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THE RIDE HOME IS SKETCHY at best, with a skint amount of gas in the tank and our pockets drained. We pull up to the house on fumes. All of us are completely spent, both emotionally and physically, which is probably a good thing. I’m too tired to be angry, which means that after we unload the van, I’ll go straight to bed and sleep like a baby.
Early in the morning, I get up to pee, then make the decision to call Butch’s cousin. I quickly explain the situation, then tell Billy that he needs to pick up the bass as soon as possible. Billy sounds irritated, but not at all surprised.
I pour myself a glass of water and wait at the kitchen table for the knock at the door. I hope I can still go back to sleep once I meet Billy.
After an hour of waiting, I’m wide awake and thinking about damage control. My first step will be calling our agent once his office opens. I’m sure he’s already heard from the bar manager about everything that happened, so I’m going to have to do some fast talking just to stay on the roster.
I hear Billy’s truck pull up, so I get up and meet him at the door with the bass. He looks as tired as me, and just as frustrated. He tells me that this is the last damn time he bails Butch out of shit. “The next time this happens, he’s on his own.”
We talk for a few minutes, mostly about what a fuck up Butch is, then Billy takes the bass from me and turns to leave. As he walks away, he says over his shoulder that Butch isn’t very welcome on rez right now. “He keeps stalking a young girl and her friends.”
“Is her name Dakota?”
Billy turns around fully with a look of surprise. “Yeah. Why? Do you know her?”
“No. But Butch was rambling on and on about her. You should tell her to watch her back and be careful. He’s not stable.”
Billy scoffs. “Tell me about it. The only reason I’m even helping him this time is because I’m worried what he’ll do to me and my family if I don’t.”
Once the door is closed, I decide to head back to bed. Even if I’m too stressed out to sleep, at least I can rest my body before I have to face the day.
AFTER I’VE HAD MY FIRST cup of coffee, I take a deep breath and dial up our agent.
As soon as he hears my voice, there’s a long pause. I know what’s coming—a massive chew-out.
When he finally speaks, he’s managed to compose himself. Instead of hollering, he calmly tells me that our band will never be booked again if Butch is involved in any way. I’m quick to agree to his terms. I reassure him that the band has no desire to even speak to Butch again, let alone have him onstage.
Once that issue has been dealt with, we discuss the current state of the music industry in both Saskatchewan and Manitoba, the only two provinces where we play. He says that although a lot of bars are discontinuing bands and hiring DJ’s, there are still some places hiring live music, mostly in rural areas. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything regarding gig.”
I let out a sigh of relief once the call is over, then share the news with Joe and Adrian. Both are grateful that the agent didn’t shit can us.
Joe and I do chores around the house as Adrian calls his bass player friend, George, to arrange a meeting. I’m just thankful Adrian gave him our set lists months ago. At least he’ll be familiar with the tunes and it’ll save a lot of time in rehearsals. Apparently George is a good bass player. That being said, even if he sucks, he can’t be any worse than Butch.
Once all the chores are done and the place looks half-assed again, I head out to the rez to spend some time with Mom.
A BEAUTIFUL YELLOW glow illuminates the snow-covered fields. As much as I’m not a fan of winter, every season is beautiful in Northern Manitoba.
By the time I reach the rez, George has already texted a thank you for the job. At least he’s grateful, which means he’ll hopefully do his best to impress us. Adrian confirmed that George doesn’t drink or do drugs, so that’s obviously a huge bonus. We don’t want anymore repeat performances of a drunk and disorderly bass player.
The screen door creaks when I swing it open , something my mother has been on me to fix for quite a while. I turn the knob to the main door, hoping it’s locked but, again, it isn’t.
As soon as I walk in, Mom yells from the kitchen: “Is that you, Ray?”
I shake my head and walk to the kitchen, where Mom is standing over a pot at the stove. “It’s me, yes. But it may not have been. I told you, Mom, you need to lock the front door. What if some criminal came in here while you were alone?”
She laughs. “They’d leave this place pretty empty-handed. I don’t have much of value.”
“It’s not your stuff I’m worried about, Mom. It’s you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve lived here for so long and I know everyone. Plus, I can hear when anyone comes in, thanks to that squeaky screen door you haven’t fixed yet.”
She’s got me there. “Okay. Just promise that you’ll start locking the front door when I’m not here.”
She glances at me briefly. “Okay. I will try and remember that. So, what are you doing here? Are you just here for your usual few minutes or is there a reason for your visit?”
I sigh. “I know that I don’t spend as much time visiting you as I should. I spend every free minute practicing, rehearsing, or dealing with our agent. But I’m here to spend the day and night with you, if that’s okay? Maybe we could go through some old albums and watch a movie or something.”
She smiles at the thought. “It would be great to spend some time together. But first, I need to bring some canned jars of moose meat to Eileen’s.”
There’s nothing more unappealing to me that going with my mother to visit one of her hen pals. Every time I’ve accompanied her to see friends in the past, I get stuck for hours as the women gab and gossip.
It’s grueling. Still, I’m here unannounced, so I cant really dictate what we’re going to do today. I’m at my mother’s mercy.
EILEEN IS AS ROUND as she is tall, but that doesn’t stop her from doing anything. It doesn’t matter if she has company for an hour or several; the woman doesn’t sit down once. Today, sitting at her kitchen table is much the same. Mom and I sip our coffees and ol’ Eileen stands on a stool behind us, cleaning out her cupboards. I play a word game on my phone and try to block out the chatter and gossip between the two women.
After another cup of coffee, my mother finally stands. Just when I think we’re able to leave, there’s a knock at the door. All I can think is, Please don’t let there be another woman coming to visit. My mother will start gabbing again, and any hope of getting out of here will be destroyed.
Eileen shimmies off the stool and quickly heads to the door. Sure enough, in walks Mabel from down the road, but she’s not alone. A young woman who looks to be in her early twenties is right behind her.
As soon as Eileen closes the door behind them, the girl looks up at me, and all of my senses freeze—she’s stunning. She looks like a model, standing at about five-eight with a figure that’s perfect, slim, and toned.
Eileen introduces the newcomers. “And this is Mabel’s niece, who’s new to the rez. Her name is Dakota.”
My mother says hello and Dakota smiles at me. Her hair is wavy and sits just below her shoulders, framing her perfect face.
“Sit. Sit.” Eileen points to the empty chairs at the table.
My mom grabs her coat from the back of the chair. “We were just leaving, actually.”
Mabel sighs. “But we just got here.”
I scratch my neck. “Um. Yeah, Mom. What’s your hurry? It’s not like we have any big plans or anything today.”
My mother looks at Dakota, then at me. She doesn’t say anything, but I can tell by the look on her face that she knows exactly why I want to stay. Then, she puts her coat back where it was on the chair and sits down.
Eileen offers the two women some coffee, then sits with everyone at the table. As the older women talk, I glance up at Dakota and roll my eyes. She giggles and puts her head down, making her all the more appealing.
Just as I’m sipping my new coffee, something occurs to me. Did Eileen say that this girl’s name is Dakota? That’s not a very common name here on the rez. In fact, the only time I’ve heard that name lately is when Butch talked about a young woman on rez with that same name. Oh, please don’t be the same girl.
Down deep, I know the odds are against me. I know this has to be the same young woman. Butch described her as beautiful. Well, this Dakota certainly is that.
Mabel brings up the fact that I’m in a band, then asks what kind of music we play. I can see that Dakota is interested in my answer because her eyes are fixated on me.
I list off some of the songs we play, and Dakota smiles. “Do you play original music as well?”
“Yeah. We’re just starting to. We have four or five tunes we’ve been incorporating into our sets.”
“That’s great. Do you play around here anywhere?”
“Sometimes we play at the pub in Wakeville, not far from where I live.”
“Oh. You don’t live on the rez?” She sounds a little disappointed.
Much to my horror, my mother interjects. “No. My son thought he should move away from home so he could become a successful musician. He says there are too many distractions here for him.”
Thanks, Mom, for making me sound like a stuck-up asshole.
Dakota nods. “I understand that. I haven’t been here for more than a few months and I already notice that it’s hard to concentrate. Too many people living too close together, and all of them are pretty noisy.”
“Yes! That’s exactly it!” I send a pointed look to my mother.
Mabel then asks my mother about canned meat, and the three older ladies start talking among themselves. Dakota leans across the table toward me. “So, where can I come and watch your band?”
“I’m not quite sure when our next gig is. We have an agent working on that as we speak. Sometimes we know where we’re playing weeks in advance, but other times it’s only a couple days before when we’re told.”
“Well, you’ll have to let me know. I swear, there is nothing to do around here. I’ve met a few girls since I’ve been here, but most of them have kids or small siblings that they take care of. Needless to say, I’ve been spending a lot of time on my own.”
I ask her where she’s originally from, and she tells me she grew up in Moosejaw, Saskatchewan with her father. “But since he passed away a year ago, it got too expensive to keep living there on my own. I didn’t have much choice but to move here and stay with Aunty Mabel. At least, not until I find a job and save a bit of money. Then I’ll move off-rez and get my own apartment.” She leans even closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I can’t wait.”
I laugh and nod, relating completely to what she’s saying.
We just begin talking about things she’s done since coming here when Mom pipes up and announces that we should be leaving. “We’re going home to watch a movie.”
Who cares about the stupid movie, Mom! Can’t you see I’m talking to this extremely hot girl? I shoot my mother a quick look, hoping she’ll somehow read my mind, but no such luck. She pulls on her coat and walks to the door. Reluctantly, I follow her.
Mom and I walk on the crunchy snow toward home. When we reach the half-way mark, she turns and looks up at me. “What’s got you all happy?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve been grinning like a schoolboy since we left Eileen’s.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She nudges me with her elbow, then chuckles. She knows exactly why I’m grinning. But she also knows that if I’m smitten with a girl, I would never admit it, especially to her. She’d never quit teasing me, and then she’d tell her little group of hens and it would travel around the rez like wildfire. I don’t think I want to subject myself to that level of embarrassment.
Just after we reach the house, my cell rings. It’s Adrian. He tells me that he and Joe are super excited about George joining the band and there’s a tentative plan for a rehearsal tomorrow. “Oh, and I heard Butch got let out on bail. Billy apparently managed to sell the bass quickly and put up the money.”
A sick feeling comes over me. After what Butch said to me the last time we spoke on the phone, I don’t want to be in the same postal code as that nut bar. All my excitement over meeting Dakota quickly vanishes. The only thing worse than running into Butch while he’s pissed over getting kicked out of the band would be if he found out I met his muse, Dakota.
Mom offers me a bowl of moose stew, but I’m too anxious to eat. I wish I was home right now—at least I’d have Adrian and Joe if Psycho Boy showed up drunk. Safety in numbers. Plus, I really don’t want any crazy stuff going on while I’m at my mother’s. She’s lived through more than enough drama while she was with my father and has earned the right to peace in her life.
I sit on the couch while Mom fixes up some hot chocolate. I flip through the channels, looking for something distracting to watch, and eventually land on the old western classic, High Noon.
Mom sets the drinks on the coffee table before sitting down close beside me. I can tell she’s happy I’m here. Other than get-togethers with her friends, she’s alone most of the time ever since I moved out. I feel shitty about that. I love my mom more than anything.
I need to make more time in my life for her. She’d love that. Even if I only had an hour or so during the week, I could take her for a drive to Wakeville and treat her to lunch.
I can’t wait until the band starts making money. Ever since I was little, I’ve dreamt about my mom living in a nice little apartment far away from the reservation. I mean, there’s nothing bad about living on the rez, if you’re fine with nosy neighbors and everyone in your business. I’d just like to see her have experiences away from here, with new surroundings. Maybe she’d make new friends and have some fun. Here on the rez, nothing changes much. Other than Dakota, there haven’t been any new residents in years. People don’t flock here—they fight to move away. And yet, even if they do, folks who leave end up coming back within a year, feeling as if they’ve failed.
By the time the movie ends, I’m starving. I get up and am just walking to the kitchen when there’s a hard rap on the door. My first thought is that it’s Butch, but then I remember he’s still a long way away and couldn’t possible have gotten here so quickly.
When I open the door and see Dakota, I’m shocked, and can’t help but smile.
I invite her in out of the cold, but she has Mabel in tow and says she can’t stay. She reaches out her hand and passes me a small piece of paper. “It’s my number. Don’t lose it. Text me when you get the details of where you’re playing next.”
My heart beats fast. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”
She makes to turn away, but then looks back. “You can also get a hold of me to say hi. I’m usually free to talk, since there’s not much to do around here, especially in the wintertime.”
“That’s great. Thanks. I’ll reach out, for sure.”
I close the door and grin from the inside out. Then I turn around and immediately see my mother smiling. “Let me guess. Was that Mabel and her niece?”
“Stop it, Mom. I don’t even want to talk about it with you.”
I can still hear her laughing as I step into the kitchen to get myself a bowl of stew.
NIGHT COMES QUICKLY as we watch movies and talk. She asks about Butch, and I tell her everything that happened in Flin Flon. She’s horrified about his behaviour and gets into a bad funk until I inform her we already have a new bass player that seems promising. She seems relieved. As much as she hates me living away from home, she really does love the idea of me being a musician. Her father, whom she was extremely close to, was an incredibly skilled guitar and harmonica player. She always said that my love for music came from him.
She has only seen me play a few times, and only on the rez when I was a teen. I remember being in the lodge, playing my heart out, and seeing her clapping and smiling. She was so proud.
My father would have been happy that I became a musician. At least, I think he would have been. From what I’ve heard from his old buddies, he was a huge fan of playing and watching live music. Sometimes I want to ask Mom about him, but I always stop myself. I don’t want to make her remember him and get depressed.
Mom makes us both a sandwich, and after we eat she hugs me and says to shut off the TV when I’m finished watching it. Then, she goes to bed.
After watching a few reruns, I grab a blanket and pillow and head back to the couch.
A HARD thump wakes me.
I get up from the couch and look out the window into the dark night. I can’t see a thing.
The clock on the wall says 3AM. I lie back on the couch and am just falling back to sleep when a large rock smashes the living room window and lands just feet away from me.
I’m off the couch and at the front door in seconds, my heart thundering as I slide my shoes on. Just as I’m about to open the door, Mom appears. “What in the hell happened?”
“Someone through a rock through the window. I’m going outside to see what’s going on.”
“Be careful. It could be that psycho Butch.”
She said exactly what I was thinking. As far as I know, Mom has never had to deal with vandalism while living here. Butch’s recent threat to me makes him a likely suspect.
I forgo my jacket and head out the door. In the frigid air, I stand on the front step and look around. When I don’t see anyone, I look for footprints in the hard, crunchy snow, but it’s too dark to distinguish old prints from new.
When the cold starts to get to me, I head back inside. Mom is sweeping up glass from the broken window. I quickly run into the back room and search until I find an old box and some wide tape.
“Mark my words, Ray.” My mother dumps the glass into the garbage. “Butch had something to do with this. He’s no good.” She heads back to bed.
I make a temporary window patch with the cardboard, then sit down on the couch. All of the tiredness I was feeling before has disappeared. If Butch is responsible for chucking the rock, who knows what else he’ll do? I’ve got to stay awake, at least until the sun comes up. Just in case.
Through the night, I contemplate having my mother stay at my place with Joe and Adrian, just until I make sure that she’ll be safe alone. But then I remember how crazy she used to get when we practiced in the back room. She never could handle the noise. Besides, she’d drive my roommates crazy with her clean freak ways.
The only other thing I can do to ensure her safety is to talk with the chief. He always has a way of defusing disputes.
MOM GETS UP AT 7AM and heads into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.
I follow her, yawning. “I guess we’d better figure out how to get your window fixed.”
“Why? They’ll just break it again. Don’t do anything until we figure out who did it.”
“How will we find that out? It’s not like they’ll come knocking on the door and take responsibility.”
Mom giggles. “Obviously you don’t know the power of gossip. As soon as I put out the news about what happened, it will spread through the community in a matter of minutes. Someone will have seen something. Mark my words.”
“Okay. Fine. We can wait a bit to see if we hear anything, but in the meantime, I want to stay here to make sure you’re safe.”
“No. That’s not necessary. I will be fine. Besides, you should go home and practice with your new bass player. The band needs to be ready when the agent calls with work.”
She’s right, of course. But I still don’t feel confident about leaving her here in the house alone, especially at night, with a broken window. But I can tell she’s made her mind up about the way things should be, and once that happens, it might as well be set in stone.
Over coffee, we discuss a safety plan in case something bad does happen while I’m not here. I finally get her to agree to keep her phone by her bed, and if she hears anything alarming, she will call me immediately.
