Well, if nothing else, the irony is incredible, isn’t it? And I was wondering who voted against the white women. And what are the white women’s names?
Chess and I voted against them. And their names are Betty and Veronica.
Really?
Really.
How would you assess their relationship with Junior and Victor?
I’m not like a therapist or something. But I don’t think it has much of a chance. I mean, I think they’re all using each other as trophies. Junior and Victor get to have beautiful white women on their arms, and Betty and Veronica get to have Indian men.
Do you think you could elaborate on that? Our listeners out there in the rock world would love to know.
Jeez, I just realized. Them two are the ones who saw us play before. They must really be following us around. That Betty and Veronica. Man. They are beautiful, enit?
Yes, they are. But what do Betty and Veronica have to gain in all of this?
Look at them. They got more Indian jewelry and junk on than any dozen Indians. The spotlights hit the crystals on their necks and nearly blinded me once. All they talk about is Coyote this and Coyote that, sweatlodge this and sweatlodge that. They think Indians got all the answers.
How long do you think that relationship will last?
Until the next slow song.
Well, I don’t know when that’s going to be. That Victor plays a wicked guitar. I’ve never actually seen a guitar set a table on fire, though. It’s a good thing that Chess had fire safety training, isn’t it?
We almost lost the whole damn thing because Victor got drunk. How did you know Chess had fire experience?
An amateur would never have put a fire out that quickly. Forgive me for asking, but I noticed that you and Chess seem to have a close relationship.
Jeez, getting personal, enit? She’s my partner. We’re in love, I guess. No. We are in love. She’s pretty amazing. I write songs for her, you know. She’s the first Indian woman who ever paid me much attention. That’s something special.
Well, I think you’ll be getting a lot of attention from all kinds of women now. Especially white women.
I don’t need that.
Well, I hope that’s true. I also heard that Chess has a sister who used to be in the band. Is that true?
Yeah, Checkers, her sister, stayed home on the reservation. She wants to sing in the church choir instead. They’re both Catholic women, you know?
Don’t you think that’s odd?
I don’t think it’s odd at all. I mean, I think God loves to dance as much as the rest of us. I think we’d all be better off if we put more rock music into our churches. Chess told me that God is a long ways up, and we need to be loud so God can hear us. What’s louder than rock ’n’ roll?
Do you believe in God?
Yeah, I do.
Do you believe in the devil?
I don’t know. I’m beginning to. Seems there’s more proof of the devil than proof of God, enit?
Is God a man or a woman?
God could be an armadillo. I have no idea.
Checkers stood in the back row of the choir; she was much taller than all the altos, baritones, and sopranos. She was taller than everybody in the church and wondered if Spokane Indian Catholics were short by nature. Easily distracted by the details, she tried to concentrate on the service. Father Arnold led the service with intensity and passion, like he was more Baptist than Catholic. Most priests just went through the motions, recited platitudes by rote, and turned Communion into a Sunday brunch.
“Let us pray together now,” Father Arnold said, “in the words Our Father gave us.”
Checkers held the hands of the choir members on either side of her, Nina and Maria Christopher. Checkers always loved this part most, the Lord’s Prayer, the holding of hands, the circling of the community. She recited the prayer and watched Father Arnold. He glanced around the church, made eye contact with his flock, and smiled.
“Let us now offer each other a sign of peace,” Father Arnold said.
“Peace be with you.”
“Peace be with you.”
“Peace, sister.”
“Peace, brother.”
The members of the choir hugged as they offered peace to each other. Nina and Maria hugged Checkers, but she held the hugs way past the comfort level of the Christophers.
“Peace to all of you,” Father Arnold said, outside the ceremony, and the community responded.
“Peace be with you.”
Father Arnold sang his prayers. A beautiful voice. Checkers wondered if he ever sang in a band. Maybe in college. He almost had soul. Catholics were supposed to save souls, not possess them.
“This is the body, this is the blood.”
Checkers greedily took Communion, happy to be one of the first. She opened her mouth, offered it to Father Arnold, who placed the bread gently on her tongue. She felt his fingertips, smelled his soft cologne. The ritual, the ritual. She smiled at Father, who smiled back, then looked past her.
“Amen.”
Checkers stepped past the Communion wine, though she still smelled the alcohol. She fought back memories of her father’s breath after he came home from a long night of drinking.
Checkers? Little one? Are you awake?
Checkers returned to her place in the choir. She hummed the hymn softly because she had forgotten the words. Beautiful, she felt beautiful in her twenty-year-old robe. The fringe was gone, the colors faded, but she knew how beautiful she was. Father Arnold had complimented her before mass.
“Checkers,” he said, “you look very nice.”
She held those words in her pocket, hidden beneath her robe, and often reached under to touch them. She closed her eyes and let the music enter her body. The organ was older than the church itself and sounded like a train, but that made no difference to Checkers. She just wanted the music to be loud.
“Before we go today, I wanted to make a few announcements,” Father Arnold said.
Checkers wanted the service to continue.
“We have a new member of the congregation,” Father Arnold said. “She’s a new arrival on our reservation, Checkers Warm Water. Some of you may know her as a member of Coyote Springs, but now she’s the newest member of our choir.”
Father Arnold motioned for Checkers to raise her hand. She waved to the church, and they all waved back. Polite applause and a few shouted greetings. Embarrassed, Checkers ducked her head and closed her eyes. She thought the Catholics were celebrating a new member, but they were actually relieved that she had been saved from the hell called Coyote Springs.
“Also, I want you to remember that we have a potluck dinner Tuesday night, right after the elders’ meeting. And Bessie, you remember to bring your fry bread.”
The crowd cheered. Bessie Moses had taken third place in the fry bread cook-off for the last ten years, finishing behind only Big Mom and the-man-who-was-probably-Lakota all that time. Since Big Mom and the-man-who-was-probably-Lakota weren’t members of the church, Bessie cooked the best Catholic fry bread on the reservation.
“One last thing,” Father Arnold said. “I know it’s really early, but basketball practice starts next week. Wednesday. I’m taking signatures. Remember, we only have room for ten players. We need to start practice early this fall. The Presbyterians and Assembly of God really kicked our butts last year. And remember, no matter what you see on television, God really doesn’t care if we win this or not. So, we have to do it by ourselves.”