Kaleidocide

by Dave Swavely

  She also wanted to be one with this beautiful man who had saved her son from death, and had saved her from a fate worse than death. And tonight had to be the night—she had the feeling that if it didn’t happen tonight, it might never happen. That sense of desperation, and probably some effects of the implant on her brain, drove her toward some bold steps that she would never have taken otherwise.

  She had prayed on the way to the hospital that Chris would be okay, and now she prayed on the way back that Michael would be hers that night. And not long after she had prayed for Chris, he awoke and sat up on the seat of the car! So she believed—at least, she tried to force herself to believe—that God would answer her other prayer as well. Her husband and others in their church had always said that if you had enough faith, you could move mountains and make almost anything happen. She never completely understood that, or even exactly how to conjure up that kind of belief, but she was willing to try anything to make this happen. She couldn’t imagine a better life than one lived in the arms of this man.

  Her daydreaming was interrupted by a hard stab of pain, far more intense than the headache she already had, and she had to pull off the road for a few minutes. This served to increase her sense of urgency for something to happen with Michael in the next few hours, because she remembered that these bolts of extreme pain always happened in the hours leading up to her period, and once that started, they wouldn’t be able to become one. She might not be able to have a husband again, and Chris might never have a father.

  When she was finally able to drive again, she got back on the road and made it back to the cottage without any further severe headaches. She was still in some degree of pain, but she pushed the discomfort out of her mind and determined to do all she could for make her dreams and prayers come true. Michael must have been told they had arrived by the security systems of the house, because he was waiting at the door after she had driven down the long lane through the vineyards. He stepped out to her and offered to take the medicated boy from her arms after she had lifted him out of the car, and carried him into the house for her. As she watched him do this, her heart began to pound in her chest and the pain in her head receded even further.

  As Michael laid Chris on their bed, she whispered that the doctor had given him some medication that would allow him to rest and also would help him to recover. Michael whispered back that she should get the medmat from the living room, and he placed it under the boy so that the house could monitor his vitals in case of any relapse. Then they stepped quietly out of the room so they could talk, and she reported to him everything that had happened that day. He seemed genuinely glad to hear about it—he was so caring—and as she interacted with him, she bustled about the kitchen, picking out the best food she had purchased and putting it in the oven to heat it up for dinner. She hoped he hadn’t eaten yet, and she wasn’t disappointed, and when she was finished with the preparations she told him it would be ready in a few minutes and that she needed to freshen up.

  She stepped back into her room and quietly changed into the nicest outfit she had, which was a slip-like underdress made out of black silk, with large holes on the sides at the top of her hips, and a smaller semitransparent overdress that was off-white with a thick swath of soft brown running diagonally across her chest and back. She put on her only shoes with heels, to shape her legs and make her taller, and added a thin black leather neck bracelet and some decent perfume that Simon had given her. Finally, she washed her face, made herself up as best she could, and pinned her hair in the style that had gotten her the most compliments through the years.

  She tiptoed out of the room after admiring her sleeping boy, hoping again that he could have a father. Michael wasn’t in the living area where she had left him, but she peered into the open door of his room and saw that the bathroom door was closed, so she knew he was in there.

  Good! she thought, and hurried out to the kitchen to grab some place settings and prepare the table. She finished it before he came back out, and managed to also make the room dimmer and light some candles.

  “Wow, Angelee,” he said when he came out, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

  She didn’t say anything, but straightened the place settings on the side of the table, then she pulled out a chair for him and gestured for him to sit down.

  “We’re celebrating that Chris is okay,” she said, and served the food to both their settings.

  “Well, good,” he said. “I can use it. I had a bad day.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She thought of asking him what happened to him, but then thought better of it. “I’m glad I can be here to make your day better, after you have a bad day. I will always be glad to do that.”

  He stopped sipping the wine she had given him, just for a moment, but then resumed. She thought that maybe she should be more subtle, but then thought better of that as well—she had never been a good liar, nor was she able to “play” people. She had learned that it was always best for her to be honest, and not have to blame herself if things didn’t go well. But she could show interest in him, because she was honestly interested in him.

  “Have you had many other relationships?” she asked him as they ate. “Other than Tara, the one who owns this house?”

  “Not many,” he said. “I was hard at work in the military, along with college and graduate school that they provided, since I was a teen. Didn’t really have time for much else.”

  “What did you study?”

  “Mostly literature,” he said, “and writing. Besides the military stuff, of course.”

  “What do you like to write?”

  “Well, I haven’t written much at all since school. But maybe someday I’ll write about some of the things that have happened to me.”

  “Like what?” she asked, and then immediately regretted it. She could tell he was hesitant, and didn’t need to know more about his life. She knew enough from what she had seen and heard from him.

  “Just some things,” he said graciously. “But what about you? Tell me about you. Do you want to write something?”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t write very good, or read that good either.” She stood up to pour him some more wine, and felt the pain in her head increase a bit as she did. “What I really want is to be a wife and mother, and that’s what I’m good at, more than anything.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he said, sipping at the new glass of wine. “In fact, I was just thinking that last night, when you left me that plate of food—which was good, by the way.”

  “What were you thinking?” she asked, moving closer to him. He hesitated again, but then seemed to realize that he had to answer her, because he had already committed to this line of conversation.

  “I was thinking what a good wife you would make,” he said finally, and then added with a slight emphasis, “for someone.” But Angelee didn’t register this as a caveat—she was simply thrilled he had been thinking about her in this way, and was emboldened to say what she really wanted to say to him.

  “I want to be one with you,” she said, and he almost spit out the wine that was in his mouth.

  “Angelee,” he said, and searched for some words. “I’m not … we’re not married.”

  “But we can be, right now, before God. We say ‘I do’ and we become one in every way. A man shall cleave to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.”

  “But what about the government?” he said. “You know, like a marriage license?”

  “The government didn’t invent marriage. They don’t say what it is or isn’t. People are marrying animals in some places these days … is that really marriage? We’ll be married in the eyes of the Lord—that’s what counts.”

  “I think…,” Michael said, then searched again for the words. “I think that one of the reasons that marriage is regulated by the state is so that someone can confirm that a person isn’t married to someone else. But then again, they do multiple marriages, too, so maybe that doesn’t apply.”


  “Are you worried about me being married to someone else?” she asked. He laughed and shook his head, but she continued. “I’m not, and I’m not some kind of slut who just wants to sleep with you or anyone else for fun. I was willing to sell myself because I had no other way to feed my son, but what I want is to belong to you and you only, to help you, and take care of Chris. That is not a bad thing, and it’s something that makes God happy. I’m sure of it.”

  “No, uh, I agree,” he said. “I’m sure it’s a good desire you have. I’m just not sure it is … the right time for it.”

  “This has to be the time,” she said, moving closer to him. “After tonight we won’t be able to … because of my cycle. I’m sorry to have to say something like that, but now you know why I’m being so bold. Please say ‘I do.’ Chris and I both need you. You are the most special man I’ve ever met.”

  “Special, hell,” he muttered after a brief groan. Or did he say “special hell”? She couldn’t tell, but then she felt a tear rolling down her cheek, and wondered if that was the cause of his uneasiness. But she was determined to not miss this chance, and moved even closer to him.

  And then the worst headache yet hit her. Her chin jerked down against her chest, her whole body lurched sideways, and she would have fallen all the way to the ground if Michael hadn’t caught her and lowered her slowly to it. He kept saying, “Are you all right?” until she managed to say that it was her switch and that the pain would eventually stop.

  “Why did you leave it on?” he asked her, as he carried her over to the couch. “When you could have turned it off and avoided this?”

  “For you,” she forced out. He didn’t seem to appreciate that sentiment very much, and then she realized that the thought of contraception, and therefore pregnancy, had probably jarred him out of whatever interest he might have had in being with her tonight.

  “It isn’t the right time,” he said, confirming what she thought. “That’s what I said, and this shows that I was right.”

  Michael told Vera to turn off her switch, and she was amazed that the house could actually do it. Then he got some pain reliever pills and water from the kitchen, and made her take them, caressing her head tenderly in a way that made her want him even more, despite the pain.

  “When I get better…,” she said through clenched teeth, trying to smile.

  “Yeah, we can talk more about this in a week or so, when you’re better. That will give us more time to … to get to know each other.”

  She had meant when she felt better tonight, of course, but her disappointment was lessened by the fact that he wasn’t rejecting her, at least. He was implying that they could possibly be married—she would just have to wait for a week or so. She was disappointed, but also strangely felt a sense of relief, as if she didn’t have to make this happen, because she couldn’t make this happen. She thought that maybe this was what her former husband always meant by “trusting God,” though she also thought that it would be hard to trust in a God who brought her so close to a man like this and then took him away from her.

  36

  INNUENDO

  When I left Angelee that night and escaped to my room, I closed the door and leaned my back against it. I couldn’t believe the effect she was having on my usually well-ordered psyche, not to mention my usually well-disciplined body. To address both problems, I took a cold shower and tried to make some sense of all the thoughts and feelings swirling around inside me.

  Some of the thoughts I had were the typical rationalizations and excuses that started when Angelee was offering herself to me: “I’m under a lot of duress right now,” “I’ve been away from my wife,” and “Anyone would understand if I fell.” The last one reminded me of what the double had said earlier about Tara, and that plus the cold water did wonders for stopping any thoughts of going back out to the living room. But then I also realized how bad I felt for Angelee—she was so desperate for someone to love her and Chris, and for me in particular, that she was deaf to my hints that it might not work out between us. And I felt bad about being the cause of her inevitable misery, because I really didn’t give her any serious hints and shouldn’t even be hinting about this at all—she was an innocent who deserved the truth. But again, I justified myself by saying that I was a slave to the bigger issues of saving my life, the future of BASS, and the free world even—whatever made me seem like less of a villain. I also tried to think of some ways I could make it up to her, but none of this really made me feel better about the situation.

  The memory of what had happened with the double and Tara didn’t help with my feelings of regret; neither did the fact that when I got out of the shower, my wall screen was flashing with messages from Terrey and Lynn, who was the last person I wanted to talk to right now. But I had to—I couldn’t just go to bed without talking to her, because then we’d both have trouble sleeping, and I’d get an earful the next day.

  As it turned out, I got an earful that night, because Lynn had watched a netcast of the double and Tara making their statements to the press at the castle, and she had a recording of one part ready to show me. It was a moment in Tara’s statement where she said that she was “looking forward to working very closely with Michael,” and she smiled at the double like they were sharing a private joke between them. Lynn rewound it twice, pausing on Tara’s sultry smile and even playing it once in slow motion.

  “And that wasn’t the only time,” Lynn said. “She also looked quite pleased with herself when she said ‘I’ve always had a good relationship with Michael,’ ‘We have a kind of chemistry between us,’ and—this is my favorite—‘As his representative, I will do my best to satisfy his needs at all times.’ Michael, I don’t want to read too much into this, but she looked to me like a woman who had just gotten her man, or something like that. And I don’t want to be a jealous wife, but since I know about your past relationship with her, I’m wondering if there’s something I don’t know about it now.”

  I had noticed the unintentional innuendos in both the speeches, and cringed at them, but that was only because I knew what had just happened between the double and Tara. I didn’t think it was anything that Lynn or anyone else would notice.

  “No, Lynn,” I said. “I think you’re just being oversensitive.” Then after I saw her facial expression, I added: “But I wouldn’t call you a jealous wife.”

  “You wouldn’t call me a jealous wife, but that’s what you’re calling me.”

  “I just think you’re the only one who’s gonna see something in what she said, because of what you know. It’s understandable … I don’t blame you.”

  “Michael,” she said, “are you having an affair with that woman?”

  “No, Lynn.”

  “Then why was she looking at you like that?”

  “She wasn’t looking at me, Lynn. She was looking at Jon.”

  “But she thought he was you!” She shook her head. “Have you been flirting with her? Is that it? You can tell me, I can take it.”

  “No, Lynn. I have a purely business relationship with her. Listen, your life has been completely upset by these attempts on my life, you’re six months pregnant—”

  “Seven.”

  “What?”

  “I’m seven months now. Just turned seven.”

  “Oh. Well, anyway, you’ll have to trust me on this thing with Tara. We don’t have time for domestic intrigue right now.”

  “You’re not at that woman’s house, are you?”

  “Lynn, you know I can’t tell you where I am.”

  “Oh, so you are at her house.”

  I could see there was no way out of this except telling her the truth, which I wasn’t ready to do without a lot more reflection, so I changed the subject.

  “How are Hilly and Jessa doing?” I asked. “Have you figured out where they can go yet?”

  “Not really,” she said, thankfully taking the bait. “But I was thinking the Presidio might be the best place, at least for a while, when I’m ready to
go down there and get involved.” I assumed by that she meant when the threat against me was over, and we had returned to a more normal life. “Until then, they’re okay here. Tyra has been a big help … it’s like having a nanny.”

  Mob Nanny, I thought. I can already see the reality TV show.

  “But the biggest issue right now,” Lynn continued. “is that they need to see their brother sometime soon. They’ve been asking about him now that the shock of losing their mother has worn off, and it’s only right. And I know we have big-time problems presently, but if we don’t take the girls to see him ourselves, that would put an even bigger wall between us at a really bad time for him.”

  I was impressed again by Lynn’s compassion—she even cared for a punk who probably wanted to kill me almost as much as General Sun did.

  “I’ll talk to Terrey about it,” I said, grateful for the excuse to move on from this conversation. “I have to call him anyway.”

  We said our good-byes, which were rather cold because of the lingering specter of the Tara situation, and I called Terrey.

  “What was that all about?” he said without ado. I soon found out that Lynn was not the only one who noticed Tara’s not-so-subtle expressions, and the double’s slightly embarrassed ones, at the press conference. Terrey picked up on it himself, and so did various media outlets. He said that BayNet had broadcast a twenty-minute exposé on how I dated Tara before meeting my wife, and showed the innuendo-laden statements over and over again, implying that there was “something brewing or already boiled over” between us.

  “I know it’s only tabloid news,” Terrey said, “but it’s the kind of attention I didn’t want on you while Jon is taking your place. Sooner or later people like this might even start comparing this film with others of you, and catching on to our little ruse. There have been a few high-profile cases since the Makeover was perfected, and savvy people in the media know about it. I guess the only good thing about this is that all the attention is on the tidy spunk, and she’s getting all the screen time. Can’t say I blame them, and can’t say I blame you for having a little of that on the side. But what was going on with her and Jon all that time they were in the office? I tried to pry it out of Min, but if he knows he’s too tight-lipped to tell me. The only hypothesis I can think of is that you were getting some kinky pleasure out of riding with him while he was riding her.”