it’s barely beating with him so far away. I open my hands in my lap and follow the invisible map he sketched across my palms so long ago.
Now you have the whole world in your hands.
I caress the compass charm dangling from my bracelet. I know it’s expensive and I should probably take it off while I’m working here. If I was smart, I would have left the obviously valuable jewelry at home. But there was no way that was happening. I needed this part of him with me.
“You ready to turn in, ladies?” I ask the girls, noting the faint lines of weariness on their faces. “We all have a really early start tomorrow.”
We cross the reserve, walking leisurely over the lush green grass, the palm leaves casting shadows in moonlight. We climb the few wooden steps into our thatch-roofed hut. Five of us share it, each having a mattress on the floor and mosquito netting.
Once we’re in our pajamas and under our mosquito nets, the conversation starts. I love their questions about boys and college, love hearing their dreams and ambitions, and how they want to hold on to our culture, language and traditions even while navigating the world beyond the reservation. The same things I had to figure out.
There is a unique duality to our experience that’s sometimes hard for others to understand. Living on patches of land when all of it, by rights, belonged to our ancestors. Living in, loving a nation professing freedom, liberty and justice for all, when our traditions were suppressed, and we were forced from our homes and endured unimaginable injustices. Things like Thanksgiving, Columbus Day, even Mt. Rushmore, which is built on our sacred grounds—all are symbols of American tradition, but also blaring examples of how we’ve been mistreated. Conquered. In America’s transition from annihilating our people to assimilating them, we lost so much. These young girls have to reconcile making peace with that truth enough to succeed here, but still agitating so we don’t lose any more of the traditions and culture our ancestors entrusted to us.
If I wasn’t here, I’d be home, curled up by my fireplace in a cashmere robe, clinging to a wine glass filled with my favorite Bordeaux. Probably reviewing data and policy papers for Owen’s campaign. I love my life, and can’t imagine a path more suited to who I am and how I’m made. But these trips, these nights talking with girls like these about their dreams and how to hold onto and pass on our rich heritage—I wouldn’t trade this.
“Can I ask you something, Ms. Hunter?” Anna asks after we’ve been talking for a while.
“Sure.” I stifle a yawn and force myself to focus. “What’s up?”
“Your, um . . . your first time,” she says in a rush and with a deep breath like she’s diving underwater. “Did you, well, did you love him?”
The question takes me by surprise. We’ve talked about boys, sure, and crushes, but I didn’t expect this. Anna’s sixteen, so I guess that’s about right. Most girls don’t seem to wait quite as long as I did, but most girls don’t have Maxim Cade as their first. A reminiscent smile curves my lips in the dark. God, he was so careful with me, but then, so completely out of control, like he couldn’t get inside fast enough and wanted to stay there forever. I didn’t have words that night for what I felt when he initiated me not just into sex, but into this world that is just ours. Just our two bodies, sun and moon, just our souls, earth and water. We are the sky and the sea, and the horizon is where our hearts meet. Every part of that world is made by and from and for just us two. I couldn’t articulate it then, but now I have no choice.
“Yeah, I loved him,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, the hot emotion in my throat nearly melting the words.
I don’t have time to process those words and their meaning before the girls dig deeper and for more. More questions, harder answers. Finally the girls’ words start slurring, and my eyes grow heavy. The stirring breeze through the open window keeps us awake a few moments longer, and then we sleep.
Morning comes quickly. It feels like I’ve barely closed my eyes before Wallace is gently shaking my shoulder, asking if I still want to go with him to the village. The sun isn’t even up.