Love in the Time of Global Warming by Francesca Lia Block

Author:Francesca Lia Block
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Henry Holt and Company

14

LOVE IN THE TIME OF GLOBAL WARMING

HEX IS ANGRY, OF COURSE. “What the hell, homes?”

I like it better when he calls me sparkle princess. But I get why he’s mad. Another stabbingly hungry belly, another fearful psyche to drive around.

He and I are standing by the van while Ez and Ash talk, heads close together, under the shadow of the dinosaurs.

“Ez needs him,” I say. “Look at them.”

“Ez needs him? Ez needs food, and water. And so do we.”

“But we have…” I was going to say each other. As important as food and water but I can’t acknowledge that to him yet. “There was an orange butterfly.”

“A what?” The tendons strain in his neck, under the tattoo.

“When I met you. And Ez. And now Ash. Orange butterflies. They keep appearing.” I haven’t mentioned them before, afraid he’d think I was crazy. Maybe I am. “Forget it.”

I turn away from him but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back.

A flash of heat passes between us, like something wet dropped in a scalding pan.

“I remember that one at the hotel. And when we met Ez. You think they’re some kind of sign?”

Yes. “My mom loved them. She had butterfly tattoos and made collages with butterfly wings. I know I sound insane.”

Ash and Ez approach us and Hex kicks at the dirt; dust rises up, making me cough.

Ash takes a canteen out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Water?” he says. “I found a supply in the casino but it’s almost out.”

I thank him and tell him we have our own. He insists and the dust is hurting my throat so I take one small sip.

* * *

There’s a boy playing piano. The piano takes up the whole room. The boy’s eyes are closed. He plays faster and louder, as if to drown out the sound of glass breaking in the kitchen. Tears run down his face and into his mouth but he doesn’t wipe them away.

* * *

This is Ash, I realize, Ash as a child. Another vision, like what I saw of Hex and Ez. With each one it’s as if I’m finding some missing puzzle piece. Or just another confirmation of the madness that is overtaking me. But what is madness in such a world? My eyes meet Hex’s. Please.

“I know where there is more water, I think,” Ash says. “I can smell it on the wind.” He closes his eyes and breathes in like a noble dog leaning its head out the window of a moving car (Argos, I remember you, I have not forgotten), and points into the distance. “If there was fresh water anywhere it would be there. The Oasis in Twentynine Palms. But I don’t have a car.”

Please, Hex. Ez’s wish is so loud I can almost hear it.

“I know that place,” Hex says. He turns to me. “He may be right. And it’s on the way.”

To confirm, an orange butterfly appears, as if an invisible magician snapped his fingers in the air, and lands on Ash’s dreadlocks like a colorful barrette.

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