Mating in Captivity by Helen Zuman

Author:Helen Zuman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2018-05-14T04:00:00+00:00

[ chapter 7 ]

Traitors’ Hearts

“I WANT YOU TO BREATHE deeply, relax, let your worries go. Okay?”

Amory, my boyfriend of four months, was standing behind me, his hands on my head. As I inhaled, blood swelled the twin nodes of wasp venom under his palms. I’d just been stung, twice, while sitting on the porch swing. With my exhale, the pain eased a trace. I shifted my tailbone off the lip of the five-gallon bucket he’d turned upside-down for me to sit on. Through the bathroom door roared a tide of voices, as the Farmhouse living room filled for dinner. Steel forks clanked against steel bowls.

By May 2002, the shower line had migrated to the Bathhouse. Still, I worried that someone might barge in and mistake our Reiki session for an illicit date. When else did two Zendiks get to spend time together, in private, behind closed doors?

I shut my eyes and let Amory’s warm touch coax the scorch out. I’d been told stings were linked to anger. What was I mad about? Had I gotten pissed at Riven for saying I should do more road prep? Had angry thoughts drawn the wasps to sting me on my head? My shoulders tensed. I needed an answer to the question I expected to hear, the moment the door opened: “Why do you think you got stung?”

Amory added a gentle pulse to his touch. “Just relax, okay? Keep breathing. The more you let your energy flow, the more I can use it for healing.”

A few weeks earlier, during a rare Sunday afternoon soccer game, the ball had hit me in the face. Amory had joined me on the grass and rested a reassuring hand on my back. He hadn’t asked, “How’d you vibe into that?” The previous afternoon, Riven, flanked by Eile and Karma, had skewered me for not volunteering to help them prep for their upcoming selling trip. He’d given me a hug and offered to help. He hadn’t said, “Looks like you’d better get to work on your competitive philosophy.”

I deeply appreciated Amory’s kindness, his unconditional acceptance. I also feared it. Over and over, I’d heard Arol and others blame offenses such as poor selling performance on couples’ “square” behavior. I’d seen lovers leave, both alone and in pairs, under the pall of Arol’s belief that devotion between intimates turned them against Zendik. I’d come to understand sexual attraction as a force that threatened both my place in my tribe and my tribe’s survival. According to Wulf, “A good friend nails you quickly.” Amory didn’t nail me at all. I linked my love for him to a recent incident that had almost pushed me off the Farm.

On a late-March trip to Charleston, Riven had confiscated my ammo, saying I was so “negative” she didn’t want me around. Later, after begging forgiveness, I’d called home. Amory had answered. I took this as a sign that I’d gone soft on the street because he was too good to me.

Back home, loath to betray others as I’d supposedly betrayed Riven, I asked my peers for a break from selling.

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