Second Spirit -13- by Melanie Brown

Second Spirit

By

Melanie Brown

Advisor: Lisa Charlene
Copyright © 2024

Part 13

“Linda, stop fidgeting.”

“I don’t like this dress,” I said as I squirmed a bit.

Carol grinned. “It’s a nice dress. You look pretty in it.”

And there’s that word, I thought. “Pretty.” I heard it all morning while clothes shopping. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?” “Oh, so pretty!” “You’re such a pretty girl.” And on and on. I suppose that’s better than being called ugly. But constantly? I think as a boy, I was called “handsome” like twice, and both times it was by my mom.

“Why do I have to wear a dress?” I complained. “You’re just dumping me with some other family.”

Carol frowned. “I’m not dumping you. This nice family is adopting you. They can afford to take you in. Your new mother is Malia Nakai. She’s very nice and very involved in the community, making clothing to sell to tourists in local shops. Your new father is Ben Nakai. He’s in construction. They have a fifteen-year-old son named John. Sadly like many young people in the reservation, he’s anxious to leave.”

I shook my head. “Just your everyday Ward and June Cleaver.”

Shaking her head, Carol said, “How did you become so cynical?”

I just shrugged.

“Anyway, you can’t stay with me. I’ve grown fond of you, but I don’t have time to take care of you. And you are officially enrolled in school. Monday, you will start the seventh grade.”

“School? Really? Is seventh-grade high school?”

“Middle.”

I sighed. “Terrific.”

Snapping a suitcase closed, Carol said, “All your new clothes are packed, and we’re ready to go meet your new family. Ben’s at work, and John’s in school at the moment.”

I was sitting in her chair at her desk. She knelt to get to eye level with me. “Now listen, Linda. I know you have a penchant to be a little hellion and snarky. I also know if you try you can be very sweet and nice. Try to be nice, okay? These are good people who genuinely want to give you a good home and help you. Especially help you learn who you are. Ben was bothered when I told him you knew nothing about your own people.”

I just returned a cold stare. I know who I am.

She picked up the suitcase. “Come on. Time to go to your new home.”

Terrific. I’d rather stay with Carol. I don’t want to go live in some dirt floor teepee somewhere in the desert.  Or even the more luxurious dirt-floored adobe huts. I can’t wait.

I slid from my chair, and Carol took my hand and led me to her car. She let me ride in the front seat. She’s confident I won’t try to run away again. Seriously. Where would I go?

I was a bit surprised when I saw that she wasn’t driving out of Window Rock and out to a row of teepees. Instead, we drove into a suburban neighborhood with fairly nice houses. Not the fabulous houses that dot the neighborhoods where I grew up but not the mud huts I was expecting. It just looked like one of the older neighborhoods back home. I didn’t see one pickup truck up on blocks.

“Here we are,” announced Carol as she brought the car to a stop next to a house that was a bit nicer than some neighboring houses, with a maintained lawn. “You look surprised.”

I nodded. “Not quite what I was expecting.” Carol just shrugged and opened her car door.

I sighed and opened my car door and got out. Carol removed my new suitcase from the backseat and then took my hand. Together, we walked up to the door. She rang the doorbell and we stood waiting a moment.

The door opened to reveal a pleasant looking woman a little older than Carol. Once again, I was taken aback. I was expecting someone dressed in buckskins or something, but she was wearing a nice, colorful blouse and jeans.

Carol smiled broadly when the woman opened the door and said, “Hello, Ms. Nakai. I’m Carol Todacheene.” She put her hands on my shoulders. “May we come in?”

The woman who I’ll soon be calling Mom, said, “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Todacheene. Please come in.” She stepped aside to allow us to come in. She then bent down slightly to look at me. “And you must be Linda. What a nice, pretty girl.” I’m doomed to be pretty.

The house was nicely furnished and I quickly noted the carpet on the floor and not dirt. I really need to get rid of these pre-conceived notions.

Smiling at Carol, Ms. Nakai asked, “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”

Smiling back, Carol said, “Oh no, thank you. I can’t stay. I just need a few signatures, and I’ll leave Linda in your custody.” Turning to me, Carol said, “Just have a seat, Linda, while Ms. Nakai and I discuss a few things.”

I shrugged and sat in a chair at a desk that appeared where Ms. Nakai does some of her crafting. There were several bracelets in various stages of being complete. There was a pile of beads on the desk. I absently picked up a blue bead and rolled it between my fingers. Blue is my favorite color. Looking at the bead, I mumbled, “And all the beads we made by hand are nowadays made in Japan…”

Carol turned to look at me. “Did you say something, Linda?”

I shook my head. “No. I was just thinking about something I never thought about before.” Carol went back to talking with Ms. Nakai.

They both started speaking in Navajo with each other. They kept glancing over at me.

After a few minutes of being ignored, both women turned towards me.  Carol said, “Linda, I have to go now. I’m leaving you in good hands. Your new parents promise to get you up to speed on teaching you about your heritage and who you are.”

My new mom smiled at me and said, “Oh yes. You’ll learn to be a great cook and how to make a home. And there are ceremonies and events. You'll need to know the language to participate in.”

They took away our native tongue, and taught their English to our young.

I stood there for a moment, numb. I mean, the shit just got real. My life is over. I’m trapped in a world I didn’t create. I’m scared out of my mind. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to learn how to cook, make a home and keep my man happy.

Mom always told me I didn’t need to know how to cook as my wife would take care of that. Yeah, she’s a bit old-fashioned. Sheila couldn’t cook either. But all that aside, I was going to be a software engineer in one of the high-tech companies in the Dallas area.

Will I have to learn dances? For ceremonies or entertaining tourists or both? I hate dancing.

My new mom said, “We’re excited to have you with us.”

I forced a smile. “Me too.”

End of Part 13