The red coat

Literary Review, Fall, 2004 by Tony D'Souza

"Some guys are big and then that's it, and then some guys are small and they grow and grow. Why's that?"

"Don't know," I said.

"Weird, ain't it?"

"Yeah."

We were quiet a moment, like we weren't breathing. I wondered what I was supposed to do. There'd been a lot of things to be afraid of since I'd left home, but I wasn't really afraid anymore. I got my guts up, I said, "Want to see mine grow?"

"You know what?" she said like she hadn't heard me. "It's like the '60s again. Know what I mean? People moving all around. You're just riding your bicycle all over. I'm just watching this place out here. Are you Indian?"

"What?"

"Are you Indian? You look Indian. You look like Sioux or something."

"No, I'm not Indian."

"Too bad," she said and turned to face the wall again.

"Why? Are you Indian?"

"No," she said and sighed, "I'm not Indian either."

"Hey, Ellen," I said after a minute, trying to stir that last thing back to life, "how do you know so much about guys' things?"

"Just know is all."

"You've known some guys, huh?"

"Maybe. I knew a guy I grew up with. I knew a guy on a motorcycle who picked me up when I was hitchhiking and ended up here. I've known other guys, too. But they don't matter."

"Any of those guys Indians?"

"The guy on the motorcycle."

"Was he one that mattered?"

"Yeah," she said in a quiet voice.

"Know what, Ellen ?"

"What, Jack?"

"The next time some girl asks me, I'm going to be Sioux if she wants me to be."

"You don't have to be Sioux."

"It would have made a difference to you."

"That's not true."

"I saw it. From now on, I'm part Sioux."

"You care what I think?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"That's nice."

"I don't want to be nice. I want to be Sioux."

"You're funny."

"Funny's not good enough either."

"It's like the '60s, isn't it?"

We sat in there and sweat. I watched the flames on Ellen's skin. It was like being in a teepee. It was like being in an older time when there weren't as many people in the world, when the world and its spaces still belonged to us. Looking at her in the dark made my thing grow. I went and stood above her, and she looked at me over her shoulder with one eye, didn't seem afraid. I touched her hair with my hand, noticed for the first time how long it was.

"You know what you're doing, Jack?" she said in a small voice.

"I think so," I said.

"Are you really going to feel something about me?"

"Yes."

She made room for me and I lay down. I'm sure she could feel my racing heart.

There wasn't a whole lot to do out there. I split wood and Ellen drew birds in pencil on squares of brown paper she cut from the grocery bags we brought home from the gas station. I tuned up my bicycle and cut wood. I had to. Otherwise she was going to charge me that $8. Still the red coat hung there.

"If nobody comes to claim it," I said as she cooked beans for us one evening, "then what's going to happen to that coat?"

"I'll leave it here, I guess."

"Leave it here for who?"

"For whoever needs a coat."

"I need a coat. How else am I going to stay warm this winter?"

"I don't know," she said and shrugged.

"Look," I said, taking it from the peg and slipping into it. "It fits me perfect." My wrists stuck out from the sleeves, so I kept my arms bent at the elbows to hide that. I'd tried it on before.