10
Valerie
"A gentleman is one who doesn't demand a lady prove that she is."
-SOLOMON SHORT
"This will be your room," they said. It was an ordinary motel room except for two things. There was no terminal. There was no Bible.
They apologized for not letting me participate in the revelation. "It wouldn't be appropriate." And then they left me alone.
I wondered if they had locked me in. Probably not. I was a guest, remember?
I opened the door.
A big fat worm sat there like a gigantic crimson meat loaf. It opened one of its eyes and stared at me. "Prowrt?" it asked. "Uh, just checking. Sorry. Go back to sleep. " I backed into the room and closed the door. "Jeezis, who needs locks?"
So that answered that.
I took a shower. At least they hadn't forsworn the pleasures of hot water. I stood under the steaming spray and let it run down through my hair, down my face, down my shoulders. I stood there and let the sobs well up in my throat. The fear choked at my heart. How could I keep my guard up in an environment like this when everybody around me was continually trying to seduce me into relaxing? This was insidious.
I could only admire the beauty of it.
There was no defense. They would be so nice to me that I wouldn't be able to work up even a good sulk without feeling like an ungrateful bastard.
And one day I would get tired of greeting joy with hostility, just tired enough to let my guard down just a tiny bit, that's all it would take-and then they'd have me. I could already imagine how it was going to happen. . . .
"No, goddammit! No!" I pounded on the tile walls of the shower. "No! No! No! No!"
And when the rage had passed, I stood there and let the water run off of me again. My silent tears washed down the drain. When the water went cold, I turned it off and stood there dripping Dammit. There had to be a way out! Somehow. No. I had to stop.
I was driving myself crazy with this. I stepped out of the shower, slowly toweled myself dry, and padded off to bed.
She couldn't have been more than sixteen. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed waiting for me. She wasn't wearing any clothes. She had small pretty breasts. Very tan. Her nipples were large and dark. She had long brown hair and soft gray eyes. She looked friendly.
"Uh-" I lowered the towel strategically. "Hi?"
"Hi," she said back.
"Um . . . am I in the wrong room or you?"
"No, this is the right room. I'm here to sleep with you."
I scratched my nose. I looked at the floor. I looked at the door. I looked back at her. "Uh, there's something I'm missing, right?"
"I don't think so. Lift that towel and I'll have another look."
"Uh, that's not what I meant. Why are you here?"
She got under the covers then and slid over in the bed to make room for me. She turned back the blanket so I could get in. I didn't move from where I stood. She said, "You're going to get cold standing there."
"I'm already cold. Uh, listen-I don't know what your name is..."
"Valerie." She stroked her hair down over her breasts. It was very distracting.
"Valerie. Well, listen, Valerie, I don't need anyone to sleep with, thank you. I appreciate the thought, but you can go."
"Would you prefer a boy?"
"No, I would not prefer a boy, thank you."
"There's nothing to be ashamed of. Billy thinks you're cute, I could call him-"
"I'm not ashamed. And you can thank Billy for me in the morning. I just want to sleep alone."
"Oh, I'm sorry. You can't."
"I can't?"
"Well . . ." she looked apologetic, "no."
"Why not?"
"Because Jason says so."
"Jason says so."
"Yes."
"I see." I stood there indecisively. I was shivering.
"Will you get in bed please?"
Part of my mind was racing. This was exactly what I used to fantasize about in high school-and ever since: to have a beautiful and friendly and very naked girl encouraging me to join her in bed. The obvious thing to do was yell, "Banzai!" and leap.
I took a step back and looked for the bear trap. "I don't trust this situation," I said.
She shrugged and slid under the covers, then studied me with an absolutely innocent gaze. "So? What's the worst that can happen?"
I thought about it. The best that could happen would be that I'd have a terrible time. The worst that could happen would be that I'd have a terrific time and lose my individuality. I thought about the alternatives-there really weren't any-and got into the bed. Slowly.
We lay there side by side, not touching. I studied the ceiling. She studied my profile.
"Do you want to talk?" she asked.
"Do I have to?"
"No. Do you want to sleep?"
"Uh--I did, but I'm wide awake now.
"Should I turn out the light?"
"All right."
She rolled over and touched the switch on the nightstand. The room was left shaded in moonlight. The venetian blinds made lavender streaks on the wall. The night felt silent.
She rolled back toward me. The bed squeaked with the movement.
Somewhere in the distance, I could hear yelling, a great many voices all yelling together.
"What's that?" I asked.
"That's the Revelation. It's just starting. It gets louder. Don't worry about it. Around here, celebrations can get pretty rowdy."
"Oh." I turned on my side to look at her. "Valerie," I said. "How long have you been here?"
"Here? You mean this place? Or do you mean with Jason?"
"With Jason."
"Um, let me see-it'll be eleven months in May."
"Where were you before?"
"In Santa Barbara."
"And how did you . . . join?"
"The same way everybody does. I wanted to be here, so I created the opportunity for them to find me. Nobody gets here by accident. I didn't know I wanted to be here. I didn't know I was creating my opportunity, but that's how it worked out-and now I know that there aren't any accidents; this is the way it's supposed to work out. Jason says it the best way. He says, 'God doesn't make mistakes."'
"Of course not. If he did . . ."
"She."
"Huh?"
"She. God's a she."
"Oh."
"What were you going to say."
"Uh, I was going to say, if God did make mistakes, she wouldn't be God anymore, would she?"
"That's very good."
"Thank you. What did you do before?"
She shrugged. "Same as everybody else. I survived." She looked at her fingernails. They were short, like a man's. "That's what the ordinary world is about. Survival."
"Uh-huh. Well, uh, let me ask it this way. How would I have known you in the ordinary world?"
"I was a whore." She said it matter-of-factly, as if she were describing what she had had for dinner.
"At sixteen?"
"At thirteen."
"Uh. I see."
"I did it to survive. I didn't know that I didn't need to do it to survive. Jason gave me the space to find that out." She turned on her side to face me. "See, Jim, when I sold myself for money before, I wasn't selling my body. That was the form of it, but what I was really doing was selling pieces of my soul. Jason told me I didn't have to do that. Now, I only give myself to people who are willing to give themselves to me. So I get back what I give away. Only now it's-oh, I wish I were better with words-now, when I share myself with someone, what happens is that I transcend myself. When two people trade pieces of themselves, they're transformed."
"I'm sorry. I don't understand that."
"It's all right," she said. "It took me a long time to understand it too." She reached out and touched me. Her hand was warm and gentle. She let it slide down to my hip. I stopped her hand. I held it in mine. "You'll probably hear this as an insult," I said, "even though I don't mean it as one; but is that why you're here to sleep with me? To seduce me? I mean-are you whoring for Jason now?"