It's also about brothers... and cars... and roadtrips (to Alaska)... and PTSD so LOL you see where I'm going here. But with being Chippewa and the Vietnam War, in addition.
What I feel like is done just so magnificently well here happens in the first and last paragraphs. Here's the first one:
I was the first one to drive a convertible on my reservation. And of course it was red, a red Olds. I owned that car along with my brother Henry Junior. We owned it together until his boots filled with water on a windy night and he bought out my share. Now Henry owns the whole car, and his younger brother Lyman (that's myself), Lyman walks everywhere he goes.The question: How does Henry come to own the car, when he's the one with boots full of water?
Read: "The Red Convertible" by Louise Erdrich (12-page short story)