trips to nowhere had been when they’d talked about their dreams and nightmares. “When I leave this rez, I’m not gonna be a dirt-poor Indian anymore, Tanya. I’m gonna be rich. I’m gonna be somebody,” he’d muse, laying on a blanket, the night air cooling them off after the heated sex. “I’m gonna buy you diamonds and pearls and the biggest house in South Dakota. And our kids—they’re not gonna live like this. Our kids are gonna have the best of everything. Rooms full of toys, new clothes that fit, their own ponies—everything.” The way he’d always said it made it clear that was all the stuff he’d wanted and never got.
She’d loved him for wanting to take care of her. But Tanya had always told him the same thing. “I don’t need all that stuff, Nick, not as long as I’ve got you.”
At the time, it had all seemed like a bunch of wild talk. She hadn’t realized how serious he was. But then, she hadn’t realized how serious she was.
Tanya had left the rez once, too. She’d gone to college at the University of South Dakota in Vermillion, just about two hours from the rez. She’d gotten her B.A. in Native studies with a minor in political science. When she’d first left home, she’d finally understood what Nick had always talked about. Everyone there had a car and an apartment, it seemed, with nice clothes and computers and stereos. The jealousy had been crushing.
That had changed the day she’d walked into her first political science class. She’d signed up because Nick had already been accepted to law school and she’d assumed that knowing more about politics would be a good way to support his career. But instead, the professor—some leftover relic from the 1960s counterculture—had gone on and on about how a single person could take on the political establishment and change things for the better.
Yeah, that guy had fried half his brain on acid trips back in the day, but that didn’t mean his words carried any less weight with Tanya. It had been then that she’d realized she could make life on the rez better—if she didn’t abandon it. She had to stay and change it from the inside. A fact made all the clearer by her time working as a fry cook. Minimum wage at a dead-end job didn’t help her tribe. It didn’t do her any favors either.
So she’d gotten Councilwoman Emily Mankiller to mentor her and had taken the receptionist job at tribal headquarters after Bear was born so she could have a front-row seat for the local political show. Things had changed now that the tribe had money. Tanya knew that Nick was here for a lawsuit against Midwest Energy, but everything was done behind closed doors or in low whispers. It was clear that Tanya wouldn’t be able to be a part of that conversation—not while she was a receptionist anyway. Some days that irritated her, but the posturing and maneuvering wasn’t her strength. Tanya was more concerned with making sure people had enough to eat and heat in the winter. No back-room plotting needed. Even though she was just the receptionist, she could say she was already making a difference. She kept a running tab on who was about to have their power shut off, who’s health was failing too fast and which kids needed another hot meal. Those were small things, but they counted. Sure, she could make a bigger difference if she had an ally who was good at the behind-closed-doors stuff. In fact, Tanya had always hoped that Nick would bring his fancy law degree back to her and the rez. Together, they could change things for the better. Together, they’d be unstoppable.
But Nick hadn’t come back. Until now.
Another noise outside had Tanya up again. 3:15 a.m. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, but at least it was Friday. She looked out the window, half hoping to see the old, carefree Nick out there. That was the Nick she’d loved since the day she’d turned twelve. She could still remember the jolt of electricity that had coursed through her when he’d ridden up to her birthday party bareback on his paint pony—and shirtless. He’d just turned sixteen—so out of her league—but that hadn’t stopped him from sliding off the horse right in front of her, leveling that devastating smile at her and handing her a handpicked bunch of wildflowers with a “Happy birthday, Tanya,” thrown in for good measure. It had seemed like he was her present, already half-unwrapped. Tanya had fallen and fallen hard. Nothing and no one could ever compare to Nick.
Sure, he had hardly looked at her for a few more years, but by the time she’d turned fourteen, he’d given her her first kiss. By the time she was fifteen, she’d given him everything.
Part of her wanted that life again—where the only cares she had in this world were how she could slip out without waking up her mom to steal a few more hours with Nick. But there was no going back, and there was nothing outside but a full moon. Nick had come back only twice in the past six years—when he graduated from law school and for his brother’s high school graduation. She’d asked him to stay that first time, while the scent of their sex still hung in the air. “Stay with me,” she’d said, and even now she cringed at how pathetic the words had sounded.
“Babe, I have a life now,” had been his reply. He’d said it gently, like he knew he was tearing her heart out with a single swipe. True, he’d told her she could stay with him if she came to Chicago, but it was the kind of halfhearted offer that begged not to be taken up.
No, he had a life now. A life that didn’t include her or their homeland.
She got back into bed and checked on Bear. He was curled into the little baby ball that had his bottom sticking up into the air.
Tanya smiled. She didn’t need Nick’s money or diamonds or houses. She didn’t need any of that stuff, as long as she had her son. She was tied to this land by blood—the blood of her ancestors and the blood of her son. She couldn’t abandon this place because that would be the same as abandoning part of her soul.
She couldn’t leave.
Not even for Nick Longhair.
By the time she got home the next night with Bear in tow, Tanya was beat. Nights like this made her wish that she could afford a television and pizza delivered to her door, because Bear was being clingy and her head hurt and the three hours until Bear’s bedtime seemed like a month.
The whole week, all Nick had done was walk in, give her “the look” and disappear into his office. He didn’t ask for coffee, tell her to make copies or demand to talk to her. Despite her resolution not to fall under his spell again, she still found herself daydreaming about him at least trying to sweep her off her feet. He’d corner her in the conference room, shut the door and press her against the wall. If she closed her eyes, she could actually feel the length of his body against hers—the way they fit together as effortlessly as they always had. He’d kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. Of course she’d rebuff his advances—in her fantasy, she could just walk away from him.
Reality was different. Would it kill him to at least notice her? She couldn’t even be in the same room with him—for however short a time—without being painfully aware of him. As much as she tried to hate him—and heavens knew she tried—she couldn’t shake the hope that somehow, some way, they’d go back to the way things had been. Despite having a child now, a big part of Tanya still felt like the same girl she’d always been—the girl who loved Nick.
But no. Maybe she’d just guessed wrong about him. This new-improved Nick wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the same-old Tanya. Why would he be? She wasn’t model-perfect, rich or anything else like the women he’d probably spent all his free time with back in the big city.
Maybe this was just how it was going to be, she thought as she boiled the water for the mac ’n’ cheese. They’d just keep pretending like they’d never been in love. She’d keep Bear’s existence quiet. They’d be like sicas, spirits, passing through each other’s lives. It could work.
This way of thinking lasted until she put Bear down at eight. She read him a story, sang him his bedtime song and rubbed his back until his little eyelids closed. Finally, she thought as she shut the door behind her and sagged against it. Exhausted as she was, she needed at least a half hour of peace and quiet before she went to bed. She trudged down the short hallway that separated the bedroom/bathroom half of the house from the kitchen/living room half, turned the corner and let out a scream.
There, sitting on her couch,