After a long and productive meeting, one that actually includes a well-deserved apology to Angelique, we walk out of the tribal council building to start our very long drive home. But waiting for us and sitting on a long log at the edge of the parking lot near our bus are the Cruz brothers and all ten of their drum pupils. We start walking across the small parking lot towards them, and all of them hop off of the log.
When we’re standing a few feet in front of them, Jorge says, “I hope you don’t mind, but the kids wanted to wait to see you off. And they have some things they want to give you.”
He looks at his students and nods, then Elliot walks forward with a wide smile and holding something behind his back. He stops in front of me, and after pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his small nose, he holds a two-foot long paper tube out to me.
“It’s my painting. I want you to have it.”
My eyes instantly fill with tears as I take the offered tube and his smile widens. “Wow, thank you, Elliot. Are you really sure you want me to have this? You worked so hard on it and it’s so beautiful.”
“Yeah, I want you to have it so you don’t forget about us. Maybe you’ll look at it and it will make you want to come back and dance with us again. We can have a pow wow. You like pow wows, right?”
I wipe at my eyes and nod as I swallow hard and take one knee in front of him. “I love pow wows and I promise I will be back, sooner than you think. I’m going to see all of you again. Thank you, Elliot.”
I give him a hug, and as he pulls away, he wipes his own eyes, nearly knocking his glasses off of his face. As he walks back a few steps to stand with the others, I stand back up and dust my knee off for the second time today. Jonah walks forward next and offers me a few sheets of paper stapled together.
Shyly, he says, “It’s a copy of my story, The Raiders. I thought maybe your kids might like to hear it. I mean, I know they’re young, so maybe not yet, but maybe one day.”
These kids are breaking my heart. I just want to hug them and never let go.
“Thank you, Jonah. I really loved this story and I know my kids will too.” The elders wanted me to wait to say anything till I had a real plan to present to him and his parents, but I feel like I need to say something. “I think you’re already a very good writer, but with some guidance, you could be great. How would you feel about learning more about writing so your work can reach a much bigger audience?”
“Like a magazine or something? My English teacher told my parents at the last parent teacher conference that he thinks I should submit my stories to magazines. Some magazines like to put short stories and stuff in there, I guess. He even gave my parents a few to try.”
“Have you submitted anything yet?”
He shakes his head. “No, not yet, but I want to.”
“Do me a favor and don’t send The Raiders. I have a bigger plan for this one, but we’ll talk about that with your parents another day. Okay?” He smiles as he nods and shuffles awkwardly on his feet. I give him a hug, and as I pull away, I squeeze his shoulder, and promise him, “We’ll talk about this soon. Thank you for giving me a copy of the story.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.” He shuffles awkwardly on his feet again, slightly turns away, then turns back, and asks, “Did you think our drumming was good?”
“Your drumming was so good that it pulled me out of the tribal council building and made me dance around the desert in a suit.”
He laughs as he looks me up and down, and says, “Yeah, that was kind of cool. I’ve never seen someone dance like that in a suit.”
He darts forward to give me a quick hug, says, “Thanks,” then swiftly turns and returns to the group.
Kym, the little girl who was not shy about telling us she wants chickens, skips forward with her hands behind her back. She stops in front of me, says, “I think you are cool,” then skips away to stand in front of Sam, and says, “You’re pretty.”
Sam’s mouth splits into a huge smile, and she answers, “Thank you, so are you.”
“Thanks.” Kym pulls her hands around to the front and holds two items out to Sam that I can’t make out from here. “I made these for your babies.”
“Oh, thank you, but I don’t know yet if I’m having twins. Are these chickens?”
Sam holds them up for us to see, and they are indeed thinly padded yellow felt chickens stitched together with yarn.
“Yeah, I like chickens.” She places a hand on Sam’s belly and rubs side to side with an adorable smile. “I think they’ll like them too.”
Sam’s brow furrows, and she asks, “Have you been talking to my doctor and know something I don’t?”
Kym giggles and shakes her head. “I don’t know your doctor. But I found two shiny pennies heads up just over there.” She points across the parking lot in the direction they had been playing the drums. “That’s double good luck. Twins bring good luck.”
I place a hand over my mouth to suppress my laugh because Sam looks completely dumbfounded and a little frightened. It’s the look you would see on a person’s face in a movie trying to figure out if this little girl is a mystic or something.
Before Sam can think of something to say, Kym bounces as she spins, and cheerily says, “Okay, bye.”
Sam stutters, “Thank you,” then looks at us with questioning eyes and I laugh again, which earns me a perturbed pout.
One by one, each of the children bring us something that they’ve made or written while we were in the meeting, all of which are very impressive and tug at my heart and tempt tears from my eyes. After more hugs and promises that we’ll see them again soon, we tell our driver we’re ready to go and board our tour bus.
As soon as the door is closed and we’re taking seats on the leather couches and recliners, Sam bursts, “I swear, if that little girl just figured out that I’m pregnant with twins based off finding a couple of pennies on the ground, I’m giving up on science altogether.”
All of us laugh hard and Sam releases a disgruntled laugh as she rubs her belly. “I’m serious.” She lifts the felt chickens to hold one in each hand and as she looks down at them and her pregnant belly, a look of pure peace and serenity washes over her. As she looks up at Awenasa, she says, “I felt like I was looking at a mini version of you when she told me I’m probably having twins. Maybe she has the gift.”
Awenasa smiles as she takes her hand to entwine their fingers and sets the one felt chicken on her thigh. “It’s possible, but there is much superstition about finding things in twos, like a double egg yolk. Not everything is meant as a sign from the spirits, so I wouldn’t worry yourself over it.”
“I’m not really worried, just more curious.” She sets the other felt chicken down and rubs her belly again, then looks at Awenasa with an adorable grin, and pouts, “We’re hungry.”
“Okay, my love.” Awenasa gives her a soft, lingering kiss on the lips. “I’ll prepare something for you.”
Spending eight hours on the road with places to stop for food or bathroom breaks far and few between would have been difficult, especially for Sam. Depending on how the baby or babies are sitting or moving around could make her need to go to the bathroom every ten to twenty minutes or as long as once an hour. And she needs to eat more often than she usually does. The only options to be able to actually make this trip to and from Big Pine was either to book a fully loaded tour bus or take a flight from Los Angeles to Bishop, then rent a vehicle to drive the twenty minutes from Bishop to Big Pine. There weren’t any larger commercial flights scheduled when we needed it and a private plane would have just been too costly, both financially and in greenhouse gases. We try to only book private flights for long distances – mostly because we have to with Aura, our wolf, and Gingersnap, Keira’s miniature pony.
It’s been a few years since I’ve been on a tour bus, but this one is pretty nice. The main area is set up like a modern living room with two long bench style leather couches, a couple of reclining chairs, a large screen TV, and some side tables. There’s also a full bathroom with a walk-in shower, a nice kitchenette with a large booth dining area, and bunk style sleeping quarters with eight beds. We don’t actually need the beds, but they’re pretty much standard in this type of bus.
After giving Sam a kiss, I get up to help Awenasa and Shannon prepare something for everyone to eat. I wash my hands, and as I turn to dry them, Angelique offers me a couple of paper towels and a smile.
“Thanks.” I accept the towels and begin drying my dripping hands. “And thank you for sticking up for me in that meeting. I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but it meant a lot to me.”
“I meant every word. You were great today, Kayla. All of you were. You should be very proud of what you accomplished.”
“Thanks.” I rub the back of my neck and sigh as I lean against the side of the bus out of the way of my wives while they work on lunch. “I hope everything works out and that it makes a real difference.”
Next to me, Awenasa softly says, “Even the tiny legs of a mosquito landing on still water will create a ripple. You’ve already made a big difference and you’ve only just begun your work, my love.”
My face splits into a wide smile that she doesn’t see because she’s looking down at a sandwich she’s constructing.
“You’re so wise and beautiful.”
Her lips spread as she looks up with a loving smile, and she sweetly answers, “As are you. Stop doubting yourself. Angelique is right – you were wonderful today.”
I lean over to give her a kiss on the lips, then look at Angelique, and tell her, “It was really nice of you to give them that money that Chic had left you for the legal fees.”
“I never intended to keep the money, but I was only willing to spend so much of my own money on that legal battle. If it had kept going on much longer, I would have used it as Chic had intended. But thanks to all of you, that’s over now. I would like to help you with procuring the art supplies you promised for the three reservations. I have a wholesale account for the supplies I need for my work, so I could get whatever you need well below the listing prices.”
“That would be great. It’s probably going to be a huge order. And if you didn’t pick up on it, I’m not so great at making art, so I don’t know much about how to pick the materials.”
Angelique chuckles, then licks her lips as she walks over to the narrow refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of wine she brought for the trip. “You have many talents, Kayla, but you were not blessed with an artistic hand.” While turning the corkscrew, she adds, “As much as I love art, I don’t have a particular talent for it either. I can touch up a piece, but I’m not so great at creating one.” She wiggles the cork free, then grabs one of the wineglasses hanging upside down over the sink and begins pouring herself a glass. “When I was a young girl, I had an art teacher tell my class on the first day of school that there is no bad art, just bad critics. Then we finished our first in-class assignment, she looked at my attempt to draw a still life, and she told me, forget what I said on the first day of school, then walked away from me.”
We laugh, then she takes a sip of her wine and shrugs a shoulder. “I still haven’t decided which I agree with – her original statement or her rescinding it. I have seen many pieces of art that upon first glance I could not fathom why it was being recognized as a masterpiece. But after I learn the emotions behind a piece or the story the artist wants to tell, it can completely change my perspective and I’ll see something I didn’t see before. Art is funny that way.”
“That can be true about anything though.” I nod towards her glass. “That might be considered one of the best wines in the world, but I still won’t like it. But I can still appreciate the hard work and skill that it takes to create it and that other people enjoy it.”
She smiles, and answers, “Then there is no bad art, just bad critics,” and winks at me as she lifts her glass to take another sip of the wine.
“Good to know I would have the support of one of the world’s leading art experts when I decide to launch my own exhibit, Stick Figures with Pizazz.”
Angelique’s head falls back with a loud laugh, and she says, “Oh, dear, you make me laugh.” She chuckles again and pats my shoulder, adding, “I think you are too busy for that dream, sweetie.”
My wives giggle and I just shrug a shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’ll put that on the back burner.”
From the “living room” of the bus, Sam teases, “The very farthest back burner on someone else’s stove,” making all of us laugh.
If feels so fucking good to laugh after this long and emotionally charged day. We have a lot of work ahead of us, but these little moments help make it seem less daunting.