The Long Walk Back Home, Chapter Ten

“Well, you always did know how to get yourself into a world of trouble and then back out of it!”  Sonny Russinko shook his head in admiration as Chris told him what had happened in the week since he had last seen him.  The two friends were sitting in the sand at La Jolla Shores, their backs against a concrete seawall that protected somebody’s beachfront home from the occasional extreme high tide.  A road leading to the beach was no more than twenty feet from Chris’ left elbow, and two blocks up that road was a convenience store from which they could replenish their supplies if they ran out of beer.

It was a cool morning for San Diego at that time of the year.  The ‘June Gloom’ of thick fog that would frequently keep the city wreathed in a wet grayness usually began in April and ended by the coming of July.  This year the pattern came and went at random, and on this particular morning the air was thick and wet.  Chris and Sonny had on only light jackets, so they had lit a fire with driftwood scrounged off of the beach.

“It’s not something that I went looking for” Chris replied.  “I just wanted to have dinner with a friend.  I didn’t know that just being an Indian could get people to want to kick your ass.”

Sonny took a swig of beer and stared into the fire for a minute.  Then said “Yeah, if you’re different from the crowd, life can be rough.”  Chris looked at him quizzically, and then Sonny continued.  “I know a little bit about those things.  My folks came here from Poland a couple of years before I was born.  Dad was a weird combination of poet and mathematician.  He said that the two things were a natural match, but I never really figured out how that could be.

Anyway, he got out of Poland a couple of years after the end of World War II.  I don’t know how the heck he did it but he did, and he got his family out too.  Poets were a dime a dozen back then, but the ‘New Socialist Society’ needed its mathematicians.  He never spoke much about that, but he got out and made it to America.  He settled in Cleveland, and that is where I remember living before we came here.

We didn’t live in a Polish neighborhood.  Dad said that we had left Poland behind and he wanted to make a clean break of it.  He still loves his home country and he’s proud of being Polish, and he had a lot of friends in the Polish community, but we lived in the general mix of Cleveland.  Sometimes it could be hard to be a Pollock kid there.”

“I have a hard time seeing you getting picked on” Chris stated.  Sonny was a big man; even larger than Calvin.

“I wasn’t always this big” Sonny continued.  “I was short and sort of pudgy, really.  I heard a lot of Pollock jokes, took a lot of teasing and bullying at school, and learned the hard way that it wasn’t safe to go to the local playground and mix with the other kids.  It would be alright for a while, but sooner or later some kid that I knew from school, or maybe one that I didn’t even know at all, would come along and yank my shorts down, or spit on me, or just punch me out.

“Shit, man.  You never said anything about this before.”

“A guy likes to forget that sort of thing.  Or at least tries to store it away so that you don’t have to look at it all the time.”

“And they did this just because your parents were Polish?”

“Uh huh.”  Sonny took another drink from his beer and looked out across the ocean.

“And this is why your family moved to San Diego?”

“No, not directly.  About the beginning of the eighth grade I began to grow up.  I was just over six feet tall by the end of that year and the fat turned into muscle.  I begged Dad to get me some weights.  He did, and I worked out every day.  By the end of the ninth grade I’d evened a lot of scores.

About that time Dad got an offer to come and teach at the UCSD campus and he thought that sounded like a good deal.  He didn’t like the way that things were going with me and he was tired of the winters in Cleveland too, so out we came.”

“Man, I didn’t know any of that.  You and Calvin might have a lot to talk about”

“Yeah, maybe.  Hey, look out there.  What’s that?”  Sonny was pointing towards two black dots in the water about two hundred feet from the surf line.  The dots appeared to be moving towards the beach.  Soon another dot appeared, and then two more. “That’s divers” he said.  “They’re coming out of the water.”

And indeed, a party of six divers in black wet suits and with snorkels stepped out of the surf and began to walk towards Chris and Sonny.  One of the figures was walking clumsily, with two others helping him along.  The figures walked up to Chris and Sonny and asked “Can we borrow your fire?  Chuck here has some hypothermia going on.”

“Sure” Sonny replied.  “Here, sit on this blanket.”

“I’ll be glad to borrow your blanket” the man said.  “But it would be better used to wrap around our friend.”

“Sonny gave him his blanket while Chris threw more wood on the fire.  “I’ll go and get some hot coffee for you” Chris offered, and the shivering man agreed eagerly.  Two of the divers left to return to their cars and pick up the rest of their party.  Chris and Sonny meanwhile walked up to the store and bought four cups of coffee.  They continued their conversation while they accomplished that task.

“So, me and Calvin are going to drive out to the Rez and pick up his truck this weekend.  You want to come with us?”

“Huh, I’ve never been out there.  Yeah, I’m not doing anything in particular.  I thought you said that his truck doesn’t run.”

“It doesn’t.  Calvin’s mother has a friend with a truck that we can use.  He’ll rent a tow bar and pull it to my place.  My dad’s offered to check it out and see what it needs.  He’s really gotten into working on cars while I’ve been gone.”

They bought the coffees and then returned to the beach.  The two divers that had left had not returned yet.  The three divers who had remained with their cold friend were surprised when they received coffees too.  They offered to pay for them as soon as their departed friends returned with their belongings, but Chris and Sonny declined.  “It’s nothing.  Don’t worry about it.  We’re going to be taking off now anyway.”

The cold diver began to remove the borrowed blanket but Sonny told him not to.  “It’s Army surplus” he explained.  “I can get another one for two or three bucks.  You go ahead and keep it.”  Chris and Sonny were thanked profusely, and then they took their cooler with its remaining beers and drove away.

“So, you’ve patched things up with Jackie?” Sonny asked as Chris navigated through La Jolla, towards Pacific Beach and the freeway on ramp at the end of Grand Ave.

“Yeah, sorta” Chris replied.  “At least she’s not swinging at me.  She got really busted up over Tom’s death.  They were engaged; did I tell you that?”  Sonny shook his head in the negative.  “It’s a fact.  Her little sister, Pam, told me.  You remember her?”

“Yeah, just a little.  I didn’t see her around much back when we were in high school, but I knew that Jackie had a sister.”

“Well, she’s a pretty smart kid, and she’s helped a lot to work things out between us.”

“You always had the hots for Jackie.  You thinking about picking that up again?”

“No, definitely not.  It’s pretty clear that she still doesn’t like me much.  In fact, I didn’t know until recently how much she didn’t like me back in the old days.  I’m mostly into this for Tom’s sake, although – – -.”

Chris paused at that point, thinking about what to say next.  Sonny didn’t feel like waiting too long to hear what was on Chris’ mind though.  “Although what?”

“Uh, well, I think I’m kinda attracted to Pam.”

“Really!  So, if you can’t have one Olsen girl you’ll take the other?”

Chris punched Sonny in the shoulder and said “No, man.  It’s not like that.  She really is a cute girl, and a smart kid too.  I guess I should stop calling her a kid.  But she’s really trying to help her sister, and she seems like a sweet person.”

Sonny began to hum and pretend to be playing a violin, which drew another punch in the shoulder.  “Screw you” Chris growled.  “Just because no girl that doesn’t have calluses on her knuckles would look at you!”  Now it was Sonny’s turn to punch Chris in the shoulder.  “Hey, watch it man.  I’m driving!”

“Chris merged onto Interstate 8 and began the drive to East San Diego.  Sonny spoke again about the plan to retrieve Calvin’s truck.  “So, are you worried about being hassled by anyone if you go back into the east county?”

“I’m not too worried.  It could happen, but probably won’t.  I talked with Calvin yesterday and he said that his uncle asked around.  One of the punks who jumped us is Hunter Carlson.  He’s the son of the guy that owns a big turkey ranch on Dehesa Road.  He’s rich as shit, so his kid likes to lord it over a lot of people.  It turns out that most people don’t like him, so nobody wants to back him up.  Calvin’s uncle doesn’t know who the other two were, but thinks that nobody really likes them either.  Unless we run right into them, I don’t think that there’ll be trouble.

“That’s good.  I’d hate to see your pretty face take on any more black and blue.  Of course, maybe that would make Pam want to nurse you back to health.”

Sonny lurched against the passenger door and deflected an incoming punch aimed at the shoulder.  Chris blushed a little but also laughed.  “I’m going to have to take you to the zoo and get you a girl friend if I’m going to have any peace.”

Sonny laughed and then once again picked up the conversation.  “So, you said that you guys were going to have some kind of meeting?”

“Yeah.  We’re going to meet at The Spear’s Point next Saturday.”  Sonny’s blank look told Chris that he had no idea what the Spear’s Point was.  “It’s a kind of a student hangout right next to the State campus.  Pam says it’s where the smart kids go.  I guess the jocks and the frat rats go somewhere else.  She says the staff will enforce at least some kind of behavior rules there.”

“Sounds like a stone drag to me.”

“Yeah, well, some people have an IQ higher than room temperature.”  It was Chris’ turn to lurch away from a punch, and in doing so he pulled the steering wheel to the left causing the car to swerve in its lane.  “Come on man.  You wanna get us in a wreck?”

“Whah, whah, whah.  Shut up and continue.”

“OK.  Well, this place is usually quiet and Pam says – – -.”

“Pam says, Pam says – – -” Sonny said in a sing-song voice.

Chris sighed and continued.  “Pam says that it’s not going to be real crowded in the summer and it will be a good place to talk, or at least Pam says that Jackie says that.  We’re going to talk about Tom and try to help Jackie get a grip on his death.  Calvin knew Tom well over in The Nam and he can fill in a lot of what his last months were like.  I don’t know how that’ll help, really, but I’m going to give it a try.  Shoot, I’d invite you to come along but Jackie and Pam usually speak with words containing more than one syllable.”

“Yeah, that leaves me out” Sonny said.  “But say ‘Hi’ to her for me.  Jackie was always nice to me and I wasn’t used to that, coming from a smart and beautiful girl.  She was pretty special.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell her.”

“So when are you towing Calvin’s truck back to town?”

“Sunday.  After church we’ll drive out and hitch it up.”

“Church?  You done gone and got ‘lidgin?”

“No” Chris said with a chuckle.  “Calvin goes to church and hey, he’s a pretty cool guy, so I guess he can do what he wants.”

“Just as long as he doesn’t go throwing holy water on me.  I’m a vampire you know.”

“So what’re you doing in the sunlight?”

“I’m a hybrid.  Even vampires in San Diego need to get a good tan to have any social status.  Hey, you got any other plans for today?”

“Nope.  I’m just sort of laying low and staying out of the sun.”

Sonny looked out the window at the sullen, gray sky and said “I don’t know what sun you’re talking about.  But anyway, why don’t we drive up to the Reservation where the truck is?  You can show me where all of this shit went down.”

“What, are you crazy?  My last trip up there wasn’t exactly a church picnic.  I said that the chances of running into those clowns was small, but it’s still a chance.  I don’t know if I want to take it.”

“Come on man.  Nobody’s going to be looking for you.  Heck, the last place that they would expect to find you is right where they live.”

‘Aw, I don’t know.  I’m glad that I got out of there alive.”

“Well, if you really don’t want to do it, that’s cool.  No pressure.  So, what else do you want to do today?”

Chris thought about Sonny’s suggestion, and also thought about the fact that he had absolutely nothing else to do on this day.  Sonny actually did make sense when he said that they wouldn’t expect for him to go right back to where the trouble happened.  In fact, Chris had wanted to go and retrieve his belongings from the Jacumba Hotel, and this might be his best chance to do so.

“OK, maybe you’re right” he said.  I left some stuff at the hotel up there.  Maybe we can go and get that.  I’ll swing by the house and get a long sleeve shirt and a hat.  The doctor said that the antibiotics that I’m on could make my skin susceptible to a bad burn, and I don’t need any more pain just now.”

“Sounds fine to me” Sonny replied.  They exited the freeway at 43rd Street and drive the short distance to the Pierce house.  Chris got his shirt and Chuck’s straw hat and soon they were pointed east on the Interstate.  An hour later they were at the hotel.  His clothes had been stuffed into his suitcase, which had not yet been mailed to the address listed on his registration.

“OK” the clerk said as she recognized Chris.  “We didn’t expect you to come back, or at least not so soon.  The suitcase is in the office.  Wait here a minute.”

Chris fidgeted as he waited for the clerk to reappear with his property.  Was she calling the police?  Was she calling Hunter Carlson?  Heck, for all he knew she was engaged to Hunter Carlson or one of his flunky friends.  After a minute Chris turned to Sonny and was about to say “This was a stupid idea.  Let’s get out of here,” but before he could speak the clerk emerged from the office with his suitcase.  “Thank you” Chris mumbled as he turned to leave.

“Mr. Pierce” the clerk said as he turned, and he looked back and faced her.  “Mr. Pierce, we heard about what happened at Sadie’s last Friday, and we guessed that you were involved.  I just want to tell you that a lot of people feel like Hunter had it coming, and his friends did too.  I want you to know that not everyone out here is a jerk like them.  All the same, I would keep looking over your shoulder while you’re here.  Hunter got it worse than the others and, I don’t know, well, the story was that, uh, well, that one of you peed on him.”  The clerk blushed as she said that, and then continued.  “Well if that’s true, I don’t know anyone out here who deserves it more than he does.”

Chris didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded to her and left.  He and Sonny returned to his car, fired up the engine and pulled out of the parking lot and onto old U.S. 80.  “You pissed on him?”  Sonny asked.

“Well, I might have gotten a little carried away” Chris replied.

“Holy shit!  That’s cold, man.  I mean, it sounds to me like he deserved it.  You probably should have taken a dump on him too.  But phew!  He’s going to be looking for a little paybacks for that one, I’d guess.  You’d probably better be looking over your shoulder while you’re in town, too.”

They drove past Sadie’s and Sonny asked “You wanna go in for a little lunch?”

“Shit!  No way!” Chris replied.  “This is crazy enough as it is. There ain’t no way in hell that I’m poking that bear again.”

“For all you know you could be a hometown hero, man.  They might even buy you a round and give you a free lunch.  Might give me one too.”

“They might give us a knuckle sandwich and boot in the teeth.  Uh-uh.  Nope.  Not happening.”

“Ok, ok.  Don’t get your undies all bunched up, you wuss.  Just show me where the truck is.

A short distance past Sadie’s Chris recognized the turnoff to the road that led into the Campo Reservation.  He saw the brown, bullet-riddled sign that he had seen in his headlights four days earlier announcing his entrance to the Rez.  Chris drove up the two lane road, remembering that he did not turn off of that road until they had arrived at the driveway of Calvin’s uncle’s single wide.  He drove slowly, looking to the left for the trailer and it’s driveway.

Along the road they looked at the poverty and despair that was so evident on the Rez in the light of day.  Decomposing trailers, shacks that looked ready to fall over, and stucco houses that seemed to be returning to the elements from which they were constructed seemed to be the norm.

“Shit, man.  This is depressing” Sonny said as they crept along.

“Yeah, Calvin told me that the people here had their hearts torn out by what they’ve lost over the last two hundred years.”

“Yeah, that’s a bad story, for sure.  But shit, man.  How can you live like this?”

“Calvin says that this is all that they have left.  His people look at the nice farms and ranches around the county and remember that they are on land that was once theirs.  They’ve been left with the most marginal of land and been told to provide for themselves using what they’ve got.  They mostly make it on what the government will give them, which isn’t much, and the only way out is to quit being an Indian and move to the cities.”

“Well shit.  Then I’d quit being Indian if it came to this.”

“Did your father quit being Polish?”  Chris asked.  “I’m not trying to argue with you but really, did your father give up being Polish just to get along?”

Sonny thought about that for a while, and then replied “No.  Dad never quit being Polish.  He wanted to be American, but he was never ashamed of being Polish.  And I’m not ashamed of being Polish either.”

“Well, then, I guess it’s something like that.  These folks seem to be satisfied, determined or resigned to being Indians, even if it means living like this.  Heck, maybe it’s a combination of the three; I don’t know.  But you know what?  I think that maybe I admire them for that.  Even Calvin’s uncle, who hates the ground that I walk on.”

“Hmm” Sonny mumbled thoughtfully as he looked out the window at the ramshackle houses and trailers that they passed.  At last they passed a wood frame house on the right and a scruffy, tan dog raced out and chased them down the road.  Chris remembered that a dog had erupted out of the night and then merging back into it just before he and Calvin had arrived at his uncle’s driveway.  He slowed down even more and looked intently to the left.  In another minute he saw the single wide and the old, weathered garage that housed Calvin’s two vehicles.

“There” he pointed with his chin.  “There it is.”


The Long Walk Back Home, Chapter Nine

Chris left the Olsen house and drove straight to Mercy Hospital.  The doctor at the hospital’s Emergency Room mercifully numbed Chris’ head as soon as he saw the red and ragged tear stitched together with fishing line.  “You sat in a chair while a guy sewed you up with this?

“Yes sir.  It was the best of a couple of bad options.”

“Well, you’ve got huevos, my friend.  I’m a Korean War vet, but this is something that I’ve never seen before.”

He removed the fishing line and pulled the edges of the laceration together as neatly as he could after irrigating it thoroughly.  The thin silk sutures were a welcome substitute for the much thicker fishing line that now lay in bloody pieces on a stainless steel tray.

“This will leave a pretty vivid scar” the doctor told him, “but you can think of it as an interest feature.”

“I won’t think about it at all if I can help it” Chris replied.  “I’ll start trying to forget this as soon as I can.”

“Well, just remember to take that Doxycycline for the next five days.  That jury-rigged job was just about to explode on you as it is.  And here.”  He handed a second piece of paper over to Chris.  “You’ll probably want to take this too.  It’s for Darvon.  You may want to stud this thing out, but if you don’t like pain this is the stuff you want.  And keep out of the sun until you’re through with the antibiotics, or you could get a nasty burn.”

Chris thanked the doctor, took his two prescription slips and drove to the White Cross pharmacy on University.  He waited for about fifteen minutes while the pharmacist filled his order, looking at the cheap western and romance novels at the book counter, and then thumbing through a Popular Mechanics magazine until his prescriptions were ready.  Chris paid for the medicines and then drove home, had a beer with his brother who was happy to take a break from his studies, took two Darvon capsules and crawled into a warm and comfortable bed.

He fell instantly asleep, partly because of the Darvon but mostly because of exhaustion from the exertions of the last two days.  He had learned to fall asleep quickly in Vietnam, finding that the fifteen or twenty minutes of sleep that you got during a lull in the walking or a lull in the fighting were all that you could expect to get for – – nobody knew how long.  Chris did so tonight, and in the dark, still hours of the night he found himself once again in the jungles of Vietnam.

The scene was not familiar; he didn’t know which particular valley he sat in, resting under a tree.  And he didn’t know the names or numbers of the hills surrounded the valley, or if they even had names at all.  They all looked the same.  But he knew when the bullets began to rip into his platoon that it was going to be bad.

Men began to drop everywhere around him.  A soldier that he did not recognize standing about five feet away from him, was hit in the head.  His head exploded like a watermelon, spraying Chris and the jungle with brains and blood.  Chris dug in behind the sandbag bunker that hadn’t been there a moment ago and began to return fire, aiming at nothing in particular but instead spraying the whole jungle which seemed to have come alive and was trying to kill him.


Chris’ rage built as the volume of fire increased, and he was almost too enveloped with fury to hear the sound of a piano which began to cut through the cacophony of gunfire and explosions.  He did hear it, however, and when he turned in the direction from which it was coming he saw Tom in a clean, starched uniform, without weapon, helmet, or flak jacket, grinning and playing some kind of classical-sounding music.

“Get down!” he screamed.  “Get down, dammit!  What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Tom seemed to be unaware of the danger.  He finished the piece that he was playing, arose from the piano bench and raised the seat, seemingly looking through books and sheets of music for something else to play.  “Get down!” Chris screamed again.  He wanted to run to Tom and tackle him but his legs didn’t work; all they allowed him to do was to stand up, which made him a perfect target.

Chris’ battle fury now turned into terror.  Men were dying all around him with heads blown off, entrails strewn among the jungle bushes, crying and groaning for help, for their mother, their wife, or God to help them.  Chris knew that in an instant he would see Tom die and there was not one thing that he could do to prevent it.  That helplessness and terror caused Chris to do what he had never done before; he got up and ran from a fight.

He wasn’t going to be able to save Tom, but he wasn’t going to stay and watch him die.  Chris rose from behind the sandbags, threw down his rifle and began to run from the fight.  The fight, however, would have none of that.  The faster Chris ran, the louder and closer the battle sounded, until at last it sounded like the footsteps of a gigantic robot firing a thousand machine guns at the same time.

Chris looked back and saw that the footsteps belonged to the three punks that had jumped him and Calvin at Sadie’s Cafe.  He knew that it was them, but they were much larger now.  Their eyes glowed red and were set in dark circles.  Their lips were black, and framed bloody red teeth that were set in grimaces of rage.

The three figures’ arms were large, long and hairy, and ended with hands that were abnormally, cartoonishly large.  Those hands would open, showing triangular, pointed fingernails that seemed to be made of steel, and then close into fists that resembled the mallets that were used in carnivals to slam down on a platform and hopefully project a metal striker upwards to hit a bell.  Chris knew that those ghoulish pursuers intended to use their nails to rip the flesh from his bones and then pound the bones into dust with their sledge-like fists, and he ran for his life.

Ahead of him he saw a gate that stretched across a road.  Fences ran from either side of the gate into infinity, and he knew that safety could be found on the other side.  He hit the gate and saw that it could be opened from the other side, and that Calvin was standing there.  “Open the gate!” he cried, but Calvin did not seem to hear him.  “Open the gate!” he repeated, with hysteria overtaking him.  The three monstrous figures had to be nearly upon him by now but Calvin still did not seem to hear.  Chris continued to scream at Calvin while swinging his right arm behind him, hoping that somehow this action would ward off the attackers that he was too terrified to turn his head and look at.

“Calvin!  Calvin!”

“Chris.  Chris”  Come on, wake up.”

Chris heard the voice and felt the feathery touch of a hand on his ankle.  At last he turned to fight his pursuers to the death.  He spun and struck out, striking only air.  The bright sunshine of the jungle scene switched instantly to dim light.  Chris took another wild swing and then bolted upright  into a sitting position in his bed.

“Chris, you OK buddy?  Wake up.  It’s Chuck.”

Chris sat silently on the bed, his heart racing madly and every nerve alive and tingling.  He looked at the figure, softly outlined by the dim light, that was standing a short distance from his feet.  “Chris” the figure said again.  “It’s all right.  It was a dream.”

The reality that he had just awoken from a nightmare flooded into Chris’ consciousness and, with a moan that escaped involuntarily from his lips, he collapsed back onto his pillow.

“Chris” his brother said once again.  “It’s OK buddy.  It was just a bad dream.  You’re here at home.  It’s all right.”

Chris had by this time returned to his senses and sought to reassure his brother.  “Yeah Chuck.  I’m all right.  That was just one hell of a bad dream.  Thanks for waking me up.  I didn’t hit you, did I?”

“No, I was ready for that.  My friend Vic Durousier’s dad was in the war.  He had to wake him up a few times, and got clipped the first time.  I remembered him telling me that.”

“Good” Chris replied, and then he heard footsteps in the hall.  The door opened and Chris’ father, with Mrs. Pierson behind him, asked if everything was all right.

“It’s OK” Chuck told them.  “Chris had a bad dream.  We’ve got it covered in here.”  Mr. Pierson asked if there was anything he could do and Chris assured them that nothing was needed, so they shuffled back to their bedroom.  Chuck then stepped forward and placed a hand on Chris’ shoulder.  “I can stay up for awhile with you if you need it” he said.

“Thanks man” Chris replied.  “I’m cool.  I think maybe that Darvon did a number on me.”

“Maybe” Chuck replied.

“Naw.  It’s cool.  Thanks for waking me up.”

“No problem.  You looked like you needed it.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

It took Chris a little more than twenty minutes to go back to sleep.  He could feel a low, constant throb in the side of his head, so he got up and took two more Darvon capsules.  “I’ll take my chances on another nightmare” he thought.  Soon, he was fast asleep again and his dreams, if he had any more that night, were of an unspectacular nature.

The next morning he was up early in spite of his interrupted sleep, and having coffee with his father.  Vernon Pierson did not work on Sunday but it was his habit to be up early and he saw no reason to change that on a weekend.  They sat at the table and Chris told his father in more detail what had happened out in the county.  His father grew angry about the attack, and felt like Chris should be  going to law enforcement and filing a complaint instead of running from it.

“But Dad.  Calvin says that it would do no good.  He says that the deck is stacked against Indians out there, and that it would be assumed by the police and by any jury that he and I had started the whole thing.”

“That’s nonsense.  People can’t just jump on you for no reason.  We have laws in this country.”

“Yeah, but there was a restaurant full of people who didn’t look like they appreciated us being there.  We waited a lot longer than anyone else in that place to get served, and Calvin was careful to inspect his food for spit before he ate it.  Calvin says that those laws don’t seem to apply the same to Indians as they do to other people.  Calvin’s lived that stuff long enough to know that it’s real, and I saw it too.”

“Well, I think that your friend might be over-sensitive.  Those are good people out there; people like from where I came from.  They can be rough, but they’re fair.  I can’t believe that they would support people who attacked you simply because your friend is an Indian.  We have laws in this country and they apply to everyone.”

Chris thought about his father’s words for a few moments and then decided that the conversation did not need to continue in that direction any longer.  They finished their coffee and talked about other things.  At length, Mr. Pierson said that he had projects outside to get busy with and left the table.

He stayed at the table and tried to decide what to do with himself.  It was now seven o’clock  and he could expect his mother and brother to be getting up at any moment.  He would have his breakfast with them, which would take him to nearly eight thirty.  And then what?

Chris was tired of explaining his damaged face, and the doctor had warned him to stay out of the sun for a few days because the antibiotics made him susceptible to sunburn.  Well, that didn’t mean he had to stay indoors; it only meant don’t linger in the sun.  So, he could go outdoors if he chose as long as he was careful.

And do what?  Chris felt restless and agitated, and while part of it was due to the need to lay low and heal, the majority of his unease arose from the different views that his father held on what Chris had experienced at that roadside cafe.  Calvin had told him about the world as he saw it and Chris had paid little attention to him; in the same way as his father had just discounted Chris’ story.

He had seen the waitress dragging her feet before serving them, had heard the comments by the three men and seen the sideways glances of some of the other customers.  He had also felt the impact of a fist against his head and still saw and felt the results of later blows.  His father’s arguments couldn’t explain those away.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of shuffling feet coming down the hallway, and Mrs. Pierson quickly appeared through the doorway into the kitchen.  She came up to her son and peered into his face and said that he looked better already, then asked what he would like for breakfast.  He thanked her for the lie about his face and replied that he would love to have her biscuits and gravy.  She hurried to begin work on what would soon resemble a king’s breakfast.

After the meal Chris volunteered to help with the clean-up.  Mr. Pierson returned to a project of some sort in the garage and Chuck left to join friends at the Windansea Beach for some surfing.  “Windansea my ass” Chris had said.  “You’re going to Black’s Beach for sure.”

“Yeah, Black’s has better scenery, but it’s too long of a walk while carrying a board.”  Black’s Beach was the nude beach that was accessed only with difficulty down a long road that was usually closed to motor vehicle traffic, or down winding paths that criss-crossed the crumbling cliffs that towered over the beach.  Mrs. Pierson pretended to not know anything about what her kids were discussing.

When it was just the two of them though, with Chris washing and his mother drying dishes, he took up the conversation that he had held with his father earlier.  “What do you think Mom?  Do you believe that my friend would get a fair shake if he went to the law about what happened?  Or me for that matter?”

His mother didn’t hesitate to answer.  “No, I don’t suppose that he would.  He probably has a lot of experience behind his opinion.  I think that I would respect that experience.”

“Well, Dad doesn’t see it that way.”

“I guess your father has had different experiences than has your friend.  Or me, as far as that goes.  His parents came to Kansas from Illinois and they settled far from any reservations.  My family moved to Kansas from South Dakota, where there was plenty of exposure to reservations and the Indians who lived on or around them.  Most white people had the same view of Indians that you ran into the other night.  Others were aware of how wrong that view was, but they were in a pretty small minority.  My parents were in that minority.

They came to Kansas hoping that it would be a little warmer and a little wetter than South Dakota, but it was neither.  I met your father and we got married there, and then when the Dust Bowl hit us we packed up whatever we could carry and came out here to escape it, and we did pretty good for ourselves.  I still remember the way that the Indians were treated in South Dakota though, and I can see why your friend would believe that the law would not be his friend in this case.”

“That stinks, Mom.  There’s no way a person should be treated like that”  Chris said with some heat.

“No, they shouldn’t, but it happens.  That’s just how it is.  If you want to go to the law I would support you, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it backfires on you.

They finished the dishes and Chris was left to decide what he would do that day.  He sat in a chair in the living room and stared at the blank television, and then out a window.  After a while he decided to call Calvin.  He went to the telephone at the end of the hall and dialed Calvin’s mother’s number and after eight rings hung up.

He sat in the chair facing the mirror that hung over the half-table upon which the black rotary telephone rested.  Chris examined his face in that mirror and decided that his mother may have been right.  The swelling around his eye had noticeably receded and the much more professional job of stitchwork in the gash was a definate improvement over Calvin’s improvisation.  “I think that Pam would – – -.”

“Pam!  Oh, crap!” Chris thought.  “I promised to call Pam and report on my visit to the emergency room!”  He dug through the papers in the waste can under the table, looking for the scrap of paper with Pam’s number.  The can was small and he found it right away.  After writing her number into the address book on the table he dialed it.  Eight rings and no answer.  He was putting the receiver down when he heard a voice on the other end.

“Hello.”  It was a male voice.

“Hello.  Is this Mr. Olsen?”  Chris asked.

“Yes it is.  And who is calling?”

“My name’s Chris Pierson.  I was at your house yesterday afternoon to see Pam and Jackie.”

“Oh, yes.  Of course.  I’m guessing that you would like to speak with Jackie?”

“Uh, actually I promised to call Pam.  I was supposed to call her last night but I – – -.”  Chris hesitated to say that he had forgotten to call, so her improvised.  “I got home late and just went straight to bed.  I was hoping to catch up with her today.”

“Ah, yes.  The girls were discussing your injuries after you left.  I have to tell you, young man, that I’ve never in my life heard of a wound sewn with fishing line.  I think that I would have forgotten to call too if I had been in your shoes.  How are you this morning, son?”

“Much better, sir.  Thank you”  Chris said, and he chuckled when he caught Mr. Olsen’s sly suggestion that he had guessed about Chris’ forgetting to call.  “Is Pam available to talk then?”

“I’m sorry, but no.  The family is at church.  I’ve got a bit of a cold and don’t feel like sharing it.  I expect them to be home after twelve though.  We usually get home about then.  Would you like to leave a message?”

“Yes, please.  Just tell her that I feel fine today, and that I think things are beginning to heal up a little.  And also that I’ll call sometime after twelve thirty, if that’s OK.”

“We usually have lunch when we get home, so maybe you should make it closer to one.  I know that she wants to hear from you, so I’m sure that you shouldn’t have to wait much later than that.”

“OK sir.  That would be great.  Thank you.”

Chris hung up the phone and then realized that Calvin was probably in church too.  He wanted to speak to his friend about a possible meeting with the girls before he spoke to Pam, but he found the thought of waiting until after making contact with him to call Pam to unpalatable to accept.  So with three hours to go until one o’clock and nothing to do, Chris decided to go into the garage and see if he could help his father with whatever he was doing.