Some people did stay healthy. Who knows why?
They’re probably part of some government study:
“How Not to Die from Radiation Poisoning.”
Now the rest of the country wants Nevada to take
its nuclear waste? Nevada is not a wasteland. We
don’t even use nuclear power. And Yucca Mountain
sits right on top of an earthquake fault line.
So much for the government’s “sound science”!
I hadn’t really thought
about all that before.
I wish people could know my Nevada, see
the beauty here. Mountains, reaching up into
that cloudless blue sky. Rivers. Lakes. Forests.
I wish they would consider our children, whose
schools and parks sit beside the roads and tracks
that will carry that irradiated crap.
I wish they would think of someone
besides themselves. You don’t have a genie
on you somewhere, do you? I’ll climb down
off my soapbox now. I’ve got beans to plant.
Aunt J was right. Some of her
truths were not very pretty.
I Didn’t Even Know
She’d had cancer.
Didn’t know about her miscarriages,
or that she’d lost her husband
and mother to the creep of malignancies.
Learning all that made me
feel selfish for ever having pity
for myself. Compared to Aunt J’s,
my life was a piece of cake.
I watched her in the garden,
tough as a backcountry winter,
despite pain no person should
have to bear, and I wondered
if she ever broke down
and screamed, ever thought about
hurting someone like she’d
been hurt (Dad, for instance).
Other questions smoldered
inside, burning their way
out of my brain, aiming
for my big mouth.
I figured I’d wait a day or two
to ask them, though. Aunt J
had opened herself wide.
I didn’t want her to bleed out.
One Question Wouldn’t Go Away
So as we worked together
on dinner, I posed it.
“Why did Dad want to go to
Vietnam? I mean, why fight
for a country that treated his own
family in such a terrible way?”
Aunt J kept chopping broccoli.
We didn’t know then. For years
we had no idea that those beautiful
mushroom clouds were angels
of death. It took decades for someone
to make the connection and start
asking tough questions.
“But why did it take so long?
I mean, dead cattle and poisoned
milk had to be a pretty big clue.
And what about incinerating
Hiroshima and Nagasaki? Couldn’t
people put two and two together?”
America was innocent…and ignorant.
We believed this land was the chosen
land, and it was our duty to defend
it. The Japanese were the aggressors,
so they deserved their fate. But again,
we didn’t know about the peripheral
deaths through radiation poisoning.
“Well then, what about government
agents, running around with
radiation badges? Didn’t that raise
any alarms at all?” I could picture
the dark sedans, with G-men
in buzz cuts and perfect gray suits.
It was a different era, Pattyn. We
believed the people we voted into
power truly represented our interests.
Some still believe that, despite all
evidence to the contrary. But for
many, Vietnam opened the door
to questioning the status quo.
Newsreel segments came to
mind—American students
protesting the draft. Policemen
arresting them. Soldiers cutting
them down. “If Dad would have
known, would he have gone?”
I can’t speak for Stephen, Pattyn.
But my heart tells me yes. I don’t
think his joining the service had
anything to do with ideals or moral
obligation or even knowing that if he didn’t
join, he’d very likely get drafted.
Soldiering was in his blood….
Her unfinished thought
drifted across the kitchen,
a heavy stink, tainting
the sweet summer air:
Killing was in his blood.
Sleep Came Hard
That night. And
it wasn’t just the moon,
shining full and bronze through
my bedroom window. Ever since I’d
been with Aunt J, I’d learned things—some,
like driving, were incredible things that I’d thought
I might never learn. Others were things I maybe didn’t
want to know—that made me question every little corner
of my world, even the nooks I’d always felt safe tucked into.
Things like the truth about the law, so easily warped to fit the
circumstances; like government, not necessarily representative
of those who had created it—the people it was meant to serve;
like patriotism; the necessity of war, the wisdom of weapons
of mass destruction. Even things like school, preparing and
sacrificing for the future, with zero guarantee of a future
and no clue what kind it would be, should we happen
to find ourselves there. I stared wearily out at the
moon, shimmering, clean, in the pacific night
sky, and wondered if man had, indeed, set
foot on its mottled surface. And,
if we had, exactly what we
had left behind.
The Next Morning Before Dawn
I woke to crunching gravel as Ethan’s
pickup pulled into the driveway,
horse trailer in tow.
Ethan. I smiled myself awake.
You gonna sleep all day? called Aunt J,
the screen door slamming
behind her.
I wrestled myself out of bed,
slipped into the Levi’s she had loaned
me. They fit just like a pair
of jeans should.
Snug but not too tight.
Brushed my teeth. French braided
my hair. Wished I had
some makeup.
And knew how to use it.
But I didn’t. What Ethan saw,
Ethan would get. Wait,
that wasn’t right.
Or maybe it was exactly right.
We Saddled Up
Just past daybreak, the sun
glowing tangerine behind
a soft wash of morning.
Ethan’s big black, Diego,
pawed impatiently as his human
tightened my cinch.
“No sideways riding, now,”
Ethan said, smiling. “That’s just
plain showing off.”
Old Poncho stood, still as a post,
as I tried to find a half-comfy
position for my bruised behind.
We started off at a gentle pace,
Aunt J on Paprika. The mare fit
her name—copper red, with a temper.
She’s edgy today, said Aunt J.
Been too long since she’s waded
into a herd of longhorns.
Edgy. Exactly. A jackrabbit
dashed across the trail and Paprika
danced into the air.
Better let her run. You up for speed?
Aunt J didn’t wait for an answer.
Neither did Paprika.
Ethan’s black was game. He
took off after the copper mare
like it was the Kentucky Derby.
Poncho responded with a buttjarring,
teeth-rattling trot.
Plop-plop-plop-plop.
Aunt J looked back, laughed,
and yelled, Let loose of the reins
and give him a kick.
I did. Reluctantly, Poncho
launched into an easy canter.
Karoomp-karoomp-karoomp.
Diego caught Paprika
and the two ran neck and neck.
It was thrilling to watch.
Bouncing, sliding, and somehow
hanging on, Poncho and I followed
their dust for a quarter mile or so.
Finally, they slowed. There they are,
shouted Aunt J. Just waiting for
someone to bring ’em to fodder.
A longhorn is an awesome sight,
2000 pounds of beef, with horns
that could make the devil tuck tail.
Ninety cows and a bull, plus
calves in various sizes, dotted
a meadow just beyond a cattle chute.
This drought has spent the low
meadow. We’ll move ’em up-country,
on government land, for the summer.
Howie! Maizie! Australian shepherds
were born to herd. The dogs leaped
into action and the cattle took notice.
Personally, I Took Notice of Ethan
I was never big on cowboy flicks, but watching
Ethan command that big horse was by far
the sexiest thing I had ever seen.
He didn’t need the reins, but
moved the black by
shifting weight.
Their rapport—
musical, syncopated—
was a thing of incredible
beauty. I knew I wouldn’t walk
right for days, but I didn’t care. Just
being there was worth every bump and lump.
Through a stretch of barbed wire fence,
we entered public land, where cattle
could graze for a small fee
and, according to Aunt J,
a ration of shit from
the “greenies.”
Not that I don’t
think our environment
needs protection. But the
Good Lord blessed this country
with all the necessities for running beef.
I’ve got to believe that’s what He had in mind.
We spent the better part of the day coaxing
the dogs, chasing strays, and otherwise
moving the herd up-mountain. It
probably seems dumb,
but I’d never had
so much fun.
The shadows
had stretched long toward
the east by the time we reached
the high meadow reservoir. Dogs, horses,
and longhorns took a good deep swallow, and just
about then I realized we’d be riding home in the dark.
But Aunt J Had Other Plans
With the cattle free to graze at will,
we unsaddled the horses, tied them on long
leads, and left them to the tall grass.
A perfume of green followed their munching.
I hadn’t even noticed the bedrolls
and saddlebags. Once I did it became clear
we were spending the night.
I’d never in my life camped out under open sky.
Ethan and I gathered firewood as Aunt J
cleared a spot in the sand near the water. The grass
is green, but we can’t take a chance on settin’
a wildfire. Sand is tough to burn.
A sudden urge hit and it came to me
I hadn’t gone pee all day. How could I go now,
with Ethan right there? I pulled
Aunt J off to one side. “I really gotta go…you know.”
She chuckled. Ethan Carter, you turn
your head toward the lake, now. Don’t move until
I say so. Then she pointed toward
a nearby deadfall. Your throne awaits you, Princess.
I didn’t feel much like royalty, squatting
behind that old dead tree, but I don’t think Ethan
peeked. I’m pretty sure Derek would
have tried. He and his crew were definitely that type.
Anyway, as dusk rolled out its deep blue
carpet and the stars lit up, one by one, we sat around
the campfire, eating sandwiches and apples.
In the fringe of woods, coyotes fired up a serenade.
Hardly aware I was doing it, I scooted
a little closer to Ethan. He put a good-natured arm
around my shoulder. You aren’t afraid
of those varmints, are you? They won’t bother us.
move, didn’t want to disturb the stunning connection.
My voice was barely a whisper. “It’s just
a little spooky, being out here, so close to them.”
I prayed he wouldn’t take his arm away,
wouldn’t leave me shaking in the descending darkness.
He didn’t. Instead he pulled me in to him.
Don’t worry, pretty lady. I’ll keep you safe.
It was a moment to read about in a romance
novel, to see on a movie screen. All that was missing
was for him to turn his face toward
mine, tilt my chin, and part his sultry lips…
But even without the kiss,
it was magical.
We Stoked the Campfire
For the night, unfolded
the bedrolls. They were thin,
but the night was warm. Before very
long, Aunt J was sawing logs. Ethan and I lay, feet to the fire,
staring up at black Nevada sky, where I swear a billion stars
had shown their lovely faces. I’d never seen
such beauty in my life. “Do you
suppose anything lives
out there?” I asked.
Well,
of course,
Ethan answered.
The universe is a very big place.
Besides, I’d be real surprised if the Good
Lord didn’t hedge His bets somehow. I think He
must be real disappointed in His humankind experiment.
I thought about that for a little bit, then asked,
“So you believe God really exists?
I used to think so, but lately
I’m not so sure I believe
in anything.”
Not God.
Not family.
Surely not
love.
Ethan Propped Himself
On one elbow, looked
straight down into my eyes.
Can’t
you see Him, sleeping
there in your Aunt Jeanette?
Can’t
you hear Him, sighing
through the junipers?
Can’t
you smell Him, raining
life down on the desert?
He hesitated, unsure,
found what he needed
in my eyes, then finished,
Can
you feel Him
when I do this?
Ethan reached down,
kissed me, long and deep
and sweet as a mountain spring.
And in that kiss was little
doubt of anything.
Especially love.
It Was the Kiss You Dream About
&nbs
p; The one that makes you understand
what all the hype is about.
Nothing I’d done with Derek
had produced the kind of electricity
now sizzling through my arteries.
In fact, all I’d done with Derek—
the best of it, and the worst of it—
became instantly inconsequential.
(In fact, who was Derek?)
I didn’t want Ethan to stop, and he
didn’t for a very long time.
When he finally pulled away,
he stroked my cheek, brushed
my hair from my eyes, and said,
I hope that was okay.
“No,” I whispered, hoarse
with want. “It wasn’t okay at all.
It was pretty much perfect.”
Good, he said, nesting down into
the tall grass. Because, far
as I’m concerned,
that’s only the beginning.
But He Didn’t Try to Escalate
Didn’t even kiss me again. Instead,
he pulled me into his arms. My
ear settled against his chest as