Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“I think you’re wonderful, too.” Kim smiled. “Martha, this is nice and all, but just tell me what’s on your mind. You can talk to me. It’s fine.”
“Okay. Well, when you went to Jack Currant’s house a while back after your car trouble… and you sent me that text message that you were with him, alone, I was concerned. But then I saw you the next day and you said that you had one of the best nights of sleep in your life. You told me he made you some breakfast and coffee the following morning. Then he got a big truck and pulled your car out of the embankment. I thought… I thought that was romantic.” Martha’s cheeks went red again.
“Oh, Martha, that man is not paying attention to me!” Kim giggled. “Between you and me, I flirted with him, but he didn’t take the bait. Girl, he’s fine, though. I saw him with his shirt off… Honey! Abs that look like rows of biscuits wanting to be buttered!”
“I know. He’s so good looking! A hunk!” Martha’s eyes widened, and she giggled right along with her. The woman turned into a teenager right before her eyes, immersed in stories of parties, cakes, and boys…
“Isn’t he?! I have no idea how no woman has snatched him up, him being a bit of a jerk aside.”
Martha nodded in understanding. “You know, I don’t know him very well. He always gets a lot of attention when he comes into the restaurant. First, it was because of how he carried himself. Now, it’s because of him being mad at the entire city of Fairbank after what happened to Chad. I knew his wife though. She had long red hair. Real nice. Smart, too. Funny lady.”
“His wife? He said he was divorced.”
“Oh, he is. Been divorced for a very long time, but they remained friends. She died about a year after their son did. She drank herself to death after that, they say. It tore her to pieces. Chad was their only child.”
“That is so horrible…” Kim shook her head. “What happened to him, Martha? He didn’t tell me.”
“Someone shot him and left him outside, in the cold. Some said it was a drug deal gone wrong, but Jack said in a news interview that although Chad smoked pot on occasion, he was never into any heavy stuff. I never heard of Chad committing crimes or hurting anyone. It was a real shame.”
Sorrow welled within her. She took another sip of water, but it didn’t help.
“Did you know that Jack was the one to find him dead? There had been search parties, and he was on the news as missing for quite a while. No one could find him… but Jack did.”
Kim flopped back on her couch and took a deep breath, then briefly closed her eyes.
“No, I didn’t know that. It’s awful.” The room became heavy. The ceiling came down further and further. She felt cramped, the air becoming thinner. “That man has been through hell and back, hasn’t he?”
Martha nodded. “You know, Kim, it’s strange how many people disappear in Alaska. There are so many indigenous women who vanish every day, and it feels like no one cares.” Martha dropped her head and stroked the front of her purse. “I would have thought because Chad was White, the police would’ve cared more. They didn’t.”
They rested in their silence as though it were a coffin.
“There’s a campaign called ‘Alaska’s missing and murdered Indigenous Women and Girls.’ My best friend disappeared back in 2003. Casandra. My cousin, April, ten years ago. They eventually found her body. She was murdered by her boyfriend. He’s never been apprehended. I know many more. Some have been found. Some have not. It’s like being gray… No one sees you. You blend into the background. You disappear, then people forget your name…”
Kim reached for her hand. Martha grasped it and squeezed.
Missing. Yes… I know what it means to be gray… to disappear… to vanish…
“I’m sorry.” Martha chuckled nervously. “That’s pretty depressing.”
“You have no reason to apologize to me, or anyone else. Depressing it is, but facts are facts. What can I do to help?”
Martha’s eyes widened.
“Help?”
“Yes. I want to join a committee or do something to help regarding this cause that means so much to you. No, I’m not an indigenous woman. I’m a Black woman, in America. But now, Alaska is my home, and you have been nothing but a magnificent big sister to me. Most of my adult life, I have fought for the rights of African Americans. I told you that I used to dance, and there was discrimination for auditions, parts—it was always something. I am used to being an activist for the arts. For Black people. For Black women. There’s room on the plate for me to pitch in with your causes, too. We’re both women. Women of color. And half the time, this country doesn’t seem to give a damn about us. Your people and my people built this country. This was your people’s land. It was stolen from you. My people were brought here in chains to work that stolen land. Now, we’re trying to recover. We have that in common.”