Marissa

Four streets were closed off at my town's spring festival so they could have many booths and entertainments along the parking spaces leaving the street for residents and visitors to stroll and stop as they wished. Although looking in each booth out of curiosity I was searching for food, a normal activity for a growing 24 year old male. Suddenly a stunning raven haired beauty passed my slow pace. Her jet black hair was short and done up as punk meets young hoodlem style; the sides slicked back as a duck-tail with a pompodour nearly vertical and tilting to her left. She wore a black silk jacket-style blouse tucked into black satin pants that were tight from her waist to below her hips then baggy 'till they were tucked into her petite black military pilot style boots, feminized with three inch heels. I watched her walk away, quickening my pace a little to keep up. When she stopped in a booth offering various tie-dyed clothing items I chose not to stop and stare at the girl but resumed my slower pace of walking.

I came to a booth offering what I suppose they called works of art. What attracted my eye was a horizontal infinity symbol shaped sign with the lobes elongated and pulled into points making it look like a plastic airplane propellor. I went in to look at it for it was decorated brighly with segments of color. On closer inspection and brief discussion with the artist I lost interest and resumed my hunt for food.

Again that black beauty passed me giving me more time to assess her figure and the grand way she held herself as she purposefully sought whatever she was looking for. I thought of several gambits to introduce myself but none of them showed promise so I let her pull away from me and returned to slowly monitoring the booths until I arrived at the food area in a small park at the intersection of two of the four closed streets. On a park stage I noticed musicians dressed in Hawaiian shirts setting up to play.

I selected a Pepperbelly Sandwich consisting of a large sausage smothered in grilled onions, peppers and mushrooms, all overflowing a submarine roll. I added considerable pickle relish and mustard then sat at a table in the park also occupied by a man and a woman. They did not object to my sitting and went on with their conversation. They seemed to be friends, definitely not married and not close friends.

Like all women, the woman deftly got her friend to talk about his children. Of his oldest, a son, he said, "He got a job when he graduated with a Colorado camp for troubled teens. The kids have to take care of animals, hike, camp, study nature and build self esteem. This got him a job for the rest of the year working in California for a tribe with an Indian Casino. He teaches the indian kids how to survive in the wild and I find that ironic."

We all laughed and I interupted eating to ask them, "May I tell why I don't find that surprising?" They nodded and I went on. "My grandfather told me his story of when he was a Boy Scout when his troop decided to study Indian dancing. Some parents took them to a nearby Indain Reservation to interview tribal leaders. They knew nothing about Indian dances. He said they did research in the library and at a Museum with an Indian collection. They copied clothes for different indian dances, found descriptions of the dances and copied the drums and flutes. Then they created their own dances and soon had more request to dance than they could handle. When Grandfather was in college visiting his former scout master he was told the troup had been asked to come to the reservation to teach the indians to do indian dances."

They laughed politely at my story and returned to talking about their children. I finished my Pepperbelly and found a vendor selling cups of ice cream covered with strawberrys and whipped cream. While eating it carefully I watched the band who were now playing on the stage. The band was enthusiastic but average. In front of the stage a man and a woman were dancing to the music. They were dressed in Hawaiian clothes, she in a dress and he in an Hawaiian shirt that were both of the same color and pattern as the band's so they must be part of the entertainment.

They were just finishing getting their microphones to work as they desired and started doing the hula. I had to step to one side to clearly see him. He was doing the female hula. I shook my head, turned and left. They appeared to be polynesian but did not know there is a male version of the hula. The couple at the table where I had lunch could know how little of all these ethnic studies programs were really ethnic culture.

My abrupt turn and this thought in my head made me almost knock over Miss jet black military-jet pilot who had been approaching me. She caught her balance so I didn't have to grab her. Drat!

I excused myself and she smiled. "No harm done," she said. Looking at my ice cream she asked, "Where did you get that?"

"I'm on my way there right now. I'll take you there. My name is Billy Thompson," I said, extending my hand.

She took my hand in a firm grip. "Marissa Lawton," she said all the while looking me straight in the eye as if daring me to do something. What I did was hold her hand to lead her to the ice cream stand. I bought two.

Close up Marissa is even prettier than I expected. It was impossible to tell how old Marissa was. She spoke like a debutante and her laughter was beautifully polished.

She seemed surprised about me as well. "Two Ice Cream Sundaes? I hope you are a growing boy."

I smiled and said I was as I followed her away from the crowd eating and behind the booths on the street. There was less of a crowd here so it was easier to walk and less likely to be bumped and spill strawberries and ice cream.

Marissa asked me as we looked in store windows, "I heard your story about Indians. Do you know much about Indians?"

"Not as much as my Grandfather. He will still do Indian dances although he is a lot slower than when I was young."

Before I could ask her anything she asked me again. "I also noticed you showed disappointment in the Hawaiian dancers. Why was that?"

"That's easy. I was disappointed the male dancer did the female dance."

That startled Marissa so she dropped some of the strawberries she was just ready to bite. "Is there a male hula? I can't imagine what that would be."

I laughed and kept some strawberry from falling on her chin. "Polynesian men and women did separate dances as I believe Indians did as well. The music is similar and the dances are also similar but the men do war dances, either preparing for battle or commemorating a famous battle of the tribe, while the women do more peaceful dances. We are all familiar with the hula and how the hands represent the words of the song; clouds, waves, mountains, the sun etc."

I paused to eat and let her ask a question but she didn't so I went on.

"In the male version the man dances with his knees deeply bent and his fists balled up and held in front of him as a boxer does. He keeps his knees bent as he moves forward and back but he changes his boxers hands as he comes closer to the woman. The clenched hands are the way a warrior holds a spear of club and to get the most powerful throw or hitting the warrior bends his knees then straightens to get the most power."

I gave her my bowl then bent my knees and gave a silly looking demonstration for her as I spoke. "It takes strong legs and considerable endurance to do that dance but I guess that was good training for warriors."

Marissa politely stifled her laugh at my antics. I went on. "Today the Polynesains dance together just as we do; they seem to like stately waltzes for example. But they still like their native music and when it plays the men like all men, like to watch a woman swaying in front of them whether coming or going. But the also like to dance with their women.

When the two are dancing together he will dance toward her until he is close enough to her that with her arms out to her side he can push his fists under her arms close to her waist without touching her. He can also bend or straighten his knees to raise or lower his hands skimming along the side of her body. It is very sensual"

"Where did you learn all of this? Is this an inheritance from your grandfather?"

I shrugged. "I had a job in Fiji once so I got to go there. The job was short so I had planned to visit Australia which is only an hour's flight away. But once in Fiji I decided to spend my time and money seeing as much as I could. They have an island group that is reserved for the Fijians to live in their primitive state. These islands are part of the Yasawa chain. Tourists are not allowed on these islands unless they agree to live without modern conveniences and even then only a few are allowed. An old Boy Scout like me just had to see what primitive life was really like."

Marissa sighed. "How do you know the Hawaiians have the same custom?"

"I don't but I saw a touring Hawaiian dance program where the men and women danced separately but the male dance was similar to the Fiji dance.

"I too am interested. I just wondered. Hearing your story and seeing your apparent dislike of the hula I though you were making fun of them."

"I do like the hula in all of its forms. Being a young male I admit I particularly like the gentleness and sensuallity of the female hula dancer but, as I said, I went to see a touring Hawaiian dance troup who did native dances but almost ballet-like in style and class. What are your interests?"

"I am a Comanche but I only lived on the reservation when I was very small. I was sent away to an Eastern school and only spent summers there. I am one of those 'ironic' Indians who don't know much about Indian dancing. Maybe I should take lessons from your Grandfather."

"Maybe you should. How did you come to be sent away back east?"

"My father was a doctor, and an Indian, on the reservation. He wanted me to learn more of the world and arranged for me to go to a more normal American school. Needless to say the other students gave me a bad time but I got a good education and a scholarship to college and am now a Chemist."

"It's so concillation but when I was in school it was All-American and the other students gave me a bad time too."

"Why did they give you a bad time?"

"No reason that I know. I was not very athletic, read alot and was really interested in art, not sports."

She appeared to be sympathetic. "Are you an artist now?"

"No, I'm not an artist, I do logos for businesses. I also morph products into other objects. That's what I did as a kid too. I morphed things on the computer all the time so the kids called me Morph. Then a kid learned what 'Morph' meant and I really got razzed.

"Anyway, That's what took me to Fiji, a TV campaign promoting touring Fiji. That also got me to Japan and Europe."

I paused and thought for a second and decided to tell her. "When I was in Europe the second time I met Claudia Schiffer. I was to be part of a team to morph movies of her into a sports car. I was part of the team seeing that the movies, the morphing and the sports car all flowed smoothly. I got go to dinner with her and that was where I got retribution. Who should be on their honeymoon and having dinner there as well? A guy and gal from High School. He was one who gave me a tough time everytime he could and here I was walking in with the hottest model in the world. Maybe your time will come."

"I don't know. Claudia Schiffer just isn't my type, Billy."

It all seemed to be ending there and I was stuck trying to think of something to say. For all I knew she had a boyfriend. But while I was racking my brain she spoke up.

"I'm going with my sister to see the Mondrian exhibit. You should come but then she would need a date. She's an exec with an ad agency."

I called my friend, James Moore. He teaches Math at the local college and is an amatuer historian. He would get ready and I would pick him up. Marissa gave me her address and we parted, to see each other soon. Marissa didn't think I had to change and I hoped but did not say that she shouldn't change.

When Jim and I arrived I introduced him to Marissa and she introduced us to her sister Lupe. Marissa changed into a black slip dress and redid her hair. Lupe was older and not as pretty but, how can I say this, more statuesque. Jim was happy, maybe as happy as I was but it didn't matter for I was very happy.

The Museum was an hour's drive away and had two exhibits; the Mondrian and a Judged show of local artists. I was disappointed in the selection but it was Lupe who ridiculed it. She was particularly offended by a pair of Levis mounted on a board, legs spread wide and the fly open to expose a picture of a girl. There were four girls, blonde, brunette, redhead and black haired, the last being black and the redhead oriental. The pictures were on a circle of wood behind the art work and were rotated by a motor so a different girl showed every coupld of seconds.

The other work was what you would see at an art show; gardens, kittens etc.

The Mondrian was small but very interesting. It had a progression of paintings through his life starting with paintings that had no similarity to his later work. This early phase ended with a painting of seashore with small waves moving past the posts of an old pier had collapsed. His next painting in this series was an abstract of the seashore with the fallen pier. This painting was like a ghost of a Mondrian and his collection of horizontal and verticle lines enclosing primary colors sprung from this. I was surprised that many of the 'Mondrian' looking Mondrians did not work.

"Perhaps the stark image and bright colors make these look weaker, less bold," Marissa suggested. I nodded yes.

"What do you think of Mondrian's paintings?" she asked.

"I think of Tic-Tac-Toe," I answered, and dared a squeeze.

She squeeked and said, "Not something more intellectual? Say Chess?"

"Oh, yes. Chess will do to as will Go! I could morph it all into Go." I put my arm around her waist.

She let it stay, then walked out of it to the next painting. The end of the exhibit was photographs of modern things where his patterns were used; a woman's dress, a refrigerator and several other items.

I guess my ideas weren't original.

The last part of the museum was their collection and it was all bracketed by the Mondrian above and the local artists at the bottom. Everyone was tired when we left. I whispered a suggestion to James and he agreed.

I asked the girls, "Tom and I would like to take you to dinner. Would you like to go home to change or go for a cocktail before dinner?"

Marissa winked at me and caucused with Lupe then they agreed to the cocktail but saw no need to go home if we could put up with them.

Over cocktails I thought James would lose it all for the two of us. Lupe asked me about my Grandfather and whether he could really teach Indian dancing. I told her that he could indeed but he didn't know Comanche dances but knew Sioux instead. That got the Indian discussion going.

This went on for awhile with James giving scraps of history of the Indians starting at the East Coast and to Wounded Knee as the discussion progressed.

Lupe explained that she and her sister were three quarter Comanches from Texas. James got in a good joke that no one else understood. "Three quarter Comanche. That would make you a Comanc!"

He had to explain it. "Comanche has eight letters and 'Comanc' has six. The two missing letters are H and E or he. Obviously you both definitely lack 'he.'"

Marissa took my hand. "Oh, I don't know. I have 'he.'"

I blushed.

I tried to change the subject. "What about the Five Civilized Nations? Aren't the Comanche part of the Five Civilized Nations?"

Lupe said no. "The Five Civilized Nations were the Choctaw, Cherokee, Chickasaw, Creek, and Seminole, who were briefly self-governing in the Indian Territory, now Oklahoma, after being displaced from their land in the southeastern United States."

James said, "It's easy to get confused. Choctaw, Cherokee, Chickasaw, Creek, Comanche; how did those Seminoles get in?"

The girls laughed but I don't think they were being more than polite. I went back. "Actually saying the The Five Civilized Nations 'displaced from their land in the southeastern United States' hides more than it explains. I think they were forced off their land. That was one of many travesties of history that can't be excused."

This gave James a chance to get back in Lupe's good graces. "Yes they were. The Americans always said 'Why can't and Indian be more like Americans' but the Five Civilized Nations tried and took up farming, built towns and tried their best but their neighbors couldn't accept Indians as, well neighbors, so they were driven off.

He put his hand on Lupe's and she smiled at him, then said, "Marissa and I are trying to be like Americans because we were not really let to experience the Indian way of life. I guess we are three quarters American but treated like we are not."

Marissa scolded, "You can't complain at all, Lupe. Can you honestly say you are mistreated? We were both forced to change but I think it's different now."

She looked me in the eye and asked, "Maybe the four of us should find a class in Indian dancing."

James dug himself out of his pit a little for he said, "I know the college doesn't teach Indian dancing. If you can't find anyone else Billy's Grandfather can come stay with him and I'll arrange for the school to hire him. I can see a three part course, I'll teach history, you two can teach culture or at least three quarters of it and Grandfather will teach dancing."

That discussion continued as we paid our bar bill, left and drove to the restaurant. Marissa had suggested Hilltop House, a large restaurant on a hill overlooking the river. It was three quarter bar and restaurant and one quarter dance floor and band stand. It was clean and moderately priced but reminded me of World War II movies somehow. The food is varied and good but the bands are stodgy. I sorted of wanted to jiggle Marissa up a little but will settle for a chance to hold her.

James got us back on Indians again. "I just remembered that when I went to Washington University in Saint Louis for a seminar I was taken for dinner at a place called The New Delhi Delli. It turned out to not be Indian food but was instead Indian food. The owners were, I believe, Illini and they were upset with the Indians confusing everything about the Indians."

"It does get confusing," said Marissa. "But what are you going to do about it?"

Lupe said, “Aren’t we called ‘Native Americans?’ That should take care of it.”

“What did Indians call themselves before the Europeans came?” asked James.

Both Marissa and Lupe answered, “Us!”

James lauged, “That’s what we all call ourselves now, ‘You Ess!’”

Lupe said, “If only ‘You Ess’ didn’t have guns that may have been true.”

“Well, you are right about that,” saind James fondly. “The vikings came hundreds of years before Columbus and they didn’t have guns. They did have cows and they thoughfully made a gift of milk but Indians couldn’t digest cow’s milk so they got severe cramps. The cramps were not fatal but the Indians thought the Vikings tried to poisen them so they drove them from Newfoundland to Green land. The Indians followed the ships there and continued to kill the Viking’s cows, their main source of food so the Vikings returned to Denmark. Centuries later they told a sailor named Columbus about Newfoundland and the murderous Indians. Columbus took guns.”

“That’s my point. The Indians didn’t have the technology.”

James spoke gently. “Indians had a lot of technology but they couldn’t master one because they didn’t have domesticated animals to haul and carry things. The only domesticated animals in pre-Columbian America were the llamas in Peru. The llamas couldn’t survive the trip through the tropics so the Indians tropics the north never knew about them. Indians did develop skills and technologies that they needed and could use. They were masters of psychology and understood nature very well, better than the Europeans who did not need these skills for they could do better with applying science.”

I stepped in before an argument ensued to ask Marissa, “Would you, you Native American Indian Ind care to dance?”

As she stood up and took my hand she said, “I would love to. Are you going to dance the hula?”

Lupe was asking James about this as we went to the dance floor and I took this magnificent woman into my arms. Dancing with Marissa was heaven. I’d never before liked this band but now I found them nearly perfect.

I drove Marissa to my place after the band quit. On the way I told her, “James is going to ask Lupe out tomorrow. Do you think she’ll accept?”

“Probably,” she answered. “She has a boyfriend in Iraq but she goes out when asked. Don’t tell him though. She’ll tell him but maybe not tonight.”

I agreed. James would enjoy dating a pretty girl even if nothing came of it. But, who knows. She could come to like him. If she let it go too far and didn’t tell him at least after two dates I would call Lupe myself.

As if reading my mind, Marissa said, “I don’t know if Lupe might like James. He does say thngs that are nearly insulting.”

“I know he sounds that way but he doesn’t mean to. He just states facts harshly. He tries to see facts in different ways and people can’t sort out what he believes and what he believes from what he considers might be correct. He teaches Math so he sees only truth or error. He understands well that truth is hard to find with humans. His story about Newfoundland Indians thinking the Vikings were trying to poisen them is true and it happens to him all the time. People think he is insulting them when he is just stating facts. He is easily hurt by that.”

Marissa was silent, then she mused, “Welll, he did really end up explaining it all wasn’t the Indian’s fault. I suppose he is right, both sides of every conflict thinks worse of the other side than facts will support.”

At my place Marissa wanted coffee so I sent her to find a CD she liked and went to the kitchen. She was sitting on my couch when I brought the coffee. She looked lovely with a devilish grin. “I notice you have a picture of Claudia Schiffer over your couch. Are you in love with her?” she asked as she sipped her coffee.

I turned on the TV and my computer. Soon the TV screen went blue as I opened a file and connected the TV to my computer. Marissa smiled as Claudia walked sensually down an empty street (“That’s Zurich,” I explained). She, Marissa, literally gasped as Claudia dropped to the pavement and turned into a cat-like animal then leapt forward to become in midflight a speeding sports car.

I thought I’d burst when she asked to see it again. After that I showed her some of my other work. Then she let me take her picture standing in front of a wall. I loaded a picture of an apple and changed the stem to black with tan highlights. I changed her dress to red and then put the apple on a hand gently tossing it in the air. I morphed the apple buncing up and down into her dancing on the hand and finally morphed her into a beating heart.

When it finished she leaned over and kissed me softly on my cheek; her breath smelled of peppermint, berries, apricots and tangerines.

I told her, “that kiss is sweeter than two fresh strawberry sundaes.” That got me another kiss.

She asked me, “Is that kiss better than my black combat boots?”

I went limp, at least most of me did, and sighed a sibilant, “Yesssss.”

She put my hand on the top of her stocking. My eyes closed involuntarily at the feel of her pliant skin. I was hers to do with as she wished.

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