A Kachina Dance (10 page)

“So what happened?”

“Well, I guess I’m hired
as a temp for this exhibition.
I
kinda
’
followed Miguel
around tod
ay to get a feel for the place.
I filled out some forms and I start a
fter my references are checked.
Oh, I put you down as
a reference.”  He grins. “Miguel
said that I should be working here by the start of next week.”

Everything
i
s
going as
planned. 
J
ay i
s hired
. Things seem
to be perfect.
We stroll home after work
hand in hand,
sometimes
stopping to eat
out or
sometimes
heading for the park
.
Miguel tells
Jay where to pic
k up cheap art supplies.  We ta
k
e
the bus
down to the village
, that’s Greenwich Village,
and carry
tons of stuff back on a Saturday afternoon
while people gawk
at us
.
 

Jay
begins
pain
t
ing
outside and it mak
e
s
my heart sing to watch him
in the little back
yard
.
He had shown me some of his earlier work
before I left Arizona
but none quite equaled the six
paintings
he took to Santa Fe.
He i
s maturing as
an artist and he needs
to keep paint
ing.
My dream i
s to be the one working and him to be the one painti
ng full time, that’s vital for his success.

Yes, things seem to be perfect!

Chapter
7

As I said things were perfect until
the telephone call from
mother.
She h
ad heard from my sister, Cara
, that I had a boyfriend
…
a live-in boyfriend
, no less.
Why
hadn’t she be
e
n told?
Why
hadn’t she and my father met him
?
Who was I ashamed of
,
him or them? This was the payback for living in t
he brownstone with cheap rent,
my mother’s constant inquisitions.

“So w
hat’
s his name?”

“Jay”

“
So d
oes he have a last name?”

“
Lomatewama
”

“What kind of a name is that?”

“It’s Hopi.”

“Kate
,
is he from a third world country?”

“Well, in a way you could say that.  He
’s
from the Hopi reservation in Arizona.”

“Oh my God, Charles, your
daughter is going to marry an Indian.”

I could hear my father yell back, “So now they’re outsourcing husbands, too.”

“No
,
Charles, not that kind of Indian, an American Indian, you know like cowboys and Indians
.”

“Mother, they are called Native Americans now.”

“Kate, your brother became a surgeon and married a doctor, your sister
is a designer and married an architect. You are a museum curator,
who are you going to marry?”

“Mother,
who mentioned marriage?
 
Jay
hasn’t asked me to marry him
.  He’s an artist and I think in a few year
s he will be a very good one.
But he’s given up a lot to come
here and be with me.
You and F
ather can meet him but
don’t you
dare start any insulting cowboys and Indians talk or I’ll wal
k right out.
We can come over for lunch on Sunday
.
Father
can gril
l some burgers, nothing fancy.
Oh
,
invite Cara
and Mark;
I’d like them to meet Jay, too.”

“What about your brother?”

“No, let’s not overwhelm Jay with
family.
Mothe
r,
remember
,
informal
, we’ll be in jeans.
Jay is very casual.
”

“So we’ll be casual.”

I hang up dreading what will follow.

After becoming empty nesters my parents sold their
home
in
Connecticut
and bought a condo
overlooking the Hudson River.
It was filled with antiques and oversized pieces of furniture from the house and was anything but
Zen
.
Nothing my parents did was ever laid-back
or simple.
I knew the little lunc
heon would turn into a fiasco.
Somehow I would have to prepare Jay for a very unique experience.

We buy
wine and flow
ers and take
the bus over
on Sunday
.
I
have
tried to prepare Jay
all week about what he will see and hear
.
He
wears his slight smile and looks so damn cool, I don’t know if he needs m
y help.

T
he first comment
Mother
whispers
as
we enter is
, “You didn’t tell me he wore his hair in a bun.”

Cara
winks and whispers
, “He’s cute, I see why you fell
for him.”
At least someone will
be on my side.

Of course
, we do
n’t have
burgers;
Father
gri
lls
steaks
, salmon
and
chicken.
Mother dominates
most of the conversatio
n, probing Jay with questions.
Thankfull
y
,
Mark jumps in and speaks
about his many tri
ps to the southwest.  Cara
asks how Jay likes working at
A
MA which peaks
Mother’s curiosity.
Now she kno
w
s he has
a paying job at a big institution
that silences
her for the moment.
I steer
the conversation to Cara and Mark’s n
ew house in Greenwich
, that’s Greenwich, CT.
I tell
Jay he
has
to see
the house
since Mark designed it
.

“Do you live with your parents on the reservation?”  Mother begins
.

“No, they died years ago.”

“What kind of business was your father in?”

“
He
was a miner and a farmer.
T
he Peabody Western
Coal M
ine
is
a big mine
on the reservation
.”

I can see Mother rolling her eyes.  Luckily, Jay was spearing his meat.

“Any siblings?”

“
I had a
sister
who died as a child; and I have two
brother
s who moved away to get work and never return to
Hopiland
.”

Mother harrumphed.

“So what kind
of a name
is Hopi?
The New York Indians have long names
, like the Rockaways, the
Shinnechocks
, the
Setaukets
, the
Marsapeaques
,
the
Canarsies
.
Those are
just
the names of Long Island tribes. Then you have the upstate tribes like the
Algonquin
,
the Iroquois
, the Onondagas, and the
Tonawandas
.
Why is
your tribe
’s name
so short?” My Mother
asks indelicately.

“Hopi
is derived from
Hopituh
,” he answers softly,
“or more precisely from
Hopituh
Shi-nu-mu
. Our language comes from the ancient Aztec. We ar
e the only Pueblo people to speak
this language.”

I interrupt. “
Hopit
uh
Shi-nu-mu
,
isn’t that pleasant sounding?” I look at my mother
who watches Jay smile at me
.

“Mrs.
Knight
y
,
there are New York
tribes with short names
, for example the
Mohawk
s
,
Cayuga
s
and
Senecca
s
.”

Yes!
I cheer inwardly. I wink at him across the table; he won’t let her ruffle him.

Everyone except mother smiles.
I’m wondering
on
what
cocktail napkin or paper placemat she read this information on Native American tribe names. She really is a corker! But she continues.

“Well, how many of you are there?”

“Mother, please, will you let him eat,” I snap.

“
It’s
fine, I’m used to these questions on my tours.” He
gives me his slight smile
. “There are about 7,000 Hopi living on the
rez
…the reservation,
according to the 2000 census.” He smiles at Mother.

As we finished,
Mark
leaves
the table and ask
s Jay to join him
o
n
the terrace
.
I thank Mark silently.
Father
tag
s
along.
Cara and I clear the table and Mot
her follows us into the kitchen
.

“I could have had
my girl
come, to help with the dishes,” Mother says.

“No, that’
s the last thing I would want
Jay to see, your hired help
.
This was to be casual, remember?”

“
Well, it is.
Now, m
ake the
coffee;
take out the cake and ta
rts.
There are nice cookies
too.
Your yo
ung man doesn’t talk much, K
ate.
H
e seems very shy.”

“Mother, please stop
badgering him with questions.
He’ll talk if you give him the chance.”

“Mother,” says Cara,
“Do you remember how nervous you made Mark the
first time he came for dinner?
I thought I’d never s
ee him again after that night.
Ease up, please.”

“I’m j
ust looking out for the welfare of
my girls that’s all.” She walks
out of the room
with an injured look
.

We start
setting the table for dessert
.
Mother has
join
ed
t
he men
telling some
jibb
erish
about
my many suitors
in her loud voice.
T
hen I hear
Jay say very cl
early,
in his soft voice,
“I love your daughter.”
Every sound in the condo seems to stop except
my heart which suddenly pounds
loudly in my chest.
It
’s
one th
ing to have
Jay tell me
quietly
he loves
me
but to announ
ce it boldly to my family gi
ve
s me goose bumps
.