|buy prints of select halfsquatch photographs at etsy or dawanda. (prints of all photographs are available upon request)||day 58
“Stories of the Sasquatch go back generations among my people,” Devin said. He sat with Rebecca on his bed, in his room at Yoshi Oba’s Art Motel, both cross-legged. An empty bottle of Pinot Noir and two empty wine glasses sat on the bedside table. Downstairs, the Thursday night salon still raged. Devin held Rebecca’s hand. They were both drunk.
“I always thought those stories were just superstitions,” Rebecca said quietly.
“Some are. But too many incidents are unexplained. It’s eerie. When I was a boy on the reservation I once saw a man who had disappeared for many days in the deep woods. My grandfather found him. There was a footprint like this one nearby. My grandfather told me the man had seen the Sasquatch. I’ll never forget how that man looked – his eyes.”
“Kinda like the way people look at me,” Rebecca said.
“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” Devin said. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Look, I’m not trying to freak you out or anything. It’s just good to talk about these things. You should embrace your history, not hide it, Rebecca. It’s rich and full of tradition and legends.”
Rebecca snorted and removed her hand from his. “Yeah, like what? Scaring people? Being called Bigfoot or whatever? They’re calling me a Halfsquatch.”
Devin reached for her hand again. “But you are,” he said softly.
“We’re really not that different.”
Rebecca started to laugh.
“I guess it could be worse,” Rebecca said. “Back home in the Yukon, up near Dawson, they call the Sasquatch the Goo-Goo Man. That would make me the Goo-Goo Girl, I guess.” She laughed at her own lame joke in the way only a person charged with the rush of both liquor and attraction can.
“Goo-Goo Girl. I kinda like it.” Devin leaned forward and touched his lips softly to hers. “I kinda like you.”