Chapter 8: A New Semester and a New Job, Part III

January, 1984, Chicago, Illinois

"OK, now that we've made love, talk to me more about Becky," I said to Anala.

"What I was trying to tell you was that denying your feelings, and refusing to address the issue with the girls closest to you, is not healthy. Is there anyone else that you are literally afraid of being with? And forget your mom for the moment."

"Nobody that I can think of, excluding my mom. I'm not sure that I'm afraid, but I'll concede that for the sake of the discussion."

"Part of life is overcoming fears. From what I've seen, you are basically fearless. You don't let the unknown or adversity scare you. It might confuse you or make you uneasy or uncomfortable, but even that is rare. You roll with the punches, as it were."

I chuckled, "Maybe now. In the past, I was one hell of a drama queen."

"Yes, and you learned to control that. You mastered it, so it no longer masters you. But every once in a while it sneaks out, as it did about an hour ago. You have decent self-control, but you have to watch your temper."

"I haven't told you about the situation with Joyce."

"No, you haven't."

I quickly explained what had happened over Christmas break and how I'd reacted, at least from my own perspective.

"Interesting. So this relationship with Joyce, which has been very important to you, is now sundered. What are you going to do about it?"

"Me? She's the one who broke it!"

"And now you sound like a petulant two-year-old. 'She did it! Not me!' But you did. You're the one who slept with her sister. How could you have expected Joyce to have reacted any differently? Quit blaming Joyce for your actions."

"I did sleep with Connie," I replied. "But that's private between Connie and me!"

"It was private. Now it no longer is. That means it's time to deal with the consequences of your actions. You are no innocent victim here."

"You know, I want to call you on that, but I know that I'll lose the argument."

"Yes, you would. The fact that you admit it means that you also know it is your duty to call her and try to make things right."

"Have I told you recently just how annoying you are?" I asked with a smile.

"Yes! It was about three minutes ago! Now, get out of bed, go pick up the phone, and call her. If she's not there, leave a message and ask her to call you back."

"Yes, Dear," I deadpanned.

Anala laughed, "That won't work on me. I know you better than that."

I got out of bed and walked over to the phone, and dialed Joyce's number. Her mom answered, and I asked for Joyce. She called Joyce to the phone.

"Calling to admit what you did?" she spat when I said hello.

"Jesus, Joyce. Give me a break. I'm calling, aren't I? Do you have to be so God-damned adversarial?"

"Inner calm, Steve," Anala whispered from the bed.

I took a couple of deep breaths.

"You're the one who fucked my little sister and fell right into her trap."

I took another deep breath and let it out.

"Joyce, whatever I did or didn't do with Connie is really not the issue here. It's your belief that she's trying to trap me into some kind of relationship that will drive a wedge between you and your grandfather. That is not the case. And if it was, I'm not dumb enough to fall for it. Remember, I can have anything I want from Don Joseph just by asking him.

"Yes, there would be a price, but that price would never, ever be marrying one of you. Would that help if I wanted to go down that path in life? Sure. Is it necessary? No. One thing I'm sure of is that's not the path I want to take. You and Connie can fight tooth and nail over this, or you can work together. If there's nobody else, if the other cousins like Larry want nothing to do with it, why fight? Talk to Connie and make a deal. Heck, make her an offer she can't refuse!"

Joyce laughed!

"You really do love that movie, don't you?" she asked.

"I do. If only I could see it again. I'll have to see if I can find it on videotape, which I think might be possible, given that the movie came out in '72. But do you at least see my point?"

"I guess, but that doesn't excuse what you did!"

"Assuming for the sake of argument that you're correct, how is that an issue? You and I are not lovers and haven't been for quite some time. Is it really any of your business who I'm sleeping with?"

"When it's my little sister, it is!" Joyce growled.

"That's rich coming from the girl who insisted that we fuck in her little sister's bed and then made sure that her little sister knew about it," I sneered.

"Steve, that's too much," Anala whispered.

I rolled my eyes at Anala and waited for Joyce's response.

"What's the point of this call?" she spat.

"To try to repair our friendship. But maybe I'm just wasting my time."

"Steve," Anala warned quietly.

I shook my head in frustration.

"Which wouldn't be necessary if you hadn't fucked Connie!" Joyce declared.

"Just stop it!" I demanded. "Please! Again, assuming for the sake of argument that it's true, the bell can't be un-rung."

"You need to quit trying to hide behind smooth words, Steve. Connie admitted that she slept with you."

"I can't take your word for that, and you know it! You could easily say that to try to get me to confirm or deny it. Can we just get past this problem? Please?"

"You don't trust me," she sighed.

"No, I don't. Remember what we talked about? About trust having to be earned back? This isn't the way to do it. Accusing me of something and refusing to have a rational discussion about anything else because of that accusation."

"But you don't deny it!"

"Jesus Christ!" I swore. "I'm trying to find a way through this. What the hell is your problem?! Are you that hung up on getting back in bed with me that the fact that your sister might have been in my bed has you this tied in knots? That's not the Joyce I used to know and I sure don't want to know you now if this is what it's going to be like!"

"Steve!" Anala said sharply, and likely loud enough for Joyce to hear.

"Who's there with you? My little sister? Is this some big joke?"

"Oh for Pete's sake! My friend Anala is here. She's the one who insisted that I call you to try to work through our problems. Get off your damned high horse and start acting sensibly. You're acting like a bigger shithead than I ever did! It's your call, Joyce. Take some time, cool down, then call me back if you want to work through this. Otherwise, we're done."

There was only silence on the other end of the phone. I waited a minute, then said 'goodbye' and hung up without waiting for a response. I turned and looked at Anala, who had her arms crossed and was giving me an evil look.

"That was NOT what I told you to do, Steve."

"I know," I said, exasperated, "but she's just stuck on this issue like a dog with a bone. I can't get through to her."

"And why is that? Think it through. You know the source of the problem here. And it's not Connie."

I was quiet for a couple of minutes while I worked through the issue in my mind. All of my problems with Joyce really stemmed from one source. I got back into bed next to Anala, though we didn't cuddle together.

"Kara," I said. "She's guilty over what happened with Kara, and she also saw that Kara displaced her and removed any chance of her being with me long term."

"I'd say that's right. You hurt Joyce, then she hurt Kara, and then you two hurt each other. You told me, probably a year ago now, that Joyce had always planned on being the 'last girl standing' and having you to herself. Then Kara came along and when you and Kara got together, Kara asked you to stop seeing Joyce that way, and you did. Then Joyce was let back into your life WITH Kara, and when that went badly, Joyce was even further on the outside. You're the only one who can fix this, Steve."

"OK, now I'm confused as hell," I said with exasperation. "Before you told me that Becky might be my destiny. Now you're saying that I need to fix things with Joyce, and it seems that you're implying that means giving her a chance again. But you think I was mistaken to give Kara another chance, and you think I'm supposed to be with Jennifer! I don't get it!"

Anala smiled, "I never said any of those things, Steve. You inferred them from what I said. Take Kara, for example. I didn't tell you not to give her another chance; I said it was a mistake to take her to bed on Christmas Eve. Two very different things. As for Becky, I asked a hypothetical question. You took it as my opinion, which says more about you than it does about me.

"I told you that you could fix things with Joyce and you assumed I meant make her your lover again and consider making her your wife. Finally, with Jennifer, I've only encouraged you to be honest and work through your issues. Everything else you think I said you inferred. Again, all of this tells you more about YOU than anything I said."

"Argh!" I groaned. "So, what are you trying to tell me?"

"That you are still confused! That your decision not to be involved with anyone the way you were with Stephie is the proper one. You still have many, many things to sort out. And that is the impediment with Jennifer at this point, nothing else. It all stems from your issues, Steve. Deep down, you're extremely conflicted and confused. Not as much as you were when I first met you, but it's still there. If it wasn't, you'd have broken things off with more girls by now."

I sighed, "When will this ever end?"

"Never. At least not until you reach perfect self-knowledge and thus achieve release. But then your Atman will join the Atman of the universe, and such concerns will no longer matter."

"So when I finally reach the point I'm striving for, it will no longer matter? That sounds kind of hopeless."

"Does it? Is it any different from the Christian view? That perfection is something obtained when you reach heaven and your soul is with the Christian god Jesus? When all your cares and concerns go away and your soul spends eternity in bliss?"

"When you put it that way, I suppose not."

"And the Catholics teach about purgatory — a place when you go to work off your sins, your bad karma. Is that really very different from reincarnation?"

"Yes, in the sense that my soul is and always will be human, not a dog or a cat or something."

"And your Atman is always your Atman, no matter what your physical form. Both systems of belief are trying to tell you the same thing. When you finally reach a point where all of your problems are solved, you will no longer be in a position to care about them."

"Life is suffering," I said.

"That's a very simple way to explain it, though it focuses on the bad, not the good. But it's true, insofar as any simple saying can be true. All you can do is continue your self-examination and try to improve yourself. And that means correcting your own errors and atoning for your transgressions, even if someone has hurt you far more than you've hurt them, even if they are more in the wrong than you are."

"Wait a cotton-picking minute! That sounds like complete submission to others. Haven't you been telling me not to be like that all the time?"

"There you're mistaken," Anala corrected. "You've succumbed to the Western idea that an apology is weakness. It's not. It's a sign of strength. It's stronger than your fist or a gun. There is no stronger man than one who accepts responsibility for his own actions, examines how those actions affect other people, and then admits his errors and atones for them. That's true strength, Steve. Don't fall for the lie that it makes you weak when you admit error."

"How the heck did you become so smart?" I asked.

"I'm not," Anala answered. "I've just opened myself to hear wisdom from other sources. You're doing the same thing, but I have a six-year head start on you. Not to mention that I didn't have a Western mindset to start with. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot to say for the Enlightenment and notions of freedom, but there's a lot of baggage that comes along with those things. And that's baggage you need to leave behind."

"I'll throw something back at you — can I truly escape those things? Aren't they more or less part of my DNA? Like you being Indian?"

"You have to consciously work at it. You've refused to let American Puritan moral norms define you. Don't let Western philosophy control you. You have a very good habit of taking what's of value to you and discarding the rest. Keep doing that. I try to do it, but I'm not nearly as good at it as you appear to be. Your next-door neighbor is the perfect example. Not once have I heard you worry about the fact that it would be illegal or that it's immoral. Your only concern is whether or not it's the right thing to do for Penny. Nothing else. You don't care what anyone else thinks.

"You've applied that to your friends as well. You simply accept people as they are. You don't concern yourself with their choice of partners, even if it's unconventional. You don't treat me differently despite my darker skin. You've befriended a young black man, a Muslim, a Filipina, and a couple of Hispanics. But you don't even notice those things any more than you notice the clothes that they're wearing. Apply all of this to your whole life, Steve, and you'll be well on your way to moksha. It's not about being uncaring; it's about not caring for surface details."

"What the hell difference does the color of someone's skin make to who they are?"

"Exactly. It's no different from the clothes I wear. But sadly, there are many, perhaps most, who judge on such silly externals. If I could wish away one thing in the world, it would be that. The subtle, foolish racism that blinds people to the value of others as human beings. I'm not talking about cultural biases, or about feigned injury, but the fact that people do judge on externals when that is something that simply does not and should not matter."

"When I first met Jeremiah Brown's dad, he made a comment about me talking to the 'white folks' around here who don't respect him because he's black and because he hires young men from bad neighborhoods to work for him. The very idea that a black man can't do the same, or better, work than a Caucasian is just nuts. Martin Luther King had it exactly right. What we should dream of is a day when everyone is judged by the content of the character, not the color of their skin."

"And you do that, Steve. Keep it up. You'll be besieged on all sides by evil men who try to break you down or pull you down. Stick to your guns and teach your children. Then, perhaps, they, along with my children, will get to live in a world free of foolish prejudice."

"Prejudice similar to what your parents have?" I asked.

"Yes. Or like your mom, though hers isn't based on skin color or religion. For her it's about sex, but then again, for Americans, everything seems to be about sex."

"Speaking of which..." I grinned.

"You know you may take me any time you wish, you need not ask!" she giggled.

"Tell me what you want, Anala. I want to please you," I said.

"Use your tongue to pleasure me," she said softly.

I obliged by moving between her legs and pressing my tongue deeply into her small pussy, tasting her spicy juices mixed with the remnants of our previous lovemaking. I alternated kisses, gentle licks, and soft sucking to bring her to the edge, then pushed her over that edge with more firm action. I brought her to the heights three times before she begged me to penetrate her, and we merged together, moving as one, culminating in a blissful shared orgasm.