I walked across the lobby floor reluctantly and took the receiver and answered.
“Hello?”
“Oh hello my dear!” It was Mary.
“Yes hello love” echoed Martha.
“We heard from Lilly what happened last night. We want you to know it was no fault of your own what happened. Benny was……oh how can I put it?” Mary paused.
Then Martha chimed in. “Well to put it simply he was just a bit off. This we knew but we never dreamed he would do something like this and to family! The hotel has a way of making even the strongest people go mad and I’m afraid he was mad as a hatter!”
“Anyways,” Mary started, “Do your utmost best to put this behind you if you can. I know this has been a traumatic experience but we do very much need you and the hotel needs you as well dearest.”
“Yes, gather all your strength and dearest friends around you to get you through this! We’ll be in touch when we can, till then, goodbye!” Martha finished the call as Mary echoed a goodbye as well.
I put the receiver down and stared thoughtfully at the phone, lost in my own mind trying to think of all that had happened over the last few days. I decided then that Mary and Martha were right. I had to put all of this behind me and trudge on, even though it would be difficult, and make a new path forward. I quickly picked up the receiver of the black rotary phone and placed a call to the person that had become one of my dearest friends, Deb.
After a few rings the phone connected and I heard her ever cheerful and pleasant voice. “Hello Autumn! How are you?”
“Not good to be honest.” I told her as I gingerly sat down on the tall stool behind the counter. After explaining all that had happened the night before with Benny and the morning after with Jasper and Lilly, I asked her with soft desperation in my voice, “Do you think there is any way you can come down to the hotel? I’m very much in need of all my friends right now.”
Without a second of hesitation she responded, “Of course! I’ll ask Nathaniel if he might be able to come down as well. We can do a healing ceremony and just talk or…..or whatever you need. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thank you so much. It really means the world to me. I’ll look out for you and get your rooms ready. See you soon.” I said ending the conversation.
After finishing with the call I turned to see both Jasper and Lilly still standing near the doorway watching me with careful, steady glances. Both caught, they tried to pretend to be looking at some decoration or the wallpaper around the room instead of directly at me. I didn’t mind though. To be honest I was comforted by the fact that I had two amazing friends that cared enough about me to keep such a close eye on me. I stood from the wooden stool to head up the stairs and set about preparing the rooms for the two friends on the way.
On my way up the stairs I stopped halfway and turned to both of them to say, “Thank you both so much for all you have done for me. I truly, truly appreciate it. I hope y’all can go and get some rest now after all your labors.” Then I headed up the remainder of the stairs and left them in the lobby to do as they wished for the rest of the afternoon.
After the rooms were cleaned and straightened up, I headed back to my room to rest for a bit. As I entered the room I heard the light squawking of Jesus in the corner of the room. I sunk down into the high backed chair and settled in, getting comfortable in my seat. I looked over to where Jesus stood on my dresser staring back at me and decided to ask the ever wise bird a question.
“Do you think everything is going to be alright?” I began.
“That depends on what you mean by alright.” He said in his thin croaking voice. “If you want everything to be as it was then, no. You can move forward though and make the most of the situation and in that way everything will be alright.”
“I hope so. I’m sorry I forgot to feed you last night.” I told him as he flew from the dresser to land on the table just in front of me.
“That is ok, Lilly made sure to feed me.” He said tucking his wings in and straightening up, looking me in the eye. “You aren’t the only one that has dealt with great hardships. When Nathaniel gets here ask him about when he was young and how he found the courage to move on. I think it’ll help you in your present state.” With that, he nodded to me and flew back out the open window leaving me with my thoughts and to contemplate on his advice.
For the first time that day the adrenaline had finally worn off and I realized how tired and stretched thin I felt. I quickly went from quiet contemplation to deep, dreamless sleep. When I woke up, I looked about the room and noticed the fading light seeping through the window. The calm, soft, last rays of the sun spread around the room in brilliant colors of orange, pink, and purple. I felt so tranquil and at ease, the warm hues reaching my soul and chasing out the cold, dark shadows that had taken hold. I sat up in the chair and looked toward the clock. It read 6:47pm. I figured that surely Deb and Nathan would be here soon if not here already. I got up and stretched, straightened the wrinkles in my clothes, and headed down the hallways to the lobby downstairs.
I could hear the familiar sound of chatter in the background as I stepped down the stairs. The voices seemed happier this time around and less hushed and careful, more carefree and lively. I quickly descended and turned the corner to the sitting room to see all my friends gathered around. The immediately stopped their conversation and turned towards me. Deb jumped from her seat and came rushing over to greet me as I came in the room.
With a hearty and warm embrace she held me till I was the one who let go and then she looked me in the eyes and asked, “How are you now that you have had a good rest?”
“Much better, more calm and at peace.” I answered.
“I’m glad.” She said warmly and gently ushered me over to sit between her and Nathan on the couch in the center of the room.
After going over briefly the events of the day before we all sat silently in the room, contemplating various parts and things that troubled each one of us the most, my thoughts ever straying to the fear that I might get caught or thrown in jail for what happened. I pushed them aside in my mind and deemed them pointless since Benny hadn’t been a part of the world for years. There would be no one to miss him or come looking for him. He was just yet another victim of the curse and had at last been claimed by the town. Once I put those thoughts from my mind a new one came into my head. The words of Jesus came back to me and I ventured to ask Nathaniel the meaning of what Jesus had said.
“Nathaniel?” I began gingerly, not knowing quiet how to proceed. “Jesus told me today to ask you about what happened to you when you were young. He said you had been through a traumatic event and what you had to say may help me in some way. Do you know what he meant?”
“Yes I do.” He began slowly not looking up from where he had been staring at the floor. “It is a long story and one that few know, for it is hurtful still to talk about it. But if it can help you in any way I will tell it. But bear with me, for some parts are more difficult than others to speak of.”
“You don’t have to tell me if it will cause you grief. I don’t want that.” I told him.
“No, no. It is one that must be told and told in full. By telling our darkest fears and hurts we can begin to heal. When I saw the look in your eyes as you entered the room, I knew that look well, for I’ve seen it too many times in others and in my own reflection in the mirror.”
“As long as you are ok with it……please do. I can use any and all encouragement that I can get right now.” I said looking for approval from the others in the room who all nodded their approval.
“Well where to begin….” Nathan trailed off looking back in his mind to find the starting point of his story. “I suppose I should start by saying this isn’t just my story but the story of many survivors. It has a beginning, a middle, but for the people who experienced it firsthand they never truly reached the end of the story. You see, when you experience something traumatic and life changing, you carry it with you always, scars are permanent after all, they just fade with time and become easier to bear.”
Once he found where he wanted to start, he told me the following story and it was one of the most heartbreaking I’ve ever heard.
“In the spring of my seventh year on this earth, my mother came to me urgently with great hurry. The social workers had come to the reservation where we lived at the time. Everyone knew what it meant when they decided to come around. They were going to steal more children. They would come at whiles to take away children and place them in schools far away. They disguised the placement as being “a great learning opportunity” or “civilizing” or “modernizing” us so we stood a better chance at acclimating to the outside world. All these terms were just fancy talk for their earlier campaigns of “Kill the Indian, Save the Man.” It was their attempt at assimilating us into their ways, taking our lands and homes away from us, and taking away our spiritual power. It was the modern genocide of peoples they deemed less worthy because we lived a simpler, deeper, more fulfilling life different from theirs. The government of the United States has always from the beginning tried to colonize us and take what was ours. This was just the latest greedy tactic of the government that they could gather the support of the people around. It was on this day that I was to become the latest casualty of an ever growing statistic.
My mother ran to me, fear contorting her pleasant features, as I sat playing in the front yard with my younger sister and brother. She gave a shout for us to hide, as the cars with the government emblems came to take away any children they deemed to be living in “unfit” circumstances. I stood immediately, my own fear racing down my limbs, compelling them to move with all speed. I snatched up my baby sister Ruth, who was only three at the time, and grabbed the hand of my brother David. As fast as I could I led them to the cellar behind the house, where we would hide when the social workers would come. Never before had they found us. They would come and go, and we were left alone. But on this day, I don’t know if I hadn’t been fast enough, or if someone else on the reservation had given us away, but they knew just where to look on that day. As we sat in the darkness in the cold cellar in the far corner under the house, I tried to hide my siblings behind barrels and boxes so they could not be seen. I could hear voices up above arguing and my mother’s voice pleading. Then soon after, I heard their footsteps approaching towards the doors. They were flung open in seconds, letting the now seeming blinding light in to pierce the dark. They told me to come out, and not seeing a reason to stay now that I had been found I came out of hiding alone. They stopped me as I crossed the bare, hard earth halfway between the door and where I had been crouching in the dark. They knew there was more than just me down there and told me to bring my siblings up with me. I looked at my mother not knowing what to do. She had tears streaming down her face now, and I knew then that I had to admit defeat. I took Ruth and David behind me in tow, and came up out of the cellar. From there it was a whirlwind of events where time seemed to both stand still and move all too fast at once. We were taken from our home, stolen from right under our family’s noses, shoved into the government vehicles, and driven away to where we knew not. I turned to look behind and to this day I wish I hadn’t, for what I saw still haunts me to this day. I watched as my mother ran as fast and as far as she could behind the cars, arms outstretched to take back her beloved children, yet knowing all too well that she would never see them again. No one ever saw their children again. The look of immense and hopeless sorrow that lined her face and the expression her eyes held, and the wailing that came from her…….it was all too much. That is the last vision I have of my kind mother.
After leaving the reservation, they took us to a train station where they placed us aboard and told us to stay put on the train till we came to the last stop. It seemed as if we rode for many long days, with no food or water given to us, even though it was only for two. We arrived at the last stop at night fall of the second day. The conductor ushered us off the train outside to where two, large busses stood to greet us. The doors of the busses opened and women dressed in habits came out from the first bus. They came over to where I stood and tore my little sister out from my arms and took her inside where she vanished from my sight in the ever darkening and crumbling world from which I stood. Then men in priest vestments came out and told my brother and I to follow them into the second bus. I asked where we were going and where they were taking my little sister to. The man who stood before me told me that she was going to the girl’s school up the road and we were going to the boy’s school next door. I looked down to my brother and in our native tongue told him everything was going to be ok as long as we stayed together. No sooner had the words come out of my mouth than the man who had come to retrieve us slapped me across the face and with a loud booming voice told me that it was a sin to speak in that language, for it was the language of heathens and devils. Never were we to speak in any language but English because this was America. My cheek burned and stung from the blow, and my tongue was silenced. I followed him afraid to receive another hit should I be too slow and hand in hand led my now quaking and crying younger brother behind me into the darkness of the bus.
From there we were taken to the school. It stood large and foreboding in the night. Even though I was every bit as afraid as my younger brother, I tried my best not to show it, and comforted him instead. We got out of the bus and were led inside. The lights of the building were bright and blinding when we first came in from the ever deepening night. I looked around and saw many other children, some older, some younger than myself, headed towards a large stairway at the back of the long hallway. We were told to follow them. Once on the second floor, we came to yet another stretching hallway that diverged into two points at the end. When we reached it they began to pull my brother from my grasp. I held on tight as he began to wail and cry but it was no use. They tore him away from me though it took three men to do so. Where they came from I didn’t know. But they ushered me quickly into a dimly lit room to the left hand side of the hall. I struggled against them but their grip ever tightened and soon they were holding me down in a chair. They told me if I didn’t stop struggling I would get cut as they proceeded to cut the hair off my head. In our culture, your hair symbolizes an extension of your spirit. We do not cut our hair except in ceremonies, nor do we let anyone touch our hair unless they have good intentions toward us. Yet there they were, hacking away at the long strands of my hair. I watched as I struggled and saw each raven black strand, both big and small, fall from my head to the floor beneath me. When they finished I felt bare, naked, exposed and violated. Looking around at all of my hair on the floor, the first thought that came to my mind was, how was my mother and father going to find me now if they couldn’t recognize me?
They let me go and for the moment, I was still, trying to grapple with what they had just done to me. I then became aware that I had begun to cry silently. They told me to stop, they told me that tears would not get me anywhere in this school, only obedience, faith, and hard work. They led me from the room and at last we came to the end of the left hallway. We entered through two large, wooden, double doors and came into what I could only guess was some sort of dormitory. Most of the boys there seemed to be my age or older. They all looked at me with pity, but remained silent and continued to go about their evening routines. The men that were with me told me to strip out of my clothes and change into the new clothes they were going to give me. They were pajamas that matched everyone else’s in that room. Together I’m sure we looked much like inmates in a prison, for that was exactly where we were, in the worst type of prison you could be in.
That night I didn’t sleep at all. The strange place I found myself in, being taken from my home and everything I knew, and being separated from my siblings, all took a great emotional toll on me and left me restless and scared. I knew not what the next day would hold, or when I was going to be permitted to go back home, but I knew, even then that I hated that place. Even today, the memories of that place swirl around in my mind. I remember it all. I remember the faded peeling blue paint on the walls of the dormitory, the coppery smell of my bloody nose when I would be struck for “not complying” or my “disobedience”, the taste of the slop that they fed us that wasn’t even fit for pigs, the feel of the stiff clothing of the uniforms they made us wear day in and day out, and the sound of the eternally, perpetual, strained silence that forever hung in the air of that place, it is etched in the deepest recesses of my mind and will be till the day I die or my memory fails me. I left that place long ago, but it never has left me.
The next morning I watched the other boys as they got up at the sound of the ringing bell. I followed their lead and dressed and fell into line as I was supposed to. Soon every day looked the same. We would wake up, get dressed, go to Mass on Sunday mornings, then go to breakfast afterwards, then to the study hall where we were taught proper English and other academics, and then to lunch at noon, then to the yard where we were allowed to “play” for an hour, then back to studies till evening, then dinner, followed by evening prayer, then to bed, and then lights out. Every moment of every day was filled to preoccupy our time and keep us busy and productive. Questions were frowned upon, we were expected to be quiet and somber and keep our heads down. When one of our fellow “inmates” disappeared, we were taught to never ask, we just assumed they went home. A few boys tried to escape and were beaten badly and dragged back if they were ever found. I was never allowed to interact with my brother or see my sister except once a month when they would allow a visit on Sunday afternoons after lunch and even then we were allowed only one hour to see each other. So things went on and on. Every day they tried to drill into our heads the things they wanted us to know and learn, even if it went against what we had been taught since childhood. Our ancient stories were just fairytales and lies, our spirituality was wrong and dismissed and in its place they taught us the ways of the Catholic Church, and the ways of our people were beaten out of us till you either turned eighteen, your spirit broke and you accepted their teachings, or you disappeared.
It was about a year and a half in at the school when I noticed during the visits that my sister’s health was failing and my brother gradually became more and more quiet. I didn’t know then, though I wish I had, even though it wouldn’t have made much of a difference, but my sister was accused of being defiant, even at the age of four, and often stood up to the teachers and fought against the teachings and was disobedient. For her troubles, she was beaten and food was often withheld from her as punishment. My younger brother was aloof and distant. Often I would see him at Mass. He had become one of the altar boys. He hated the role and begged to be released from the duty. I didn’t know why at the time but in later years I found out he was being sexually abused by the head priest of the school. Soon they stopped coming at all. My heart breaks for the two of them, and I wish that I could have taken on all their punishments and pain, for I was the eldest and wanted to protect them from the cruelty of that place. Soon I came to my own breaking point, where I would either choose to remain strong or I would submit to the teachings and the abuse. Then something happened that made the decision clear in my heart.
One summer day, when I was thirteen years old, the boys were allowed to play in the yard after lunchtime as always. The girl’s school was across the way and had the yard the hour before us and we after them. While we were outside there was no decent shade to be had except in the back corner of the yard close to the wooded forest, and the day was scorching hot and I hadn’t slept well the night before. I walked to the shady area and saw peeking out from the bushes that scattered the ground, a pair of feet. Thinking that one of the other boys had been tired like me and decided to fall asleep, I went to rouse him so he wouldn’t get in trouble. That was when I noticed it wasn’t a boy at all but one of the girls. I got closer and closer and noticed that I recognized this girl. She was often allowed to come and clean our church building. I tried to wake her, but she wouldn’t move or stir at all. I grew frightened and tried to rouse her more urgently, but still nothing. I turned her over from lying on her stomach to her back and looked at her face. It was pale, a sickly shade of grey and white mingled together. She was thin and frail, as if the slightest touch would break her. I hadn’t seen her in a while and she looked troubled and sad in her sleep. I touched her hand and it was icy cold. Tears began streaming down my face as I became aware of what I already knew to be true but desperately wished was not. She was dead. I stayed with her till the bell rung, signaling the end of the yard time. Then I folded her arms over her chest, and tried to make her look as peaceful as possible before going to fetch one of the priests to let him know what I had found.
He came over and quickly dragged me away. I fought him to stay. I didn’t want to leave her there, not like that. I didn’t know what happened to her, I still don’t but I was brought inside by strong hands that grabbed me from behind. I wasn’t permitted to go out again that day. They simply took me to the study hall and told me to attend to my studies, as if nothing had happened. I was in shock and so I did as I was told. I bent over my books and pretended to study as warm, wet tears spilled down my face. The girl had been sweet, kind, determined and steadfast. She knew her will and never faltered. She had been someone I loved dearly. She was my little sister and at the time of her death she was only nine years old.
The thread I was hanging on by was thin, but after her death, it became a single strand. The only thing that kept me going up to that point was knowing my siblings were ok. Now that she was gone, I great anger welled up in me. Her death wasn’t accidental, it wasn’t her fault either, it was that accursed school and those that ran it that took her life all too soon and in the name of God that they said was kind and loving. I grew angry thinking of all the things she would now no longer be able to experience in her lifetime. She would never grow up, marry, have beautiful children, or grow old alongside me and our brother. She would never see our family again. She would never fully traverse her “Invisible Road” and her body would not be prepared properly by her family. To this day I still do not know if her soul ever truly found rest. As I sat there all these thoughts ran through my mind. Soon my tears dried up, my jaw hardened, and I became filled with determination. I would do whatever I had to do to get my remaining sibling out of that horrible place and we would, despite all the things they tried to teach us and how they tried to brainwash us against returning to our families, we would return home. So on that day I made this silent promise to myself and brother, and I began to watch all that went on in that school, waiting for the day when we would escape.
The next day our sister was buried, against our traditions and very unceremoniously in a rather shallow, small, unmarked grave behind the school. My brother and I were allowed to be in attendance along with the priest. I had never been behind the school before, and there as we stood waiting for the priest to finish his hollow sounding prayer, I became all too sorrowfully aware that there were many, many more small mounds in the earth. There were too many to count and not a single one had a headstone, cross, or marker of any kind. It was as if we were not worthy enough in the eyes of the school attendants to deserve any recognition, ceremony, or even any basic, human decency. We were no better than the dirt they tread on beneath their feet. This only served to strengthen my resolve and push me even more to achieve my goals.
Finding a way out of that school was harder than it looked. For one thing just getting out of the building was hard enough, let alone the fact that the school had a great gate that ran around the main school property. There were boys I knew of in the past that tried to escape and couldn’t get out of the building, some couldn’t get past the gates, but there were a few that did. Those boys had the worst time of all for the school would contact the local police and they together would hunt down the boys with guns and dogs, and drag them back. Few were able to evade the dogs and make it far, far away. Past that we never knew if they had been “disappeared” or if they ever made it home. Strategizing and trying to account for all the schedules and possible hurdles we would encounter in our escape took up all my thought and time. It took me nearly three years to finally come up with a plan that I thought would work. Everything was falling into place when the most unexpected thing happened.
Every day, the girl’s school would send over a few girls that were a little older and more responsible to help a few of the boy’s clean the boy’s building. It was then, against all thought and imagination that I met Sarah. She was a sweet person. Kindness emanated out from her. She could make even the grumpiest and stern priest at that school smile. She was different from all the other girls and all the older boys in the school notice her, I not least of all. I was on the boy’s cleaning team so we were able to work together daily. I got to know her and soon our friendship grew and budded into a young romance. I came to truly love her and I believe she loved me as well. We spent every moment we could together and tried to hide our feelings for each other from the nuns and priests. We were as far as I know successful for the most part. We often would steal away to the church hall and together clean the pews and floors of the church alone to steal a kiss or more. I loved her, I still to this day do, but now I had a new problem on my hands. I was ready at last to escape with my brother, but that would mean leaving her behind in that evil place. I couldn’t take her with me, I was sixteen and running out of time at the school. It had taken me three years to finally prepare for all the things that my brother and I would have to do to escape. How long would it take me to get her out? I was torn in two. To stay was out of the question, to go meant I would be choosing my brother over her, and to take her with us would mean risking it all. It took me a long time to finally decide what to do. I finally decided I had to honor my promise, and save my brother. She was sixteen as well and had only a little time left at the school. My brother was not so lucky. I made the hardest decision of my life, and chose to take my brother away, and wait for her to get out, though not without great pain.
I told her of my plans and she, being ever kind and considerate, agreed that she should stay behind. We had both been watching my brother, who was now old enough to be in the same dormitory as me, and we both took note of his demeanor and countenance. His spirit was broken and he was losing his will to live. The years at the school had taken their toll and he looked pale, thin, exhausted, sad, and old beyond his years. So the plan now set in motion, and blessed by Sarah, was about to be fulfilled. All I had to do was pick the perfect day and I would save my brother, and await my love. The perfect day soon came and that night under the cover of darkness I woke my brother and we began our escape.
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