The Enigmatologist (32 page)

He held onto her with his consciousness as she ran. She
lifted her dress over her head and rolled it up. Holding the dress in her
mouth, she transformed into a lynx and dashed toward the lingering
Sagittarians. They circled around her several times and ran into the desert.
Rosa turned her head toward John. She whimpered, then followed the Sagittarians
into the desolation.

And she was gone.

The last light from the sun was vanishing. The sky, pink
and violet. Twilight bloomed behind the Rockies. John followed this light to
the road. He found the broken part of the fence and walked through, happy. He
was going to be a father, Rosa a mother. And they’d do it together. He leapt
over the culvert and skipped to the car.

John stood next to the Trans-Am and looked toward the
blackening sky. Stars were beginning to pierce the twilight and the
constellations’ formations were becoming distinguishable. To the south, where
Louisa had showed him, John spotted Sagittarius glimmering against the black
backdrop. He turned toward it, and felt connected to the cluster of stars where
his ancestors originated. And, standing in the empty highway, he raised his
hand and waved to the constellation, confident someone would wave back.

Here’s
a very brief list of people who helped shape this book, making its publication
possible. Kitty Honeycutt, Chad Douglas, Emily Alexander, Mark Gottlieb,
Michael Neff, Alan
Rinzler
, Josh Mohr, Andrew
Touhy
, and the countless readers who provided invaluable
feedback on this book, many of them I can’t even remember. Without their
insight, this book would not be the loose collection of fart jokes that it is.

To all my friends who’ve had to listen to me talk about
this book. Again, there are too many of you to list, but you know who you are.

To my supportive family, Larry, Donna, and Daniel Adams,
Frank and Sharon
Malvoso
.

And especially, Shelby, for, to put it simply, everything.