Through A Glass, Darkly (The Assassins of Youth MC #1)(54)

It was a wild and weird time, and I actually didn’t get to talk to Gideon much. The silver-haired gentleman biker Maximus of the Lazzat Un Nisa Society—what they called their riding club—had loaned us two tents, and tonight Gideon and I would sleep under its flimsy covering together, just the two of us. It was almost nine, and Gideon had promised Vonda he’d take her to sunrise yoga, a squirt gun fight, to climb on top of a giant DREAM art installation, to hear a dubstep group perform, and to a bar that made you wear stilts to get a drink. He said he’d get her a Shirley Temple.

We rode past a massage camp, a foot spa camp, a coffee shop, a beekeeping tent, and at least two bike repair camps. I was still extremely out of my comfort zone, as the teens said. I’d originally been planning on turning my Cornucopia dress into just a skirt so at least I had something to cover my ample ass. I’d dropped it off at a seamstress, but now I couldn’t remember how to get back there, and there was no cell service.

Like many people, we wanted to climb up on our truck’s cab and watch the sun set. I was already feeling like a hippie as Gideon reached an arm down to hoist me up, then Vonda. He’d ordered me a pair of lace-up moccasins to replace the stodgy black leather shoes I’d worn for years. Vonda would have a pair of sheepskin ones ready for her tomorrow. They’d keep the dust out.

We all sat cross-legged. It was a wonder to see more of the village from this vantage point. Vonda had already climbed many of the art installations, but I think I was in such culture shock I wasn’t ready yet. From on top of the truck, I could see more of the half-moon shape of the layout of Black Rock City. Folks were climbing their RVs, their art cars, their port-a-potties, anything to give them a slightly better view of the sunset. Of course all this was accompanied by a constant cacophony, a chatter of voices and music and far-off chanting coming from the playa.

“Mom, you wouldn’t believe it,” raved Vonda. “While you were getting a hot dog, I took part in a potato sack race.”

“Not naked, I hope,” I said primly.

“Of course not. And I got a massage from a guy running a coffee shop.”

“Where was I?”

“You were in the bookmobile.”

“My bookish woman,” Gideon said warmly.

Vonda continued, “Then we had a smoothie, and I wanted to go into the Peep Show Shower, but Gideon didn’t want to.”

I nodded. “Excellent parental guidance, Gideon. You’ll be a good father yet. I’m sure you monitored the massage she got.”

“Oh, it was all on the up and up.”

“It wasn’t the Orgy Tent, mom! There was a human petting zoo. And a giant question mark in the middle of nowhere.”

I was exhausted, too tired to ask if she’d smoked marijuana, and couldn’t begin to keep up with the fifteen-year-old. People were lighting sparklers, setting off cones and fountains of fireworks from on top of their vehicles. I felt like a tiny, insignificant firefly in the greater scheme of things.

“And the Temple of the Dead.”

Gideon corrected her. “It’s called the Temple of Promise.”

Vonda rushed on. “Mom, this is where we can leave the photo of Dad. It’s like a—I kid you not—a giant cornucopia that’s going to also burn this weekend. There are trees inside, and Gideon said he also had a photo to leave there.”

“Oh, yes?” I looked at Gideon. His beautiful profile in repose was like a marble statue, so utterly still. He didn’t flinch when Vonda mentioned a photo he’d brought. I didn’t want to pry. The Temple was where you left photos of departed loved ones. I supposed I’d find out tomorrow who he’d lost. They burned the Temple to the ground at the end of the week.

We watched the sunset in silence for awhile, an aura of bright, almost fluorescent, orange, like Vonda’s Instagram photos. People praised and chanted, their hymns a distant pendulum, but I didn’t say anything. I thought about how wondrous it was that babies were born with a built-in language chip. How miraculous that they put two and two together from the moronic snippets they hear from adults. And we attribute this skill to some brilliance in their intellect! I think they are just learning to remember what they already know.

It was Vonda who asked, “What’ll we do when we go back home?”

And it was Gideon who answered. I was grateful, since I sure as shiz had no clue. “We’ll enroll you in school, Vonda. In the real world, kids keep going to school through the twelfth grade. I’ll talk to those Lazzat Un Nisa guys to find out which school in St. George is the best.”

“Yes, those bikers seem nice,” I said. “I’ll have to get a job.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Gideon. “You’ll have your hands full just dealing with Kimball and the kids.”

“Emersyn was making sounds like she wants to get out too.”

“She does,” Vonda stated flatly.

I was surprised. “What? What did she say?”

Vonda shrugged. “She said she wants to get out, along with Nephi, Dallon, and Ammon.”

Gideon frowned. “Who’re they?”

Vonda said, “Emersyn’s kids.”

I was glad she’d clarified that, because I wasn’t certain either. “Well, once we’re sure that we’re safe, we can work on that. We can’t burden Gideon with so much all at once. It’s enough that he’s allowing us to live with him.”