We share a laugh, and I hold my breath for the lecture I feel coming on.
“But,” Kimba continues, “we all know he said it was just this week.”
“And it was no strings,” Vivienne says. “No attachments.”
“I’m well aware,” I reply stiffly. “This is under control.”
“Oh, honey, if you actually believe you have this under control,” Kimba says wryly, “it’s is even worse than we thought.”
“Guys, my eyes are wide open.”
“So is your heart.” Vivienne grabs my elbow so we stop in the street. “He’s your first, Lenn. And he’s gorgeous and fantastic in bed and a freaking PhD.”
“And he looks at you like the sun rises and sets on your vagina,” Kimba mutters, stopped on the other side of me. “A man looks at you like that, fucks you like that, it’s hard not to get ideas, even when they tell you straight up ‘don’t get ideas.’ You hit the V-card lottery, boo.”
“I’m not a child. Just because I was a virgin—”
“Four days ago,” Vivienne interjects drolly.
“Doesn’t mean I’m some pitiful little girl who’ll be all clingy when Maxim and I go our separate ways.” I say it even though my heart mocks me that I might be exactly that when I lose him. God, lose him? I don’t have him. He’s not mine. We’re nothing. I feed myself the mantra that was supposed to protect my heart, to keep it safe and separate from the way Maxim makes my body feel. I can barely admit to myself, much less to my friends, that it’s not working.
“We’ll be the ones mopping up the tears,” Vivienne says, taking my hand. “And we won’t mind ’cause you’ve done it for both of us more than once.”
“A lot more than once.” Kimba takes my other hand. “So we know how bad it hurts, and we just don’t want to see you go through that.”
“Especially with this amazing opportunity on the horizon,” Vivienne says. “I mean, working for a Native American candidate running for the Senate? Could it be any more tailor-made for you? You need your head screwed on right to make the most of it.”
“I know.” I squeeze their hands, drawing strength and sensibility from the contact. “You’re right. Maybe I’m feeling . . . more than I should for Maxim. And he did tell me it was just this week and that he would walk away.”
But every look, every touch, every time I’m with him, I see stay in his eyes. We agreed it was only for this week, but when he kisses me, it feels like it could be forever. Like we could make a world for ourselves, even though our paths are taking us to different corners of the globe.
I don’t tell my friends that because they’re already worried something might happen to my heart. I can’t tell them something probably already has.
“You’ve been heard,” I say, turning a grateful grin on them both. “Duly noted. I get it. This week. No more. No heartbreak. Now didn’t we say we’d do some damage at Leidsestraat? I got guilders burning a hole in my pocket. Let’s shop!”
We’re obsessing over a pair of earrings when my phone rings.
“Auntie, hey!” I answer Mena.
“Lennix, I have some news.”
I step away from the counter where Vivienne and Kimba sort through the array of jewelry. My heartbeat picks up.
The job?
“Okay. What gives?” I ask, not even trying to keep the excitement from my voice.
“You got it!”
“Oh, my gosh.” I press my hand to my chest, but it’s no use trying to calm down. My heart is banging at my ribs like a drumline. “Seriously?”
“Seriously!” Mena laughs. “One catch.”
“A catch? What is it?”
“Well, he wants you to come right away.”
“Yeah, I fly back home Friday.”
“He’d like you here on Friday. Can you fly back tonight?”
“Wow. Why so quickly?”
“He’d, um, like to tell you himself,” Mena says, her voice pitched lower. “He’s here with me. Would you speak to him?”
“Now?” I squeak. “He’s there with you now?”
“It’s a special situation, Lenn,” she says, her voice sobering. “Or he wouldn’t ask. Talk to him.”
“Okay,” I say after a brief pause. “Put him on.”
“Lennix?” A smooth, deep voice comes over the line.
“Uh, yes, Mr. Nighthorse?”
“Please call me Jim.”
“Alright. Jim.”
“Thanks for talking with me. I understand you’re on spring break in Europe.”
“Of course.” I allow a beat before going on. “Mena has told me a lot about your campaign, and I’d be honored to work with you.”
“I’m the one who would be honored. I remember the Cade Energy pipeline protests and I’ve read about the sacred runs you organized throughout college on other projects. Your transcript and resume are outstanding. You’re an impressive young lady.”
A smile spreads over my face and I lean against a nearby glass showcase counter. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me.”
“Just the truth.”
“Mena said you need me to come there Friday? Like—”
“Tonight if you can,” he interrupts. “We have a situation down here I think you’re uniquely equipped to help us with. A young girl is missing.”
That was how the police described my mother at first.
Missing.
We’ve lived in the agonizing limbo between missing and murdered ever since.
“She went missing two days ago,” Jim continues. “Her family is Cherokee and they live not too far from one of those pipeline construction sites. Third girl to go missing this year from this community. I don’t have to tell you what this could be.”
No. Tales of young girls missing, held hostage, raped by horny men far from home for long stretches of time, certain if they could hurt any woman with impunity, it would be one of ours.
“Time and visibility are of the essence,” Jim says. “We need as many people to hear about this as fast as possible. The longer this goes, the less chance we find her.”
“Yes, for sure.”
“This is happening all the time to our women. Underreported. Undervalued. We want to make some noise and get her face everywhere. Any leads we can find. Anyone who can help. At the town meeting, I’ll talk about her, but I’ll also talk about how she’s one of too many.”
“What do you want me to do?” I ask, keeping my voice level even as panic rises on the young girl’s behalf.
“Speak. I want you to tell your story, Lennix. I want you to tell your mother’s story.”
My mother’s story has no end. Her life was interrupted mid-sentence—a dangling participle. An infinite etcetera of dots, but no period. I know what this girl’s family is feeling right now, and I can only pray they won’t have to live with the unending mystery of what has happened.
“I don’t want to seem like I’m exploiting this situation,” Jim goes on, “but I do believe gaining visibility for this case may help us find her, and also raise the issue of why this keeps happening. With the election coming up, I want people to know I care about this—that if they elect me, I’ll work hard for our women. I want them to know that I see them. I hear them.”