drink, and have a nice long chat.”
Finishing the edible part of the pizza, I placed the crust on his plate. Closing the box, I got up and put it in the fridge before my uncle could turn this into an all you can eat buffet. I washed my plate and hands in the sink.
Andrew finished his food before doing the same, then we headed for the living room. He went to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Dalmore 15, and set it on the table with two tumblers. He gestured for me to take a seat in one of the wing chairs.
I didn’t bother to hide the disbelief on my face and took my seat. Andrew uncorked the bottle and poured us a healthy measure. “You really enjoy your scotch.”
His shoulders made a small dismissive twitch. “The little pleasures are all a man has to call his own.”
He held up his glass in a silent toast to me, and I returned it before we knocked it back in one. He poured a second round and leaned back in his chair. He looked pensive for a moment and then relaxed as he apparently made a decision. “What do you know of our family history?”
What I knew of our history was laughable. “Not much. We’re from St. Mary, Montana, which was what…population fifty?”
Andrew stiffened, realizing just how little I knew. “So that’s it? You don’t know where we’re from or anything about your mother?”
Sipping on my scotch, I shook my head, confused by his remark. “Mom was a member of the Blackfoot tribe. From what I gathered back then, Grandpa Aatsista-Mahkan wasn’t pleased that she’d married outside the tribe…or maybe it was my father in particular that he didn’t care for.”
Andrew snorted, lost in memories. “You don’t have any idea how bad it was at first. There was a time I thought the tribal elders would murder your father and me in our sleep.” He took a drink of scotch as he pulled himself free of the memory. “Anything else?”
It was clear he was looking for something, but I didn’t have an answer so I shook my head. “I don’t know what you want to hear. It wasn’t as if either side of the family held a special class on our history or anything. As you know, I attended school on the reservation and after that....” Embarrassment and a tinge of guilt hit me. “After that I left home.”
Andrew looked at me wistfully. “I was there that night. You were so pale, I thought you’d pass out. You were shaking when they called your name before parading you across the stage like a show pony. Once you didn’t faint I was convinced you’d puke all over your grandfather and the other tribal elders.”
The truth was I’d lost my dinner a few minutes prior to the ceremony. I’d always felt like an outsider. I was a half-breed—half “English” and half Blackfoot—but neither side accepted me. The townies didn’t like my father because he’d married an Indian. They didn’t like me because as far as they were concerned I was one of “them.” The tribe, on the other hand, hated me because I was white in their eyes. One foot in either world, yet accepted by none.
Aatsista-Mahkan, my grandfather, particularly despised me and took every opportunity to remind me that I was proof that the touch of the English had ruined his daughter. Every time anyone from the reservation said English they made it sound like a curse word. To them English were filthy, uncivilized, and murdering bastards. And I embodied everything they hated.
I grimaced and nodded. I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but from the look on his face I’d failed. “Such fond memories.”
Leaning back in his chair, he fondled his glass thoughtfully. He was clearly working up to something, but he was trying to find a place to start. He nodded to himself as he decided on a course of action. “My father—your grandfather, Harold—and my mother, Ethel, came over from England, passing through Ellis Island before finding their way to Montana. They’d come to the United States for the promise of a
Finishing the edible part of the pizza, I placed the crust on his plate. Closing the box, I got up and put it in the fridge before my uncle could turn this into an all you can eat buffet. I washed my plate and hands in the sink.
Andrew finished his food before doing the same, then we headed for the living room. He went to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Dalmore 15, and set it on the table with two tumblers. He gestured for me to take a seat in one of the wing chairs.
I didn’t bother to hide the disbelief on my face and took my seat. Andrew uncorked the bottle and poured us a healthy measure. “You really enjoy your scotch.”
His shoulders made a small dismissive twitch. “The little pleasures are all a man has to call his own.”
He held up his glass in a silent toast to me, and I returned it before we knocked it back in one. He poured a second round and leaned back in his chair. He looked pensive for a moment and then relaxed as he apparently made a decision. “What do you know of our family history?”
What I knew of our history was laughable. “Not much. We’re from St. Mary, Montana, which was what…population fifty?”
Andrew stiffened, realizing just how little I knew. “So that’s it? You don’t know where we’re from or anything about your mother?”
Sipping on my scotch, I shook my head, confused by his remark. “Mom was a member of the Blackfoot tribe. From what I gathered back then, Grandpa Aatsista-Mahkan wasn’t pleased that she’d married outside the tribe…or maybe it was my father in particular that he didn’t care for.”
Andrew snorted, lost in memories. “You don’t have any idea how bad it was at first. There was a time I thought the tribal elders would murder your father and me in our sleep.” He took a drink of scotch as he pulled himself free of the memory. “Anything else?”
It was clear he was looking for something, but I didn’t have an answer so I shook my head. “I don’t know what you want to hear. It wasn’t as if either side of the family held a special class on our history or anything. As you know, I attended school on the reservation and after that....” Embarrassment and a tinge of guilt hit me. “After that I left home.”
Andrew looked at me wistfully. “I was there that night. You were so pale, I thought you’d pass out. You were shaking when they called your name before parading you across the stage like a show pony. Once you didn’t faint I was convinced you’d puke all over your grandfather and the other tribal elders.”
The truth was I’d lost my dinner a few minutes prior to the ceremony. I’d always felt like an outsider. I was a half-breed—half “English” and half Blackfoot—but neither side accepted me. The townies didn’t like my father because he’d married an Indian. They didn’t like me because as far as they were concerned I was one of “them.” The tribe, on the other hand, hated me because I was white in their eyes. One foot in either world, yet accepted by none.
Aatsista-Mahkan, my grandfather, particularly despised me and took every opportunity to remind me that I was proof that the touch of the English had ruined his daughter. Every time anyone from the reservation said English they made it sound like a curse word. To them English were filthy, uncivilized, and murdering bastards. And I embodied everything they hated.
I grimaced and nodded. I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but from the look on his face I’d failed. “Such fond memories.”
Leaning back in his chair, he fondled his glass thoughtfully. He was clearly working up to something, but he was trying to find a place to start. He nodded to himself as he decided on a course of action. “My father—your grandfather, Harold—and my mother, Ethel, came over from England, passing through Ellis Island before finding their way to Montana. They’d come to the United States for the promise of a
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