When stars have teeth, p.1
When Stars Have Teeth, page 1
When Stars Have Teeth
Dani Trujillo
Copyright © 2024 by Dani Trujillo
Cover Design by Marcus Trujillo
Editing by Alexis Richoux, Bear Lee and Nancy Juarros
Interior Artwork by Dani Trujillo
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact SinVerguenzas LLC.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Also By Dani Trujillo
Lizards Hold the Sun
When Stars Have Teeth
Dani Trujillo
For the slayer within.
Contents
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter 1
These meetings were really starting to get on her nerves. Buffy felt like she was on exhibition. See Modern Indian Struggles Today! No matter what she said, pain won grants. Not success. Buffy hated it, but more money meant more programming. So, she sold pain.
It made her feel dirty.
College Buffy had dreamed of a job like this, but she hadn’t known what all it would require of her. Back home, she could strike the fear of Creator into someone spouting harmful comments. If she did that now, she risked losing her job. Buffy was already on thin ice after walking out of the last board meeting.
Setting her bag on her desk, Buffy removed her high heels. She stretched her toes in the cool air before slipping on a pair of black leather moccasins. Freeing her red hair from the bun at the nape of her neck, she attempted to massage the tension from her muscles. Her neck cracked.
Alcatraz Island loomed outside her window, a constant reminder of why she did this job. After spending a few weeks helping Rosebud, her best friend and Director of Curation, expand the Bunchberry Tribal Museum, Buffy saw the city differently. She imagined what it would’ve looked like six hundred years ago, when their people lived peacefully on the land. It kept her going, even when clammy pink hands slid across her back or into the crook of her neck.
Inhaling through her nose, Buffy forced the air out slowly through her mouth. The people needed this money. As many resources as the center offered, there was always a demand for more. The housing initiative was on the slaughtering line, and she was determined to keep it from being cut. The unhoused population in San Francisco continued to grow with rising rent prices and Natives needed places to fall back on. This program had to happen.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she breathed deeply again.
Time to get yourself together, Buffy.
Everything would work out. She always got what she fought for. This grant would be no different.
“Are you ready?” Veronica, Buffy’s assistant, poked her head inside the open office door. “Everyone’s lined up.”
Buffy sprang from her chair and followed Veronica down to the ground floor. The gathering room was the entire expanse of their building thanks to the knocked down walls from when they first opened a decade ago. Now, the room was wide, with plenty of space for community activities and events. Decorated with tribal flags from across Turtle Island, the gathering space felt like it was located on the rez instead of one of the largest cities in the country.
Tonight was an Elder dinner, free hot meals for all of the older Natives in the city. It was the only evening event Buffy worked religiously. She was worried that at their advanced age, an Elder might disappear between one week and the next. It was for the same reason that her dad, Muskwa, received a call every Tuesday afternoon while she shopped for fish at the wharf. Her excuse was that she needed his advice on purchasing fresh fish, but they both knew she missed him.
Buffy noted multiple new faces in the crowd tonight. She washed her hands and pulled on a pair of white latex gloves. The ladle handle was warm in her palm. Stirring the venison and mushroom stew, she spooned it onto plate after plate. Along with acorn bread and crispy oven-baked sage leaves, the meal celebrated local Indigenous food while providing hearty and healthy meals for their aging population.
A young man came through the line, free of gray hairs and deep wrinkles. Buffy narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t seen this man before. His ink-black hair was cropped short to his ears, thicker than a forest on his head. His blue flannel shirt hugged tight to his lean body, dark brown skin peeking from his sleeve.
Buffy spooned the stew into a bowl and placed it on his tray. “This for you?”
“For her.” He pointed to an old woman seated alone at one of the tables. A cane hung on the back of her chair, long salt and pepper hair wound into a braid in the center of her back.
“You’re new,” Buffy said, watching him gather utensils.
“Santiago.” He extended a hand towards her, black ink peeking from under the sleeve.
“Buffy.” She waved a gloved hand at him, watching while he pulled back.
“Nice to meet you, Buffy.” Santiago nodded at her and turned back towards the old woman.
Buffy watched him from the corner of her eye while she served the long line. Soon the seats were full and she couldn’t find the stranger in the sea of Elders and their family members. She put her curiosity to the side; there were plenty of regulars that deserved her full attention.
She started with Mr. Norman, an old Tlingit man from Alaska. He had taken a fishing job in the bay one summer and never left. His children vacated the city for cheaper towns but Mr. Norman remained. Buffy had been trying to convince him to join the Elder Drum Circle but he was obstinate. This was only his third Elder dinner and she still found him silent more often than not. The only reason Mr. Norman stayed around at the center was because he was the guardian for one of his grandchildren, and the center’s classes, free meals, and access to computers and internet were his saving grace.
“How’s the stew?” Buffy greeted the men seated at the table with Mr. Norman, starting with the Eldest and ending beside the only slightly younger Mr. Norman.
She garnered only appreciative grunts and stuffed-mouth mumblings. Buffy brought them all fresh water bottles before pulling a chair up beside Mr. Norman.
He eyed her warily, offering only a grunt at her cheery greeting.
“The drum circle is having a beginners’ class next Wednesday,” Buffy said. “Can I sign you up?”
“Will you ever stop asking me to?” Mr. Norman grumbled around a bite of acorn bread.
“Nope.” Buffy smiled wide. “I’m stubborn.”
“Like a bull.” Mr. Norman ignored her and continued eating. Buffy sat silently beside him. Mr. Norman huffed under her gaze. “Fine. Can you get me a ride voucher so I can skip the bus?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Buffy kissed his cheek and moved on to her next victim.
Santiago watched as she moved around the room. Buffy was tall, strength evident in the roundness of her shoulders. Her figure was full and Santiago guessed she was an athlete of some kind. She moved through the packed room easily, twisting and turning herself through open spaces between people and tables. Her smile stole the breath from his chest and he watched her intently, hoping for her to do it again.
“Santiago.” His grandmother’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Can you get me a tea?”
When he found the table again, the redheaded enigma was in his seat, chatting animatedly with his grandmother, that smile wide on her open mouth. Someone was blessing him today.
Santiago set the tea in front of his grandmother, grasping the back of her chair.
“Did you get a plate?” Buffy turned her umber eyes on him, concern in her gaze.
“No.” He shook his head, staring straight back at her. Santiago tried to think of something to say, but his heart was hammering too hard for him to focus.
“Family members are welcome once Elders are fed.” The redhead pointed back towards the food table. “You should get a plate.”
“I don’t need any.”
“We usually have leftovers.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s your first visit. Humor me and get a plate. Promise I’ll be out of your seat by the time you come back.” Her voice was firm and Santiago could tell she was a woman used to being in control. He hated to admit it, but he liked being bossed around by the women he dated.
“You’re welcome to keep it.” Santiago dragged his eyes over her seated figure, from her moccasins up to her dyed red eyebrows. She didn’t grace him with a second glance, bringing his grandmother back into conversation again.
By the time he returned with a full plate, Buffy was gone.
<
“No, estoy llena, mijo.” She patted his hand and watched as he devoured the food. “¿Te gusta?”
“Yeah.” Santiago swallowed another bite of the venison stew, mushrooms catching on the roof of his mouth. “It’s different, but good.”
“The young lady was telling me about all of the events they have here.” His grandmother’s eyes were bright, her voice excited. “They even have a shuttle so that I could come here during the day.”
“Que bien, abuelita.” Santiago squeezed her hand, relief finally settling into his heart.
Santiago worried for his grandmother in her old age. His father, Alberto, visited shortly after her eightieth birthday, and found her frail and malnourished. With no family in the area and living in a rapidly gentrifying neighborhood, his grandmother had fallen into a depression. The demons pulled her into the darkness and whittled away at her body, stealing her sun and energy.
Abuela Paulina was strong but stubborn as an ox. She had refused for months to see a doctor or even consider an antidepressant. Outdated beliefs took time to remove from the mind. It wasn’t until Santiago quit his job and booked a flight that she was finally willing to see a professional. Santiago spent the first three months of his new life in San Francisco taking his grandmother to a myriad of appointments, watching as she blossomed once again.
Finding this urban Indian center was the cherry on top. If Santiago was ever going to be able to move back to Colorado, he needed to find her a community. He needed to surround her with a family that would keep her in the sunlight and remind her how brightly she could glow.
“There is a quilting session tomorrow night,” Abuela said with wide brown eyes. “Can you drive me?”
“Por supuesto.”
Chapter 2
Buffy was exhausted. This grant application was running her into the ground and she needed a vacation. Rolling her shoulders back, she felt her bones crack and pop from their computer-stiff positions. Maybe a visit to her elder brother in sunny Spain was on the cards. Now that Xiomara had moved across the pond too, Calehan finally upgraded his studio apartment to a home with real doors.
“Visit any time!” Xiomara had yelled across their new home, voice breaking up over video chat.
How long ago had that call been? Buffy couldn’t remember the last time she spoke more than five words to her eldest brother.
Maybe it was time to take up Xiomara’s offer to visit. She couldn’t avoid the entire family forever, especially now that they were moving to exotic vacation destinations with cheap shrimp.
Since leaving Bunchberry, Canada and the tiny isolated reservation she grew up on, Buffy had let distance grow between her and her siblings. Their family had survived so much and she couldn’t bear to bring them into the darkness that owned her. Shame flooded her body at the thought.
Calehan’s departure to Spain hadn’t been too much of a surprise, but Buffy’s move to the US had shocked the entire family. The guilt had been eating away at her for months, and she was certain that if she was split down the middle, only acidic green ooze would come from her bones to burn her alive.
Sliding her fingers across the phone screen, she navigated to the family group chat.
Frankie was smiling at her from Juniper’s latest photo update, his growing hair in two little braids on each shoulder. Calehan followed up with a photo of Xiomara laying between his legs and Anubis on the couch beside them. Nataani replied with a photo of him and Joy mucking the stalls on their ranch. Her family had their own perfect little families, and she couldn’t bear to bring them down.
Buffy was the negative sibling, the pessimist, the glass-half-empty, negative Nancy. In her eyes, it looked as though her departure had alleviated some of the dark clouds following her family and to go back would be to subject them to the darkness once again. Sorrow and grief followed her, and it was her duty to keep it as far away from the others as she could.
Her moving away had been the best choice for everyone.
The center was less than thirty minutes from her apartment, so Buffy chose to walk home. The winter chill was harsh against her skin and Buffy relished in the numbness that enveloped her body. Soon, the hilly street brought a burn to her thighs and she sucked in a cold breath. Oyster sauce and garlic permeated her nose and Buffy had to remind herself that she had food at home. The draw to waste all her money on take-out was overwhelming in San Francisco. Her freshman fifteen turned into twenty once she moved from Bunchberry to Winnipeg and discovered take out was walking distance from her dorm. She had a regular order at both restaurants by the end of first semester.
Camila was in the kitchen when Buffy got home, a frozen pizza in the oven and a bottle of white wine open on the counter. Buffy untied her moccasins and hung her sweater beside the door, sighing heavily. She shook off the chill from outside and wiggled her numb toes.
“A glass of wine for your thoughts?” Camila brandished the red wine. Buffy took it gratefully and slid onto the countertop.
“I’m too tired to have thoughts.” Groaning, Buffy leaned against the wall behind her. Her skin was tingling all over, the heat of the apartment and roaring oven forcing feeling back into her extremities. “This grant application is way more complicated than it was supposed to be.”
“You should quit.” Camila waggled her eyebrows up and down.
Buffy rolled her eyes at her roommate. “I can’t quit every time it gets hard.”
“I’m just saying you could get a job anywhere.” Camila pulled the pizza out of the oven. The cheese was bubbling, tomato-tainted steam bursting through the layers of cheese. “You’re so skilled, Buffy. Any company would be lucky to have you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Buffy tapped Camila on the back pocket with her bare toes, hopping off the counter to pull plates from the cabinet behind her. “I love working at the center. It’s my dream job. I just hate selling our souls for funding.”
“Who hasn’t sold their soul for work at this point?” Camila swallowed the remainder of her wine in one gulp, following it with a particularly cheesy slice of pizza.
“It would just be nice to get funding for our successes rather than our traumas.”
“You will.” Camila held her eye. “One day.”
“One day.” Refilling their glasses, Buffy clinked hers against Camila’s. The sun was setting at the edge of their windows, the western horizon shimmering in the golden light. Plants adorned the windowsill in shades of green, dotted with the dark black and red leaves of the plants Camila said “screamed Buffy”. She’d never tell Camila, but Buffy loved the dark-leaved little plants. If they could stay alive within darkness, so could she.
In front of the plants was the bright, hot-pink couch Buffy had fought against for days. Ultimately, Buffy cared significantly less than Camila about the color of the couch and eventually let Camila have what she wanted. Buffy didn’t hate it as much as she thought she would.
“How’s Miguel?” Buffy asked, watching her roommate from the corner of her eye. She had put off asking, but Camila had worn her tight curls in a bun for four days straight. Something was up and her brother was a frequent source of stress. Buffy was taking an educated guess.
“He’s okay. The transition has been really difficult.” Camila paused, eyes glued to the sunset. “On all of us.”
“The adjustment takes time. He’s still so young.” Buffy felt for Camila and her family. Her younger brother, Miguel, had spent time with kids who eventually landed him in the middle of a robbery that quickly went south. Despite being unarmed, Miguel was tried as an adult at age fifteen. Now twenty-seven and fresh out on parole, Miguel was struggling to find his footing in the world. “Did he find a job yet?”
“No.” Camila sighed; her eyes fixed on a spot by the sink. “He’s been making all of his therapy appointments, parole meetings, everything. But they keep passing on him whether it's through the temp agency or online. He can’t even get an interview at the gas station, Buffy.” Camila kept her voice steady, but Buffy knew her well enough to hear the strain in her throat.
