The screen door banged open with a loud whack, "What are you doin out there?" Shadow called out irritably. Hawk who had given up looking over the fences and was now sitting on the ground poking a stick into an ant hill, jumped up nervously, "nothing," he said. "Well get in here and find something to do," his father said irritably. The screen door slammed shut with an equally loud whack and Hawk heard his father calling Mera! Mera, where the hell are you? Hawk cringed at the sound of the white name his mother had chosen. It just didn’t sound right. She was Slow Woman, his mother, always had been and always would be. Father had said they all had to pick new names to go with their new home, in this new place. Hawk didn’t see why their old names weren’t good enough, but father insisted that they could not hide themselves amidst the white’s if they didn’t have names that sounded white also. "It was in my vision," he explained to Hawk. "The only way to survive and be sure that you and your sister will have a future is to become as the whites. We must combine ourselves and our words with the white world in order to hide in plain site," he had said. Hawk frowned. "I don’t like this place," he said pouting. "You will do as I say," his father spat out at him. "Would you rather go back to live in the dirt? Go back to searching through the white people’s garbage for scraps of food? Go back to where you cannot hold your head up and look people in the face?" Hawk trembled. "No," Shadow said with anger, "we will stay in this place. I will work every day. You will have food, and learn to speak and write the white language and you will survive! The old ways are no more. We lived in a dream that ended. All that we knew has gone away, the white’s have won, and now we must live in spite of them, and I will drink the white man’s fire water and forget the blood and broken bodies of the white man’s war," Shadow said with contempt. Hawk stood motionless not sure of what to say. He waited in that spot until Shadow had gone to get more beer. When he did, Hawk hurried from the room.
Hearing his father calling his mother’s new name reminded Hawk that he must choose a name soon. Father had left it up to each of them to pick a name, but he had made it very clear that he would not wait long. Hawk tried combining different words to see if one sounded right to his ears, but each time he came up with one his father had told him it didn’t sound white enough.
Hawk stepped into the kitchen and saw his mother cooking breakfast. Sweet Water was setting the table for breakfast and Hawk had to think a minute to remember what to call her. She had chosen the name of Virginia several weeks ago and Hawk had not yet gotten used to her name either. She smiled up at Hawk when he entered the dining room, then handed him the plates to set around the table. Shadow entered the room and sat at the head of the table with a scowl on his face. Hawk and Virginia finished setting the table and quickly went to the kitchen.
Mother was humming as she flipped pancakes over on the griddle. She had a magical way of dancing from one thing to the other when she cooked. A huge plate of bacon sat to the side waiting for more pieces to be placed on it as they turned a golden brown. Eggs were frying in a pan next to the sizzling, popping bacon, and mother flipped the pancakes with practiced precision. She looked up as the children came in, then smiled sweetly, exclaiming, "this griddle is amazing! I wonder what grandma White feather would have thought of such a thing?" Virginia laughed and Hawk sidled up to the plate of bacon. "You stay out of those until breakfast is done," his mother teased. Hawk loved being in the kitchen when his mother cooked. Temporarily his mind could believe he was back in the little shack in Montana.
"Mother?" Hawk asked. "Yes," she said as she pulled more bacon out of the pan. "Will we ever go back to our Montana home?" His mother sighed deeply, lifted another piece of the crispy bacon out of the pan and laid it on the plate. "I don’t think so little warrior." Hawk lowered his eyes and was about to protest when his father’s booming voice came from the other room. "Where’s breakfast Mera? I’m hungry!" Mother quickly handed the plate of bacon to Virginia, flipped the last pancake onto the tall stack and handed that platter to Hawk. "Quickly now, take the food into the other room. We don’t want to upset your father." Hawk and Virginia marched into the dining room carrying their platters and mother followed behind with her platter of eggs.
About the only thing Hawk liked about their new home was the food. Although it didn’t match the yummy food from back home, there was always plenty of it. Mother seemed to spend all her time in the kitchen. She loved the instant hot water and seemed to alternate her time between cooking and cleaning. Sometimes Hawk would sit outside under the kitchen window just to hear his mother humming while she cooked or cleaned. There was something serene about hearing the rattle of gadgets, tinny clink of pots and pans, and the crystal ting of squeaky clean glassware mixed with mothers’ soft voice.
"Hey, little warrior! Come see what I have brought! Hawk had just come in from the back yard when he saw his uncle sitting in the room for living. He instinctively hunched his shoulders and tried to quickly duck back into the kitchen. He had learned to make himself scarce when his uncle brought his friends to the house. His uncle, father, and all his uncles’ friends almost always combined their words with alcohol and this always resulted in a night filled with loud angry words and rowdy behavior that scared Hawk, his mother, and sister. Uncle Steve had actually been Uncle Sparrow before he was assigned his new name by the government man. As hard as he tried Hawk just could not think of his uncle as "Steve." It was so foreign to him, that he decided it was just simpler to call him uncle. Uncle had brought his family to this place on the Grey dog bus just a few weeks after father had brought his family to this place. It hadn’t taken father long to get a job working at the railroad yard, he said it was because they liked to hire men back from the war. "It’s our way of showing our appreciation for what you boys did for our country," the big boss had told father. Uncle went down to the railroad yard too, and father got him a job there as well. After that uncle made a habit of showing up at their house every Sunday morning. Hawk had spent many hours secretly listening to father and uncle talk about the horrible things they saw and were forced to do while they were away in the war. The conversations were always sad and often he heard the deep sobs that wracked their bodies as they talked quietly between themselves. The conversations always ended with the sound of the beer cans being opened, silence for a time as the two men drank deeply to numb their minds and hearts, then the anger would begin. He listened as they spoke of what they should have done, what used to be, and how spirit had left this world. On these occasions Hawk thought that there was nothing left in his father or his uncle except the deep bitter anger and anguish that had replaced the true men they had once been.
"Hey! Where you goin" uncle shouted out loudly. Hawk tensed up then shrunk his shoulders down in defeat. With resignation he slowly turned to step into the room for living. He heard the pop, fizz, as his father opened a beer can and handed the metal bottle opener to uncle. He heard the same sound again as his uncle put the pointed end of the metal can opener to the top of his can of beer and pushed down through the aluminum. Father burped loudly, and uncle noisily gulped from his can. Hawk took a seat on the floor as far away as possible to avoid having the top of his head rubbed roughly by his uncle’s knuckles. "Take a look at what I got today!" Uncle said as he held out an old guitar. He strummed on the strings a few times making whining noises, and Shadow gave a hearty laugh. "Let me see that thing," Shadow declared in the middle of another burp. Uncle Steve handed over the guitar and reached for his beer. He guzzled huge gulps from the can and opened his eyes with amazement as Shadow actually strummed a recognizable tune on the guitar. "Hey, where’d you learn to play one of those things?" he laughed. "Had a lot of time on my hands in the white man’s war," Shadow said as he continued to strum on the strings. "Teach me how to play that thing," Uncle Steve demanded. Shadow ignored him and kept his fingers running along the strings. Hawk watched his father holding the guitar. He actually looks, peaceful! Hawk thought to himself. He watched in amazement as his father closed his eyes as if he was fading off to another place. His fingers danced across the front of the guitar as if performing a magical dance of their own, his shoulders relaxed and some of the hard lines of his face faded away. Hawk was mesmerized by the transformation in his father’s appearance, and for a moment he felt as if he was sitting back in the tiny Montana shack. Uncle Steve burped loudly crushed his beer can and said, "Get me another one little warrior." Hawk did not want to move. He felt if he moved it would break the spell of peace in his father’s soul. Tekumsila had always told him that music and singing was a prayer. At this moment he believed that more than anything. Uncle Steve kicked Hawk in his side, "Hey, I said get me another one." Hawk yelped at the pain in his side and quickly got to his feet. He had learned that the next kick would be much harder. Hawk opened the refrigerator door and was about to reach for a beer when he heard a loud crash in the room for living. Hawk jumped, grabbed the can of beer and rushed back into the room for living. Uncle was laying on the floor, the table for coffee was turned upside down and Hawk saw his father bending over uncle. Father had one knee in uncles’ back and a choke hold around uncles’ neck. Fathers’ face looked like a demon and uncle was trying to breathe. Hawk was terrified and mother entered the room screaming at father. Mother ran to father and tried with all her strength to pull father off of uncle. Hawk saw his uncle’s face begin to turn purple and he was afraid father was going to kill him. Mother jumped on fathers’ back and he flung her to the floor. Hawk became so terrified, he threw the can of beer at his father. The can hit father in the forehead and knocked him backwards. This broke the hold on uncles’ neck and he scampered away from father. Father sat up and glared at Hawk. At that moment Hawk realized what he had done. Father began screaming at him and rose to his feet. Uncle regained his breath and lunged at father. The two of them tumbled around on the floor and the table for coffee splintered into pieces. Mother grabbed Hawk by the arm and ran out the door.
Mother sat on the sidewalk and sobbed. Hawk stood next to her, trying his best to comfort her. Mother reached up and took Hawk in her arms. She drew him down next to her and held onto him. "Why does father act the way he does?" Hawk asked with a strained voice. Mother shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder. "Mother, why does father act like this! This is not my father. The white men took my father and sent back some stranger to us," Hawk said with rage and confusion. Mother lifted her tear stained face, wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. "Your father saw many things that no man should see. He came home from the war little one, but the war came home with him. It resides in his heart and in his mind. His body was not hurt, but his spirit has been mortally wounded." Hawk stared at her confused. "But what does that have to do with the way he acts?" Mother wiped her face once more, took a stuttering breath, and said, "His spirit wars with his mind at the things he was made to do. He has such bad dreams that even the web the spider weaves to catch the bad dreams cannot keep them out. He wakes at night, sweat dripping from his skin, his breath coming as if he has run a great distance, and his eyes are as wild as the terrified deer just before it is slain. All these things put your father’s heart upon the ground. Because the war is locked away inside of him, he cannot escape it, so he puts the alcohol into his body to numb his mind and spirit. He says that is the only time he can get relief from the torture that ripples through his spirit. His anger comes from the frustration of no escape, the pain of his mind flashing what he has seen across his vision, and the struggle in his spirit from doing things to others’ that he knows were shameful. It over fills his soul and he does not have room to contain it within him, so it spills out like a poisoned river to touch everyone around him." Hawk looked sadly at his mother. If what she was saying was true, then he could have no hope of finding his true father again. All that was left to him was this stranger who sat in this house that only looked like his father. Hawk sat with a heavy thump as the realization solidified into a new truth. This was to be his life. This was to be where they would live. There was no hope of going home. There was no hope of going back to the days of innocence and trust.
Mother held onto Hawk’s hand as they crept into the room for living. Trembling, they cautiously moved through the debris on the floor and surveyed the room. It was empty except for the broken furniture. Hawk and mother looked at each other, then back around the room. "Where do you think they are?" Mother whispered to Hawk. "I don’t know," Hawk whispered back. The two of them made their way through the eating room and into the kitchen. Virginia stood with her back to them. She was standing on tip toe to peer out the window over the kitchen sink. Mother and Hawk moved up quietly behind her. "What are you looking at," Mother whispered in Virginia’s ear. Virginia jumped and let out a startled gasp. "You scared me!" She declared, holding one hand to her heart. "Where are they," mother said with worry. "They’re out there, in the back yard. They are laughing and drinking their beer," Virginia whispered. Mother and Hawk stared at Virginia in disbelief. "It’s true!" Virginia declared. Hawk put both hands on the thin edge of the counter in front of the sink, pushed down and lifted himself up onto the ledge. He could see his father and uncle sitting in the grass. They each had a can of beer in their hand, and one arm thrown around each other’s shoulders. They were looking at each other laughing, and Hawk could see a huge cut over his father’s left eye, a bruise under his uncle’s right eye, and multiple scrapes and bruises on their arms and faces. He looked back at mother, and she stared at both of her children in amazement. "Get your things, both of you", she said suddenly. "Where are we going?" Virginia asked in confusion. "I will take you to the moving picture place and let these two have this house to themselves", she said with defiance! Hawk and Virginia looked at each other, smiled broadly and ran to get their coats.
