CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
When the doctors at the VA hospital told Carole that John was doing better now and she could take him home, she didn’t feel reassured. He was much calmer now, even gentle, but she worried that the drugs were just deadening his pain and anger. She remembered the doctors told her he could still have serious mood swings. They said by going back for psychotherapy twice a week, they could monitor his condition.
When she brought him home, John seemed genuinely happy to see Reggie, giving him a long hug. With tears in his eyes, he apologized for his bad behavior. Reggie felt better and hopeful, but worried about seeing him moping around the house, sitting dazed in front of the TV for hours. When he asked his mom if his dad was always going to be that way, she told him that he will have a flat affect for some time until he shows progress in therapy. Flat affect, Reggie thought, he looked like those zombies on TV with no soul.
Wondering what the therapy was doing for him, Reggie asked.
“Dad keeps going from being quiet to being angry. Is it just the PTSD and medications?”
“Not completely,” she answered with some hesitation. His therapist, Dr. Rheinwald, told me he also had issues that went way back into his childhood. Stuff with his dad and all.”
“Whoa!”
“Yeah. Your dad used to tell me how his dad would beat him, then blame the Brujo.”
“What’s that?”
“A bad shaman I guess, who would somehow pass along a curse through the generations. His dad thought he was cursed to be a failure and your dad used to wonder if the curse was passed along to him.”
“Jesus, Mom. I didn’t think dad believed in any of that old Indian stuff.”
“Yeah, he always tried to make light of it, but I think when his dad committed suicide, it affected him more than he would admit. But hopefully, Dr. Rheinwald will help him work through those issues. We just have to keep trying to understand him and support him as best we can.”
“I’ll try.” Reggie said. Maybe I’ve got the curse of the Brujo, Reggie thought.
****
Later in the week, something Carole told John really upset him. John had known that Reggie was no longer going on his Saturday hikes with Joe, but was pleased that Reggie’s school hiking club was going well. That’s when he remembered about that ‘wildlife corridor’ meeting that Joe wanted him to attend.
“Is Reggie going to that meeting?” John asked Carole.
“Yes, John, I gave him permission to go.”
“What!” he yelled, “I told him to forget it.”
Carole saw his flat affect turn into prickly anger and said, “John, please. Reggie told me he couldn’t go, but I knew what it meant to him and you being in the hospital, I said he could. So you can blame me, I’m sorry.”
“How could you do that?” his tone turning bitter, “you knew I didn’t want him seeing that guy anymore…I trusted you.”
“I’m sorry, John, it’s not that I defied you, I stood up for our son…that meeting meant everything to him.”
“What’s a kid doing attending a government committee on a corridor for mountain lions?”
“John, this is where Reggie is finding himself, and he’s already achieved a lot. Don’t you want that for your son?”
John reflected for a couple of seconds, then said, “What has he achieved?”
“Let me show you,” she said as she got up and went into Reggie’s room and came back holding a newspaper.
“Look at this article. Reggie’s appearance at a previous meeting has already influenced legislators to ban certain rat poisons that also kill wildlife.”
Carole handed John the latest issue of Conservation News with a front page article including a photo of Reggie and Joe speaking at the conference. John looked at the photo for a long time, then started reading the article, but his focus kept moving back to the photo. Carole wondered if he was seeing a resemblance to himself and what he might say or do.
Pointing to Joe’s picture, he asked, “Do you like this Joe?” Hesitating, she answered, “Sure, he’s a nice guy.” “Do you more than like him?” he asked.
She saw that his face was getting red and tense, and said, “Please John, I’ve only met him a couple of times with Reggie. You’re not thinking I…”
John stared at the picture again and started shaking his head.
Carole stood up, worried that his new meds might be acting up and prepared for the worse.
“I don’t know if I can trust this guy. I want to meet him face to face.”
Carole sat back down and said, “No problem, John. Once you’re better, we’ll invite him over.”
Next day, after Reggie left for school, John gave Carole a ride to work at the Bean and then came home. He pulled out that article about Joe and Reggie, noting the name of the Agency. He put on his camouflage shirt and pants, his blaze orange hunting vest, loaded his 30.06 rifle into the trunk and drove to Joe’s office.
After he parked in the lot, he put his head down on the steering wheel. His head began to spin. He didn’t know where he was. In the Humvee when the IUD struck? Then a park ranger in uniform walked by and startled John. Then he seemed to gain his composure and decided to leave the rifle in the trunk. He could come back if he needed it.
He found Joe’s office number on the directory, headed upstairs and pushed open Joe’s office door.
Joe immediately jumped up from his desk. Although he never met him, Joe recognized the face of the man who looked like him— Reggie’s dad. Maintaining his relative cool from years of working with large carnivores, Joe said, “John?”
Taken aback by Joe’s recognition, John said, “How do you know who I am?”
“Your son told me a lot about you; that you were a seasoned hunter. He told me you taught him everything he knows about nature and that you might pay me a visit someday.”
John’s aggressive demeanor began softening with Joe’s welcome.
Joe reached out his hand and said, “Pleased to finally meet you. Have a seat.”
John slowly moved toward the chair, sat, and then noticed the wedding picture on his desk.
“Good looking woman,” John said. “How long have you been married?”
“That’s my Barbara, we’ve been married three plus years now.”
“Any kids?”
“No, but we’d love to have children someday, God willing.”
Joe continued with his winning offensive saying, “You know John, you should be real proud of Reggie, he’s so sharp and I’m convinced he could make a major contribution to wildlife conservation someday. Something that hunters care about too.”
“Right,” John replied but said, “but I’m here ‘cause I’d like to know why you need a high school kid for a government meeting. It’s during the school week, you know?”
“Yes, we’ll need to get the school’s permission as well as yours. But this is a great learning opportunity for Reggie.” Joe went on to explain how Reggie’s participation in the rat poison program really impressed an important State official and how Reggie’s strong beliefs about the need for a wildlife corridor, could really have an impact.
“That’s fair enough,” John said, then he opened up, “I always thought that Reggie’s love of nature was fine, but more like a hobby he could pursue outside of a career in business. Are you saying there is a potential career for him in this field?”
“Definitely,” Joe confirmed, “I make a good living on very satisfying work. You know what’s funny,” he continued, “my dad wasn’t too happy about my career choice either; he wanted me to have the secure life of an orthodontist like he was. As a kid we spent a lot of time fishing and enjoying nature and that’s the field I wanted to be in. The last thing I wanted to do was poke around inside mouths all day. So I worked my way through college, got my Master’s in Biology and never looked back.”
“Yeah, well,” John said, “you went your own way, something to say for that alright.”
“How about you, John?” “Did you have dreams as a kid?”
“Shit, yes. I wanted to go to college and study geology—I was fascinated by how the earth was formed. My dad wanted me to join him in his cabinet carpentry business, Youngblood and Son. I didn’t have enough guts to go my own way. I hated him for that and regretted it all my life.”
“That’s very unfortunate, John,” Joe offered. “Sometimes family survival needs take precedent and life throws you a bad deal.”
“Yeah. My dad’s business failed.” He paused, then said, “And he committed suicide.”
Joe shook his head and said, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well I got away and at least my dad had taught me carpentry. Built my own house up in Crestview. Thank God I met Carole and we had Reggie. Anyway that’s a long story, I better get going.”
John stood up, shook Joe’s hand and said, “You guys have a good conference then.”
“Thanks,” Joe said as John headed out the door.
When John got home, he took off his hunting gear, locked his rifle in the gun case, took a long shower and cried through most of it. He broke down several times during the day. When he picked Carole up and Reggie got home from school, both of them sensed that he seemed somehow different—less in a daze, but sadder.
At the dinner table, Carole asked John how his day went. He told them it went fine and that he had a good visit with Joe and that he did seem to be a good guy after all. Reggie and his mom caught each other’s surprised and pleased expressions, then quickly went back to eating. After a while Carole couldn’t hold back a follow up question about their meeting. John would only say that it was a short meeting and that he only wanted to know more about the wildlife corridor conference.
“And?” she asked.
“Both of us agreed it would be a good learning experience for Reggie,” he answered. “And there’s a meeting this Monday to prepare for the Conference. I’ll call the school to arrange for Reggie to be absent both days.”
Reggie looked at his mom, she smiled and snapped her fingers.
That was all. Cut and dry. And that was good. So they thought.
****
The next trail the Hiking Club decided on for Saturday was the Paramount Ranch Trail. The members chose it, in part, because that’s where the studio filmed many of the old TV westerns. That Saturday when they headed up the trail, they goofed around on the grounds of the old movie set. Reggie got inspired by the saloon building and pretended to come out, guns blazing at the bad guys. Stephanie got a good snapshot.
The trail itself was quite nice and had a lot of diversity; oak savannahs, rolling grassland and the tall Sugar Loaf Peak which had excellent views of the surrounding mountains and canyons. When they reached the peak, all the kids wanted to stand at the very edge of the rocky ledge and pose. Stephanie obliged and took individual photos of the daring hikers.
Surprisingly, Reggie didn’t watch Stephanie take the pictures—he found himself staring in the opposite direction. He was scouring the hills above the freeway like he was in a trance.
“Reggie, what are you looking at?” Stephanie asked. “Don’t you want your picture on the ledge?”
“Sure,” he said not turning around as he kept staring at the hills in deep thought.
“Reggie, come on,” she said. “Are you alright?”
“Coming,” he said as he walked to the photo op and sat down at the ledge.
“Reggie, why are you sitting? You look like some sorta guru or something.”
“This is a special place for me and I’m taking it all in. Go ahead shoot my picture, okay?”
Click. Then Stephanie put out her hand to him.
“Now that’s the last picture. Come on, the group is taking a snack break over by the mile marker.”
Reggie got up, but instead of following her he said, “Let me stay here for a little while longer, okay?” as he turned around and looked down below the ledge.
“You’re not going to jump are you?” She said as she looked back.
“Ha. Be there in a minute.”
When the club members finished their break, Stephanie ran over to Reggie who was still staring below the ledge.
“Hey, Reg,” she said as he jumped when she put her hand on his shoulder. “Here, I brought you a bag of dried cranberries.”
He turned around with a huge smile on his face, took the bag and gave her a hug.
“Thanks for thinking of me Steph. I love these.”
Soon the hikers were back on the trail. The dull roar of the freeway faded away. As usual Reggie tried to impress Stephanie with his knowledge of the fauna, including pointing out the difference between tree and ground squirrels. Stephanie took photos of everything he showed her. Climbing ahead, up a rocky hill strewn with gravel, Stephanie slipped. She let out a shriek, tumbled and fell hard before Reggie could catch her.
“Shit!” she yelled as Reggie jumped to help her.
“Here, hold on,” Reggie said as her pulled her up, “you okay?”
“Oww! She cried when her left foot came down. She jerked it back up. “I think I hurt my ankle.”
“You alright down there?” Mrs. Horton shouted from up top.
“Think Stephanie got hurt,” Reggie called back.
“I’m coming down,” Mrs. Horton said. “Wait there.”
“Let’s sit you down,” Reggie said as he put his arm around her waist and coaxed her to sit on some large boulders on the side of the trail.
“Thanks, Reg, I feel so stupid.”
“Hey. Shit happens. Right?”
When Mrs. Horton reached them, she asked Stephanie to remove her hiking shoe and sock so she could have a closer look at the ankle. She gently probed the area around the ankle bone.
“There!” Stephanie yelped and jerked as Mrs. Horton touched the sensitive spot.
“No broken bones, thank God,” Mrs. Horton said. “I’ve seen this a lot over my years of hiking and unless it starts turning red and swelling up, it’ll probably just be sore for a while.
“Reggie, would you stay with Stephanie here to rest for a bit? We’ll continue up the trail to the five mile marker and loop back down.”
Duh! Reggie thought as he looked at Stephanie, squeezed her waist and said, “Sure.”
“Here, take these aspirins,” Mrs. Horton said. “We’ll be back about half an hour. She ought to be better by then.”
As soon as the hikers left, Stephanie grabbed her camera and took a picture of her foot.
“You’re something else,” Reggie said, “You take pictures of every friggin’ thing, what’s with that?”
“I didn’t tell you? I want to be a photojournalist someday.”
“That’s cool, what got you into that?”
“Um. I saw a documentary once about Dorothy Lange and other photographers who photographed the struggles people had during the Great Depression of the 1930’s. I’d like to be as good as she was.”
“What would you photograph?”
“Faces. I want to capture the stories that people’s faces tell when they’re meeting a challenge. Like not having a home …losing a loved one at war. Not only sad faces, but hopeful ones too.”
“That’s beautiful, Steph. I admire you.”
She turned and focused her camera on Reggie. Click. “Cute faces, too. Like yours.” “Come on. Get real.” Reggie said.
Click.
“Oh, there’s that modest face,” she teased and laughed.
He laughed. Click.
“Hey, how’s the ankle?”
“It’s not throbbing anymore. Would you rub it a little for me?”
“Um. Yeah. You sure?”
With the lightest touch Reggie could muster he ran the tips of his fingers over her ankle.
“Can you feel that? Does it hurt?”
“No, it feels good. You can rub it a little harder.”
With the palms of his two hands, he began gently massaging her soft skin and looking back at her to make sure he didn’t press too hard. One time he saw her eyes were closed.
“Reggie, can I ask you something?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever gone out with a girl?”
“Um. Sort of, once. She’s gone now.”
“You broke up?”
“Sorta,” he mumbled again, not looking up. “Guess you don’t want to talk about it, huh?” Reggie nodded.
“You can rub my whole foot, if you want.”
Reggie began to run his hands up from her toes, along her heel and up to the top of her ankle and back again.
“My leg is a little tight too, how about if you put those magic hands to my calves?”
‘Oh my God, Reggie thought as he began massaging. Her leg is so smooth. So soft. So long. I want to go all the way up to her shorts.’
“Mmm, that feels good,” she said as she put her hand on his neck and stroked it gently.
Geez, Reggie thought, this is driving me wild as he felt the bulge growing against the tight fabric of his jeans.
Stephanie put her hand on his chin and pulled him up toward her.
“I like you, Reggie.”
“I like you too,” he said feeling weak.
She pulled him up closer to her and lightly, tentatively kissed him softly on the lips, hoping he’d want more. Reggie looked into her eyes.
Melted into her lips.
Full mouths wrapping. Deep. Wet.
Wheeew! Reggie felt like he was soaring. Stephanie made a soft moaning sound.
Reggie pulled away. “Did I hurt you?”
“No way, kiss me again.”
Holy Jesus, Reggie thought, I super don’t want her to stop. Off in the distance, they heard voices.
Reggie broke the kiss. “We better stop.”
“Um. Yeah,” she said as she looked into his flushed face and patted his head. Reggie kept his hand on her waist.
After a few moments, Stephanie spoke, “Reggie, can I ask you something else? What was that up on the peak when you were like staring into space then looking down below the ledge? It was kinda weird.”
“Sorry, I was thinking I need to go on another vision quest and think this would be an ideal place to do it.” “What’s a vision quest?
“It’s an ancient Native ritual. You go alone into the woods and try to discover your power animal.” “Power animal?” she asked.
“Yeah, well, connect with the spirit of an animal that will guide you in your adult life.”
“I suppose you’re questing for a mountain lion?”
Reggie looked at her startled and said, “How did you?…”
“Know?” she said. “I checked you out. One of the girls, Leah, who was in your Biology class last year told me you were into them, big time.”
“Guess I am. That’s why I was looking into the hills. That’s where a young lion risked jumping over the freeway to find a new life. His name is P12.”
“You sound like you’re close to that animal?”
“Yeah. Sometimes I think I’m too close,” he said as his face turned worried and he pulled his arm from her waist.
“What do you mean, Reggie?
Staring at the ground, Reggie let out, “It’s complicated, hard to understand.”
“Tell me,” she said.
Giving her a fearful look, he said, “Last time I did a vision quest it turned bad—it got violent.”
“Whoa. Violent? What are you saying?”
Looking up the trail they saw the hikers coming down.
“It just got freaky that’s all…kinda messed up my mind…like I was going mental. I didn’t know if I was a human or an animal.”
“Oh my God, Reggie, that’s scary. Why would you want to do another one?”
“I dunno, it’s like…like I have to. Maybe I’ll go on one tomorrow. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“You better,” she said as she punched his arm and laughed.
“Well, well,” Mrs. Horton said, “looks like we’re all better— that ankle doesn’t even look red. Help her up Reggie, let’s see if she can walk.”
Stephanie let out a small ‘Ouch’ as she set her foot down. With Reggie holding her arm, she hobbled out a couple of steps then cracked a forced smile. “Just a bit tender,” she said, “I think I can make it back alright.”
The trail was mostly narrow on the return, so the group had to take it single file, ‘Indian’ style. Reggie told Stephanie to go ahead in case he had to catch her falling again. As Reggie watched her walk, he wished he had his hand on her waist again, so he could feel her hips rocking.
Reggie’s eyes stayed glued ahead on Stephanie.
Her bouncing ponytail.
Her long legs.
Her beautiful rocking hips.
Every once in a while, she’d turn around and they’d give each other a knowing smile.
On the trail back, Reggie didn’t feel the trail. His legs floated up and dropped down like they weren’t even touching the ground. ****
When Reggie got home, he told his mom he had to go on another vision quest.
“When?” his Mom asked.
“Tomorrow,” Reggie replied.
“You’re not staying overnight!”
“I know, Mom—just during the day. I found this area near where P12 entered the Santa Monica’s. There’s a nice spot below a ledge where I can sit and take in nature.
“You’ll have to ask your dad.”
“Can I say it’s okay with you?”
“You can as long as we know exactly where you’ll be and stay in touch by phone.”
To Reggie’s amazement, once he told his dad his plan for Sunday and that he had his Mom’s approval, his Dad went along. Maybe it was the drugs, Reggie thought, he didn’t remember he told me to forget about the old ‘injun’ ways. He even told Reggie he knew of vision quests from his grandmother and wished he had the opportunity to take his own.
Reggie was totally surprised by his dad’s first ever positive comment about his background, so he asked, “Your Grandma taught you about Indian ways?”
“Well she tried to. Grandma Wanchuat was a very wise and kind woman and her husband was a Shaman of the tribe, but he died before I was born. She used to babysit me and told me stories about her ancestors and tribal traditions.”
“What were they? What do you remember?” Reggie asked with great excitement.
“Well, to be honest with you I didn’t understand a lot at only five years old, but I remember when she told me stories about animals that talked. A frog I remember, I used to believe her.
That’s when I got into trouble with my dad.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“I’d come back and tell my dad about what she told me and he’d get mad at his mother for filling my head with crazy ideas. He’d tell me that these old Indians couldn’t tell the difference between the real world and the supernatural world. I think that’s about the time he decided to take his family and leave the reservation.”
“Why did he leave?”
“He got fed up with the poverty and booze and drugs on the ‘rez’ as he called it. He didn’t want his son growing up there, getting caught in that.”
“I thought he was a great carpenter?” Reggie asked.
“He was. Self-taught. Built most of the homes on the rez, but half the time he never got paid for it, so that’s when he decided to take his skills to the LA area and start his own business. Funny, he hated what the white man did to his people, but he wanted to be like them and make money. Then his business failed and he…” “Killed himself?” Reggie said.
“Yup. That’s the story of the Youngblood’s. He was a bitter man and I think he passed along some of that bitterness to me. I wonder how my life would have been different if I stayed on the rez and listened to my Grandmother.”
“Did she give you that book about Chief Seattle, when you left?”
“Yeah. I know it was one of your favorite books. I let your mother read it to you—it brought up too many bad feelings for me.”
Reggie looked at the sadness in his Dad’s eyes and said, “Thanks for telling me that, Dad.”
“No problem, Reg. Now how about I give you a ride up there tomorrow? I can hike with you to the spot and pick you up there by, say six in the evening?”
“That would be cool, Dad.”
Reggie was a happy camper. Joe must have really turned his dad around, he thought. That night, Reggie had a restless sleep,
excited about the possibilities of his coming vision quest.
****
On Sunday morning, when his dad dropped him off at Sugar Loaf Peak, Reggie put in that call to his mom to make sure the cell connection wasn’t blocked by the mountains. His dad told him he’d be back at six and to have a good day.
As soon as he left, Reggie climbed down underneath the peak to the thicket where he still had a broad and solitary view of the canyons and hills. At first, he took in the beauty of the place, just as the vision quest book suggested. He watched a ‘red-tail’ circle and bank around the up-drafts that were formed by the heat of the mountainsides and the shade of the valleys. When the hawk finally dove vertically and disappeared among the oaks, Reggie figured he was probably clutching a squirrel in his talons.
To get in a receptive mood to discover his power animal, he thought about P12. That brave young cat who made it over the freeway. He could almost see him crisscrossing every square mile below him; searching for food or a mate, avoiding humans or another male. Every once in a while he heard hikers on the peak above. One group apparently decided to have their lunch above him as he got a shower of orange peels—their bright orange ellipses decorating the grey-green sagebrush.
Throughout the morning his quiet mind tangled with his lively mind and he thought about Steph, his mom and dad, Joe and then back to Steph again. Getting hungry, but also needing to pee, he hiked further down to find an even more wooded spot and he looked up at the peak to check the line of vision before unzipping his fly. Heading back up to his spot, he sat down and opened his backpack. His mom made him two fried egg and baloney sandwiches, so his growling stomach convinced him to ignore the fasting and he devoured them, gulping them down with Gatorade.
Trying to get back into a meditative state, he dozed off and soon a slight smile came to his face. He first pictured Steph sitting next to him. Running her fingers through his hair and combing it. She piled it even higher with her fingers and laughed. He let his hand flow to her shoulders where he slowly pulled her toward him and they kissed.
It was almost a butterfly kiss. A very soft feel that fluttered from his lips and moved to the bottom of his throat. She wrapped her arms around him and…
He woke, shook his head and took a long drink of water.
Then he lay down and soon returned to stillness. More dreaming. This time it started in school with Steph and him walking in the halls, holding hands like they were going out. Kevin was walking deliberately toward the pair and when he approached, Reggie guided Steph behind him and asked Kevin what he wanted.
“Your slut of a girlfriend,” he said.
Then Reggie pounced on him. Grabbed at his throat. Held and locked on it tight—not with the claws of a lion, but with his thumbs digging into his Adam’s apple. Kevin began gagging and Reggie could see his eyes bulge out. But it wasn’t fear in Kevin’s eyes—it was adrenalin. Kevin kicked him between the legs hard and Reggie buckled and lost his grip on his neck. Then Kevin raised his knee up hard into Reggie’s chest, knocking his air out.
Bent over, the pain wracked him up and down.
Reggie knew he would be killed if he didn’t fight for his life.
Kevin thought he had Reggie finished and wouldn’t face him again. Kevin laughed. Reggie kept his head down, sprung with his hindquarters and rammed him in the stomach. Kevin fell to the floor. On top, Reggie grabbed his hair with both hands and slammed it hard on the floor, and growled like a demon. Again. A thud and a crack. Again. Kevin’s eyes rolled back into his head like a child’s doll—getting duller and duller with each slam. Then Reggie saw the red begin to ooze over the black and white tile. A lion would finish him. Reggie slammed his head one last time. He felt the head loosen. Did he?
Reggie got up. Steph was standing there crying, her hands covering her face. Reggie took her arm, and said, ‘Let’s get out of here’…
… When a mayfly landed on his nose and he swatted it, jerked up and rubbed his face awake.
‘What the fuck?’ Reggie cursed out loud, ‘I come out here to discover a power animal to guide me on my life’s journey and I dream I’m turning into an animal?’
He looked at his phone. Only 4:30. I’m out of here, he thought, this vision quest thing is all fucked up. My mind only fills up with killing. How can I make it stop?
He called his dad, who was surprised it was so early, but was glad to know everything was alright.
In a hurry to