A man desires the satisfaction of his desire, a woman desires the condition of desiring...
I read that somewhere. Don’t ask me where, because after awhile, the books become mere collections of words and they all collide into a whirlwind of letters and it’s impossible to separate out who wrote what, or who said what, or who should actually get credit for what - which is strikingly similar to the men I’ve dated. After a while, they become entrenched in that whirlwind of words and whisked away to some unknown land.
If you were to ask me the names of every man that I have dated, I could not tell you. Not because I am overly popular, and not because I have dated hundreds of men, but because there are only a few who, in the overall scheme of life, matter. They are the men who create a new world, which occasionally, you are allowed to visit.
Klo-sen was such a man. A full-blooded Apache, he grew up on the Chiricahua reservation in Southern New Mexico. His real name is Joseph, but he never let anyone call him that. Klo-sen was the name of his grandfather’s grandfather, and it means "hair rope". He calls it a power name because his long hair is where he keeps his strength and, watching him on the back of a green-broke mustang as together they climb, wet and dripping from the river (his preferred method of breaking horses), you believe him. You tell your friends that he calls you "baya isdzan."
Your female friends tell you that is the most romantic thing that they have ever heard, and if their men were one-tenth as passionate as the men that you attracted, their entire lives would be different.
Your male friends shake their heads, asking how a person as beautiful and passionate as you keeps attracting these guys, and if you were truly interested in a long-term relationship, you wouldn’t date a guy who names himself after his hair.
But each weekend, the two of you drive out to the desert, as far away from the city lights as you can get in an hour, and look at the stars. He tells you the legends behind each constellation, the stories of warriors who have died nobly to earn their place in the sky, and the thousands of trickster tales which explain everything unknown. He tells you the story of Changing woman, and how the Hopi believe that Spider woman sang the earth into creation one word at a time. And you listen, spellbound, as if they were true , because just being out under the stars with a man like Klo-sen makes you believe them.
Your female friends look towards the mountains that frame the desert valley below and sigh.
Your male friends stifle a laugh, and ask if Spider woman is any relation to Spider man.
Your dogs already love him, probably more than they love you. The horse that you have struggled for years to tame turns to putty whenever he is around, leaning into him as he cups her nose in his strong hands, and standing calmly as he drapes himself over her back.
And then one night, as you’re lying together, he tells you a secret. His long, dark hair, thicker even than your own, frames his face as he hovers over you. It envelops you, transforms you into a world that is ancient, temporal, bewitching. He tells you that he once attended a ceremony in order to be blessed by a medicine man. He tells you that he had asked for you to blessed instead of him, because once there, he realized that yours was the more tortured soul. His long fingers touch your face, and he looks deep into your eyes, as though he can somehow see your inner being and read your every thought.
He says that you have the mind of a wolf and the spirit of a coyote and that although they are similar, they can never be one. And outwardly you smile, but inwardly you rejoice, because they are the exact words that you never knew you always wanted to hear.
And then he lowers his head and gently touches his soft lips to yours. You grasp a handful of his dark, thick hair in your fist like a child, because you love the way it feels between your fingers, and he gently pushes against you, presses you deeper into the new world that he has created for the two of you, and the words of your friends are lost in the whirlwind, into which you have once again surrendered a part of your soul. . .
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Reviewed by Pauline Dewberry
5/17/2006
What an amazing story! I want a Klo-sen for myself! I want that passionate Apache to lean over me and tell me I am a wolf and a coyote! I want all the other bits as well ....
Fantastic, Stacy - you have such a beautiful way with words!
Pauline (who doesn't know anyone who has named himself after his hair) in the UK
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