’t like the tone of Sam’s voice. Having the entire family around had eased her sense of anxiety; not being able to see today’s ritual, or to even know what was involved, made her nervous.

  Sam’s voice made it worse.

  She bit her lip, wanting to ask a question, but fearful of what the answer might be. Finally she decided to chance it.

  “Is it working?” she asked softly.

  He didn’t look at her as he loaded a pack with bottled water and energy bar snacks. “I don’t know,” he said. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

  She studied him. He still looked so gaunt, but of course he had only picked at his food. He was still restless at night, turning frequently. She tried to remember if it was worse before they got to Tuba City but couldn’t be sure. She would have thought being so far from Jerome would help, but if he brought the ghosts with him? Maybe not.

  “Can I do anything?” she asked.

  He hiked the pack up on his shoulder and scooped Gabe’s truck keys up off the counter. “I think you’re having dance lessons later,” he said. He managed a tight smile.

  “Dance lessons?” She looked from him to Roxanne, still cleaning up after breakfast.

  “That’s right,” her sister-in-law said. “Don’t worry,” she told Sam. “We’ll get her up to speed.”

  “I’ll see you this afternoon,” he said. He bent down and gave her a soft kiss. She tried to read his dark eyes, but he was already heading out the door.

  She watched him walk to the truck, then turned to Roxanne. “Dance lessons?” she asked again.

  “There’s a part of the Evil Way that involves the spouse of the patient,” Roxanne explained. She wrung out the sponge she’d been wiping the counter with and stood it in its holder to dry. Drying her hands on a towel, she faced Lacey. “You need to do a dance by yourself this afternoon.”

  “Urk.” Whatever Lacey was going to say stuck in her throat. She finally managed to swallow it down and try again. “Uh, how critical is what I do to Sam’s health? I mean, I’m not much of a dancer by any standards, modern or otherwise. I don’t want to screw things up…”

  “You’ll be fine,” Roxanne said. “It’s not rocket science. We’ll do some practicing after a while. I just need to put some laundry in first.”

  Lacey felt rudderless. The whole time they’d been here in Tuba City, her actions had been prescribed by this process to free Sam of the ghosts he’d acquired. Now she had free time and had no idea what to do with it—except worry about her part in the ritual. Dance? Sometimes she had trouble tapping out the back beat of a popular song. Rhythm was not her strong point.

  Roxanne declined any help with the laundry, so Lacey took a walk out back. She ambled past the barbecue Gabe was so enamored of, and the horseshoe pits where her father had faced off against several Fireclouds after she and Sam got married. The bare, fenceless yard merged into the desert wilderness beyond, and she walked up the rise toward the taller bluffs above the house.

  The day was clear and sunny, but cold. At least it was dry. She felt sure the damp clouds of earlier in the week had not helped Sam’s cough. She hoped the dry air would.

  As she scaled the mounding hills of sandstone, she was rewarded with wider views of the scattered community that was Tuba City. Compared to the tightly fitted neighborhoods of LA, this was practically desolation. Funny; at first it had seemed that way to her, more open land than developed, more wilderness than civilized. Now she looked around and loved it. The endless stretches of flat, barren land, punctuated by rock spires or softened by hills striped with horizontal layers of color. It might not be the kind of beauty most Americans recognized, but it definitely had its own appeal.

  As she stood and took in the panoramic views, she reflected back on all the things Sam had introduced her to. Ghosts, certainly, and the concept of witches, of shapeshifters, of reincarnation, of redemption. And this land. There were so many things she’d never have known about without him.

  And now she worried that she was losing him.

  Dance lessons? She’d stand on her head and recite the Gettysburg address backward if it meant helping Sam.

  ~~~

  Luckily, that was not required of her. Once Roxanne finished her chores inside, she led Lacey through some basic dance steps out in the back yard. Lacey learned the toe-tapping, the hesitating walk; she learned to lift her arms and her eyes to the sky, to send up prayers, to receive blessings. Roxanne was very encouraging, telling her she could combine the moves in any way she liked, in whatever way felt right.

  That was the problem. Nothing felt right. She felt like a fraud.

  After lunch with the family, they all loaded up Roxanne’s truck with blankets, food, a cooler and more things Lacey couldn’t identify. Only then, with the boys in the bed, did they set off to Ben’s.

  She was pleased to see Sam sitti
ng on blankets in front of the hogan, his face turned to the sun. Ben was under his other shelter, working on the dry painting. The family unloaded the truck bed, settling things all around the blankets outside or putting some inside. Lacey only had eyes for Sam.

  She sat cross-legged next to him, noticing he wore the ghost beads. His face looked so thin—was it more drawn than it had been this morning? She wasn’t sure. She took both his hands in hers and kissed him.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  He smiled wanly. “Keeping on keeping on,” he said. She might have wished for a more positive answer. She couldn’t hide the concern she felt.

  He put one hand to her cheek and she nuzzled into it. “Poor Lacey,” he said softly. “Never thought you’d be doing this, did you?”

  She shook her head, biting her lip to discourage the tears that stung behind her eyes. “Never,” she said. “And I never want to do it again. After this—when you’re better and we’re back to normal—we should talk.” She tried to inject confidence in her voice but wasn’t at all sure she succeeded.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said. His voice was low, calm, matter-of-fact. She had no idea how to take that. Nothing to talk about because he wouldn’t change, or because…?

  The rest of the family joined them. As usual, they were smiling, kidding Sam about lounging around. Lacey wondered if they really were not concerned or if they were putting on a good face for her. She’d never thought of any of them as being less than honest, but she’d never seen them in this situation before.

  Ben joined them after a bit. He looked tired, too, and Lacey wondered how much of a toll this was taking on the octogenarian. She had no doubt they would all be glad when this was over.

  It took Ben almost a full minute to lower his frail body to the rug and cross his legs underneath him. Once settled, he clapped his brown, gnarled hand on Sam’s arm and said something in Navajo. Then he—and everyone else—looked to Lacey.

  “What?” she asked sharply, but she was pretty sure she knew.

  Roxanne grinned at her. “Come on, Mrs. Firecloud. It’s showtime.”

  For a few heartbeats, resistance rose up inside her, and she seriously thought about declining. She looked to Ben, and to Sam, pleading with her eyes, but neither man had anything but love and encouragement for her on their faces.

  Well, shit, she thought. There was no escape, nothing for her but to do this. She heaved a sigh and nodded to Roxanne.

  The two women rose and Roxanne led the way to Ben’s open shelter. A duffel bag lay on the ground, not far from the dry painting. Lacey noticed in passing that Ben had added more details.

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  Roxanne knelt beside the duffel and began pulling out fabrics. “Why don’t you put these on?” she said, handing Lacey her soft moccasins. Lacey settled on the ground and pushed off her tennis shoes, then pulled on the familiar moccasins. When she was done, Roxanne had her stand again, and began to drape her body with ceremonial fabrics.

  “First the skirt,” she said. She wrapped the woven garment around Lacey’s hips, tying it with a rawhide thong. The skirt fell to mid-calf, and was woven with bright colors and geometric patterns interspliced with strips of deer hide.

  “This is beautiful,” Lacey said, “but I don’t want to damage it.”

  “You won’t,” Roxanne assured her. “In a traditional Evil Way, the spouse of the patient is dressed in finery which is meant as gifts for her family. Since your family is not here, we’ll skip that part, of course.”

  “You’re my family,” Lacey insisted as Roxanne tied a light cotton shawl over her shoulders. The unbleached garment was decorated with tassels that shimmied when Lacey moved.

  “And you are ours,” Roxanne said. She tied feathers into Lacey’s hair, and gave her the porcupine quill earrings to put on. Finally she tied beaded strips around her upper arms and laid the large turquoise squash blossom necklace around her neck. The final article—a deer skin—was laid across her shoulders.

  “And I’m supposed to dance in this?” Lacey asked.

  “Sure,” Roxanne said with a smile. “No problem, right? Just like we practiced.”

  Lacey grumbled to herself. She’d been about ten pounds lighter when they’d practiced.

  “You look great,” Roxanne said as she surveyed her handiwork. “Come on.”

  Suddenly shy, Lacey held back, and only walked slowly behind Roxanne. As the women approached the hogan, all the men turned to stare. Lacey did her best to stand up straight under the heavy deer skin and do honor to the ritual outfit.

  Ben’s wide smile encouraged her, but it was Sam’s bright, attentive eyes that mattered most to her. She could see pleasure there… and pride? Could she do justice to this age-old tradition? Could she honor her husband and contribute to his healing?

  Gabe began a slow beat on a drum. As he picked up the tempo, Lacey felt her body respond; she began the toe-tapping she’d learned from Roxanne. Little by little, she relaxed and let the drumbeat infuse her body with its call for motion. She let the halting step propel her around in a circle, her arms out, soaring on the cold, dry air. She cleared her mind of anything but her communion with the natural world: the sun on her face, the breeze in her hair, the earth beneath her feet. Instinctively she lifted her arms to the giver of light, then bent low to the giver of life. She paid tribute to the forces above and below, grateful for their sustenance, and prayed that they now concentrate their power in her husband, nurturing him, healing him, making him whole. She wheeled around, faster and faster, the deer skin heavy on her back, the turquoise bouncing against her chest, the world spinning and her with it, revolving, rotating, lifting off the ground in a dizzying flight of imagination, emotion and connection, until…

  … she spiraled to the ground.

  Before she even completely understood what had happened, Sam was there, reaching for her, gathering her in his arms, lifting her to her feet again. The world still spun.

  “Don’t let go,” she pleaded. Even with both feet on the ground, her body still wanted to fling itself down.

  “I won’t,” he said. He held her steady against him and she burrowed into his chest. He was the only thing not moving, and she clung to him, squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the world to stop.

  It did, gradually. She opened one eye a slit and peeked out. The ground was still moving, but slowly, like a heavy sea. She dragged in a deep breath and relaxed her grip somewhat. The earth and sky rewarded her by staying in their allotted places.

  “Come on,” Sam said softly in her ear. “Come sit down.” He supported her with one arm around her back, and pulled her gently forward. She stepped carefully, making sure her feet were flat on the ground before taking another, and made it across the rugs to the place where Sam eased her down. He sat close, never releasing his hold on her, and kissed her temple tenderly.

  She opened her eyes fully then, first piecing out the bright designs on the rugs at her feet, then lifting her gaze to the circle of faces around her. Smiling faces. Happy, pleased faces.

  Gabe beat out a staccato rhythm on the drum, hard, fast and ending with a flourish. Roxanne shook a string of copper bells, then let the tinkling vibrations fade away.

  Lacey looked around. The boys grinned at her. Ben smiled so widely, the nubs of his teeth showed. She looked back at Sam.

  “Was that… okay?” she asked.

  He wrapped both arms around her and squeezed gently. “That was perfect,” he said. “Well, except for the falling down part.” He hiked one eyebrow upward. “You didn’t need to go full whirling dervish on us.”

  She managed a small smile. “I guess I sort of got carried away.”

  “I think that’s sort of an understatement,” Roxanne said. She pushed to her feet and came around behind Lacey. “Let me get this deer skin off you. I know it’s heavy.”

  She hadn’t realized how heavy until it fell away from her shoulders. With the hide gone, she sat up st
raighter, feeling much better. Clearer. Stronger.

  There was some discussion of the final phases of the Evil Way.

  “Grampa’s got kneeldown bread cooking in the fire pit,” Gabe said.

  “Kneeldown bread?” Lacey asked. “What’s that?”

  “It’s kind of like a tamale, Navajo style,” Roxanne said. “It’s cornmeal mush cooked in the husks. It’s good.”

  “It sounds good,” Lacey said. She was already feeling hungry, and just now noticed the sun sinking toward the horizon.

  “I brought lots of extra blankets for you two for tonight,” Roxanne continued.

  Lacey looked to Sam. “What are we doing tonight?” she asked.

  “We’ll sleep here in the hogan with Grampa,” he said. “Then, tomorrow morning, at dawn, the Evil Way will be over.”

  “And you’ll be okay?” she asked softly.

  He nodded. “I’ll be okay. And we’ll do a short Blessing Way just to make sure.”

  Lacey liked the sound of that.

  ~~~

  That evening after dinner, after the sun slipped down below the western hills and the sky turned blue-black overhead, Gabe, Roxanne, and the boys left. Lacey and Sam made up their bed beside Ben’s small wood stove, and Sam laid in a good supply of dried juniper wood. Ben began his own preparations, and Sam grabbed a large woven blanket and took Lacey’s hand.

  “Let’s go outside,” he said.

  Out of the hogan, he settled the blanket over both their shoulders, each of them holding one end, and they walked out to Ben’s shelter just a short distance away.

  “Is the dry painting done?” she asked softly.

  “Yeah. He’ll use it in the Blessing Way tomorrow.”

  They walked to the edge of the painting so Lacey could see. The darkness muted the colors, but Lacey could see the figures in all their finery, see the quadrants all complete and mirroring each other.

  “Harmony,” she breathed.

  She could feel Sam nodding, his head up against hers. “That’s what it’s all about,” he said.