His lips purse. He looks back at his colleague and shakes his head, then to me, he instructs, “Wait here.”
Another police car has turned up. Two more patrol officers emerge. The four cops group together.
The man who helped me has slipped away. “Did anyone see what happened?” I ask, my voice trembling.The cop didn’t believe me.That much is obvious. What did he think caused the accident? How could I be held responsible?
The crowd is dispersing, no one wants to be questioned. No one comes forward to support my account. But then, it’s possible nobody saw anything. It happened so fast, after all.
I’m going to be late.I start taking my phone out of my purse to call my tutor, when the state trooper appears once again.
“I’m going to have to ask you to come to the station, Ms De Souza. There’s some things we need to sort out.”
“You’re arresting me?” I squeak.What? Why? How?
He shakes his head. “We just need to question you further.”
I feel faint, once again resting my weight on the roof.Do they know I’m illegal? But I’m not, I’ve got the DACA papers.“What about my car?”
“It will be towed.”
Another thing I’ll need to pay for.
I suppose I’m lucky he doesn’t cuff me, but I’m led over to the patrol car, and made to sit in the back. He takes my purse off me, and places his hand on my head as I bend to get inside. I gasp as the movement hurts my ribs. Then I’m sitting behind a grill-like barrier separating me from the cops. When the door shuts, I notice it’s got no handle on the inside.
The state troopers get in the front, the engine starts, and we drive off. They’re not talking to me; they’re discussing a ball game they watched last night. Laughing and joking while I’m hurting and scared to death.What’s going to happen to me?
It doesn’t get better. At the police station, they take my fingerprints, before escorting me to a cell. I’m left there. Alone. Worried out of my mind.
I didn’t do anything wrong. It was the other driver’s fault. He ran into me. Why have they brought me here? Why don’t they believe my story? What other explanation could there be?
Tears, which have been threatening to fall for a while, now start streaming. To have a chance of permanent residence, I have to keep my record clean.Have I been arrested? Will I be charged? Will it mean I’m deported? What’s going to happen to Drew?
The door opens. A dour looking woman waves me out. I’m taken to a room where a man is waiting. He’s a doctor, he says, but I don’t take much in. Simply let him examine me. “I doubt you’ve broken anything, but you hit the seatbelt with some force. There will be bruising and you’ll be sore for a while.”
He offers no sympathy, and neither does the female police officer. He makes some notes in a file, then I’m taken back to the cell again.
Why the waiting? Why can’t they get on with it, whatever it is?
Drew. What will happen to Drew? What if I’m not there when he gets back from football? I haven’t got my phone, I can’t even let him know.Last night’s dream was an omen.
I’m going to be deported.Sent to a country I have no knowledge of.Will my father be waiting?
Dread settles inside me as I sit alone, waiting for the unknown.
Chapter 8
Mouse
I couldn’t tell Drummer how long I’d be away. I didn’t know myself. Just as long as it takes for me to regain some perspective about my life. It’s a chance to recharge my batteries, to reconnect with that part of me which calls to the wild and untamed land of my ancestors on my mother’s side. Riding with the Satan’s Devils satisfies the Anglo in my blood, being here quiets the Navajo essence flowing through my veins. I always end up grounded.
Immersed in my heritage, twenty-first century beliefs and teachings fall away as I’m drawn back in, listening and nodding without thinking to question it when my mother and grandmother discuss the sighting ofyee naaldlooshii,a skin-walker—a witch who takes on the form of an animal and who causes injury or death to their victim. Conversations abound as to who it could possibly be. I attend a Blessing ceremony given for one of my cousins who’s pregnant. I ride, walk and simply let myself absorb the atmosphere. I have no desire to smoke a joint, or to touch a computer.
I don’t spend time missing my brothers. They’ll be there when I return, and if they needed me, I’d go back immediately. There’s only one person who I seem unable to get out of my mind, and I think about her daily. When I’m enjoying my solitude, for some reason, memories of her come into my mind, and I find myself straining to recall every detail of her features. One puzzle I’m trying to solve is a way that we could explorewhat I’m certain is a mutual attraction between us. I’m having more difficulty keeping my promise to stay away than I’d have thought.
I wonder whether Mariana ever thinks of me. Ever remembers the firsts I gave her, the two different rides.
Last night I dreamed of her. It may have been the discussion about the skin-walker playing on my mind, or simply being enveloped by superstition, but I dreamed someone was after her. A shadowy figure who I couldn’t bring into focus. All I could do was try to warn her, I’m not sure she heard. I woke with the sensation that she was in danger. I got up and stretched, and put it behind me. But I can’t shake it off.When I return to Tucson, I’ll check up on her.Yeah, I can do that.
I’ve spent the evening reliving old times with Billy. Thom, it seems, has got a good job for himself at the Navajo power station and is living in Page. Billy’s stayed to look after his parents’ horses and sheep. I meet his wife, a tiny woman who seems to rule the household, and their four children ranging in ages from ten to a babe in arms.
