Emmy nodded.
“I really have been a jerk, haven’t I?”
The pizza arrived before Emmy or Vera could answer.
Twenty-Five
ARI, WE ONLY WANT ONE thing for you—to be happy. I could still hear my sisters’ voices in my head. Happiness. What the hell did that mean? It had to be more than the absence of sadness. And that word, “want.” That word was related to the word “desire.” I rewrote what they said to me in my head. Our one desire for you, Ari, is for you to be happy.
I heard Dante’s voice in my head. I see a longing in you… a yearning… Those words live in you.
Desire. A body thing. A heart thing. The body and the heart.
* * *
I used to live in a world that was made up of the things I thought. I didn’t know how small that world was. I was suffocating in my own thoughts. It was like living in a world of make-believe. And the world I lived in now was getting bigger and bigger.
For one thing, there was a sky in the world I lived in now. And it was blue and it was large and it was beautiful. But where on my map was I going to put the word “happy”? Where on my map was I going to put “desire”?
And then this thought entered my head: “Happy” and “desire” didn’t go together. Those words didn’t go together at all. Desire didn’t make you happy—it made you miserable.
Twenty-Six
IN THE WORLD I WAS mapping out, there were certain roads that went to certain places. There would be a road that led to the desert, and I would name the desert Arid because it contained my name and I would take that road and I would stand there, in the desert named Arid, and I would see a summer storm coming in, and I would breathe in, and understand that the smell of that storm was the smell of God. And I would map out a path that led to a hill where there was a mesquite tree and a huge boulder. I would sit on that boulder and watch the storm coming straight at where I was sitting—and the thunder and the lightning came closer and closer. But the storm was not threatening me because the storm did not exist as a bully, but as something that was coming to welcome me into the world, and to remind me that I was a part of the desert and all things beautiful. And when the rain arrived, it would pour down on me, and I would become a part of it. I imagined Dante kissing me in the rain. And we would not be afraid of the storm. And he and I would sit there until we learned the language of the rain.
And on my map, I would name that place Lugar de los Milagros.
The Place of Miracles.
Twenty-Seven
DANTE PICKED UP THE PHONE on the second ring. “Is there one Mr. Dante Quintana available? I will only take up a few minutes of his time.”
“Yes, this would be Mr. Quintana. May I ask who I am speaking to and what products you’re offering today—and what company you represent?”
“Why, of course. My name is Mr. Art Angel, and I represent a small vacation and tour company—Jaime, Lilly & Ari Incorporated, with offices in San Antonio, Houston, Dallas, Albuquerque, and our new office in El Paso. We specialize in affordable getaway vacations because we believe everybody deserves a vacation.”
“I find that philosophy quite laudable.”
“Laudable?”
“Yes, yes, laudable. Quite.”
“Now, as I was saying, Mr. Quintana, this is your lucky day. You have been selected to take advantage of our end-of-summer vacation package. This offer includes two and a half days of camping in Cloudcroft, New Mexico, with a stop at the fabulous White Sands National Park. The white dunes are composed of gypsum crystals, which never heat up even on the hottest summer days and create an ideal hiking environment for a comfortable barefoot experience, perfect for individuals who have an antipathy for shoes.”
“Antipathy? Do they teach you those words at sales conferences?”
“You must have a mistaken impression of the educational level of our sales force.”
“Well—”
“As I was saying, the white dunes offer the opportunity for a perfect barefoot experience. From the dunes, the scenery all the way to Cloudcroft is nothing short of spectacular, and you need not have any camping experience in order to accept our offer. Transportation and all expenses will be completely covered by our company.”
All of a sudden there was a silence on the other end of the phone.
“Dante? Are you there?”
And then I heard him whisper, “Are you serious, Ari? For real?”
I nodded into the phone.
“Don’t cry.”
“I wasn’t going to cry.”
“Yes, you were.”
“And if I want to cry, I’ll cry. You can’t tell me what to do.” And then I heard him crying. And then he controlled himself. “Don’t I have to be twenty-one to accept your company’s more-than-generous offer?”
“No,” I said. “All our company needs is a signed statement from a parent or legal guardian.”
There was quiet again on the other end of the phone. “And we’ll spend all that time alone?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“You are the most incredible human being who ever walked on planet Earth.”
I smiled into the receiver. “You might not think so after spending three days with me. Maybe that’s the antidote for falling for a guy like me.”
“I don’t need an antidote. I don’t happen to have a sickness.”
I do, I thought. I’m as love-sick as you can get.
Twenty-Eight
Dear Dante,
I went down to the basement to check out the camping gear. My dad has it all perfectly organized. After every camping trip, he airs everything out before he puts it all away. And he makes sure all the gear is clean and ready to go for the next time—except we haven’t gone camping in a long time. I had a good look at all the gear: a tent, two kerosene lanterns, sleeping bags, a small propane camping stove, an empty propane tank, and a couple of tarps. Everything neatly stacked on a shelf he built himself. I remember helping build the shelves when I was in fifth or sixth grade. I didn’t actually help very much. I mostly just stood there and watched him. The only thing I really remember about building the shelves was my father’s quiet lecture on having respect for saws. “If you like having fingers, you better pay attention and stay focused.” Of course, he really didn’t teach me how to use the saw. He didn’t ever let me come too close when he was cutting the wood. I think that maybe my mother gave my father a lecture of her own regarding me and the saw.
When I think about it now, I think my mother has always been a little too overprotective of me. I used to think she was just bossy. But now I don’t think she’s bossy at all. I think she’s always been afraid of losing me. I think that fear comes from her experiences with my older brother.
I remember you telling me that you were always analyzing your parents. And now I’m beginning to analyze mine. When did we get our degrees in psychology?
I shut my journal and looked down at Legs, who was lying down at my feet. “Legs, do you remember your parents?” Legs looked up at me and put her head on my lap. “Course you don’t. Me, I’m your dad. And I’m a good dad too, aren’t I?” Why the hell did we talk to dogs as if they understood the stupid things we were saying to them? I lifted her head and kissed her on her dog forehead.