Disposition of Remains (6 page)

I pointed upward.

“I’m parked on the roof.”

He drove to the roof, but there was no sign of my car. I knew exactly where I had left it. We drove up and down throughout the entire parking structure. The car was gone. Wilbur parked and accompanied me to the concierge desk.

“No, Ma’am. We keep a list of all the cars that have been towed. Yours isn’t on it,” the concierge explained, showing us the roster.

“It’s gotta be Evan. He called my room a few hours before we left for Sedona. He knew I was here. He must have taken it.”

Wilbur was outraged.

“It’s one thing for him to chase the woman he loves…if that’s what this is all about. It’s another thing to try to bully you back before you’re ready
.”

He tried to talk me into filing a police report to teach Evan a lesson, but the only thought that ran through my head was
life’s too short
. For me, the cliché was never truer. I didn’t wish Evan any real ill will; I just wanted him to leave me alone until I could get my head screwed on straight.

Instead, Wilbur and I walked across the street to Caesars Palace, which had a Hertz Car Rental station. I figured that even if Evan found out that I’d rented a car, by the time I was off the property, I’d be safe. But Evan had reported all of my credit cards
as stolen. It was all I could do to convince the rental agency not to have me arrested for identity theft. Fortunately, they agreed to simply drop the matter and let me leave.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Wilbur suggested. “There’s something I think you should see.”

I knew that seeing anything of Wilbur’s would probably spell trouble for me, but my alternative was becoming a car-less transient. I had no cell phone, nor did I want one after hearing about the nightmare of GPS tracking. And I did enjoy Wilbur’s company; he was great at making me forget my troubles. Since I had abandoned my rigidly planned life and he had led one so gloriously opposite, I wanted to discover what it was that Wilbur thought I should see. Still, I hesitated as I contemplated whether it was wise to climb back into Wilbur’s car. 

“Where exactly are we going?”

“You’ll see. Trust me; it’ll be worth it,” Wilbur assured me, flashing that crazy smile that was increasingly impossible for me to resist. Before I could talk myself out of it, I hopped in his car and strapped myself in, primed for whatever adventure Wilbur had in store for me.

On the way to our mystery location, Wilbur took me on about an hour’s drive to Hoover
Dam. We spent several moments gazing out over this national treasure, and then embarked upon a tour inside. He knew a curator there named Charlie who took us to see a number of areas that have been inaccessible to tourists since the 9/11 attacks. I felt a thrill, being with a man who “knew people.” As we descended into the bowels of the facility, Charlie told us about the one hundred twelve people who had died building the dam. Legend has it that there are a large number of bodies encased in the walls themselves.

It was so incredible to see to the ingenious way that man had curbed the power of nature, although it made me feel insignificant and useless that I had done almost nothing with my short life. Then I thought about whether man should control nature at all. Perhaps, I thought, humankind should stop trying to control everyone and everything, just as I was refusing to control the course of my illness.

The Dam was much more beautiful than I had imagined some structure designed to channel water could be. Our tour involved more than a mile of walking—a virtual marathon for a woman in my condition. I was worn out once again. I dragged myself back to Wilbur’s car and we departed. I decided to not ask questions and just go along for the ride.

The mammoth canyon walls blocked by the
dam gave birth to Lake Mead. Wilbur was in the midst of describing the spring break drinking and boating activities of the area when I drifted off into a deep sleep. When I awakened several hours later, we were in the woods. The smell of pine permeated the air as we drove past a sign for Tusayan, Arizona—a place I had never heard of.

Wilbur pulled into the parking lot of what looked
to be a modern hotel. It was nighttime, and as much as I’d found myself enjoying the great outdoors, a soft bed sounded very appealing. Wilbur graciously paid for two rooms at The Lodge at Tusayan.

Wilbur insisted upon treating me to dinner at the hotel’s café. Though the conversation had flowed easily earlier in our journey, I suddenly found it awkward sitting at the table alone with him. The silence proved to be a reminder that I was venturing out alone with a man I barely knew. The original offense I had taken to his good looks was beginning to fade and it came to my attention that I might actually
like
him. I had literally run away from my husband and all of my responsibilities. If I had believed in Hell, I was definitely headed there.

“You want me to do what?”

“Get in, relax, and enjoy the ride.”

“Who’s gonna fly it?”

“I am.”

“Why do you have a helicopter?”

“It’s part of my travel company.”

“Of course,” I allowed, because that would be one of the only logical reasons to have a helicopter lying around.

I had a horrible fear of heights, and a worse fear of any sort of flying contraption—especially one designed to tear itself apart from the inside out. Motion sickness was an unpleasant factor as well. But I told myself,
don’t
be yourself.
Live. Just go with it. What’s the worst that could happen? If the helicopter crashed, I would die while truly living rather than just shriveling away. So I jumped in and covered my eyes.

“You really don’t want to do that.”

“Yes, I really do.”

Wilbur fired up the engine and let it warm for a short while. In the meantime, I peeled my fingers away from my eyes and faked a good smile—right after I leaned out and threw up.

“That’s better,” Wilbur said as I buckled myself back and tucked my hands stiffly beneath my thighs. “You’ll want to see this.”

I wondered what Wilbur thought of my somewhat regular vomiting, but he played it off as though he didn’t notice.

Within seconds of liftoff, I realized exactly where we were. We flew only a few feet above a plain and then the ground dropped out from under us. For a brief moment my heart dropped with it. The Grand Canyon was much more enormous and incredible than I ever could have dreamed. We flew weightlessly over the layered rocks, hills, cliffs, and valleys. All at once, I abandoned my fears and found myself entering into some sort of alternate celestial universe. I was completely overcome by the splendor of the Canyon from our bird’s-eye view. I fantasized that I was a little closer to Heaven, if there were such a place. It was complete nirvana. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but for fear of appearing psychotic, I simply smiled.

“This is incredible!” I gushed.

“Just wait; it gets better.”

Wilbur then began to fly down
into
the canyon. It was unnerving at first, but then I saw it. It looked like some sort of island paradise at the base of the Canyon—a misplaced movie set. There were beautiful waterfalls that were an unnaturally gorgeous blue.

“What is this place? The land that time forgot?”

“Do you really not know?”

I shook my head.

“It’s Havasupai,” Wilbur explained with a stupefied expression.

I was suddenly
overwhelmed with alarm and dread.

“No, stop! We—we can’t go there,” I stammered as I shook my head. My mother had never wanted me to visit her home. She
’d warned me over and over again throughout my childhood. The only thing I really knew about being Native American was that one respects his elders. I desperately wanted to respect my mother’s wishes, but then as I saw how breathtaking Havasupai was, curiosity got the better of me. Wilbur could read the change in my facial expression. 

“Haven’t you ever wondered about your roots?” Wilbur asked cautiously.

“Yes…and no. My mother painted a dismal picture of reservation life. She wanted us to live the American Dream. She warned me to never look back—bad things would happen,” I yelled over the roar of the helicopter’s engine.

“What sort of bad things?”

“I never knew, but she raised me to believe there was some kind of evil to our past. My mother was all I had, so I didn’t want to push too hard. Besides, she made it clear I was never going to get any more out of her. She was emphatic that the past be kept in the past. I didn’t even know what tribe she was from until I found her birth certificate after she died. I’m not sure I feel right about being here.”

“No disrespect to your mom, but there’s nothing evil here. This is an incredible place with decent people. I think you owe it to yourself to form your own impression. I’m sure your mother would understand,” Wilbur said just as we were touching down.

There was no more waffling to do. I would either have to get out and face my heritage, or stay put and remain in denial about everything: my past and my future.

As we climbed out of the helicopter, a young Native man approached us, eyeing me curiously. I felt delusions of persecution as he looked me up and down in a
you don’t belong here
sort of way. But he was personable enough—at least toward Wilbur.

“Wilbur, my man, greetings!” he enthused as he bumped knuckles with Wilbur.

“Stacia, this is Jimmy. He works in the Supai Lodge.”

“Welcome to Havasupai, and the people of the blue-green waters,” Jimmy said with a forced half smile.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful here.” I gushed.

Jimmy stared at me blankly.

“Jimmy, I don’t suppose you have any room at the lodge?” Wilbur asked.

“Come on, Wilbur—you know this is our busiest time of year…”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Thought I’d ask just in case.”

“Well, come to think of it, I did have a couple cancel this morning. Do you want their room?”

“Just one?” I queried, wondering to myself whether I was worried about Wilbur taking advantage of me, or vice-versa.

“Yes, only one. Very busy this time of year,” Jimmy
repeated.

As Wilbur turned in my direction, I tried to wipe the look of concern from my face, but he picked up on it anyway.

“I have a better idea,” Wilbur offered. “Are you up for a hike?”

“Uh…O
kay. Sure,” I managed, dreading what might be waiting for me at the end of the hike.

“Wait here, Stacia; I’ll be right back,” Wilbur said as he motioned Jimmy to follow him toward the lodge.

As the boys headed off to conspire over whatever plan Wilbur was hatching, I took in my surroundings. “My tribe” was completely isolated in Cataract Canyon, a branch of the Grand Canyon itself. Sheer red sandstone walls shot up from the ground four hundred feet into the majestic sky. There were no paved roads, cars, or reservation casinos. They were totally cut off from the outside world.

I would have expected a tribe located in such an isolated place to be somewhat primitive: sleeping in tepees, rain
dancing in traditional Native garb, and grinding maize with a mortar and pestle. I thought everyone would be named Dances with Wolves and the like, rather than just plain old
Jimmy
. That didn’t appear to be the case at all.

The lodge didn’t look like The Ritz, but it was a modern structure. Jimmy was a Native with long hair, but was dressed in simple jeans and a T-shirt. I suddenly felt ashamed for making such ignorant and cliché assumptions about my own people.

Wilbur returned a few minutes later with a couple of backpacks he borrowed from the lodge. Reminding myself to go with the flow, we said our goodbyes to Jimmy, and I followed Wilbur without question.

As we began our hike I thought about how every moment of my life before that last week had been planned out, first by my mother, then by Evan. And even though Wilbur was calling the shots, it was different; he was inviting me to journey with him, to become more enlightened alongside him. He wasn’t ordering or demanding, manipulating or forcing. He actually
saw me
and wanted to spend time with me. Still, my cynical nature kept gnawing at me. I couldn’t help but wonder what motivation would this attractive and apparently successful man have for spending his time with someone like me. I cringed at the thought of appearing like some poor lost puppy that needed guidance from a do-gooder who wanted to make himself feel better. That inner voice that told me
I was good enough, smart enough, and gosh darn it people like me!
had long since been buried under a bedrock of capitulation, pandering, and an overwhelming need for peace at all costs. I decided that I was only going along because I thought it was worth the investment of my increasingly precious time.

“The Havasupai still have their mail delivered by mule,” Wilbur explained as we continued through the reservation. “They make most of their income from tourism, but the area isn’t overwhelmed with tourists because it’s so difficult to get here. It’s a
ten-mile hike from where we started, and whoever dares to make the trek down does so with full knowledge that he’ll have to climb back up eventually. And uphill
here
is not for the faint of heart.”

“Well, thanks to you and your helicopter, we got here in
ten minutes.”

“Yeah, I figured a
ten-mile hike might take some fun out of the surprise. Although it is still a two-mile hike to the campground.”

“It’s all right; I’m learning to enjoy the outside world,” I said as I gazed off into the distance.

We were surrounded by intricate rock formations and the smell of purity and green. Two miles was just fine.

“The Havasupai maintain a lot of traditional beliefs. They believe that if a man or a woman sees a person of the opposite sex urinate, one of them will die unless they say, ‘It’s going to witch us, and we don’t want that.’”

I was quick to contribute “It’s going to witch us, and we
really
don’t want that—whatever that means.”

“It means that we should probably pee alone, so as not to piss off the spirits…pun intended.”

After the two-mile hike, we found ourselves up close and personal with the incredible blue-green waters of Havasu Falls. It was like a fairytale land, with the waterfall careening down over the lacey, dusty-red rock formations.

“Are we allowed to go in the water? Or is that bad
juju?
” I wondered aloud.

“Yes, but unfortunately, it’s not as much of a clothing-optional place as Sedona.”

“I just happen to have a bathing suit,” I offered cheerfully as I spun on my heel.

I
darted behind a tree and rummaged around in my backpack until I’d located my recent casino gift shop purchase. I realized how silly it was to be concerned that all I had was a tiny bikini after Wilbur had already seen the full monty. But still, I felt self-conscious. After I finished changing, I attempted to suck in my stomach, but the mass in my lower abdomen appeared to have taken on a life of its own. I felt like it was actually becoming
noticeable
.

As I timidly emerged from behind the tree, I found Wilbur waiting for me, clad in only swim trunks. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking me out.

I tried to take an especially long time gauging the temperature of the water with my fingertips, so as to allow Wilbur an extended view of my backside bending over. After about thirty seconds, I couldn’t resist jumping into the heavenly aquamarine pool before me. It was surprisingly warm.

We frolicked like children for a little while,
laughing as we splashed each other. Suddenly, Wilbur’s smiling face grew serious.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Okay…” I replied, a little afraid of what the question might be.

“You seem to be doing everything you can to get away from your husband, but you have been with him for what—seventeen years? Why did it take you so long?”

“I guess I’m…a really slow learner,” I somehow managed.

The last thing I wanted to talk about was Evan. It was about as fun as pondering death. Evan managed to ruin everything without even being present. But then I realized that after all I had put him through in the past few
days, Wilbur deserved a more comprehensive answer.

“Evan had a way of keeping me in a box. I hated being tethered to him, but he made me afraid to be without him too. I guess it was a form of Stockholm syndrome: I was dependent on my captor. I suppose I allowed myself to be put in that position. I have no extended family, no one to turn to. When I lost my mother, Evan was all I had left.”

“You must have
some
family here. The Havasupai are a pretty tight-knit community and they take care of their own. I can’t imagine that you don’t have a single relative.”

I shook my head, saddened by the thought.

“My mother told me that she was the last of her clan, or rather that
I
am. She said the others are all dead. But regardless, I know now that I don’t want to go back to Evan, even if I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

I realized I was speaking as much to myself as I was to Wilbur. I couldn’t go back. I didn’t even want to imagine what horrifying things were in store for me if I tried to face Evan again. But for brief moments, when I would forget about Evan and my impending demise, I felt free
—unfettered from the constraints that Evan had placed on me, and from the ones I had accepted for myself.

“If you’re willing to hang around for a bit, Jimmy told me that they’re having a powwow the
day after tomorrow.”

“Sure. I’ve got nothing but time,” I lied. “What exactly is a powwow?”

I noticed the corners of Wilbur’s mouth drop a little.