The Hippies

8. Yooʼį́ and Yidiists'a'

Season 2, Episode 8: Yooʼį́ and Yidiists'a'
(See and Hear)

Bonnie sobbed in her brother's chest and squeezed him tighter as she trembled against him. Anthony held her just as tight, his hands in her hair as he kissed the top of her head. She had a flashback of her first heartbreak; she and her brother held this exact position. A part of her loved him as she felt a child would love their father. He was all she ever had and he was back with her—she hoped forever.

She didn't notice the devastation Norma caused. Crooked stop signs that flew from the ground during the storm, plants pulled from their roots, trash scattered, water damaged vehicles that still hadn't been towed.

When she calmed herself down, she sniffed and lifted her head from her brother's chest. Through her tears she took him in. He wasn't the same as when she last saw him two years ago. A near-fresh scar behind his ear that once would've been hidden behind his thick, dark hair that flowed behind him like a cape. Now his hair was a buzz cut. Her cheeks flamed with anger. Her hands shook. She squeezed him tighter. How could they not understand and empathize with the Diné culture? To cut her brother's hair, to—

Her anger fled when she met his eyes. They gleamed dully. His eyes looked but did not see. He was far as he held her.

"Tony," she gently placed a hand on his knee, "they hurt you."

His rough hand touched her cheek. "It's only a limp, Bonita."

They hurt your soul, she wanted to say.

Her lips twitched to a smile at the old nickname. Her knees ached from blood, sweat, and heat. She'd forgotten the pain of her skinned knees in her brother's arms. He was with her. Her nightmares and the looming anxiety could evaporate.

The screen door squeaked and slammed. Her mother, Elaine, squinted and shielded her eyes from the sun. Bonnie popped up and ran to her mother. Before she could think, she took the shorter woman in her arms. Bonnie wasn't one to touch and hug, but this time was different. She was tortured by the assumption that there'd always be a piece missing.

She felt like a stranger as they piled in the house she grew up in. It was surreal; walking in the past with the future present.

She saw herself missing teeth and sprinting down the hall, her bare feet splatting dirt in the air. Her uncle's dog, Chico, ran beside her; her brother behind in a mask he stole from the drug store. She screamed and ran into her mother in the threshold. They both tumbled outside, Chico running right over them. With a warm washcloth to her chin, she and Anthony held their heads low as their mother yelled at them for running in the house and being "little thieves." You were supposed to be at work! was little Bonnie's excuse.

Their mother wasn't on friendly terms with Mr. George down at the drug store after a date turned bloody—chickens loose and running headless—but still she made them walk the long trail of shame to apologize and pay for the mask by working for free.