“My Uncle Tommy would never tell the police, sir. No one in the family would. He has a record, and besides, the police don’t care. They don’t help us, Mr. Currant. He was afraid the police would pin it on him instead. The man who tried to hurt Charlotte was White. Like Chad. Like you…”
He looked into the young lady’s dark brown eyes and shook his head.
“Who did this to Chad? Who killed my son? You got a name?”
“Well, my cousin refused to talk about it after that night, like I said, but my uncle told my other uncle that his name was Beau.” That name didn’t ring a bell. “I didn’t hear anything else they said, because they left the house. Do I get some money, now? I heard you’re giving a reward, and the FBI is offering a reward now, too. We need it for my father. He’s sick, sir. He needs his diabetes medicine, and I need some school supplies, too.”
The sound of people enjoying themselves, talking and carrying on, seemed to grow louder and louder. His ears felt hot, and his chest cold. He felt as if he were standing on black ice but had to move. Things looked normal, like a typical day, but one false move, and he’d be careening out of control. The brakes of life would fail, and he’d go headfirst, crashing into the shit made of nightmares.
He knew she was telling the truth. No one knew the details like that. It was never mentioned publicly that Chad was placed on the side of the cabin. Someone this girl knew had to have been there. Pulling out his wallet, he handed her a hundred-dollar bill. She quickly shoved it in her little crossbody purse.
“I am giving you this right now. If I find out what you’re saying is true, I will give you more. Beau, you said his name was?”
“Yes, Beau.”
“Do you know what he looks like?”
“No. Just that he was White.”
“What’s your name?”
“Chenoa, but some people just call me Becky.”
“Chenoa, thank you. Call the number on the flyer in a few days.”
He walked away from her, back into the auditorium. He took his seat, and gripped the recital program so hard, it turned into a ball in his fist. The lights dimmed, and hard drums started to play…
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
The narration voice came over the speaker: “On May 5th of 2019, The White House declared this day to be the official National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Native Women and Girls. The Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland, (Laguna Pueblo) proclaimed the creation of the Missing and Murdered Unit that centers on investigating and solving missing and slain Indigenous peoples (MMIP) cases in 2021. Be a part of the solution… make your voice heard…”
The Halluci Nation, Indian City featuring Black Bear began to play as three teenage women raced onto the stage, all dressed in turquoise blue, red, and white, dancing and spinning about. A red handprint painted over their mouths, they moved like lightning, shaking and waving their arms to the music. Then, a man entered the area, wearing a black wolf head, and dancing in the middle of the stage as the ladies chanted and danced around him. Chills ran through Jack’s body as he thought about his conversation with Chenoa in the hall. Somehow, everything merged. Somehow, it all made sense. Somehow, the timing was right. He hurt more than ever… As if that were even possible.
Chelou’s, ‘Out Of Sight’ was the next song. The stage cleared and the lights became brighter, in shades of purple, bathing a young man and woman of about eighteen. The man wore a headdress and picked the woman up, spinning her around and around. Many people got to their feet, clapping and whistling. As the show went on, each presentation somehow topped the last.
Then, at last, a single spotlight shone on the stage. Kim walked out to the tune of Red Eagle’s, ‘Still Here.’ On both sides of her stood a Native woman, both wearing blue feathery skirts and leotards. Bare feet pounded the floor to the music as they all danced in unison. Long braids swayed and flowed, wild and free. Like three birds, reaching for the sky.
The narrator’s voice flowed with the music: We don’t die… We fly… We don’t die, we fly… We were born, to survive, we were born, to survive…”
She repeated the words over and over as the women wrapped their arms around one another, embracing, then broke apart to dance in a circle. The black wolf entered the stage, beating a drum. The children appeared one by one, dancing in jerky movements, howling at the fake moon in the sky. The sun and the rain stood side by side…
All of the dancers were on the stage now, chanting, “We don’t die, we fly! We don’t die, we fly! We were born to survive! We were born, to survive!” Then, other people came onto the stage, holding one another, embracing. Black, White, Yellow Faces. People of all races, cheering.