It Isn't Just an Orgy

Riding over on their bikes only took a few minutes. As they walked past the fence, Isabel felt pulled in as well as a desire to turn around and get as far away as she could. Taking a deep breath, she refused to give into the desire to escape.

The courtyard around the pyramid had people scattered around it. There were small polyhedrons at various places; hollow, each of them had a person or two in them. Almost all of them were asleep. Together, they went to one of the outer sides and began to look at the things people left there. A few were only a picture or a piece of fabric, leaving the meaning open to interpretation.

There was already a lot of writing in thick black ink on the formerly blank surfaces.

"Star, we burned bright a year ago, but couldn't sustain the spark. Thanks for the time together. Jaz"

"Grandpa, I really miss you! Jilly"

"Nancy, I'm sorry that I cheated. I ruined the best thing in my life, Digger"

Those were interesting and sometimes Isabel paused to read one that caught her eye. Mostly, however, she looked at the ones people prepared ahead of time and brought so that they could share their loss, whether it was of a life or an opportunity. Many were truly beautiful, with pictures that celebrated the person who was gone. Some were less about beauty than the raw emotion of losing someone close.

It was impossible for Isabel not to be caught up in what she read. Even if she hadn't lost her father, the posters and other mementos were powerful. She had always reacted this way in past years, but when combined with her own loss it was doubly so. The tears began to roll down her cheeks again as her heart felt for other people's pain.

Unlike the rest of Burning Man, it was mostly quiet there. The soft sound of people moving was accompanied with low murmurs and the sound of crying, punctuated by the clear bell tones that periodically came with the wind. People embraced in mutual support throughout the Temple.

When they went around to the backside of the Temple, there was a young man sobbing as he drove in pushpins to secure his poster. On the poster were pictures of him with his dog. Isabel looked at the date and realized that it was only a week ago.

"No wonder his grief is so strong," she thought to herself. As he stepped back when he was done, she lightly touched his shoulder. He turned to look at her and she embraced him without asking. He returned the hug and buried his head into her shoulder. Sobbing, he tightly held onto her for several minutes. Isabel said nothing, giving only her support and caring. "I can't make it right," she thought. Her own experience with her father taught her that.

Finally, she felt him let go and she moved back. His dusty face was streaked with tears, but he had on a wan smile. "Thank you," he told her.

"Of course," she said as she squeezed his arm, and then moved on. After a moment, she looked back and saw that David was doing the same thing. It was good to see. She continued to walk and read the memorials.

A few more times she gave hugs to other people who were overwhelmed. They didn't last as long but after a couple, Isabel found she couldn't hold back from crying as well. Nor did she try to. "This is the place to let it out," she told herself. The hugs did her just as much good as they did the other person.

David was still somewhere behind her when she completed going all the way around the pyramid and she went inside. She deliberately avoided looking towards where she put up her plaque, and instead took the same deliberate pace in examining the things other people left there. It felt like it was the right way to honor them.

Her eye was caught by a large poster with pictures of a girl, showing her growing up and almost all of them with a gorgeous smile. There was a long letter in the center. As Isabel read it, her eyes immediately began to tear up. It was a letter from the girl's sister who was at Burning Man the previous year when she got the news that the beautiful young girl had killed herself. In the year since then, she struggled with the questions as to why and what could she have done. The girl was only fourteen.

The letter was so poignant. The sister bared her heart and soul in it, confessing her anger as well as her sorrow in how the death of the fourteen year old devastated their family. She spoke of fears for their mother, and how their parents had to live with finding her dead body. How she fought to remember the love despite anger. And how she would carry this pain the rest of her life.

Isabel stood there reading it through her blurred vision. This time it was with wracking sobs. She felt all the pain the sister was experiencing. At that moment, she felt thankful her father lived a long life filled with love, but grieved for the young spirit that wouldn't have that chance. Closing her eyes to try and regain control, she failed miserably.

"Oh god," she whispered in between sucking in deep breaths. Amidst all the people, she felt alone.

"Here," a soft voice spoke. Knowing what was being offered, Isabel turned and accepted the hug. She felt a warm body embrace her and hold her tight. Relaxing, she gave into the comfort. Her own arms returned the hug.

It took a couple of minutes to get herself even partially back in balance. The thought of the sister's grief overtook her repeatedly. Finally, the sobs faded and she was left trying to breathe through a stuffed up nose. She gave her comforter a squeeze and then let go.

"Thank you," she said as she stepped back. Isabel saw that her savior was another woman, probably in her early thirties. She was wearing a pink ruffled skirt with a black lace overlay and a bikini top. Her long light brown hair hung limply, dirty from the ever present dust. Her grey eyes were a bit misty, having shared Isabel's sorrow. She had a smattering of freckles over her face and nose, which had a silver ring on a nostril. She was pretty, but not in the way that immediately drew the eye. Rather the more Isabel looked at her, the more she saw the beauty in her strong face and in the way her smile lit it up.

"You looked like you could use it," the woman said.

Isabel nodded. "I did. It's so sad, and as a mother, I can feel how it would be if that happened with my daughter," she said and then smiled. "You give good hugs. I appreciate it."

"It was my pleasure," the woman said. There was a hint of a teasing tone in her voice; not enough to feel creepy, but Isabel got the sense of mild interest. Normally she would have responded, but her emotions were too close to the surface. They were also all mixed up with her sympathy for the sister and her parents, her own grief for her father and the guilt she carried about Chelle coming together in an emotional turmoil that left her feeling very vulnerable.

Some of that must have come across because the woman's face changed, becoming more serious. "It isn't just this girl, is it?" she said, and immediately gave Isabel another hug.

This time Isabel resisted for a second before relaxing and allowing it to happen. Still, she didn't hug back quite as tightly this time. "I hate feeling needy like this," she thought, but the hug felt reassuring enough to break through her barriers. "No," she whispered, "it's not. I have something here too, for my Dad." She kept her other grief secret.

The woman let go partially so that she could see Isabel's face, leaving her hands on her hips. "Would you like to show me?" she asked. "I'm Pixie, by the way." Something on Isabel's face must have shown surprise because she laughed. "I know. I'm not a delicate little thing. It's partially a joke and partially because I do tend to be a bit on the mischievous side."

"I get it," Isabel said. "I'm Moonshine, and yes if you want to see."

"Lead the way," Pixie said. As they walked towards the back wall, they brushed against each other. It continued to provide support and reassured Isabel.

When she put up her plaque, it was the only one in that nook of the Temple. Now there were other memorials left by other Burners all around it. Yet everyone was respectful of the space hers occupied. They all were remembrances of people who'd passed away over the last year, lovers, friends, spouses, and parents, like hers.

Isabel reached out and touched her memorial. Her fingers disturbed the dust that had accumulated there over the last two days. From the center picture, her father almost appeared to be meeting her eyes and she felt a fresh wave of grief. Swallowing, she managed to keep it from overwhelming her.

"This is my Dad," she said, and looked at Pixie. Her grey eyes were full of understanding and she reached out to slip an arm around her waist. Isabel leaned into it and absorbed the offered support.

"What a great set of pictures," Pixie murmured as she read everything on it. "It looks like he lived a full life."

"He did," Isabel said proudly. Almost to the end, he continued to be active and adventurous.

Pixie looked at the pictures of the two of them together and smiled. "And you were a part of it, all the way through it. That must have been a source of joy for him. Well done, Moonshine," she said. "What did he think about you coming here?"

Isabel laughed as she thought about telling him about her plans for her first Burn. "He wasn't sure about it, but he encouraged me. And then, when I came home and told him all about it, he wanted to go," she said. Laughter mixed with her words, but it slowly trailed off. "He couldn't, of course. I think it was the first time that I really saw a physical limit for him. He was already in his 80s and he knew he wasn't really up for it. That was hard for him, to say no to an adventure." She sighed, but the feeling of being held helped to melancholy pass.

"It says that you brought some of his ashes to burn, but what's in the little box," Pixie asked. She felt Isabel tense up and knew she hit a nerve of some sort. She thought about saying never mind, but decided to leave it out there.

For a long time, Isabel hid in the comfort of Pixie's embrace, trying to ignore the question. She waited for her to say something else, but she just let the silence between them continue. All around them, there was the low mutter of voices and the soft sound of people moving. The tone of the bells occasionally interrupted, but they too were not particularly loud. Their pure sounds were drawn out.

At last, she sighed and cleared her throat. "It's something from a lover. I'm letting go of her too," she said. As she said it, most of the tension disappeared.

"Ah," Pixie said. The simple sound could mean many things and Isabel wasn't sure how she meant it. If she had to guess, it was the wisdom of past experience. Other than that, she said nothing else.

Looking out over her shoulder at the people walking and riding past on the playa, Isabel drew in a deep breath. As pleasant as it was right now, she felt restless. She needed to get away the all the emotions that the Temple stirred up in her. She let go, waiting the few moments that it took for Pixie to understand and then stepping away, though remaining quite close. Tears still slowly rolled down her face, but she didn't notice.

"There you are," David said as he came up beside her. "Oh, Isabel," he added as he saw her tears and gave her a tight hug. She returned it, taking the comfort offered by a friend.

When she let go, the tears were stopped and she had on a little smile. "Moonshine, remember?" she gently chided him. Taking Pixie's hand, she pulled her back close. When David showed up, she moved away. "This is Pixie. And Pixie, I want you to meet my campmate and fellow traveler from Seattle, David."

Without a thought, Pixie leaned forward and gave him a hug. He hesitated, but then returned it. Isabel thought the pause was getting appreciably shorter. "I'm glad to see he's adjusting. It would suck if it made him withdraw more."

Looking over David's shoulder, she saw the young man who lost his dog lingering behind him. Although she wanted to grin knowingly, she kept her smile friendly and nodded in recognition... "Handsome David rears his lovely head," she thought. That too was good to see.

With David and Jack, his new friend, there, it was easier to keep control of her emotions. She told them stories about the pictures of her father. A few other people gathered around to listen. In another place it would have felt intrusive, but here she didn't mind at all. The point was to share her grief and find comfort in the sharing. When she was done, the strangers hugged her and whispered a few words of comfort and then moved on until only the four of them were left.

Both David and Pixie reached up to put their hands on her back at the same time. Their fingers touched and after a moment, David withdrew his hand with his face burning from embarrassment. Lest he feel unwanted, Isabel grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. The blush on his face slowly faded, and he leaned in close to her ear.

"Maybe I should explore a little on my own," he whispered.

"Jack would probably like that," she replied equally as softly.

"Well so would Pixie," he said, even as he felt his face begin to get red again. Moving away, he looked at her and spoke so they could all hear. "I'll see you back at the camp."

Isabel nodded without looking at him, nor did she speak. Her eyes were on the little box hanging below her plaque. She took a deep breath and looked over at Pixie. "I think I've had enough of the Temple for now. Would you like to explore some?"

"That would be fun," she replied, but looked a little hesitant.

"What is it?" Isabel said. There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she hadn't felt in a while; not being able to read someone she was interested in was unsettling as usual. A tiny part of her couldn't help remembering how that wasn't an issue with Chelle.

"Oh, it's just that I'm a Ranger and I have a shift coming up, so I'm not sure how much exploring we will get in," Pixie said.

Isabel looked her up and down in an exaggerated way. "You don't look much like a Ranger," she said with a grin. "You're not an old white guy, nor do you have a sense of being superior to everyone else. Nope, you can't be a Ranger."

Laughing, Pixie batted at her arm. "Stop, that's mean," she said, although she inwardly admitted there was some truth to the stereotype. The Black Rock City Rangers were a volunteer group who acted as an intermediary between the participants and law enforcement. They were the first line for defusing situations that might escalate. They tended to be long time Burners who felt like giving back to the community, but at the same time they often epitomized the idea that all Burns in the past were better than this one. While what they did was appreciated, the cranky old man aspect was less so.

"As you can see, I'm neither old nor a man," Pixie said, turning in a circle.

Isabel had to agree with her on both points. Like Isabel, she was curvy though she wasn't as fit as the older woman. Her exposed belly had more than a hint of softness to it and her breasts were a little bigger than they might otherwise be. Even though her thighs too were a little thick, they quickly narrowed down. Her skirt was the right length to show them off. Overall, her body fit her and Isabel was as attracted to her physical presence as her mental one.

"She's not old, though compared to me she's young," Isabel thought. "But not like Chelle." The pain of memories flared up and she sighed almost silently. She didn't want to inflict her insecurities on her new friend. "At least she's seen something of life, and anyway this is just a playa flirtation," she told herself. They didn't lead anywhere. "I've had enough of that. Maybe it's better that she has somewhere to be."

"You're right, not old and not a man," she said aloud. "And I'll have to take your word for it that you're a Ranger."

"That's right, you will. Now let's not waste any more time," Pixie said as she grabbed her hand. She tugged lightly until Isabel started to move along with her.

They made their way out of the pyramid, no longer paying attention to the memorials. Isabel had enough sorrow for today. She would come back another day and continue to work through her grief. For now, the light of the rising sun invigorated her. The chill of the dawn was gone. It wasn't hot yet, but the pleasant warmth would be fleeting as the sun rose higher and higher. All of the brilliant shades of dawn were past, replaced with golden light.

Isabel reached into her pack and pulled out her phone. "Can I get a picture of you?" she asked.

Pixie nodded and posed bent over facing her while blowing a kiss. Giggling, Isabel took a picture of that, but then shook her head. "Now one that is just natural, please?" The other woman nodded and stood upright. Putting her palms together like she was praying, she looked into the camera with a sober expression. Her grey eyes were clear and open quite wide. Isabel waited for a moment and then took a series of pictures. She checked them and they were as striking as she hoped.

Coming next to her, Pixie took the phone from her. "Now you. I bet you have very few of yourself," she said. Isabel nodded and went to stand in front of the Temple. The golden morning sunlight lit one side of her face, leaving the other partially in shadow. The tracks from her tears were visible where they had washed away the dust. Pixie took a picture and checked it.

"Wow," she thought as she looked at the picture. It seemed to capture the conflicted emotions she could tell were roiling through the other woman. She went to take another but the light had changed, or Isabel had moved. The sun fully illuminated her face and even the tear tracks weren't visible. Somehow she seemed far more confident than a few moments before. Pixie still took the picture. Isabel's beauty was more evident as well. Pausing for a moment, she pulled out her own camera and took one for herself, regretting that she couldn't recapture that instant.

"There," she said as she walked back to give back her phone. Isabel took it and carefully packed it away in a Ziploc bag. Protecting things against the ever present alkaline dust was a habit by now.

After finding their bikes, they slowly began to head back towards the city. Along the way, they stopped to look at art pieces. One was a giant metal coyote with a head that turned with the wind. They watched as people climbed up it, taking risks that made Pixie hiss with alarm.

"It's gorgeous but I worry someone will fall off it. It is high enough that they could get seriously hurt," she said, shaking her head as they moved on. Rather than riding now, they just walked their bikes as they got to know each other.

Pixie was a graphic artist from New York. She had flown out to Reno and then picked up everything she needed for her Burn. Most of her luggage was taken up with costumes. While she toyed with the idea of doing an art project, the thought of organizing it from so far away always proved too daunting. "Maybe next year," she said with a grin that told Isabel that wasn't likely either.

Just past that was a garden of iron sculptures. In the morning light, they were interesting but Isabel had seen them at night. They were amazing then, full of fire that lit up the night and provided warmth when the temperature dropped. One of the art cars stopped there as she passed by it, playing its techno music. For over an hour, she danced anonymously, following the music but not actually part of the crowd. Whenever someone tried to dance with her, she smiled and nodded but then turned away with her eyes closed and lost herself in the music. She hadn't been in the mood for company. Fortunately, the other person always picked up on her vibe and danced off elsewhere.

"Now, it's different," she thought. "I'd like to dance with Pixie." She watched as the other woman moved ahead a little bit. Her hips swayed in a completely unconsciously sexy way with the rest of her body matching it. Looking back, she caught Isabel in the middle of checking her out. She wiggled her bottom and grinned.