Oh Pure and Radiant Heart by Lydia Millet (shoe dog free ebook .txt) 📕

them and she fumbled in her bag for her sunglasses. It blew grit and dust into their faces as it rumbled off down the road. She blinked and rubbed her eyes and wished she had eye drops with her and remembered her suitcase in the room at the Luxor. She wondered what the cleaning staff would do with her toiletries left spilled over the counter, her dirty clothes left crumpled on the bed, whether they would handle her box of tampons and her still-wet toothbrush with the same attitude.

It was hot and dry, hot and dry, in her mouth as well as on her cheeks, nose and arms. It was bright. She wanted water sweeping over her to make her clean. She wanted dark and smooth privacy.

—What about my tampons, Szilard? she felt like saying belligerently, but could not. She was trapped in his spontaneous, inconsiderate bullshit.

Skin smelled different in the desert, she thought, lifting her hand to her nose. It smelled as though it might taste good.

—If you wanna know the truth, said Roger, sucking at his cigar as the rock lifted, —we just decided to get a divorce.

After a long pause, the boulder wobbling as it ascended and the first cool air of early fall rising around them, Ben offered condolences.

—Oh—I’m sorry? he said, confused at the sudden and casual disclosure.

—Yes, said Yoshi, —very sorry. Painful for each person.

Fermi nodded.

—I mean, I’m sure it’s a difficult time for you, said Ben.

—Are you kidding? It’s time to celebrate, said Roger. —Ding, dong, the witch is dead. You hear me?

—Excuse me, said Yoshi. —The house?

—You mean who’s getting it? We’re selling. I wouldn’t mind staying here but you know how it is. We don’t have a pre-nup so I’m pretty much fucked. But it’s worth it. Shit! It sure is. I’d give up the Taj Mahal to get clear of this.

—Do you still want us to—?

—Yeah, go on, finish the job. Raise the resale value.

—OK, said Ben, and nodded slowly.

—All I want is hot young women. I mean it, man! It’s all I think about these days.

—Midlife crisis? asked Ben, forgetting to edit.

—Call it whatever you want! I call it a goddamn party.

—Blessed be, said the woman who had first greeted them. She had a plump, kind face and eyes set wide apart. Behind her people were drumming softly. —I’m Loni. And we got food cooking under the big tarp. There are vegan-friendly options.

Webster went off in search of a yoga mat while Oppenheimer and Szilard talked to a tall Indian man in a turban and Larry and Tamika sat with a full bong beside the drum circle. Ann watched Clint inspect a Harley whose saddlebags were decorated with a rose and a skeleton. It turned out the biker had once been a Deadhead and Ann listened idly as he said —And he goes: Hey you! I don’t care if you are security! Jerry doesn’t like guys in uniforms staring at him!

To her left Boogie wandered over to a toilet in a white-metal box that Loni pointed out to him. It was for people who preferred not to use port-a-johns and was hidden behind a clump of Joshua trees. Ann could still see him squatting there, a blur of tanned legs behind the spikes of the arms.

—I’m gonna go help those guys with dinner I guess, said Leslie forlornly, standing next to her with nothing to do, and Ann gave a vague nod and smiled in apology as she trudged away.

She did not want to do anything. She did not want to help.

Instead she found a dirty white lawn chair with a frayed woven seat that no one was sitting on. She picked it up, turned it toward the road and sat down to watch the traffic.

The traffic was sparse.

Looking at her foot against the sand, blending in, she thought: if I could fade into whatever was near and forget that I was separate, there would be nothing to fear anymore. It’s only ego that makes me afraid of death. If I could be humble and self-effacing I wouldn’t be looking for anything anymore.

But on the other hand the ones who were most afraid of death often seemed most alive.

—One week maximum, said Yoshi, and raised his water glass to toast.

They were eating dinner together to celebrate the end of the mansion job. Roger had dropped the putting green from his list of demands; native vegetation would be planted in its place, and they would soon be moving on.

The waitress had just delivered a second basket of rolls when Ben looked past Fermi’s slumped shoulder and saw a man across the room staring at him.

It was rare that men looked at him, he thought. It was rare that men looked at each other.

Next he thought: It’s one of them.

He was just rising from his seat when Ted the lawyer appeared in front of him holding a napkin and chewing. He wiped his mouth.

—Hey. You talk to Szilard yet?

—No. I don’t talk to Leo unless I have to, said Ben. —But turn around. Behind your back. Is that one of the guys who was harassing you?

When Ted swiveled to look Ben saw an empty table.

—Damn it! He was watching us.

Ted nodded. —Listen. I left Szilard a message. Even though I’m off the case, you know? I figured I’d let him know what was happening. The DOD lawyers finally filed their brief. It’s a motion to dismiss for lack of standing. There’s also a mootness claim.

—Mootness?

—Mootness, said Ted, louder.

—I’m not a lawyer, Ted. I’m a human.

—They’re arguing that the case shouldn’t be heard because Szilard doesn’t have the legal right to sue. They’re saying that because Szilard, Oppenheimer and Mr. Fermi here are dead, they got no standing. Will you tell him from me?

—The guy was I don’t know, about six feet. Medium brown hair, kind of receding a little?

—Look, said Ted. —My fiancée’s sitting there with her food in front of her and we just got engaged. I mean like five