A Kachina Dance by Beverley Andi Read Free Book Online Page A

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 . 
    “So what happened?”
    “Well, I guess I’m hired as a temp for this exhibition. I kinda ’ followed Miguel around tod ay to get a feel for the place. I filled out some forms and I start a fter my references are checked. Oh, I put you down as a reference.”  He grins. “Miguel said that I should be working here by the start of next week.”
    Everything i s going as planned.  J ay i s hired . Things seem to be perfect. We stroll home after work hand in hand, sometimes stopping to eat out or sometimes heading for the park . Miguel tells Jay where to pic k up cheap art supplies.  We ta k e the bus down to the village , that’s Greenwich Village, and carry tons of stuff back on a Saturday afternoon while people gawk at us .  
    Jay begins pain t ing outside and it mak e s my heart sing to watch him in the little back yard . He had shown me some of his earlier work before I left Arizona but none quite equaled the six paintings he took to Santa Fe. He i s maturing as an artist and he needs to keep paint ing. My dream i s to be the one working and him to be the one painti ng full time, that’s vital for his success.
    Yes, things seem to be perfect!

Chapter 7
    As I said things were perfect until the telephone call from mother. She h ad heard from my sister, Cara , that I had a boyfriend … a live-in boyfriend , no less. Why hadn’t she be e n told? Why hadn’t she and my father met him ? Who was I ashamed of , him or them? This was the payback for living in t he brownstone with cheap rent, my mother’s constant inquisitions.
    “So w hat’ s his name?”
    “Jay”
    “ So d oes he have a last name?”
    “ Lomatewama ”
    “What kind of a name is that?”
    “It’s Hopi.”
    “Kate , is he from a third world country?”
    “Well, in a way you could say that.  He ’s from the Hopi reservation in Arizona.”
    “Oh my God, Charles, your daughter is going to marry an Indian.”
    I could hear my father yell back, “So now they’re outsourcing husbands, too.”
    “No , Charles, not that kind of Indian, an American Indian, you know like cowboys and Indians .”
    “Mother, they are called Native Americans now.”
    “Kate, your brother became a surgeon and married a doctor, your sister is a designer and married an architect. You are a museum curator, who are you going to marry?”
    “Mother, who mentioned marriage?   Jay hasn’t asked me to marry him .  He’s an artist and I think in a few year s he will be a very good one. But he’s given up a lot to come here and be with me. You and F ather can meet him but don’t you dare start any insulting cowboys and Indians talk or I’ll wal k right out. We can come over for lunch on Sunday . Father can gril l some burgers, nothing fancy. Oh , invite Cara and Mark; I’d like them to meet Jay, too.”
    “What about your brother?”
    “No, let’s not overwhelm Jay with family. Mothe r, remember , informal , we’ll be in jeans. Jay is very casual. ”
    “So we’ll be casual.”
    I hang up dreading what will follow.
    After becoming empty nesters my parents sold their home in Connecticut and bought a condo overlooking the Hudson River. It was filled with antiques