“I still own it. Once Ponter and I decide what we’re doing on a permanent basis, I’ll figure out what to do with it. We may want to keep it.”
“And what are you and Ponter going to do on a permanent basis?”
“I wish I knew,” said Mary. She picked up her drinking bowl and took a sip. “Like you said before, Ponter doesn’t come in isolation.”
“Nor should you,” said Bandra, looking down, not meeting Mary’s eyes.
“Pardon?” said Mary.
“Nor should you. If you are to become part of this world, you should not be alone at any time of the month.”
“Um,” said Mary. “On my world, most people are attracted only to individuals of the opposite sex.”
Bandra looked up briefly, then dropped her gaze again. “There are no relations between women?”
“Well, sure, sometimes. But usually women involved in such relationships don’t have male partners.”
“That is not the way it is here,” said Bandra.
Mary’s voice was soft. “I know.”
“I—we—you and I, we have been getting along well,” said Bandra.
Mary felt her whole body tightening. “We have, yes,” she said.
“Here, two women living together who like each other and are not genetically related would”—suddenly Bandra’s large hand was on Mary’s knee—“would be close.”
Mary looked down at the hand. Over the years, she’d plucked the odd man’s hand off her knee, but…
But she didn’t want to give offense. After all, this woman had been kind enough to take her in. “Bandra, I…I’m not attracted to women.”
“Perhaps…perhaps that is merely…” She sought a phrase. “Merely cultural conditioning.”
Mary frowned, considering this. Perhaps it was—but that didn’t make any difference. Oh, Mary had kissed girls when she was thirteen or fourteen—but she’d just been practicing for eventually kissing boys, she and her friends being terrified that they might be no good at it.
At least, that’s what they’d told each other, but—
But it had been fun, in its own way.
Still…
“I’m sorry, Bandra. I don’t mean to be rude. But I’m really not interested.”
“You know,” said Bandra, meeting Mary’s eyes, then looking away, “no one understands how to please a woman like another woman.”
Mary felt her heart flutter. “I—I’m sure that’s true, but…” She gently reached down and removed Bandra’s hand. “But it’s not for me.”
Bandra nodded several times. “If you change your mind…” she said, letting the thought hang in the air, then, after a moment, she added, “It can get awfully lonely between times of Two becoming One.”
That much is certainly true, Mary thought, but she said nothing.
“Well,” said Bandra, at last, “I’m going to bed. Um—‘sweet dreams’ is your phrase, isn’t it?”
Mary managed a smile. “Yes, it is. Good night, Bandra.” She watched the Neanderthal woman pass through the doorway into her sleeping chamber; Mary had her own room, the one that used to belong to Bandra’s younger daughter Dranna. She thought about calling it a day herself, but decided to read some more, in hopes of clearing her head of what had just transpired.
She picked up The Man of Property and opened it to the turned-down page. Galsworthy employed a mocking, ironic tone; it wasn’t just Neanderthals who found fault with Gliksins, after all. She read along, enjoying his splendid re-creation of upper-middle-class Victorian England. He certainly had a way with words, and—
Oh, my God…
Mary slammed the book shut, her heart racing.
My God.
She took a deep breath, let it out, inhaled again, exhaled.
Soames had…
Mary’s heart was pounding.
Maybe she’d misread it. After all, the language wasn’t explicit. Surely it was just her own state of mind…
She opened the book, gingerly, carefully, the way Colm would have, and found her place again, letting her eyes race over the cramped typesetting, and—
No, there could be no doubt. Soames Forsyte, the Man of Property, had just demonstrated that he considered his wife Irene to be nothing more than that. Despite her lack of interest in him, and in their marriage bed, he had raped her.
Mary had been enjoying the book to this point, especially the furtive, secret romance between Irene and the architect Bosinney—for it had reminded her a bit of her own strange, forbidden relationship with Ponter. But—
A rape.
A goddamned rape.
And yet she could not blame Galsworthy. It was precisely what Soames would have done.
Precisely what a man would have done.
Mary put down the book next to her now-cold bowl of coffee. She found herself looking at the closed door to Bandra’s room, staring endlessly. After God only knew how long, Mary finally got up from the couch, and made her way into her own room, into loneliness, into darkness.
Chapter Eighteen
“Here in North America, and in India and Japan and Europe and Russia and all across this whole wide wonderful world of ours, things are mostly better than they have ever been—and they’re getting even better all the time…”
Finally, it was time! Two had become One again. Mary and dozens of other females were waiting in an open field for the men to show up. Lurt was there, along with young Dab, her son by Adikor. Jasmel, Ponter’s elder daughter, was there, too, but she was really waiting, Mary knew, for her own man-mate, Tryon. Mega, Ponter’s younger daughter, was also there, and Mary stood next to her, holding her small hand. Mary was relieved that there was no sign of Daklar Bolbay, young Mega’s guardian; that woman had made enough trouble for Mary, Ponter, and Adikor as it was.
At last the right hover-bus arrived. Ponter and Adikor came out, and Mary rushed to her man. They hugged and licked each other’s faces. Ponter then hugged both his daughters, and lifted Mega up on his shoulders. Adikor, meanwhile, had already disappeared with his woman-mate and son.
Ponter had brought the trapezoidal suitcase he usually took on trips to the other Earth. Mary carried it, while he carried Mega.
They had agreed in another chat over linked Companions to go looking for Vissan on the third of the four days of the Two-becoming-One holiday, since the forecast was for rain in Saldak then but clear skies in Kraldak.
And so on this morning, Mary, Ponter, and Mega had a fabulous time together. Although it was getting chilly, and the trees had all changed color, the air was still crisp and clean. After lunch, Mega had gone off to play with friends, and Mary and Ponter retired to the house Mary shared with Bandra. Neanderthals were open about sex, but Mary still wasn’t comfortable making love knowing that there was anyone else at home. Fortunately, Bandra had said she would be away until evening with her own man-mate, Harb. And so Ponter and Mary had the run of the place.
The sex, as always, was fabulous, with Mary climaxing repeatedly. When they were done, they bathed together, each lovingly cleaning the other. Then they lay on the pile of cushions, just chatting and holding each other. Mary wasn’t used to the sound of Ponter speaking with contractions, but of course he was, since Christine was now doing the translating instead of Hak.
Mary and Ponter spent most of the afternoon cuddling and touching and talking and walking, just enjoying each other’s company. They took in a short comedic play—the Neanderthals loved live theater. Electric fans at the back of the stage blew the performers’ pheromones onto the audience while clearing the audience’s own out of the room.