That ugly thing in the pit of your stomach

Haley was already three days old when I called a nephew up north to leave a message for Wilson.
"Just wait," his nephew said, ''I'll go get him."
"No, I mean, don't bother. I just called to tell you so you can tell him. I don't need to talk to him."
"No, I'll go get him," he said, and hung up.
Strange. All the times I wanted to talk to Wilson and no one would help me. Now, I don't want to speak to him, and someone is rushing to get him.
Wilson called back almost immediately.
"I'll come home."
"Don't bother."
"I'm going to detox tonight then come right down tomorrow."
But of course, he didn't go to detox. He went to celebrate that night. The following night he went to detox.

I took Haley in the stroller to the park when she was five days old. After opening her blankets so she could get sun on her slightly jaundiced face, I sat down to read. I wasn't there long when Troy rode up quickly on his bike.
"Wilson and Elaine are here."
My stomach knotted and I looked away. Taking a deep breath, I slowly stood up.
"Okay. Tell them I'm coming."
Troy took off on his bike. I slowly put my things away and got ready to leave. Haley's face looked pink.
Darn it, I thought, I think I sunburned Haley's face a little. I hope Elaine doesn't notice.
Moving slowly, I made my way up the sidewalk. What was I supposed to do or say to him? I had no idea how to act. I didn't want him there.
But in a small way, I did.

I never really warmed up to Wilson those following months. I rarely looked him in the eye and we no longer touched each other, even while lying asleep in bed. I changed my phone number and, even though he lived with me, wouldn't give it to him. I didn't want him to give it to his older daughters.
I hated to see Wilson alone and lonely, especially when I remembered how he used to be. But I couldn't trust him anymore, and love has to involve trust.

I found a job as a charge nurse at a nearby nursing home. I didn't want to leave Haley and start work, but the job was just weekends and it was close enough that I could come home during break and nurse her.
Andrew asked Wilson to play with him with the train set Uncle Bobby had given him for his birthday. I knew Wilson and Andrew couldn't play together for more than three minutes, and they didn't. Andrew said something and Wilson got mad and walked away. Andrew cried and begged Wilson to come back and play, but he said, "No." Andrew finally quit crying and started to play alone with his legos.

Just before Christmas, Wilson and Andrew each received about $400 from the tribe. This was the first and only tribal financial disbursement I'd ever seen. Andrew's money was automatically deposited by the tribe into a special savings account to be held until he turned 18, so he didn’t actually get it at that time. Haley didn't receive a check at all because she hadn't been enrolled yet as a member.

Cheri, who'd also received her money, had been staying with us. Wilson and I began to argue about her again. I had been supporting everyone, but Cheri was refusing to use any of her money to help out. I wanted her to go.
"Well if she goes, I go," Wilson hollered.
"Good-bye," I yelled back.
For a moment, Wilson seemed stunned. But then he packed up and, with Cheri and all their money, left.

I'm So Over You.

.
My nursing boards were scheduled to take place at the Civic Center over a two-day period. I asked Marion if Andrew could stay with her over those two days; I'd do better if I didn't have to worry about him. The first day of the test, the staff ushered us into a large room. We weren't allowed to bring anything in with us and we weren't allowed to leave the room. It was a long and stressful day. That night I went to bed early, my body was drained.

Around midnight the phone rang. "Beth.... This is Dorothy," came the slurred voice, "I'm over at a party.... Will you pick me up...and take me over to Lincoln?"

"No!" I barked and hung up.

_________________________________________________________

That weekend, the nursing boards finally over with, Andrew and I actually began to relax. Having nothing but welfare now money was tight. But it was okay, Andrew and I didn't need much. We went to fairs, the library, and to visit my family. We went to the beach twice a week and spent the whole afternoon doing nothing but play together in the water and lie on the warm sand. If I had loose change, I bought each of us an ice cream bar at the refreshment stand. It was a beautiful, wonderful time.

Unfortunately, it ended too soon. I came home from an overnight stay at my sister's one day and found Troy and Mathew sleeping in the house. They'd gotten in through the upstairs porch door.

I was angry, but didn't show it. Not wanting them to hate me, I didn’t want them to know how I felt. I scolded them and then let it go. My quiet time was over.

The phone rang just as I was falling asleep.

"Tell my dad Cheri had her kid," Misty snapped.

"Tell him yourself," I snapped back and hung up.

_________________________________________________


Mickey came back from Texas, but Paul stayed with his dad. I went into labor in September and Troy drove me in. I didn't call Wilson. Why bother? He knew when I was due. I'd packed my overnight bag for Andrew also, intending that he stay with me. Troy dropped Andrew and me at the hospital door.

Around 5:30 p.m. the next day, Andrew tried to cut his sister's cord. The doctor helped.

Haley's initial color at birth was dark and her face was squashed, accenting her Indian features. My initial reaction to the way she looked was fear. My thought; "I've given birth to an Indian girl who will become a teenage Indian girl."

I was barely out of the shower when Steph arrived half an hour later from work. She very lovingly combed my wet hair out. Erik, Bobby and Chris arrived soon after. All of them took time to hold Haley. I was tired, but so touched and grateful to have them all there. When they left they took Andrew and his belongings with them.

"I'll pick you up and take you home when it's time," Steph offered.

I fell asleep that night comforted by my brothers and sisters. Alone with Haley, my feelings of fear passed.

She was beautiful.
.

They're Indian Kids. Let the Tribe Take Care of 'em. They Aren't Our Business.

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Carrie had been with us now for only about three or four months. It seemed like a much longer period of time had passed, but that was only because so much had happened in that short period of time.

Child Protection informed us that although there was proof Carrie was abused, there was no proof as to who did it. Without proof, they couldn't hold anyone accountable.  We were told Carrie's father and his family were to be allowed visits again.

Dalene, anxious to see her, took Carrie home for the weekend. On Sunday evening, they returned. Setting the baby out of the car onto the sidewalk, they handed her the overnight bag and gave her a nudge.  We had heard the car drive up and had come out, surprised to see 18-month-old Carrie climbing the steps to the door - by herself - dragging the little bag behind her.

They watched from the road until they saw us pick her up, then drove off.

When Cheri finally came back a week or so later and took Carrie, I laid on my bed and cried for a couple hours.

____________________________________________

I returned to the Ojibwe class in the last semester. I still felt it was important for the children to understand their culture, so I took Andrew and sometimes Joy with me to class. Pregnant again, I even considered wearing headphones on my belly in order to assimilate the baby to the language. Mickey’s brother Troy, whose friends had shaved his head during a drunk, moved in with us, too. I wanted the boys to get better at speaking also, so I wrote onto slips of paper the Ojibwe names of household objects and then stuck them around the house.

It seemed like a good idea, but no one was really interested. Those slips of paper remained stuck to our furniture for a good year, little noticed by anyone.

The boys weren't interested in the language, but attained other minor victories. While staying with us, Troy obtained his driver’s license, had his chipped front tooth fixed, and worked on getting his GED. Mickey worked on getting his driver’s permit and attended high school.

One day Mickey came home an hour early from class.

"What are you doing home?" I asked him.

"My advocate let me out."

"What do you mean, 'let you out'?"

"Well, I didn't like my art teacher, so a month or so ago my Indian advocate let me drop the class and go to study hall in his office instead. He'd ask me a couple questions and stuff, but I wasn't really doing anything there so now he just lets me come home instead."

I called the advocate. "In the first place," I told him, "I don't agree with letting him drop art.  He has to work out his problems with his teacher. But in the second place, Mickey got two 'F's' last quarter! How come you’re letting him cut out of school?"

"What are you worried about?" the advocate, also a tribal member, responded, "He's got three years of school left. He's got time to catch up."

About ready to blow my top and getting nowhere with this man, I called the principal, who agreed Mickey shouldn't be leaving school early. It was too late to get Mickey back into the art class, so he placed him into the real study hall instead.  Unfortunately, the principal didn't have the cojones to fire the advocate for being the idiot he was.

The following day, Mickey confided that the Indian advocate had told him  "Don't listen to Beth, all white people talk like that."

'What a jerk,' I thought angrily, 'why isn't that so-called advocate helping Mickey apply himself? Don't they think an Indian kid can be expected to work hard?  Do they look down on Indian kids that much?  If anybody dares treat Andrew that way when he gets to school, expecting less of him just because he's Indian, I'll knock em to the moon!

Right - it's easy to blow up at all the fools outside the family.  But to open my mouth and say something to family members?  Not so much...
.

Tragic Mothers

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Cheri and Gene split up and Cheri, with Carrie almost 18-months-old, moved in with us. I did like Cheri and never stopped wanting to help her, but we walked a fine line with each other. As long as I smiled and gave her everything she expected, we were fine. We spent time together watching TV and teasing Wilson. But again, I was the one that had to do the bending in order for us to get along. If I asked anything of her or refused her requests, I messed things up.

One afternoon after she had been with us about three weeks, Cheri went out with Misty and didn't come back. This took us by surprise. Although we had had our hard times with Cheri, we never expected her to walk away from Carrie.

Now Carrie was my responsibility. A few months earlier, Carrie had been diagnosed with anemia and a yeast infection. Cheri had gotten the medicine but had never really used it. Now with her gone, I wrestled with Carrie twice a day to get her to swallow the bitter liquid iron and grappled to get rid of her yeast infection. The infection had been going on for so long that the normal salve wasn't effective. I took Carrie to the doctor, who gave some stronger medicine, but even that didn't work. Something was still there. I took Carrie again to the doctor.

"The yeast infection is gone; this is something else. I'm going to have to call child protection. This problem is sexually transmitted."

Child protection was called and a report was made. The doctor assured us that the incubation period was such that he did not suspect our home to be the source of the abuse. However, we were told Carrie should not visit her father's house.

Two weeks later, Cheri came back. Sitting on the couch and taking Carrie onto her lap, she asked "Carrie, do you love me? Did you miss me?"

I was surprised her first words to her daughter after three weeks absence were self-centered, but those words gave real insight into some of the problems.  When told about her daughter's diagnosis, she said she didn't know how or when Carrie would have been abused. But she seemed willing to believe it might have been someone in Gene's family. The doctor's statement gave her opportunity to be in control and keep Carrie from them.

Not that she was hung up on having Carrie, herself, though.  Cheri left again without warning the next day.

I could have spent time chasing Cheri down, but I wasn't keen on having her back in the house, and it was kind of fun to have a daughter. I picked up pretty dresses for her at the Crisis Nursery, fixed her hair, and took her to the college day care along with Andrew. At night, sitting in the rocking chair with her kneeling on my lap clinging to my neck, it would take only a few minutes to put her to sleep.

That same month Annie was in the hospital, just having given birth to little Shaine. I had worried about this pregnancy. She'd been drinking the whole time.

Bringing a gift to her room, we visited for a little while. Shaine looked good. I was relieved. Annie also looked good. Her long, silky, black hair, washed and brushed, literally shown. Two days of being cared for, sleeping in a comfortable bed and eating three meals a day had been good for her. Or maybe it was the little boy. She held him closely in her arms and spoke softly to him. I hoped that maybe she would leave the hospital determined to stay straight for him - and herself too.

__________________________________________

January 11, 1987 was the afternoon of a big football game. Mathew and Wilson watched it together in our living room. Annie called a couple of times that day asking Wilson to come over and talk with Lila.
"She’s sick," Annie told him, "she's coughing up blood and won't go to the hospital. She wants to talk to you."

Wilson was reluctant. He had been over there several times this week already. All they wanted, Wilson figured, was to ask him to run to the liquor store again.

Lila had some money and a group had hung out with her all week helping drink it up. Lila hadn't moved from the couch the whole time. Wilson said the apartment stunk from the smell of alcohol, urine, and "some other strange smell." He really didn't want to go back there.

Nevertheless, he told them he’d come, then settled back down to finish watching the game. While he and Mathew watched the game, I opened one of my nursing books and tried to look up the symptoms that had been described.

After the game, I went with Mathew and Wilson. I usually didn't go with him anymore, but I was worried about Lila. We pulled into the alley behind the brownstone building, the same building Julia had died in four months earlier, and parked. There was an ambulance parked near the back door. Wilson got out and moved quickly toward the steps. I was slower; I had to help Andrew out of the car. As Wilson began to go in, two men carrying a stretcher came out. Wilson stepped aside to let them pass, glancing only a moment at the body with its sheet covered face, then started up the stairs. I also looked. The belly of the person was huge, as if it were a pregnant woman. The way my mom's belly had looked when it was filled with fluid just before she died. I hesitated, then turned to the two men now loading the corpse into the ambulance.

"Is that Lila Hunter?" I asked them.

"Yes," one responded.

I called up the stairs, "Wilson! Come back! It's Lila!"

He turned and looked down at me, "No it's not."
.

Death, Drunkenness, Driving, Dread, Disgust and Despair - and not one ounce of Courage

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After consoling Mathew at the morgue, Wilson and I visited the brownstone apartment building. Death by hanging does not always happen quickly. In a situation where someone in a noose is dropped from sufficient height, the person may die quickly from a snapped neck, but without height, the person may strangle for several minutes, gagging and suffering before finally succumbing.

As I stepped into the closet where Julia, who was taller then I, had hanged herself, the wooden rod from which the clothing hung just touched the top of my head. She could have saved herself simply by standing up.
Did she hate herself that much? How could anyone hate themselves that much! How deep her despair must have been! Oh, why didn't any of us realize the extent of her suffering? That beautiful girl! Why didn't we visit her? Why didn't I just come and talk to her, be her friend, take her to get her license like I had promised? Something!

That evening, we got a call from a detective in the emergency room at the medical center. Roger had been stabbed in the chest.

"Oh, No," I said. "His sister Julia just died!"
"Julia died?" The detective asked, "Do we know how Julia died?"
"Oh, yes. She was upset about their sister Wanda's accident and she hanged herself".
"Wanda?" He asked hesitantly, "And do we know what happened to Wanda?"
"Yes, she fell down a flight of stairs in a wheelchair and re-injured her back". The detective paused. "Do we know how Wanda fell down the stairs?"
I paused. "Yes. She was upset that Julia didn't want to her help her down the stairs, so she threw herself down them."

At this point the detective must have been wondering if there were some kind of conspiracy against the family. I think, in some backward way, many of us hoped there was. It was too much to imagine that all this could happen to one family in one week's time. Worse - that they had all done it to themselves. It would have been a morbid comfort to have some other explanation.

The social worker in care of Julia's little brother Bradley released him into my care so that he could attend the funeral. I actually had to work that day and couldn't go to the funeral, but didn’t tell her that because I figured it wouldn't matter whether it was Wilson or I watching Bradley.

However, as it turned out Wilson volunteered to take Julia's body back up north to the reservation in our van and Bradley was shuffled into his mother's car. Wilson fell apart up there and began drinking again and Yvonne did not return from the funeral on the day promised. When the social worker called looking for Bradley, I was alone at my house and had to confess I didn't know where Bradley was or when he would be returned.

I was never allowed to take him again.

For the most part, I had learned to live with crisis in this family. But this week had been too much. Once I learned that Wilson was drinking, I couldn't eat or sleep. My stomach churned constantly. I knew that Andrew and I were going to be on our own again. Because I couldn't eat or sleep, I didn’t think I’d be able to properly care for Andrew either, so I called the Crisis Nursery to see if I could place him there for 48 hours. The counselor, one whom I’d never gotten along with, suggested I put Andrew in a foster home. I hung up on her. I just needed help right now, for this moment; not forever.

To my relief Wilson came back a week before our wedding reception. However, he told me he'd have to go back up in a few days to bring Dale and Tammy down. When he left, Cheri went with him. I was nervous about him leaving but couldn't change it. On their way out of town, Andrew and I rode with them as far as my sisters house where we were going to spend the night. On the way I told Cheri about my new pants, blouse, and white blazer that was missing. "Misty was the last to wear them," I said. "She probably took them," Cheri responded.

When Wilson didn't get back on the day he said he would, my stomach again began to churn. I knew I should probably cancel the whole reception, but canceling would be so embarrassing. There was still a chance I was wrong and everything would be okay.

Of course, everything wasn't okay. Wilson rolled his van load of people into my dad's driveway late the night before the party. The entire vehicle reeked of beer. Wilson was drunk. So drunk, he'd allowed 16-year-old Cheri to drive.

"I don't want Andrew around all of these drunks," I told him.
Cheri answered, "Well, we grew up watching my dad drink and if its good enough for us, it's good enough for your kid!"
"Yeah, but look how you turned out," I responded.
"Get in the car," Wilson growled.
"I'll drive the rest of the way to our house," I answered.
"No. Cheri's driving. She drove this far and she'll drive the rest of the way."

I was disgusted, but was too embarrassed to go back into the house and let my family know everyone was drunk. Maybe things could still work out, I hoped.

Driving the open highway is one thing I suppose, but through the city is another and Cheri didn't have any idea how to use the side mirrors of the van.
"Look out!" I hollered, "There's a car right next to you!"
"Shut up," she spat.
"I'm so sick of you and Misty. All you guys do is come in and steal from me. Misty better get those clothes back to me, too."
"She don't have your clothes."
"You said she took them!"
"I did not!"

We made it home and people continued to arrive all that night. How was I to know that when I sent a couple of invitations to Wilson's sisters, forty of his relatives would show up at my house to stay?

And wedding receptions to this crowd meant heavy drinking. While Elaine and her crew were fine, many others I knew only by name and had to tell them over and over again that they could not drink at my house. Despairing, I stayed awake as long as I could, but eventually fell asleep about 4 am.

The next morning, I found Paul sleeping on the floor. He was one of the children that I had given a bed to, but apparently James, now out of jail, and his wife, Gloria, had come in after I had fallen asleep and kicked him out of the bed.

Sickened that Gloria - the woman that beat her own child to death - was in my home at all, I told Paul never again, in my house, to give up a bed that I had given him.

Sure, I could talk tough to Paul, but wouldn't / didn’t say a word to James or Gloria.

Wilson went to the store that morning with James. When he didn't return, I grew more desperate. The party was in just three hours, what happens if he’s drinking again? What if he doesn’t even show up? I had no way to go look for him.

Then Gloria offered to drive me. My sickened feelings about her and what she did to her baby would have to take a back seat to my sickened dread about Wilson. I needed help. After driving around a little while, we finally spotted Wilson’s van at Arthur's bar.

Coming out of the bright sunlight into the dark room, it took my eyes a moment to adjust before I recognized Wilson, his back to me, playing pool. His beer sat on the edge of the table. Walking quickly up behind him, I swung my purse and smacked it down on his head. He swung around. Seeing me, he started to laugh. The most frustrating thing was there was nothing I could say that he didn't already know. There were no words that could make any difference.

James got into Gloria's car and followed Wilson and me in the van. Back at the house I didn’t know what to do. I was supposed to go up to Dad’s house to help my sisters get the yard ready but I didn't want to leave my house to these people. No one was here to watch my things. Elaine was busy making a dish to bring to the party, but I knew I couldn't trust the others, including Wilson.

I was leaving my home unprotected. But my sisters were waiting for me and I couldn't call them and tell them anything was wrong. So I thought I had no choice. I took Andrew and left for Dad’s house.

And When They Were Older, They Would Not Depart From It

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In February 1986, because Misty was angry with her mother and didn't want to live there, and because Cheri wouldn't let Misty live at her place anymore, Misty moved in with us. We made it clear this was only on condition she straighten up and go to school. We did our best to help her. We first tried enrolling her in the Catholic high school her best friend was attending. We took her for an entrance exam, but she didn't pass.

"I'm sorry," the administrator told us, "we'd like to take her but her comprehension scores are way below our requirements. We simply don't have the necessary facilities to help her. I'd advise you to take her for testing."

At the Community College, Misty tested at the third grade reading level.

"Take her home and encourage her to read as much as possible. There are also some reading programs that you could enroll her in. They do cost a little, but if you can afford it..."

Running out of options, we enrolled her in an alternative school down on Lincoln Avenue. I encouraged her, told her she was beautiful and surprised her with a rose on her dresser for her 16th birthday. I took her portrait to a modeling agency. Louise Nelson saw the portrait and told me she thought Misty was very photogenic.

But living with Misty wasn't easy. She wouldn't do anything she didn't feel like doing. The only time she would do the dishes without a fight was on my payday.

_________________________________________________________

On Halloween I took Joy and Andrew with me to a party at the Crisis Nursery. I'd sewed Joy a "Strawberry Shortcake" costume. Andrew I made into Mickey Mouse. I found a ruffled slip for Joy and black tights for Andrew at the nursery. I was able to get all kinds of accessories for children at the Crisis Nursery, from clothing to diapers to baby bottle nipples. Some of it was given to me, some of it I stole. Funny how upset I was with Misty's thieving but thought nothing of my own.

Stealing from the Crisis Nursery at night wasn't hard. I worked with only one other person and all I had to do was wait for that person to fall asleep. Then during my normal duty of restocking from the basement, I would take extras out the side door to my car. Some of it I stored for my own use, other stuff I took up north and gave it to Dale and Tammy for their three kids.

The small one bedroom tract house they now lived in was part of a quadroplex originally built to house an elderly person. Not being high on the list of tribal government cronies, this apartment had been given to Dale's family until another home opened up.

The house was usually littered with clothing and thick with cigarette smoke. They never had much food, and the kids slept on the floor wrapped in dirty blankets. I brought them toothpaste and toothbrushes from the nursery every time I came, and then usually went out and bought other little things they needed such as toilet paper. Sometimes I'd help Tammy take the blankets and stuffed toys down to the launder-mat. At night, I curled up with the kids on the floor and slept.

While sitting on the hood of the car outside Dale's house one afternoon, Lila told me she would die soon and had already chosen her casket.
"There is no reason to live," she said while looking at the ground.
"What about your two kids?" I asked.
"No one needs me."

___________________________________________________

Back home, Roland called the alternative school. Misty had been going a month or so now and we wanted to see how she was doing.
"She hasn't been here."
"What do you mean? We drop her off every day!"
"She hides behind the door until you leave and then takes off."

After a particularly bad day with Misty, I urged Roland to go on a drive with me. As we went around a lake, I told him I could not marry him if I could not start saying no to his family. He wanted to get married, I guess, because he told me then that I could start standing up for myself.
.

Being Raised to Die

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Wilson began working at an upholstery shop on the northeast side. It didn't pay much, but he was glad for the work. I was surprised how little trouble he had getting up with the alarm.


We signed Joy up for ballet classes in the suburb near my Dad’s. Every Saturday that fall, I dropped her off at class and went to do laundry at my dad's. We also signed Junior up with a gym near his house and paid for his and Cheri's piano lessons at the Park. In addition, Wilson and I attended most of Junior's floor hockey games and were proud when Cheri won an award in tennis.

But Misty wasn't a joiner. She had briefly been in Girl Scouts, but never asked to be part of any other program, never indicated any special interests, and we, deep into our own problems, never thought to help her find some.

Misty, like Cheri, started her real trouble after leaving elementary school and beginning junior high. There being several elementary and junior high schools in our large city, kids moving to seventh grade often found themselves surrounded by a whole new group of children. I often wondered if the pressure of a new school and the change in peer group at such an insecure age had anything to do with the troubles inner city kids had. Maybe junior high kids should be kept with the same group of children they'd gone to elementary school with, rather than shuffling the children as you would a deck of cards.

Because of Misty's truancy, the school district was now picking her up in a van every day from her mother's house and taking her to a special school. But the costly effort had no effect on her uncooperative attitude or interest in learning.
_________________________________

An Asian gang had jumped Savannah and Yvonne’s girl, Marci. Marci had gotten away, but Savannah was left. She had been gang-raped. Only thirteen, Savannah was already drinking heavily, had left school, been beaten several times, been stabbed in the throat, and had had clap (gonorrhea). I tried to get Savannah into treatment. The hospital was ready to take her, but no one in the family would help me to get her there. At the duplex Annie and Savannah were staying at with other people, (Candis was in the custody of her dad at the time.) I tried to talk Annie into helping me with Savannah.

"Well Savannah don't want to go, and if Savannah don't want to go, I can't do nothin," Annie said.

Busy at the kitchen table trying to hack a dirty cast off a little boy’s arm, she stopped a moment to take drag on her cigarette. I didn't know who the boy was. The son of the person Annie was staying with I guessed.

"Well, could we just trick her? Just tell her we're visiting someone?"

"Na-e, she won't fall for that," Annie said as she worked.

It was clear I wasn't going to get any help, so I gave up. After all, these adults were heavy drinkers and living homeless, transient lives themselves. Savannah was only a kid and wasn't near as bad off as they were, so in their minds, I was silly to suggest she needed help.

"By the way”, I said gesturing toward the boy. “How come you don't just bring him down to the hospital and have them cut that cast off? It would be easier."

"Nae, his mom don't want to bother with that."

More likely she didn't want to sober up for it or was hiding from social services.
__________________________________

One day, as I came into Wanda's duplex, Julia jumped up from the table in confusion, looked frantically around for a place to hide, and then ran into the basement. She had been sniffing paint and didn't want me to know.

Wilson and I began to talk about the troubles all the teenagers were having and wondered if there was something that we could do to make it different. For a little while, we even bandied around the idea of running a home for Indian kids. At the time, the Native American community in this city was predominately located within a two-mile radius. It was estimated there were approximately 15,500 Indians in the area. According to statistics, Native Americans had a higher infant mortality, lower education attainment, higher unemployment rates, greater incidence of poverty and disproportionately higher chemical dependency rate than other people groups in the state. Statistics said that 40% of this state’s Indians had a serious problem with alcohol, as opposed to only 8.5% of the rest of the state population. It was considered the single most serious problem Indians faced because it contributed to the three leading causes of death in adults: cirrhosis of the liver, suicide, and homicide.

And many youth were following their parents’ path.

.

"God, please help us. Please save our family."

.
Andrew was a happy, outgoing kid. One of his favorite games was running and hiding behind the living room chair as soon as he heard his dad's car pull up outside. Wilson then came in and made a big deal about trying to find him. Andrew would squeal and laugh when his dad finally crept over and grabbed him.

When Andrew played outside, I had to keep an eye on him. Turn your back for just a minute and he'd be up on the neighbor's porch ringing their doorbell. On a Friday in early May, Wilson and I worked all day penning Andrew in with a fence around the yard. Andrew and I then went to spend that night at my dad's. Cheri called me there the next day, upset. While we were gone, Wilson had gone out drinking. Cheri's broken voice betrayed the strong mask she usually wore; she wanted me to do something to stop him.

"We were all over to Verlin's house," she told me, "Everyone was drinking, then my dad asked me to tie the tourniquet for him while he shot up. It was my 16th birthday and he was asking me to help him shoot up!"

"What happened? Why is he doing this when everything was going so good?"

"He said he felt under pressure." she answered without explanation, "He also plans on going to Texas on Monday."

I felt the color leave my face. Why would he want to go off and leave us? Not knowing what else to do, I called Elmer Dovetail.

"Don't be scared,” he said, "God will watch over your family. Believe it, and thank God for already having helped you."

I tried to do that. I told myself that I wasn't scared about what Andrew would do without Wilson; I wasn't scared that he wouldn't come home. I told myself that I wasn't scared that he would lie to me some more, that he didn't love me, or that I was going to lose my best friend, my son's father.

"God, please help us and Wilson. Please save our family."

It turned out one of Wilson's friends had a large amount of money in the bank and the possibility for fun and travel was too much to pass up. Two days later Wilson gathered some things and left for Texas. With no one to talk to, I wrote a letter to Andrew:

"If he was having problems, I would have listened. He didn't give me a chance. He didn't give me any warning. Now it's too late, because once he starts drinking its almost impossible to get him to quit. I wish I could stop him somehow. I wish I could make him come back. I wish he wasn't an alcoholic. I do love him.
I pray, but he still drinks. So maybe prayers don't work. Maybe if I had more faith the prayers would work.
I haven't eaten since Sunday. I can't eat when I'm scared."

A couple days later Andrew heard a car across the street. He squealed with glee, and ran behind the living room chair, waiting. After several minutes, he peeked out from behind the chair and called, "Daddy! Come get me!"

"Daddy isn't here Andrew."

Andrew was silent a moment, and then stepped out, his lip quivering and eyes beginning to water, "Where's Daddy?"
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Crime: A Family Tradition

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Cheri spent the spring at a detention center after having stolen a car. When we visited, she proudly bragged about her popularity among the other kids at the center.

________________________________________________

Shirley called to tell us Misty had been picked up for stealing at Butler Drug store. The police had taken her downtown. Would we go get her?

We arrived at the courthouse. The officer spoke briefly to Wilson and then released Misty to his care. Outside on the street, Wilson and Misty laughed together. Disgusted that he wasn’t mad at her, I walked a few feet ahead of them. Behind me, Wilson asked Misty, "Why did you take those cookies?"

"I was hungry!" she said, as if Wilson were stupid for asking, and then laughed.

Too mad to keep my mouth closed any longer, I turned and spat out, "Well why didn't you just walk the four blocks to our house and get something to eat then!"

Wilson and Misty looked at each other and started laughing. I turned and kept walking.

______________________________________________

Wilson had been sober in the six months since his release. If you included his time in the workhouse, he'd been sober almost a year. In April, we began making plans for a June wedding. Wilson bought me a wedding dress, and we had a portrait taken of Wilson, Andrew and me together. After the pictures were taken, we stopped at Dairy Queen for some cones, then at a park next to the river. Wilson took Andrew, on a short walk while I waited upstream. The weather was warm, the trickling water peaceful and the trees just beginning to bud. Wilson showed Andrew the ducks, then turned and came back. We each took one of Andrew's chubby hands and swung him as we walked back to the car.

It felt like we were a family.

During the summer I went on long, daily walks with Tonya, but other than that, I hung around the house missing Wilson and not wanting to miss any call. I slept in the basement bedroom and ached for him constantly. When I was given money from my school, I called Wilson and gave him half of it. I was lonely without him.

I was so bent on getting back with Wilson; I bought airline tickets to Las Vegas with my credit card and talked Dad into lending us money for the trip using the Buick as collateral. He agreed reluctantly.

A week before we were to leave, Wilson called. "Someone stole the Buick. I got up this morning and it was gone."

I went to his house to call the police. The police located the car later that day in a wrecking yard. They had towed it from where it had gone off the road and through a guardrail. It was totaled.
Wilson had some cuts on his arm and his glasses were missing, but told me he had fallen off of the curb while drinking the night before. After over four years of sobriety, he was drinking again.
"You were drunk and crashed it, didn't you?"

Wilson denied it. But at the wrecking yard I found his glasses on the dash of the car under the broken windshield. Despite my suspicions, I told Wilson that I believed him.

Cheri, angry at her dad for both drinking and seeing me again, moved back with her mother.


Although our collateral was gone, I took my dad's money and time off from school and we went on the trip to Las Vegas anyway. I wasn't really interested in gambling. I had only suggested Las Vegas because I knew it would interest Wilson. The manipulation (his and mine) had worked; we were a couple again. The first half of the week was fun. We played games, walked the brightly-lit streets and saw a show. On an evening about half way through the trip, Wilson slid a wrench into his boot and went off by himself to what he said was the Indian side of town. I stayed at the motel and studied my homework. He wasn't gone as long as I thought he'd be.

"Some people thought I was a nark, so I didn't hang around." Instead, he took some money and went downstairs to gamble. When he came back up, he was drunk.

While getting our breakfast at a buffet the next morning, Wilson claimed he'd lost our last $100 dollars in a taxicab. I was four months pregnant, and we were broke. Our room was paid for, but the plane ticket couldn't be used until the reserved day. In the meantime, we'd have to find a way to eat. My dad refused to accept anymore collect calls.

Late one night, after a couple days of not eating, Wilson returned to our room with a plate full of chicken. An employee had set it aside in a back room for his own dinner, and when the man had gone to grab a drink, Wilson slipped in and took the plate. Chicken had never tasted so good.

And the plane ride back couldn't come soon enough. But we were now back together again.

A week or so later Wilson woke up shaking. The weather was hot, but that wasn't the reason he was sweating. He needed a drink. After calling around, he found out people were drinking over at his ex-brother-in-law's. We got in the car to drive the mile or so to his house. As we passed the park, a tire on our car suddenly blew.


"Here," he said, "go over to that store and call AAA. I'll meet you over there."

And he left.

So five months pregnant, I waited in the heat for AAA to come fix the tire. But I said nothing when I finally arrived at the brother-in-laws. I just smiled and laughed with the rest of them.


"The reason you can't leave me is because I have medicine in my bag that keeps you with me. Wanda’s dad gave it to me a month ago," Wilson told me.
But he wouldn't tell me just what a medicine bag was or what was in it. All he would tell me was that it was personal, and that he shouldn't have said as much as he did.

"I shouldn't have even told you I was carrying it."


It was hard for me to decide whether or not he was just being melodramatic, but I chose to believe him. I wanted to believe there was a real reason, not my fault, for continuing with this relationship.


How comforting it was to now have an excuse. My behavior was now beyond my control.

I heard rumors that Savannah had been beaten and molested by Annie’s boyfriend out near Mission. It was a rumor said in passing; it was just part of a conversation. I’m not even sure who said it.

Late one night during that ricing season some relatives drove up to Dorothy's house. Wilson and Dorothy went outside to talk to them. I stayed inside knowing it was none of my business. From the window I could hear Savannah screaming and crying, "I want my mom! I want my mom!"

Annie was gone again, drinking, and no one wanted the responsibility of keeping the girls. Poor Savannah, she knew that no one really wanted her and Candis, so she screamed for her mom to let her aunts and uncles know that she didn't want them either. I'm not sure who finally took the girls or where they went, but they didn't stay at Dorothy's.


Ricing was almost over.

"My dad said this will be the last time we rice together," Wilson told me ruefully.Walter had a feeling and just "knew" this was the last time. His dad wouldn't come out and say something like that unless it was true.


At home, Wilson’s daughter Cheri had stopped coming on the weekends. She spent time with her friends instead. I was sorry she didn't want to see us but also secretly relieved and even more relieved when Misty also quit coming. The fewer kids to take care of, the easier the weekends were. Besides, we never really went anywhere anymore, except to visit my family, and Wilson didn't go with us. It was easier the fewer children I had.

We were hearing from Junior and Joy that Cheri and Misty were running around. The little ones also said that their mother was paying the older girls to steal cigarettes from their corner store.

Sitting on the warm sidewalk with Junior and Joy one morning, I wondered why I was hanging around. Why couldn't I just walk away?

Suddenly, Joy looked up at me, smiled, and asked a question. Junior laughed at her question, and I hugged them both.


Maybe God wants me to stay here for them.