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I was the first one to drive a convertible on my reservation. And of course it was red, a red Olds. I owned that car along with my brother Stephan.
We went places in that car, me and Stephan. A little bit of insurance money came through from the fire and we took off driving all one whole summer.
We got home just in time, it turned out, for the Army to remember Stephan had signed up to join it. I don't wonder that the Amy was so glad to get Stephan that they turned him into a Marine. He was built like a brick outhouse anyway.
When he came home, though, Stephan was very different, and I'll say this, the change was no good. You could hardly expect him to change for the better; I know this. But he was quiet, so quiet, and never comfortable sitting still anywhere but always up and moving around.
It's not that he smiled again or even joked or anything while we were driving, but his face looked to me as if it was clear, more peaceful. It looked as though he wasn't thinking of anything in particular except the blank fields and windbreaks and houses we were passing.
He says this in a normal voice, like he just noticed and he doesn't know what to think of it. Then he's gone.
"Got to cool me off!" he shouts all of the sudden. Then he runs over to the river and jumps in.
My boots are filling...
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