“It’s been that kind of night,” the housewife announced.
“Yeah,” David said, holding his last silver dollar. “This is it. Wish me luck.”
“Luck.”
David dropped the silver dollar into the machine, pulled the handle, and watched the Single-Single-Single drop into place. The housewife screamed as one hundred dollars’ worth of silver dollars spilled onto the floor. A few other women jealously peered around corners as David scooped up his money. He’d won his money back! And then some.
“For luck,” he said to the housewife as he handed her one of his silver dollars.
“You’re not quitting, are you?” she asked.
“Well, maybe not. Maybe just one more.”
He dropped one more dollar into the machine and pulled the handle, realizing this was exactly how casinos made their money. The slots spun, dropped. Home Run — Home Run — Home Run. The housewife was shrieking now and hugging David, who hugged her back. The sirens were deafening. Flashing red lights. The sudden appearance of two beefy Indian security guards. A crowd of white farm folk. Two thousand dollars! Two thousand dollars! Two thousand dollars!
After turning down management’s attempts to give him a check, David walked out of the casino with two thousand dollars in small bills. He knew it was foolish, but he felt like a character in a Hemingway novel. Daring, masculine, without the slightest hint of fear. Or reveling in his fear, staring into the eyes of the charging beast. He wondered what Marie would say. What if she thought he was stealing from the Indians?
David, feeling wealthy and untouchable, walked past the Indian security guards, who were busy calming down a drunken farmer. David couldn’t believe his luck. Aaron would go crazy. They’d party all night, skip class tomorrow, and drink through the weekend. Hell, they could go rent a hotel room and drink it up in style, paper the walls with twenty-dollar bills. David was laughing to himself, lost in fantasy, when he bumped into an Indian man standing near an advertising kiosk outside the casino.
“Excuse me,” David said. He barely looked at the Indian, but noticed a funny sign on the kiosk. WELCOME TO THE SIXTH ANNUAL TULALIP INDIAN NATION ALL–INDIAN BASKETBALL TOURNAMENT.
“Hey,” David said, pointing at the sign. “Gets pretty specific, doesn’t it?”
The Indian didn’t respond, which made David a little tense. He placed his hand on the large envelope of money in his coat pocket. He suddenly felt very white. The Indian, with a curious, canine twist of his head, looked at David. The Indian could smell the white boy’s fear.
“Well,” David said. “See you later.”
David could see his pickup in the parking lot. About a hundred feet away. Twenty seconds to get there. Remain calm, he thought. As he walked toward the pickup, David dug through his pockets. He found the right key, and readied it for quick use. Then he glanced back toward the casino and saw that the Indian was gone. The parking lot was dark. No people. The hum of the freeway a few hundred feet to the east. Increasingly nervous now, David began to hurry. He reached his pickup and tried to insert the key, but his hands were shaking and he dropped it. Jesus, David asked himself, what are you so scared of? He bent down to pick up the keys, felt a sudden, sharp pain at the back of his head, and then felt nothing at all.
14. Testimony
“MRS. JOHNSON, DID YOU see anything or anybody suspicious in the casino?”
“No.”
“Are you okay, Mrs. Johnson? Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes. It’s just. I mean, he seemed like such a sweet boy. What was his name?”
“David. David Rogers.”
“Yes, that’s it. He give me a silver dollar. I have it right here. He said it was for luck and then he hit the jackpot. I guess he wasn’t so lucky, was he?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Do you know what happened to him? Do you know anything at all?”
“We’re working on it, ma’am. Right now, we just know he left his pickup in the parking lot. That’s all we know.”
“It’s like he just disappeared, isn’t it?”
“Something like that.”
“And all that’s left of him is this silver dollar, isn’t it?”
“Right now, it looks that way.”
“But it’s so small.”
“Very small, ma’am.”
“Does this have anything to do with that boy who was scalped down in Seattle?”
“We don’t know, ma’am.”
15. Variations
AFTER OLIVIA HEARD THE news about the young man who had disappeared from the Indian casino, she called Daniel at work.
“Daniel, have you heard about that boy who disappeared? From the reservation?”
“Yes,” said Daniel impatiently.
“What do you think happened to him?”
“I don’t know. It sounds like a robbery.”
“I bet his family is worried sick,” said Olivia, thinking about how John had often disappeared from her life, only to reappear at unexpected times. She wondered how she would feel if John disappeared forever. She thought about the white man who had been scalped and murdered. She wondered how his family felt about his death.
“Are you okay?” Daniel asked, hearing the worry in his wife’s voice.
“I was just thinking about John. Have you heard from him?”
“No.”
“Well, I was just thinking, you know, that maybe we could go see if he’s at his apartment. I mean, he’s not answering his phone. But maybe he’s just ignoring it. Maybe he’s hurt.”
“If you want,” Daniel said, not wanting to admit how much he wanted to go searching for John.
After work, Daniel drove from downtown Seattle east across the 520 bridge to Bellevue, picked up Olivia from her part-time job at the Bellevue Art Museum, and then headed back across the bridge. Heavy traffic. Daniel hated the two bridges, 520 to the north and I-90 to the south, that connected the eastern and western halves of the Seattle metropolitan area. Like most American cities, Seattle was a city of distinct and divided neighborhoods, and though it had a reputation for cultural diversity, there was actually a very small minority population, consisting primarily of Asian-and African-Americans. And the minority populations mostly lived, by choice and by economic circumstance, in the Central, International, and University Districts. The middle-class whites generally lived on the twin hills of Queen Anne and Magnolia, overlooking the rest of the city, while the rich white people mostly lived in Bellevue or on Mercer Island, a financial and geographical enclave that sat in the waters of Lake Washington, halfway between Bellevue and Seattle. Where water had once been a natural boundary, it now existed as an economic barrier. And in those places where natural boundaries between neighborhoods didn’t exist, the engineers had quickly built waterways. So much water separating people.
Daniel knew that all the bridges and water were beautiful, but it was so hard to get from one place to another. Daniel hated traffic and constantly cursed other drivers. He took delays personally, as if each car were specifically placed to impede his progress. When John was young, Daniel had learned to control his tongue. But now that John was no longer a passenger, Daniel would fully vent his anger. He honked his horn, yelled, and mumbled by turns, wanting to talk to his son, John, the boy who, despite all the water so close to home, had never learned to swim.