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Authors: Sherman Alexie
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he?”
“Gone.”
My face hurt.
“Am I missing any teeth?”
“No,” said Sissy. “But your nose is broken.”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me.”
I looked up at her. I decided she was still pretty and pretty was good enough. I grabbed her breast.
“Shit,” she said and shoved me away.
I sprawled on the floor while she scrambled to her feet.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “What is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean? What?”
“Did you think, did you somehow get it into your crazy head that I was going to fuck you back here? On the goddamn floor in the goddamn dirt?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Jesus Christ, you really thought I was going to fuck you, didn’t you?”
“Well, I mean, I just…”
“You just thought because I’m an ugly woman that I’d be easy.”
“You’re not ugly,” I said.
“Do you think I’m impressed by this fighting bullshit? Do you think it makes you some kind of warrior or something?”
She could read minds.
“You did, didn’t you? All of you Indian guys think you’re Crazy Horse.”
I struggled to my feet and walked over to the sink. I looked in the mirror and saw a bloody mess. I also noticed that one of my braids was missing.
“Junior cut it off,” said Sissy. “And took it with him. You’re lucky he liked you. Otherwise, he would have taken a toe. He’s done that before.”
I couldn’t imagine what that would have meant to my life.
“Look at you,” she said. “Do you think that’s attractive? Is that who you want to be?”
I carefully washed my face. My nose was most certainly broken.
“I just want to know, man. What are you doing here? Why’d you come here?”
My left eye was swelling shut. I wouldn’t be able to see out of it in the morning.
“I wanted to be with my people,” I said.
“Your people?” asked Sissy. “Your people? We’re not your people.”
“We’re Indians.”
“Yeah, we’re Indians. You, me, Junior. But we live in this world and you live in your world.”
“I don’t like my world.”
“You pathetic bastard,” she said, her eyes swelling with tears that had nothing to do with laughter. “You sorry, sorry piece of shit. Do you know how much I want to live in your world? Do you know how much Junior wants to live in your world?”
Of course I knew. For most of my life, I’d dreamed about the world where I currently resided.
“Junior and me,” she said. “We have to worry about having enough to eat. What do you have to worry about? That you’re lonely? That you have a mortgage? That your wife doesn’t love you? Fuck you, fuck you. I have to worry about having enough to eat.”
She stormed out of the room, leaving me alone.
I stood there in the dark for a long time. When I walked out, the bar was nearly empty. Another bartender was cleaning glasses. He didn’t look at me. Sissy was gone. The front door was wide open. I stepped into the street and saw her sitting at the bus stop.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Whatever.”
“Can I give you a ride somewhere?”
“Do you really want to do that?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“Finally, you’re being honest.”
I stared at her. I wanted to say the exact right thing.
“Go home,” she said. “Just go home.”
I walked away, stopped halfway down the block.
“Do you have any kids?” I shouted back at her.
“Three,” she said.
Without changing my clothes, I crawled back into bed with Susan. Her skin was warm to the touch. The house ticked, ticked, ticked. In the morning, my pillow would be soaked with my blood.
“Where did you go?” Susan asked me.
“I was gone,” I said. “But now I’m back.”
SOUTH BY SOUTHWEST
S EYMOUR DIDN’T WANT MONEY —he wanted love—so he stole a pistol from the hot-plate old man living in the next apartment, then drove over to the International House of Pancakes, the one on Third, and ordered everybody to lie down on the floor.
The lunch-hour crowd did exactly as they
“Gone.”
My face hurt.
“Am I missing any teeth?”
“No,” said Sissy. “But your nose is broken.”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me.”
I looked up at her. I decided she was still pretty and pretty was good enough. I grabbed her breast.
“Shit,” she said and shoved me away.
I sprawled on the floor while she scrambled to her feet.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “What is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean? What?”
“Did you think, did you somehow get it into your crazy head that I was going to fuck you back here? On the goddamn floor in the goddamn dirt?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Jesus Christ, you really thought I was going to fuck you, didn’t you?”
“Well, I mean, I just…”
“You just thought because I’m an ugly woman that I’d be easy.”
“You’re not ugly,” I said.
“Do you think I’m impressed by this fighting bullshit? Do you think it makes you some kind of warrior or something?”
She could read minds.
“You did, didn’t you? All of you Indian guys think you’re Crazy Horse.”
I struggled to my feet and walked over to the sink. I looked in the mirror and saw a bloody mess. I also noticed that one of my braids was missing.
“Junior cut it off,” said Sissy. “And took it with him. You’re lucky he liked you. Otherwise, he would have taken a toe. He’s done that before.”
I couldn’t imagine what that would have meant to my life.
“Look at you,” she said. “Do you think that’s attractive? Is that who you want to be?”
I carefully washed my face. My nose was most certainly broken.
“I just want to know, man. What are you doing here? Why’d you come here?”
My left eye was swelling shut. I wouldn’t be able to see out of it in the morning.
“I wanted to be with my people,” I said.
“Your people?” asked Sissy. “Your people? We’re not your people.”
“We’re Indians.”
“Yeah, we’re Indians. You, me, Junior. But we live in this world and you live in your world.”
“I don’t like my world.”
“You pathetic bastard,” she said, her eyes swelling with tears that had nothing to do with laughter. “You sorry, sorry piece of shit. Do you know how much I want to live in your world? Do you know how much Junior wants to live in your world?”
Of course I knew. For most of my life, I’d dreamed about the world where I currently resided.
“Junior and me,” she said. “We have to worry about having enough to eat. What do you have to worry about? That you’re lonely? That you have a mortgage? That your wife doesn’t love you? Fuck you, fuck you. I have to worry about having enough to eat.”
She stormed out of the room, leaving me alone.
I stood there in the dark for a long time. When I walked out, the bar was nearly empty. Another bartender was cleaning glasses. He didn’t look at me. Sissy was gone. The front door was wide open. I stepped into the street and saw her sitting at the bus stop.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Whatever.”
“Can I give you a ride somewhere?”
“Do you really want to do that?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“Finally, you’re being honest.”
I stared at her. I wanted to say the exact right thing.
“Go home,” she said. “Just go home.”
I walked away, stopped halfway down the block.
“Do you have any kids?” I shouted back at her.
“Three,” she said.
Without changing my clothes, I crawled back into bed with Susan. Her skin was warm to the touch. The house ticked, ticked, ticked. In the morning, my pillow would be soaked with my blood.
“Where did you go?” Susan asked me.
“I was gone,” I said. “But now I’m back.”
SOUTH BY SOUTHWEST
S EYMOUR DIDN’T WANT MONEY —he wanted love—so he stole a pistol from the hot-plate old man living in the next apartment, then drove over to the International House of Pancakes, the one on Third, and ordered everybody to lie down on the floor.
The lunch-hour crowd did exactly as they
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