Page 40 of The Last Session

“There are…” She squinted. “Six.”

“That’s the usual number?”

“Well, sometimes it’s a little higher. But usually we keep it small. So there’s a lot of personal attention, you know?”

We crossed a street called Gun Club Road, then passed a building with a cracked sign:HEALING HERB DISPENSARY. We were on the outskirts now, and on our left was what looked like a junkyard.

“Where are you from?” I asked Grace.

“Santa Fe. Not too far away.” She flew through a light that had just turned red.

“You heard about it… how, through the podcast?” I asked.

“Oh no. This was before the podcast.” Grace glanced at me. “Everyone heard about it when they started building. It’s the largest mosaicked structure in the world. Wait till we get there.” She grinned. “I promise you’ve never seen anything like it.”

Outside of Albuquerque, we entered the desert: flat and then rolling golden hills dotted with shrubs and sprouts of grass. Beyond, majestic mesas rose up from the dirt, some of them dotted with metal crosses. On the horizon were those ubiquitous mountains. The landscape was beautiful, otherworldly, seemingly filtered through a washed-out seventies color scheme.

“Wow,” I said during a lull in Grace’s easy chatter. “There’s so much empty land. It’s just… the opposite of New York.”

We’d been driving more than an hour with little to break up the landscape. I hadn’t even seen a gas station. Good thing I’d peed on the plane.

“Yeah, I love living down here.” Grace nodded. “My brain felt so cluttered when I was in a city. It’s great to have space, you know? And there are some cool places we can drive to.” She started telling us about a town called Truth or Consequences, which had renamed itself to win a radio contest in the fifties.

Eventually, we turned onto a gravel road. Here the land rolled gently, and far off something winked in the sun.

“Is that it?” I pointed. “The Center?”

Grace smiled. “You’ll see.”

“This is, like, the driveway?” Mikki asked. “How long is it?”

“Oh, about three miles.”

“Damn.” Mikki gazed ahead. “You guys are isolated.”

“Just the way we like it.” Grace chuckled.

The closer we got, the less real our destination became. It was like a mirage: the sparkling, jewel-toned castle of a kids’ show. I’d seen photos, but they hadn’t done the place justice. The building was an enormous adobe structure at least five or six stories high, with turrets and small balconies and one especially tall tower thrusting towards the sky. All surfaces were covered with mosaics: glittering pieces of glass and mirror and ceramics. It was too bright to look at without squinting, even with my sunglasses. I glanced back; Karen’s jaw hung open in awe.

“Nice, huh?” Grace sounded smug. The closer we got, the more intricate the mosaics became. There were numerous patterns and pictures in the walls, mostly from nature: animals, flowers, plants, ocean waves. Ranging from small—some were too delicate to make out fromthis distance—to enormous, like an imposing elk that was at least twenty feet tall.

“It’s amazing.” I meant it, and Grace gave a satisfied nod. There was one other car—a red sedan—parked in front of the building, on an unceremonious patch of dirt outside the double doors.

I wondered for a moment if Moon and Sol would be waiting for us, parental and waving. But no one emerged from the miraculous kaleidoscopic chateau.

“Welcome to the castle,” Grace cried as she stopped the car with a jolt. She cranked open the door and hopped out, kicking up dust. “That’s what we like to call it.”

“It’s really something.” Karen shook her head.

“What was that place inMister Rogers’ Neighborhood?” Mikki stepped onto the dusty ground. “The Neighborhood of Make-Believe?”

“I was just thinking it looked like something out of a kids’ show.” I slammed the door shut.

Mikki pulled her large suitcase to the ground. Grace was already at the doors. “Let’s see if the inside is just as nutty.”

Karen had paused, and I held out a hand.

“Thanks, hon.” She carefully stepped down. “Sometimes flying makes my knee act up.”

---