This happens in 1988 and should not be viewed through today's eyes. People thought this way and spoke this way. I am not trying to portray any one person or group as "good" or "bad". It's just a simple love story between two young adults from different and somewhat foreign backgrounds.
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Shayla Black Bear. I knew who she was because my small high school was in the same athletic conference as her small high school so our schools competed against each other. The difference was that mine was a small public school and hers was on her Indian Reservation. I always thought she was cute, but had never talked to her. Associating with that high school- our main rivals- was looked down upon and peer pressure is a powerful weapon or tool for a high schooler.
Then I graduated and didn't care as much about those things when I headed off to a summer job at as a lifeguard, janitor or whatever else management deemed I needed to do day to day. And during Orientation I saw a girl who looked an awful lot like Shayla Black Bear.
Whacky WaterWorld was a swimming pool, lake and amusement park all rolled into one in Wisconsin Dells. Various rides- both water based and land based- go-carts, bumper boats, concession stands, wave pools, diving boards, zip lines and lakes dotted the property. Shayla looked different at Orientation than I remembered her. She was much cuter. Womanly. And with no peer pressure, desirable.
"Hey, don't I know you?" I heard a loud feminine voice ask.
"Maybe. I went to McCoy Public. Didn't you go to..."
"Menominee Tribal. Shalyla Black," she said as she shoved her hand towards me. I noticed she dropped the "Bear" from her name for whatever reason.
I shook her hand and said, "Simon Taylor."
"I know. I thought you were cute and then you hit a grand slam off my brother last year." I let my mind drift back to that playoff game. Every boy's dream, hitting a walk off grand slam. I smiled at that memory. Hitting one against your rival was even sweeter.
"He was pissed, but I thought it was funny. Woulda been funnier if you had pointed at him as you ran the bases," Shayla offered.
"Officials frown on that," I said, "but yeah, THAT would have been awesome. So, have you ever worked here?"
"Nope. Thought it sounded fun to get away from home. I hope to join the Navy in the fall but wanted to work on my tan first," she joked. Her complexion didn't really need to see the sun.
Shayla was about 5 foot 6. Medium height and build. B cup chest, dark hair, eyes, and skin. Cute smile and joking, sparkly eyes. "I could really enjoy her company" was my second First Impression of her. My first First Impression was tainted because of our school rivalry. Such juvenile ignorance.
"What's your story, Simon?"
"Graduated last week, need some money for college but I would rather join the Marines."
"Jarhead wannabe, huh? Why? Desire to get blown up or to drown?" Shayla teased.
"Uniforms are cool, and chicks dig a man in uniform. Also, not sure what I want and I like the ocean."
She asked, "Ever seen the ocean?"
"Not in person," I lamely admitted.
"Then how do you know?" Then she continued, "I joined the Navy Delayed Entry Program and will go in the fall if I pass a physical. Saw the ocean once and it was GORGEOUS! But I mainly want to get away from home and work with computers. I like math and computers are the wave of the future and the Navy is on the front line of computers and satellites and technology."
It was 1988 and she was right, but my knowledge or interest for what she was talking was almost nonexistent, but I did like talking to her all the same.
"Buy me a Coke and a hotdog?" She asked. She apparently was a forward person who went after what she wanted.
"Sure," I said as she hooked her arm through mine as we set off to find a concession stand with a Coke and a hotdog. That was our first "date", and my first date since Julie Makerson gave me a handjob at prom a month before. That was nice, but nothing else happened because she got drunk and fucked Chuck Lewis later that night.
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Shayla and I talked for almost 2 hours at supper about nothing and everything all at once. She explained that her dad passed away several years before and she didn't like any of her mom's worthless boyfriends. She talked about the stigma of growing up on a reservation and how dating, marriage and bloodlines in her tribe were strictly controlled for "purity" and she wanted out. The Navy was merit based and she could excel if she tried, or fail if she didn't try, but either way, the decision was hers. She was bright, funny, articulate and driven. And pretty. Sexy, even. I wanted more, but unfortunately we needed to get checked into our "cabins" or we might lose out.
The company we worked for had bunkhouses and cabins and old motels for rent to its employees for $10 a night deducted from your check or $50 per week if you paid cash in advance. Tiny rooms, shared bathrooms mostly, but they provided independence for young kids who would spend all summer working so others could enjoy their summer vacations. And since we checked in at the same time, Shayla and I were neighbors this week. We dropped our bags off and went outside with other workers and sat near the campfire.
That was when we first noticed the looks of disapproval from the others. A white boy and an Indian girl. But we didn't care.
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"You've seen how they look at me. At us. They don't think we should be friends," Shayla confided in me a few days later when we were on the zipline lifeguard stand together.
"What? Well, maybe a few, but they are the small minded ones. But who cares?" I was curious where she was going with her line of reasoning.
