Page 53 of It Takes a Thief

A sweat lodge is like a small, round mud hogan, but too short to stand up in. It’s domed at the center, but unless you wanted to stand over the fragrant fire, you had to crouch or kneel. The medicine man had thrown a coyote skin—well, basically a dead, skinned coyote—over the central vent, so already I was struggling not to cough. I coughed even when smoking weed.

A post topped by a steer skull guarded us from stepping into the fire. At its base was a raised mud ledge, and to my surprise Ellis placed something on it. As I crawled by, I saw it was a cheap plastic toy, almost the sort you’d find in a cereal box. There was a rack for the ceremonial medicine “peace” pipe wrapped with feathers and beads. I wish I’d known to bring some of Lytton’s Young Man Blue with me.

Ellis threw down his towel and took off his tank top. I threw my towel down and did the same. He unbuckled his belt. I yanked down my stretchy skirt. I tried not to seem like I was looking at him, but it was difficult because he was pulling down his pants to reveal not jogging shorts, but regular boxer briefs. Which he then proceeded to step out of.

Holy mother.

Without looking at his long, thick, dangling cock, I said, “Uh, were we supposed to wear nothing? Because I wore this.” I pointed stiff-fingered to my bathing suit, as though he couldn’t see through the smoke.

Ellis waved at me, carefree, as he took a seat on a rough blanket on the ground. “Ah, whatever makes you more comfortable.”

I didn’t see how I could possibly be more uncomfortable. We had to sit—pardon my English—Indian style on the blankets, and I was sort of glad I wore bottoms because the roughness of the wool would chafe parts not used to chafing. Besides, I knew I looked best in a two-piece. If I wanted to have a fling with Ellis—did I? I still wasn’t sure—my best bet to seduce him was this eye-popping bikini top that thrust my two best assets forward. I knew I’d gained weight the past few years but I was trying to become comfortable with it, and this sweat lodge was part of that. This wasn’t a Miss America pageant. We were here to sweat ourselves clean. Besides, I could wrap my towel around my waist and cover my worst debits.

The seer put stone slabs into the fire pit. A pail of water stood close by, ready to splash on the rocks. He put cedar wood chips onto the fire and man, I’m telling you, if I had to die of smoke inhalation, that would be the way to go. Instantly I felt light-headed, the sweet scent crawling up my nostrils and soaking into my brain.

“You will let go of your doubts and fears,” Ellis translated for me, as the shaman picked up a drum and started whaling away.

“Like meditate?” I was glad it was all right to talk.

Or maybe it wasn’t. Ellis just nodded.

So, to attempt to let go of my fears, I focused on anything other than Ford. I thought about my favorite spot outside of Mescal Mountain. Nouveau Buddhists and hipsters had created a shrine at the top of Dry Creek Road in a wonderland of crimson sandstone spires and arches. Flags and benches and wheels made of rocks decorated this holy place. People made offerings at the wheels, and the overall feeling was just tranquil and quiet. Even animals just sat and meditated.

But then Ellis asked me over the drumming, “Do you know why they drum?”

“No.”

“It’s simulating a heartbeat. We’re journeying back to our purity when we were in our mother’s womb.”

Oh. That didn’t particularly make me feel any better. I was probably my mother’s first mistake, and the twins June and Speed were her second. Didn’t anyone know about birth control back then? I sighed heavily. I suppose I wouldn’t have been born then, and I’d have missed out on June and Speed, and all… this.

My eyes stung from the smoke, so I closed them. I put both hands on my knees, sat up straight, and touched my index fingers to my thumbs. I’d seen people do that at the Buddhist stupa in P&E. Or the hippies who conglomerated around the Citadel due to the powerful vortices alleged to be there.

Ellis crawled over and put something on the fire. It smelled like tobacco, the sort that people used to smoke in pipes.

“Tobacco,” he clarified with a little smile. “So we might know and speak truth in our prayers to Grandfather, Earth Mother, and the spirits.”

I knew that the tobacco smoke would carry his request, whatever it might be, to the Great Spirit.

The medicine man stopped drumming to dip water in a ladle and pour it onto the red-hot stones. He poured one dipper for each of the four directions, calling out in ululating Diné. His prayer, or chant, was quite musical and pleasant to the ears.

Ellis interpreted for me. “Like the Mother’s womb and the Father’s eyes, we’re all similar. We are one. Everyone can sit with the Creator himself and talk directly to Him. Healing will begin here for ailments of all four directions. Enlightenment in the East. Innocence in the South. Commonsense in the West. And courage in the North.”

I figured, while I could definitely use healing in all four directions, I most needed to call upon Commonsense to help me with my marital troubles. Ford needed commonsense to figure what he could cut out of his life to make more room for his family. In fact, it would’ve made more commonsense for him to be here with me. I thought about that stupid phone call right after his heroic rescue of Galileo and me. Something idiotic about that damned vortex calendar behind the bar at the Bum Steer. Couldn’t they have taken a photo and texted it to him? No, of course not. Every stupid idea that popped into any moron’s brain, and Ford had to be there in person.

The fire roared, and the medicine man called upon Ellis to tell us his intentions. To my surprise, he said, “I lost a patient the other day. You remember the heart failure guy, Maddy?”

I nodded. Ellis had done an emergency lumbar laminectomy on the guy because he’d suddenly become paralyzed from the waist down. We were afraid he was too old for anesthesia, but he came through. After that, though, he failed to thrive. He was in and out of consciousness, and finally one morning at four AM, he decided to leave this world.

“I could’ve done something to help him if only I’d have been there.”

I wanted to cry out, “No, you couldn’t have! You can’t sleep by the side of ever patient who isn’t thriving!” But it was his turn to talk.

“I need to concentrate even harder on my work. None of this hiking around canyons business. If I meet with someone, it has to be about work. That is my decision, that is what I intend to focus on. I need to use commonsense to achieve this.”

The seer nodded sagely, adding another dipper of water to the fire. Some kid had brought in freshly red-hot rocks, adding to the general sauna and smoke of the purification lodge.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Ellis wanted to become more like Ford? Obsessive-compulsive about work, work filling every nook and cranny of life, work oozing out his pores? Oh hell no.