Coyote Blue Chapter 8~9

CHAPTER 8Meet the Muse, Mr. Lizard KingSanta BarbaraC every(prenominal)iope Kincaid waited on the steps of the Tangerine Tree Cafe thinking ab forbidden the past lives of lizards. A minuscular, brown alligator lizard was sunning himself on the planter box by the steps and his lidless eyes, glazed but seeing, reminded Calliope of a picture of Jimi Hendrix that her baffle had kept next to the bed when she was growing up. She wondered if this lizard really could be an in simple machinenation of Jimi, and what he must feel compar able living in the planter box in front of a cafe, eating bugs and hiding, after being a rock star.Between the ages of s counterbalance and nine Calliope had been raised a Hindu, and during that sentence she had developed an acute empathy for otherwise creatures, n invariably sure what bird or beast might comely be Daddy or grannie working off well-nigh karma. She had taken the concept almost to the point of agoraphobia she was s elevator c bed to g o out of the domiciliate for fear that she might crush some relative doing time as a stinkbug when her mother moved into NSA Buddhism and Calliopes spiritual focus was changed to posing before a gong with her mother, the two of them chanting for successfulness until the apartments heater ducts began to vibrate. Evicted for disturbing other tenants, Calliopes mother dour to goddess worship, which Calliope exchangeabled because she didnt baffle to wear clothes to the rituals and t here(predicate) were always lots of flowers. When Calliope blossomed at thirteen and began to attract too much attention from neopagan males, her mother off-key to Islam, changed her daughters name to Akeema Mohammed Kincaid, and equipped her with a veil. Calliope, who had easily grasped the concepts of karma and rein autonation, of transcendentalism and whizzness, of harmony with nature and the goddess within, was wholly thrown by the concepts of guilt, self-flagellation, and modesty set raze in Islam. She promptly s perplexd one side of her head, dyed the remainder of her waist-length blond h airmanship calefacient pink, and began taking hallucinogenic drugs and remaindering with awkward, pimpled tough-boys with mohawks. Men replaced religion, and Calliope accepted their seductive lies with the same open wonder she had given the gods.In an attempt to split her daughter out of a spiritual tail-spin, Mom enlistmented Unitarian, but Calliope had already slashed the ecumenical apron strings and Mom was left(p) to hopscotching religions on her own. Currently she lived in an ashram in Oregon where she acted as the spirit channel for a four-thousand-year- superannuated, super-enlightened entity named Babar (no relation to the elephant).As a child exposed to so human beingy religions, Calliope had developed a malleability of faith that preventiveed with her into adulthood. Through the assimilation of many spiritual beliefs, without science or cynicism to balance them, Calli ope was adequate to(p) to define everything in her world, accept the highs and lows of life with resolve, and never be burdened by the involve to chthonianstand. Why understand when you undersur feeling believe? For Calliope, every sheath was mystical and every mommaent magical a flat tire could be a manifestation of karma, or a lizard might be Jimi Hendrix. If she fell in love too easily and got hurt too often it wasnt bad judgment, it was just faith.She was humming Castles Made of Sand to the lizard when surface-to-air missiles Mercedes pulled up to the curb. She looked up and smiled at him, not the least bit concerned that he was thirty minutes late. It had never occurred to her that he might not show. No man had ever stood her up.She ran to the car and tapped on the passenger window. surface-to-air missile pushed the button and it whirred down. Hang on a second, I have to do something, she said.She went around to the front of the car and searched the grille until she found a moth that had met its end with minimal damage. She plucked the moth from the grille, took it to the planter box, and wiggled it in front of the lizard while singing a few bar of Hendrixs Little Wing. The lizard snapped at the moth half(prenominal)heartedly and slithered away(p) under the geraniums to sulk. Calliope had been correct in guessing that this particular lizard had, indeed, been a rock star in a previous life, and if she had sung a chorus of L.A. Woman or Light My Fire the lizard would have been delighted, but how could she have make outn?She dropped the moth into the planter box and returned to the car.Sorry Im late, Sam said.Its plainly time, she said. Im always late.I had them fix your car. He was trying not to look at her. Hed just gotten enough escort of his nerves to drive and he wasnt ready to be rattled by the girl again, but he wouldnt have approximation of not picking her up. During the square debacle at the condo, the urgency to see her again had h ov ered in the background of his mind and finally snapped him out of his confusion over the Coyote medicine. Was she connected to the Indian?Thats sweet of you, she said. Did you look at the car?Look at it? No. I just had the garage come down.Its a great car, Calliope said. It has over three hundred horsepower, a six-pack of Weber carburetors, competition suspension and gearing itll do over a hundred and eighty on a straightaway. I can blow most Porsches off the street.Sam didnt know what to say, so he said, Thats nice.I know that women arent supposed to care about things like that. My mother says that Im obsessed with vehicles because I was conceived in the back of a VW microbus and spent most of my childhood in one. We moved around a lot.Where does she live? Sam asked. He would ask her about the Indian, really, when the time was adjust.Oregon. I didnt build the car myself. I used to live with this sculptor in Sedona, Arizona, who built it for midnight drives in the desert. sing le day I was severalizeing him that I thought that cars had replaced guns as phallic symbols for American men, and I thought it was interesting that he had one that was so small and fast. The next day he gave me the Datsun and went out and bought a Lincoln. It was very sweet.Very sweet, Sam echoed. Now or never, he thought. Calliope that is your name, right?Yes, the girl said.Sam put on his salesmans this is a serious division voice. Calliope, do you know who the-My name wasnt always Calliope, she interrupted. Sherman he was the sculptor started calling me Calliope, after the Greek suppose of epic poetry. He said that I inspired men to art and madness. I liked the way it sounded so I took it as my real name. My mom even calls me Calliope now.Sam had brought thousands of sales interviews back into control when the client try to wander, he wouldnt let this girl sidetrack him. Calliope, who was the Indian-You know, the Indians used to change their label as they grew up an d their personalities changed or when they did certain things, like Walks Across the Desert and stuff like that. Did you know that?No I didnt, Sam lied. But I really need to know-Oh, theres my carSam slowed and pulled the Mercedes in behind the Z. Calliope, before you go-We cant have sex tonight, she said. I have some things to do, but I can cook you dinner tomorrow if you want.Sam turned to her, his mouth hanging open. She was smiling at him, waiting for his answer with her eyes wide, as if shed just been surprised. He realized that every time he had looked at her shed worn that same expression of wonderment, and each time it had thrown him. Dammit, he wouldnt be distracted. She was sharp, but he was sharper. He was in control here.Okay, he said.Terrific. I live at seventeen and a half Anapamu Street thats upstairs. Whatever you do, dont go to the downstairs door. half- xii oclock, okay? Without waiting for his answer, she was out of the car and away.Sam rolled down the window and shouted after her. My name is Sam.She looked back at him and smiled, and then got into the Datsun and dismissed it up. Sam watched the flyspeck sports car tilt with the torque of the engine as she revved it. She burned off the back tires, filling the air with squeals and blue smoke as she pulled away.CHAPTER 9Quitting Now Greatly Reduces the Chance of VisionsCrow Country 1967It was well before dawn and no lights burned in the houses and shops of Crow Agency as one-horse piloted his old motor truck done town, a sleepy-eyed pigs eye wobbling on the seat next to him.How far is it to the fasting place? pig asked.About two hours, but only fifty or so miles as the Crow drives. Get it, as the Crow drives? chink grinned at bullshit and took a swig from a pint bottle of whiskey. He and Harlan had talked and drunk all night after pigs sweat. Now he was using the road like a buttered harlot he was all over the place while trying to stay in the middle and scaring Samson, whose head whacked the window when Pokey got too much shoulder and had to yank the trucks retreads back onto the asphalt.Could we slow down, Pokey?Were not going that fast.Samson peeked at the speedometer, which registered zero, as did all the broken gauges in the truck. Pokey caught Samson looking and grinned again.I aint in any danger at all, you know. I seen my death in a medicine dream. I achieve shot, and it aint nowhere mount this old truck. Nope, Im quantify safe in this truck, no matter what I do.What about me? Samson asked.Dont know? Whats your death dream?I didnt have one.Pokey looked down at Samson with a worried expression. You didnt?Nope, Samson said with a gulp.Well then, if I wreck you could be plumb fucked. He began to weave more radically, leaning hard into Samson as the truck slipped off the shoulder again. Oh, shit These tires are bald too Dont worry, son, Ill dancing for your ghost at the Sun DancePokey, stop it Samson had begun to giggle as his uncle leaned into him.Quick, go to sleep fast, and dream of dying on top of a pretty woman, Samson. Its your only chance.Pokey Samson was doubled over with laughter now as Pokey fishtailed the truck back and forth in the road while pumping the brakes and the clutch, causing Samsons head to jerk around like a rag dolls.Pokey shouted, Blacken your face, Samson Hunts Alone, this is a good day to die. thusly he slammed on the brakes and brought the truck to a skidding stop in the middle, of the road. Samson was thrown to the floor of the truck among a collection of old beer cans and soda bottles. Still giggling, he climbed back up onto the seat and began pounding on Pokeys shoulder. Pokey grabbed his hands and shushed him.Look, Pokey said, nodding to the front of the truck. Samson turned to see a huge buffalo bull crossing the road in front of them.Where did he come from? Samson asked as he watched the bull lumber out of the headlights.Must of wandered off the Yellowtails place. They got a few hea d of buffalo.Good thing you saw him in time.I didnt see him. Them things are so dark they just eat up your headlights. I was just fooling with you when I stopped.We were lucky, Samson said gravely.Nope, I told you we was safe. Now you quit being afraid of things that aint happened yet. Thats why I gave you that dream.Pokey geared up the truck and they rode in silence for a while, listening to the rattling grind of the old Fords engine. The sky was just getting light and Samson could see the new come forths coming on the trees and the blossoms on the cotton-woods. He was glad his fast was to be in the time of the commencement grass. The days would be mild and warm, but not hot.Pokey, Samson said. What do I do when I get thirsty?Pokey took a massive pull on the pint before he answered. You must pray that your suffering is accepted and you are given a spirit helper.But what do I do? What if I die?You wont die. When your suffering is too much you must go to the Spirit World. You must see yourself traveling into a jamming in the ground and down a long tunnel. You will come out into the light and you will be in the Spirit World. There you will not be hungry or thirsty. Wait there and your spirit helper will come to you.What if my spirit helper doesnt come?You must go back down the tunnel again and again, looking for him. In the buffalo days you had to have a spirit helper to go into battle or people thought you were a Crazy Dog Wishing to Die.Whats that?A warrior who is so crazy, or so full of sadness, that he private roads against the enemy just so they will kill him.Was my dad a Crazy Dog Wishing to Die?Pokey smiled and looked wistfully ahead. It is bad luck to speak of it, but no, he did not wish to die. He just got too drunk and drove too fast after his basketball games.They drove south through gild Grass, where the only activity was that of a few dogs trying to clear their throats for the days barking and a few ranchers cadging free coffee at the feed and grain store. Once through town, Pokey turned east on a dirt road into the rising sun to the Wolf Mountains. In the foot pitchers the road became deeply rutted, and washed out in places. Pokey shifted into low and the truck ground down to a crawl. After a half hour of kidney-jarring bumps and vertiginous cutbacks, Pokey stopped the truck on a high ridge surrounded by the peaks of two mountains.From here Samson could see all the way to Lodge Grass to the west, and across the dark-green prairies of the Northern Cheyenne reservation to the east. Lodgepole pines lined the mountain on both sides, as thick as feathers on a bird, thinning here, near the peak, where the ground was arid, strewn with giant boulders, and barren but for a few yucca plants and the odd tuft of buffalo grass or sage.There. Pokey pointed east to a group of car-sized boulders about fifty yards from the road. That is the place where you will fast. Ill wait for you on this side of the road if you need me, but you m ust only come up here if you have a vision or if you are in trouble. Pokey grabbed a bag from the floor of the truck and handed it to Samson through the window. Theres a blanket in there and some mint leaves to chew when you get thirsty. Go now. I will pray for your success.As he walked down the hill toward the boulders, Samson felt a lump rising in his throat. What good is medicine if you die of thirst? What good is medicine, anyway? Hed rather be in school. This was no fun, this was scary. Why did Pokey have to be so strange? Why couldnt he be more like Harlan, or Ben Cartwright?Once on the downhill side of the boulders Samson could see the place where he would sit through his fast a small stone fire ring under the overhang of one of the boulders. Samson sat down facing the sun, which was now a great orange ball on the eastern horizon.He thought of granny at home. She would be pouring Lucky Charms in everyones bowls about now, getting his little cousin Alices insulin out of the refrigerator and filling the syringe, devising sure everyone was dressed and ready for school. Uncle Harlan would be sitting in the living room drinking coffee and carnal knowledge all the kids to be quiet because of his hangover. Samsons aunts would be pulling the blankets off the sweat lodge and loading them into the back of Harlans truck so they could take them to the laundromat. Normally, Samson would be trading punches in the arm with encrust and Festus and lying to Grandma about having his homework done. He wanted to be at home with everyone else, not sitting by himself up here on a mountain. He had never been by himself before. He decided he didnt like it. For the first time in his life he was lonely.He tried to think of the Spirit World. perhaps he could go there really fast, find a spirit helper and go back up to the truck so Pokey could take him to Lodge Grass and get a Coke thirty minutes, tops. Get in, get out, and nobody gets hurt, as Uncle Harlan always said, somet hing he picked up in Vietnam.Samson tried to imagine the hole he would enter the Spirit World through. He couldnt do it. Maybe a prayer.O Great Spirit and Great Mother, Samson prayed in Crow. Hear my prayer. Please let me find my spirit helper so I can go home.He waited a indorsement. Okay, that didnt work, back to the hole in the ground.After two hours he grew bored and his mind wandered to the Ponderosa, then to school, home, the planet Krypton, the snack bar in Crow Agency, the McDonalds in Billings, the damp basement of Lodge Grass High School, where Harlan had taken him and shown him old black-and-white films of his father playing basketball. He wondered what his father had been like. because wondered about his mother, who had died when he was only two. Her liver quit, Harlan said. No one else would talk about the dead. He tried to remember her, but could remember only Grandma and his aunts. The new feeling of loneliness was getting worse.Maybe he could disembowel up a visio n. He could go tell Pokey that he had a vision and found his spirit helper and Pokey would tell him how to make his medicine bundle and he could go home. That would work. He thought for a spot about what animal he should pick for his spirit helper and decided on a hawk. He didnt know what hawk medicine was, but it was in all probability pretty good for you unless you raised chickens or something.Samson ran up the hill and just as he was cresting the ridge he began to shout. Pokey Pokey I had my vision I saw my spirit helper When he reached the road the truck was nowhere in sight. He looked up and down the road, then traverse it and looked down the other side of the ridge. Pokey was gone.Samson felt his lip begin to quiver and water fill his eyes. He sat down in the dirt as the first series of chest-wrenching sobs escaped him and echoed down the ridge. He buried his face in his knees and cried until his throat hurt. When finally he found the butt of his sadness he looked up and wi ped his eyes on his forearm.Why would Pokey just leave him? Maybe he just went to buy some beer. Maybe he would bring back a Coke. Samson suddenly realized that he really was thirsty. The sun was moving higher in the sky and it was beginning to get hot. He stood and looked around for a shady place to wait, but the closest subtlety was down by the boulders, and from there he wouldnt be able to see the truck coming. He sat on a small rock by the road in the full sun.During the next two hours Samson chewed all his mint leaves and took to sucking pebbles to keep his mouth from getting dry while he drew pictures in the dust with a stick. He comprehend a car engine and looked up to see a cloud of dust coming off the road about two miles away. That would be Pokey.Samson stood on the rock to see if he could make out the truck. As the cloud approached, however, he noticed that it wasnt Pokeys truck at all, but a sizable powder-blue car unlike any he had seen before. He sat back down on t he rock and was fighting back another fit of sobs when the car skidded to a stop beside him, bringing with it a choking cloud of dust. There was a whirring sound and the car window slid down, revealing the big, round face of the driver, a white man, who seemed to have four or five spare chins under his first one.Excuse me, son. The driver smiled. I seem to have gotten myself turned around here. Would you know the way to get to Highway Ninety?Its a long way, Samson said. You have to go down the mountain into Lodge Grass, then go to Crow Agency. Thats where the highway is. The white man wasnt really white, he was more of a bright pink, and he smiled with his voice, like Samson was his best peer.You scattered me, son. Lodge Grass?You have to stay on this road down the mountain, then you have to turn.I got you there, son, but which way did you say I should turn?Samson pointed down the mountain and the drivers eyes followed his finger, then he turned back to Samson looking confused. I dont suppose you are heading that way, are you, son?Samson thought for a minute before he answered. If this man would take him to the highway in Crow Agency he could walk home from there. Never trust a white man who wants to give you something, Pokey had said. Soon as you think you got it he will take it away and take everything you got along with it. But Samson couldnt figure out how the driver would take away a ride, and all he really owned was his hunting knife. If the white man tried to take that, Samson would cut his gizzard out. Im going to Crow Agency, the boy said. I can show you the way.Well, jump in quick, partner. Its hotter than blazes out here and its gettin in the car.Samson walked around the back of the car, remembering what Pokey had told him about not trusting white men. It was the biggest, bluest car he had ever seen. Maybe it was the heat, but it seemed to take a long time to walk around it. When he opened the door a blast of cold air hit him that instantly broug ht goose bumps to his arms and back He jumped into the car and stared in amazement at the vents in the dashboard where the cold was coming from. Hed never experienced air-conditioning before.Close the door, son. You want to bake us?Samson closed the door as the car started moving. Its cool in here, and it smells good.The driver, still smiling, looked down at Samson and tipped the straw skimmer he was wearing. He was the fattest man Samson had ever seen and he was wearing a powder-blue suit the same shade as the car he filled the drivers seat like a bagful of sky. Up close Samson could see that the mans skin was pink from little veins that ran through it like road maps.Thank you multifariousnessly, son. Names Commerce. Lloyd Commerce, purveyor of the worlds finest cleaning apparatus, the Miracle.He held out a fat hand to Samson. Samson shook two of the giant fingers with his right hand. He let his left drop near the cross of his hunting knife. I dont know what that is, Samson said. Im Samson Hunts Alone.You dont know about the Miracle? Well, Samson Hunts Alone, let me tell you in a few years the Miracle will be the standard by which all vacuum cleaners will die. In a few years, if you dont have a Miracle in your broom closet you might as well just hang a sign outside your house saying We live in filth. The Miracle is just the most advanced machine for the elimination of household dirt, dust, and disease that the world has ever knownSamson was astounded at how excited Lloyd was it seemed that the more Lloyd talked, the pinker he got. Even if it was rude, Samson thought he should interrupt before Lloyd hurt himself. I know what a miracle is. ace of my aunts is a Christian. I dont know what a purveyor is.Lloyd took a deep breath and shot a smile at Samson. I am a salesman, son, one of the last truly free individuals on this planet. I sell miracles, son. Not just vacuum cleaners. I sell real loaves-and-fishes miracles. He paused for a moment and waited. Samso n was hugging the car door, his hand on his knife thinking that this was the craziest talk he had ever heard from anyone besides Pokey.I know what youre thinking, Lloyd continued. Youre thinking, Lloyd, what kind of miracle do you perform? Am I right?Nope, Samson said. I was thinking about a Coke.Theres some in a cooler in the backseat, Lloyd tossed off, trying to get back to his point. Grab me one too, would you, son?Samson scrambled over the seat and dug into a cooler where a dozen Cokes lay in the ice around a fifth of rum. He grabbed two and slithered back over the seat. Lloyd took the Cokes and opened them. He handed one to Samson, who drank half the bottle in one pull.Miracles, Lloyd said.Samson didnt care how crazy Lloyd was life was fine The car was cool and quiet and smelled like spices. He wasnt thirsty and he was going home. Even on the rough mountain road the car rode like a cloud. He closed one eye and rested, keeping the other eye on Lloyd. Miracles? Samson said.Tha ts right I can make dreams out of nothing, wants out of dreams, needs out of wants, and leave a dream in your hand. You know how I do it?Samson shook his head. This man was just like Pokey if he wanted to tell you something he would tell you even if you dropped dead and rotted right before his eyes.Well, son, it all starts with a smile at the door. When you hit that door people aint been sitting there waiting for you. They been sitting around thinking about how miserable they are. They got nothing to hang on to, nothing to go on for. When they answer that door theyre as sour as green oranges, but I dont give it back to em. I give a smile of pure honey, and words just as sweet. I tell them what they want to hear. If theyre ugly, I tell em theyre looking fine. If theyre a failure, I marvel at their success. Before they got the latch off the screen door Im the best friend they ever had. And why? Because I see them as what they would like to be, not what they are. For once in their life they are living their dream, only because I make them think they are.But then they look around and get a little uncomfortable. If they got what they wanted, how come they aint feeling it? How come they still feel empty? Well, son, between you and me, there aint no contentment, no satisfaction, this side of the grave. You aint never going to be as pretty or as rich as you want to be. No one ever has, no one ever will. Folks dont know that, though. Folks think that theres an answer to that scary feeling that keeps riding them no matter what they do.Coyote Blue, Samson said.Dont talk nonsense, boy, Im trying to teach you something. Where was I? Oh, yeah, they think that theres an answer. So I give it to them. I watch their eyes while Im telling them how tinkers dam good theyre doing, and when they get right to the edge of panic cause they cant see it, I tell them about the Miracle.Suddenly a clean rug is all that stands between them and all they could ever be. I take out my machine, and I vacuum up their beds into a little black bag. Then I have them boil that bag on the stove until the whole house smells like a sun-ripe battlefield. You see, all that dead skin that falls off you in your sleep is in the mattress when you boil it the smell is disgusting. There is filth in these folks houses. How the hell you gonna be beautiful and successful with filth all around? You cant. Filth is the conundrum and the Miracle is the solution. Now they want it.So we talk some more and I make like Im gonna leave, but they want the machine. I understand that, but they already got a vacuum cleaner. They dont need my machine. I guess a little filth never hurt no one. But they do need it, they say. They need it. And why do they need it? Because now its all they got standing between them and their dream. So I write them up. I take their money and I leave them holding that dream in their hand while I drive away. Wants, to needs, to dreams usually in forty-five minutes or less. No w thats a damn miracle, son.So you trick them, Samson said.They want to be tricked. I just provide a service. It aint no different than going to the movies or seeing a magician. You dont want to see that the pirates are using rubber swords, do you? You dont want to see the secret pockets up the magicians sleeves, do you? You want to believe in something that you know aint true, just for a while. People spend a lot of money and time to get tricked. And I get to drive a nice car, stay in good motels, eat in restaurants, and see the country in style.Samson thought about that for a while. Driving around in a big, cool, good-smelling car would be almost as good as living on the Ponderosa. Maybe better. Nobody on the reservation drove a car like this, and they hardly ever ate in restaurants, except the burger stand in Crow Agency. Maybe tricking people was the way to go. It sure sounded better than baling convert or fixing truck engines.Do you think I could sell miracles? Samson asked.Ll oyd laughed. You got some growing to do first. Besides, it takes a man of character to handle freedom. Do you have character, Samson?Is that like medicine?Its better than medicine. You get yourself some character and come see me in a few years. Then well see.That settled it. Samson was going to get himself some character and sell himself some miracles. He lay back on the seat and closed his eyes. Lloyd started talk again. The words were soft and rhythmic and soon Samson Hunts Alone, full of Coca-Cola and miracles, fell asleep.-=*=- Samson, wake up.Someone was shaking his shoulders. He opened his eyes and saw Pokey holding him at arms length.What are you doing up here by the road? Pokey asked.What? Samson looked around. He was on the ridge where he had sat down before the big blue car had come along. Wheres Lloyd?Whos Lloyd? Pokey asked. Ive only been gone a couple of hours. Why did you come up here? Did you have your vision?No, I went for a ride. I took a ride home with a man who s old Miracles.Samson, Pokey said. I dont think you took a ride anywhere. I think you better tell me what the man said to you.Samson told Pokey about Lloyd Commerce, about the car as long as a house, about selling miracles and tricking people and living the good life. When he was finished Pokey sat staring at the boy for a long time before he spoke. Samson, you had your vision. Im sorry.Why are you sorry, Pokey? Because I didnt find my spirit helper?I wish you saw a squirrel or a flicker, Samson, but you saw a vacuum cleaner salesman, Pokey said forlornly.But he was just a fat white man.He only looked like a white man. I think you saw Old Man Coyote.