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Edda, should we stop at Selfoss as usual and get ice cream? ‘He’s brainwashing you.’ “It had nothing to do with the Blooddancer. You look for missing men. I look for a missing god.” “Not for me to say. I gave a vow.” “Thank you.” 1. No word, in the desert’s language, for “moderate.” For months, the heat clocked in at three digits until, for months more, the temperature dropped below freezing. The surrounding San Gabriel and Tehachapi Mountains acted as perfect curtains behind which we could either hide or misbehave. Most preferred the latter. In the Antelope Valley, even the plants — Joshua trees and cacti — were ugly and mean, and the Santa Ana winds conspired with the tumbleweeds, compelling them to dart through traffic like suicide bombers. From the Bic’d and Doc Marten’d skinheads to the howling and hungry coyotes, from the braided, defensive leaves of the California juniper to the resentful and resented black and brown teenagers dragged there from Los Angeles — in a place where toughness and tribalism permeated everything living and everything dead, it was not the best thing to be a sentimental, thin-skinned fag like me. Fortunately, we can’t read minds. Grapes were a luxury when I was growing up. “You would be welcome among my people.” “That’s the perfect way to honor your father,” Rash said, and I pulled his arms up to my breast. “Now,” I said to Stravinsky, “you have to speak to Misia about it. Off you go.” He comforts my soul. “Mine.” He was in love. That’s all there is to it. “Not from the one who eats the bones of men,” Duncan whispered. He looked up, sensing a new chill in the air. “Waiting for Bricklin.” I took in a deep breath and when I exhaled I felt healed. If I were of my mother’s persuasion I would have called myself blessed..

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