Intimates: A Journey Towards Sacred Sexuality
Page 21
CHAPTER E
She waited downstairs in the reception area, just long enough to be sure that Lan was asleep. Lan, if anything, was punctual about her retiring: "10 p.m. regardless." It was 10:10.
What is there to say? :from her own internal interrogator. As if she were speaking to her mother: "Is he a nice boy?" All of which would have been blown to smithereens if she said, "Yes, Momma, he’s a Cat." What would that be? A nightmare?
Lan is a quiet sleeper. Only her "other mind" - how is she to grasp this? ... Priscilla was now two people. At least one inside her called the other, "that other person!" It wasn’t a friendly call.
Nothing had prepared her for this: For myself!
The more familiar part which was regaining dominance - "Me!" it screamed; bellowed in a suffering rage: crazed for cool air and sun-bright, having been entombed in a cellar: "Torturer!"
Me couldn’t deal with me-too.
Not that her First Day training hadn’t introduced her to "the world of madmen, loony ladies, the suicidal and other assorted demons." There was an acceptance that Evil existed - "In the world of the unAscended! ... But it’s our world, too - well, partly."
Just not within herself: Who is this loony lady?
Lan woke way before Priscilla started deep-REM dreaming: rapid eye flutter. She went about her day: her prayers, her shower, twirling and twisting hangers of clothes: this blouse, that skirt, no, no, these shoes, that sweater ... it must’ve been the residual perfume from all the soaps and oils and sprays and other assorted cosmetics because it took about twenty minutes before: "Peee-uuuuu!" A snorted reflex, reaching for a dainty hankie: muffling her nose.
Xer sat where he could watch the entrance. The bouncer - a blossom athlete! so, Xer had no trouble getting in absolutely first. Q: What am I looking for? A: The obvious, stupid! The obvious.
Lan picks up the blouse. It smoked! Cigar, cigarette: minute stains, thick smells. It was stinking drunk! Like kissing a slob, pushing himself against her: Lan shudders with the once and forever foul memory: Horrible! creeps up her arm, steadies itself to strike at her head! ... Tosses Priscilla’s clothes into a hamper: her hamper. If anything, these two would never share a hamper!
Who’s obvious? Not those loud-mouths, gaggling together trying to impress the boys, yeah, Smithys: not supposed to be here, not forbidden, once was, so he’s heard, not to drink - yeah, yeah, once was, too, goddam, what a screwy religion, thank god we Cats know how to have a good time ... some brassy heavily painted ladies with glitzo guys, real fringe, but, all, all too not-obvious.
Her? Watch her. Good looker. Nice clothes. A real sweet lay - but not too hot, at least not letting out her hot ... but, hot enough! Xer can hardly breathe. The lights dim.
Eggs: poached. Some toast: lightly spread. A bit of jam: Mom’s "little helper" package - twice a month. Sipping some coffee: de-caf.
"You’ve never broken a rule."
"Rules! Ain’t that Old Truth stuff?"
"Don’t!"
"What’s Ascended if it’s still the Latter Days?"
"You’re Bad."
(Silence.)
"I say, you’re Bad. Real Bad. She doesn’t need to be you!" A "Go-Away! Shoo!" attitude.
"Babe, where do ya think I’m from?"
Xer had to hit himself upside his head: fairly hard left hand whacking temple: Ouch! got no sympathetic ear ... Where’d she go? Blood-drained and spilled, not noticing the dribble onto his trousers. He half-stands. Strains to see. Disappeared?
"Have I seen her before?"
Thunder-drums: "Boom! Boom!" He doesn’t want to turn and look.
Looks.
They had prayed. Planned out their classes, decided on "Introduction to Galactic History" as their shared session. "Nothing before 9 for me!" begged Prissy; Lan laughed, a small assuring laugh.
There she is!
He follows. His best "not obvious" stalk and stealth.
It’s just at twilight’s end. She’s still discernible. But the shadows are quickening in their consumption. Xer hastens his steps, becomes bolder. Was it a glance over her shoulders? Whatever happened - he was just two blocks from Smith but also two blocks from one of the three student areas filled with rentals - it happened: "I’ll be damned!" She’s where?
"Priss, how’d you like to meet some guys from The Chalice?"
A pause, collecting what: words, images? Almost a stutter, "Sure. I guess. Should we?"
Lan wasn’t sure, all of a sudden, just exactly how to read "Priscilla Young." At first, nothing much else had to be said - the patronymic name: Young.
Priscilla would have distanced herself. begged off - "Not the Prophet!" - if she wasn’t a descendant, but it was a hand-shake and a smile. So, Lan knew.
Knew, so she’s wondering now - Knew this woman’s training. Why she was at Smith. Could feel pretty sure what some mileposts would be for her: especially marriage to a mate selected for her - selected, the exact word Lan now assesses, everything for her is selected, has been, will be.
"Should we?" stated again, but without as much uncertainty, more like "We should, shouldn’t we?"
Lan thinks: They’d want her to meet these guys. A type of guy Lan had met, quite too often. Not Cats, but the not-so-Ascended guys who were more frequent in towns like she comes from. Priscilla: Lan knows that she has never - probably, Mom and Dad had a hard time even explaining that there could be "near-Ascends" as was the more common phrase: still burdened with Old Truths. No near-Ascend boys at Smith - at least that’s the Administration’s aim! - but, Cats: for whatever reason they existed - and Lan is thinking that she’s never thought that through, not really - for some reason, girls like Priscilla were selected to meet them. But Mom and Dad never told her that - so, what am I hearing?
"New Truths," as if summoning up all her mental strength to render a verbatim message, one Priscilla was to speak to her self at a moment like this, "New Truths are not New if the Old is still True."
Lan had never heard this one!
("Verily?")
"Okay," exhaled: Priscilla on a tongue of courage; Lan, just pushing the throttle forward.
March has been staring at the bottle for over an hour: I’m still full, sucker!