Chapter #16Counsel for the Chameleon by: Seuzz   Father Ed's eyebrows shoot up as you and Frank peek around the doorway of his office. Then he breaks into a grin. "Well, well, aren't you looking pretty. What do I call you when you're looking like this? 'Wilhemina'?" He cackles.
You nervously run your hand up and down the strap of your purse. "Frank," you stammer. "Do you know what he's talking about?"
The priest's eyes flame, though he continues to grin. "Don't try your little games on me, missy! Chuck called and told me you and Giuseppe were on your way over. Ha! He knew you'd try pulling a fast one!"
You just wince, so Frank replies. "Well, Dad's the one who put us up to it. Said we should pretend it was me and someone else."
"Oh, ho!" Father Ed thunders. "Oh yes, Chuck will have his little jokes. He was a wise-ass way back. But you went along with it. Ha!" His mouth pulls down into a sour frown. "Well, sit down, you two. What do you want? No one ever comes to see me unless they're in trouble." He lofts an eyebrow. "You're not in a family way, are you, Wilhemina?"
You gasp. "Father!"
"Well, are you? Yes or no. No one was ever 'a little bit'."
"No!"
"Oh, that's right. Your metabolism." He snorts. "Perfect vehicle for fornicating in. You have urges?"
You stiffen. "It's part of my job description! You know that."
"The urges?"
"The fornicating. I had a long talk with Margaret about that."
"And what did she say?"
"That was between us. I thought you of all people would understand the sanctity of -- "
"So it's off the table, is it? Fine. What do you want to talk about?"
You take a deep breath, and feel Frank does the same. He's bigger and braver than you, but you should be the one to bring it out and take all of Father Ed's --
"We want to get married," Frank blurts out while you're still working up the nerve.
You expect an explosion, but Father Ed only blinks. "Really," he says. "It's a big step for any member of the Stellae to take, you know."
For a moment you can't believe that he's actually taking it so calmly. Calmly? You were expecting an apoplectic catastrophe, one that ended with all of his viscera and most of yours splattering on the walls. Married? You, a fornicating, sex-changing freak wants marry the most godly of my flock? By all that is right and natural and holy, this abomination shall not be performed while I yet live! *Urk* *Thump*
If Frank is as shocked as you, he doesn't show it. "We know, Father. But -- "
"You have to find the right person," the priest interrupts, "and that's hard enough for people without our calling." His expression is grave but doesn't show disapproval. "Personal compatibility is often the least important concern."
"Well, obviously we think we've found the right person," Frank says. "Except -- " He hesitates.
You tense all over. You told him not to go there, but he's decided to. He's going to ruin it for you. You close your eyes briefly, for strength.
"It's not for romantic love," Frank says. You let out your breath. He could have found so many worse ways of saying it.
"Why the hell not?" the padre honks.
You and Frank can't help looking at each other. The priest is demanding to know why romantic love isn't part of your planned marriage? Isn't he supposed to be the one cautioning people that there's a lot more to marriage than romantic love?
Frank can only stammer, so you jump in. "What we feel, it's more of a, uh, a deep friendship kind of a thing."
Father Ed's well-exercised eyebrows shoot up again. "A kind of a thing?" he says acidly. "You'd better be sure what kind of a thing it is before rushing into it, or else you're likely to find it's not what you want or need."
"It's deep friendship," you say firmly.
"And what," he barks, "is 'deep friendship'?"
"Camaraderie?" Frank says uncertainly. "Respect?"
"Love, in the non-sexual sense," you say.
"There is no 'sexual sense' of love," the priest snarls. "Love is one thing, and I'm glad to hear you think you got that base covered. But lust, screwing and stroking had better be there too. What?" he barks. "You think I don't understand these things because I took an oath of celibacy?" His color, never far from that of a tomato, deepens.
"Lust," he says, ticking off a finger. "The animalistic instinct to get close to, and if possible inside, an object of desire. Screwing," he continues, ticking off another finger. "The act of coitus for the purpose of reproduction or the relief of one's own sexual tension. Stroking." He ticks off a third finger. "The expression of regard for the purpose of cementing emotional bonds by making the other feel good. All three of these have a place in marriage." He glares. "Now, which of these, kids, are you trying to exclude from the -- " He is almost purple as he breaks into a wall-shaking scream. "Marriage. You. Are. Currently. CONTEMPLATING?"
A little plaster rains onto his desk. For the first time you can remember, Frank sounds almost hysterical. "We just don't want you to think that we're getting married out of lust!"
"It had better be part of why you're getting married," Father Ed shouts. His eyes bulge and a vein throbs in his forehead. "Because magnetic attraction is a big part of what makes marriages stick!"
You and Frank look at each other. You see your own anguish reflected in his face.
Frank is astonishingly handsome. No, he hasn't the photogenic beauty of Joe, or the charisma or glamour that clings to Malaika or many of the adepts of Perelandra. But his brow is noble and his eyes clear, his mouth firm and his nose proud. He has the unconscious beauty of a man whose gaze is so distant that he never glimpses himself, and whose attention ranges so widely that he never thinks of himself as a thing that is physically present. But he is magnificently present with his wide shoulders and great muscles, his deep chest and his rock-like torso.
But do you feel lust for him? Your instincts are entirely male. All the love you feel for him is for the friend you see in his eyes. The friend of immense strength, startling vulnerability, instinctive charity, tender kindness, and unflagging stamina.
Lust? No, not for his body. But how do you distinguish him from the body that is him? "I love your intellect," you once heard a character on a sci-fi TV show say to another. Joe was watching too, and laughed very loudly. "How do you fuck an IQ?" he chortled. Only through bodies can minds touch and hold each other.
So if you love and want to hold on to Frank -- And if Frank is his body --
Then yes, his body is something you ardently want to hold close to you.
But what is he thinking of you? You know what he fears: That you will think he only wants to exploit your shape-changing abilities for his own gratification.
You squeeze his hand. He squeezes yours. "What if we could find lust," Frank asks Father Ed.
The padre's groan is as elaborate as something out of an operatic aria. "It's easiest if it's already there. Along with everything else. And that you both know it so it's not a God damned jack-in-the-box."
Your amazement with the priest continues to know no borders. After all his horrible teasing about "fornicating," it's like he's giving you permission -- no, he's actually insisting that you indulge a vice that you're not even sure you've got.
Then you realize the truth. You're not frightened of Father Ed's judgment, but of Frank's. You fear he'll be repulsed if you say that you feel anything like lust for him. And you also understand that he's afraid you'll be insulted if he says that he is attracted to your ability to become any woman he might have an itch for.
If Father Ed is right, this will only work if you test each other's limits. You pull at his hand. "I lust for the man I love," you say while staring into the depths of his eyes. The words are far stronger than your far more modest meaning. But if those too-strong words don't horrify Frank into bolting, your far more modest meaning won't.
Something shifts in his eyes. You're not sure what it is, but it's not a shift toward horror.
Then he speaks: "The one I love feeds a craving I've never fed before."
Huh. That's far from the worst-case scenario you were dreading, and it's something you can easily live with.
"Well, if that's the best you can do," Father Ed grumbles. "As for the other things I mentioned, I suppose you both have the usual working parts, so the mutual masturbation won't be an issue. But -- " He leans forward. "All that's nothing next to the really big issue. Charles will have talked to you about that, of course."
"What's that?" Frank asks.
"Whether to tell your betrotheds about yourselves." His expression is very grave. "Do you tell them about the Stellae?" He shrugs when you gape at him. "Well, before you do that, maybe you ought to bring them in for me to look at."
Frank's the first to cinch his jaw shut. "Father," he stammers. "Will and I are talking about marrying each other."
The priest's eyes go in different directions, and his mouth splits into a gaping maw of horror. "Each other? Each other?" Spittle flies out. "That's the filthiest idea I've ever heard!"
The floor opens beneath you.
Then the priest leaps from his chair with a shout. "Ha! Gotcha! Chuck told me all about what you were coming here for! You're not the only ones who can off pull a practical joke!" He gloats obscenely. "In fact, I'm the only one in this room who successfully got one off!"
To wake from this reverie: "The Boy from Before Everything, Part 2"    indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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