Ask the Dust

Across the desolation lay a supreme indifference, the casualness of night and another day, and yet the secret intimacy of those hills, their silent consoling wonder, made death a thing of no great importance. You could die, but the desert would hide the secret of your death, it would remain after ASK THE DUST 197 you, to. cover your memory with ageless wind and heat and cold.

'And a dog!' I said. 'I'll get you a little dog. A little pup. A Scottie. And we'll call him Willie.' She clapped her hands. 'Oh Willie!' she said. 'Here, Willie! Here, Willie!' 'And a cat,' I said. 'A Siamese cat. We'll call him Chang. A big cat with golden eyes.' She shivered and covered her face with her hands. 'No,' she said. 'I hate cats.' 'Okay. No cats. I hate them too.' She was dreaming it all, filling in a picture with her own brush, the elation like bright glass in her eyes. 'A horse too,' she said. 'After you make a lot of money we'll both have a horse.' 'I'll make millions,' I said.

All at once I was full of plans. Laguna Beach!