24
MISSING HER
Two copies of Justine’s newspaper with photo spread lay in front of Darrius as he sipped a cup of Warrior’s Brew tea before opening his store. One he had purchased, and the other was the one she had sent. No way on earth could he have sent it back to her. It was like a present from a distant friend…too distant. Though he was still mad at her for going against his word, he couldn’t keep his mind off her. His every thought was of what she was doing, what she was wearing, her smile, her intelligence. Yet he remained too stubborn to pick up the phone and call her.
Several times during the past month he had reached for the phone, wanting to hear her voice, but would suddenly change his mind. Once he had even dialed, but hung up before she could answer. He had written emails about how he missed her, but would neglect to press the “send” button. Darrius knew his cold feet were related to his feeling that maybe he’d been too hard on her. He knew how inquisitive she was. Now, he was unsure as to whether she would even want to talk to him after weeks of no contact. Whatever the case, he had to have a piece of her, even if it was simply through reading her newspaper spread.
The television played softly in the background. It was the day of Justine’s interview, so he closed the newspaper, drank the last of his tea and settled in to watch the only woman he had ever loved.
The bells on the door jingled, and Derrick came in the store with a bag of bagels and honey cream cheese. “Is she on yet?”
“Hush! They haven’t mentioned anything yet.” Then he looked at his brother with surprise. “How did you know about her interview? I haven’t told you anything.”
“I read newspapers, too, like the one she sent me. Did you think the wind told me?”
“Max out! Only I have that power.”
“You should by now. God only knows you stayed on that mountain long enough after she left to have gained more power.”
“I was asking our relatives what to do about Justine.”
“And what did they say?” Derrick plopped the bag of bagels and cream on the table.
“Go to her.”
“Then why are you still here after weeks of missing her? I see how depressed you’ve been since she left. I’ve seen it before with what’s-her-name? Ma Barker?”
“Cute! Kid all you like, but it’s never been like this before. The day Justine left town I had a tantrum. Remember?”
“Who couldn’t? You tore your house up, broke furniture, busted some pots and ripped the Koshari picture off your wall. Your bed was turned upside down. When I walked in and saw you, you were huddled in a corner, drunk and crying. Funny thing. I haven’t seen you cry since we were kids, the day I broke that stupid toy airplane Uncle Pete bought you.”
Darrius quickly opened one bagel and smeared the light brown cream cheese on it. “No one has taken my heart away before—not like this.”
“Then again I’m asking, what are you still doing here when you should be hightailing it to San Francisco? What are you afraid of?”
“Rejection.”
“Bull! You’re not afraid of anything—well, other than facing Justine. Look, man, I was mad at her, too, but I’m not her lover. You are. She does still want you, you know?”
“Yeah? How do you know?”
“The wolves told me.”
Darrius waved his hand in front of his brother’s face. “Whatever. Be quiet, I think Justine is due up next.”
Darrius sat quietly, determined not to get excited over seeing Justine. After all, she was the one who went against his wishes and almost got three people killed. Then why was he still in love? Having no answer to that, he decided he couldn’t change fate. He’d also decided never to be hurt by another woman again—even if she was the reason he smiled. He waited expectantly for her face to appear on the screen. She had good things to say, and he wanted to hear them. He knew that was an excuse. He just plain wanted to see her, and that was all there was to it!
Next to the host was a vision of loveliness. She wore the Koshari T-shirt and a pair of white jeans. He slowly stood without knowing it.
“Thought you weren’t going to get bent out of shape over her,” Derrick said in a rather sarcastic tone.
Darrius’s only response was, “Hush!” Indeed, absence did make the heart grow fonder. Suddenly, any thought of staying away from her seemed to evaporate. Now more than ever he missed how she held him tight in her arms, how she kissed him, how they made love. It was something powerful, something he’d had with no other woman before Justine. They made magic together. He missed it.
“Sit down already! You’re blocking the TV.”
Derrick’s voice brought Darrius back to reality. He slowly sat, but turned the volume up and tried his best to listen to her words instead of wallowing in the need to touch her.
“From the look of you, Ms. Paretti,” the host said, “you’ve really gotten into the spirit of the way of life of the Native Americans in the region.”
“It’s been my experience that you have to live the life in order to capture it. I think that can be seen in a lot of my photographs. This time it is a little different, I admit. I just want readers and viewers to appreciate the lives of these remarkable people. In some ways, how they celebrate life is more like poetry. How they honor their ancestors and respect the earth and its living things is an approach to life I think all of us can benefit from.”
“And bringing this to life by way of a powwow is very enlightening, Ms. Paretti. Can you tell us a little about the photographs we have here?”
In the background, Darrius saw enlarged photos of native dancers, the cliffs of Red Rock and of his store. Never had he thought his own store would be featured on television.
“The first photo is of the grass dance at the main powwow the weekend of the Intertribal Ceremonial, one of the few dances I was allowed to photograph. It’s a religious dance, as are most of their dances. To the Hopi nation, and probably others, when they dance, they pray; when they pray they fix things, people. It’s all for the well-being of the community and beyond. These dances are beautiful metaphors to celebrate life. The grass dance is one of the oldest dances from the warrior society. Briefly, a warrior is in search of a ceremonial place. The dancer portrays tall, swaying prairie grass. The red cliffs you see are those of Red Rock State Park, where the main powwow takes place. As you can see, the area is very scenic. Anyone who has been to New Mexico has seen how picturesque it is.”
“And the store? Is there something special about it? Many stores throughout the Southwest sell native artifacts. What makes this one special enough to photograph?”
Darrius moved closer to the TV in the small kitchenette in back of the store anxiously awaiting her comments on him, if she had any. But, maybe she would only speak of the store. After the way he had ended things with her, he would understand if his name didn’t come up at all.
“This store is owned by a very wonderful man I met—Darrius Red Sky. He was my host and guide, and showed me many of the area’s wonders. Besides that, his store is filled with the most exquisite works of art from all Indian nations, not just those of the Southwest.” She held her bracelet to the camera. “This piece is turquoise and spiny oyster hearts, one of many specially handcrafted items you’ll find here. The store carries all kinds of pots, baskets, rugs, Navajo and Hopi kachinas, and even the Koshari clown, one of which is resting happily on my T-shirt. So if you’re interested in native art, Darrius Red Sky is the man to see. He also makes a terrific brew of Teepee Dreams tea. I should add that wonderful stores can be found throughout the Southwest, so buyers can’t go wrong.”
Darrius was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. Finally, “That was me she was talking about, Derrick. Me! I can’t believe she still thinks so highly of me after the way I acted with her.”
“You had every right to treat her the way you did, Darrius. Don’t second-guess yourself. You were protecting the ruins, the past lives of our people, and you didn’t want them desecrated.”
“That’s the thing. She didn’t desecrate anything. She never took pictures of the ruins, just surrounding trees and flowers. I know she wouldn’t have wanted to desecrate anything. I should have understood her inquisitive nature. It’s part of her, like me knowing aspects of the future is a part of me. I know what else is a part of me.”
