A Kachina Dance (9 page)

Until we are together again, keep
warm
in my love.

I hug the blanket
as the tears come gushing out.
I end up wrapping myself up in it like a
cocoon and rocking myself to sleep.

My old life leaves me in
a deep funk.
Work
i
s the only thing
that sustains
me;
I am preoccupied.
Jay and I s
peak every night and it helps.
We both feel
the loneliness and emptiness that
separation
brings.
I want to send him a laptop so we can see each other
as well as talk
but he refuses.
He says he has no money to pay for the internet fees. 
It’s then I find out he’s paying back a friend for money he bo
rrowed for our trip to Santa Fe
.
The gallery hasn’t
yet
sent
him his commission for the
sold paintings. He also says sheepishly he doesn’t really kno
w how to use the new computers.
August fades
into September.

October brings
the promise of coo
ler weather to the city.
It is
a F
riday and I have
3
days off because of a
holiday
weekend
.
Normally
I
would have been making plans.
T
onight I de
cide
to take a shower and try t
o re
ach Jay again.
I had phoned him twice earl
ier
and could
n’t get through
. 

I guess I didn’t tell you, I live in a renovated brow
nstone a few blocks from work.
My parents happen to own the building so not only do I pay cheap rent, I also have the garden apartment
with the backyard.
The only drawback is that the apartment is at street level
and street noise is a facto
r.
To those not acquainted with New York brownstones, they were once built for the w
ealthy that employed
servants.
Hence, my apartment
h
as the servant’s entrance,
the door under the stone stairs.

The buzzer ri
ng
s, “Who is it?” I ask
,
dreading company
.

“Special Delivery for little moaner from Arizona
.”

“OMG,
Jay
?
Is it you? OMG, c
ome in
. I don’t believe this
.”
Looki
ng like my mother with wet hair
in a terry robe and
bunny
slippers
I open
the door
with shaking hands
. 

There he stan
d
s.

His brown eyes are melting me
w
ith his
backpack and duffle bag
in hand.

“I can’t take this
anymore
.
I had to come.”

“Oh baby, why didn’t you tell me, I could have met you at the
airport?
”

“I took the bus.”

“The bus?”

“Stop talking
,
”
he says
over the traffic noise.

He drops his bag and
begi
n
s
kiss
ing
me. I
n the process I manage
to kick the apartment door
closed with my foot.
It closes with a bang which startles
Jay
who thinks
it
’s
a gun shot. 
He jumps,
I continue
my questioning.

“Jay, why did you take a bus?”

“It’s cheap.”

“But it must have taken days
.”

“Oh, it was long.
Kate
, tonight I need three things:
a shower, you, and a bed.”

“You
got it, bab
y.
Just let me lock thi
s door; this is New York
.
The bus terminal is on 34
th
Street
,
isn’t it?
Oh sweetheart
,
you walked all that way
,
I bet.
I think maybe a shower and bed would be more realistic.
”

After a shower,
Jay flops o
n
my bed and
spots his blanket.
“I
’m glad to see my old friend.”
He pats the wooly covering.

I smile.
“Your blanket
and I have become very close.
I’ve washe
d it with my tears many nights.
It’s never left my bed.”

“I want
ed you to have something of me.
This old thing was all I had.”

I lie down next t
o him and kiss his tender face.
“No one has ever given me a mor
e precious gift from the heart.
I do have your paintings but I can’t wrap myself in them.”

“Paintings?”
  He
notices
the painting across the room.
“That’s my painting but that’s not the one I gave you.”

“No, that one is hanging in the living
room. This one was the only painting
that hadn’t sold when
the exhibit closed in Santa Fe.
I called the gallery on the last day and asked if any paintings of yours were left. They said only this one so I bought it
with instructions that you were not to know who it was sold to.”

“But you know I would have given it to you.”

“Exactly.”

He gives me that slight smile and
I find out he i
sn’t too tired for me after all.

***

Over breakfast the
next morning Jay says
he
’s
pack
ed
everything he owns and put it
in storage,
taken all the money he had from the sale of the paintings
,
and plans
to
stay
in New York
as long as the
money
h
o
ld
s
out
.
I figure he has
fifteen
to twenty
thousand dollars on him which i
s probably th
e most money he
’s
ever had.
I do
n’t want him to spen
d
it, especially on me.
He
never let
s
me pay fo
r anything no matter how I try to reason with him. 

I have
to think fast.
In Santa Fe I had tried to slip a twenty dollar bill in his pocket every once in a while but afte
r the third time he caught on.
I fi
nd the
ideal
sol
ution
on our walk in Central Park that afternoon.

“Jay, I don’t feel good about your using the money you earned fro
m your paintings for this trip.
Some of that money should be saved and some should be used t
o buy new art supplies
.
New Y
ork is a very expensive place.
A cup of coffee can run you $6
.00.
Selfishly I want you to be with me as lon
g as you can so I have an idea.
How do you feel about working?”

“Sure, I guess I could go back to the galleries in SOHO and try there.”

“No, I me
an with me at A
MA.
Not literally
with me
because I’ll be upstairs
but
working
downstairs with the art handlers
.
They’re
a
different department
.
”

“Um, I guess if you won’t feel strange having me there.
But
I don’t think I have enough experience to be
working in a big museum like
A
MA, Kate.”

“What do you mean by strange?”

“You know what I
mean.
Everyone there is sophistic
ated an
d urbane and here I am a Hopi
from a tiny reservation in the southwest that most people have never heard about
.
I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“We’re ba
ck to the ethnic thing again,
hu
nh
?”

“You can’t ignore it.”

“Jay, there is a picture of you and me taken in Santa Fe that has been
sitting on my desk
in the office
ever
since I got back from Arizona.
All my friends in the museum know a
bout our romance.
If you are here when we have a museum reception, I would want you
to accompany me to the event.
I will never feel uncomfortable if some urbane p
erson hasn’t heard of the Hopis
or if they are upset at
seeing
us as a couple.
Their ignorance is their problem.
”

He looks in my eyes and g
ives me one of his half smiles.
“K
ate, that’s why I love you
,
but
what about my
lack of
experience
?
”

“
You have en
ough experience to work there.
W
e’ll write a resume tomorrow.
Besides
,
the guys in that department owe me big time for covering their a
sses
more than once
.
With the new
exhibits
coming in,
they’ll need extra help this month.”

***

Tuesday morning
Jay
star
es at me and says
, “Kate, I almost wouldn’t recognize you
.
”

“This is my professional look, hair up,
make-up, business suit,
heels
.
You’re use
d to seeing me in jeans and a tee shirt, no make-up and long hair…
that’s weekend Kate.”
I laugh
.

“But that’s the Kate I love.”

“Oh, you
’ll get use to this bossy one.
Now, come on or I’ll be late.”

Once in the museum
,
I show
him around my office and the de
partment.
Not many people are in yet so I ta
k
e
him downstairs to
the
preparators
.
Miguel
i
s at his desk with eyes closed sipping a cup of coffee.

“Hey
.
”

“Hey.” H
e opens
his eyes.

“Miguel
, this is my man
who came all the w
ay from Arizona to be with me.
So you
gotta
’
take care of him
.
I’m
callin
’ in a few favors.
You know you owe
me
.
My man needs work and you’re the man to make it happen.  Here’s his resume
so
it official.
Did you have a nice weekend?”

“You
know I always have a nice weekend.” He
says
with a wink
.

“Good
,
because if you want more nice weekends get my man a job, dig?”

“
Yo
’ man look like a b
rother, I’ll take care of him.”
Turning to Jay he says,
“
Yo
’
Kate is a mean mother.”
Jay looks
concerned
and turns
to look
at me as I hurry
out
suppressing
a giggle
.
I
see
no more of
Jay
until 5:00
.