Chapter 12

"What are you doing here?" Thule asked, sounding weary and resigned.

"You don't answer your e-mail," Maya replied, "You don't log on to instant messenger or, if you do, you do so in stealth mode. I wanted to talk to you."

"I have a phone," Thule pointed out.

"Would I have had any better luck?" Maya asked.

By way of answer, Thule said, "I've been busy."

"With Mari-go-old?" Maya said the name like a taunt.

"With Ivan Vandevoort, if you must know," said Thule.

"Are you going to invite me in?" asked Maya, "or maybe you'd like to hold me here at gunpoint while we chat."

"I'm through with you," said Thule, his voice gravelly, "You crossed the line this time."

"I cross a lot of lines," said Maya, "For instance, I got a ride from the bus station and had them drop me off here, so you're stuck with me until morning."

"Wait here," Thule said, turning his back on her and walking to his room. She followed him, then sat down on the bed, Indian-style. She was dressed in black jeans and a black turtleneck. Thule ignored her, taking the clip out of the pistol and putting the pistol in the top drawer of his dresser. Then, he started to get dressed.

Maya pouted and stretched, "What are you getting dressed for? You're just going to have to get all undressed again."

Thule zipped up his pants, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Thule," Maya said, her face getting all soft, her chin quivering a little, "I want you back."

Thule laughed unkindly and pulled on a t-shirt, "After three years? Why now? And what makes you think I want you back?"

"I felt the way you fucked me in New York," said Maya, "you couldn't wait to come inside of me. You didn't last five minutes once you woke up."

Thule scowled, "I wasn't worked up. I just wanted it to be over. Get up."

"Ooh," said Maya, "I like being ordered around. Where would you like me to stand... master?" The last word was mockery, a challenge.

"I want you to walk," said Thule "out to the car. I'm driving you back to the bus station."

Maya's eyes widened in mock fear and surprise, "The bus station at two AM. Ooh, good plan, my brave, little soldier. There are no buses until six-oh-five. That'll give the hoboes a good four hours to get their hands on me before I go home."

"Fine," said Thule, "I'll drive you all the way back to New York, then."

Maya, who had started to rise, sat back down again, "I won't go."

Thule growled, "You will go."

"Gonna make me?" asked Maya.

Thule sat down at his desk, pointed his webcam at the bed, and set it to record. Then, he said, "If I have to."

Maya lay down flat on her back, stretching her arms over her head, "What are you going to do? Drag me by my hair. You know, when you didn't stop Randy Vandevoor from raping me, I almost got away, but he caught me by that long hair that you loved so much and dragged me back into his room."

"You're a fucking psycho," opined Thule, "This is your last warning, Maya. Get up and get out or I will carry you out of here by force."

Maya reached down and stripped off her t-shirt. She was reaching around to undo her bra when Thule shouted, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I honestly believe," Maya said, a tear rolling down her cheek, "that you would do it. You would pick me up off this bed and jam me into that piece of shit car of yours. So, I thought it might make for a better show if I stripped naked and screamed 'rape' all the way across the yard."

Thule's laughter was downright cruel, "Come on, Maya. You never cried 'rape.' Three years and you haven't said a goddamned word about it to anybody that mattered, not the cops, not your parents. Besides, you haven't been raped. There are no bruises on you. You're not full of come."

"How do you know?" Maya asked, unzipping her pants, "Maybe I fucked the guy who gave me a ride over. Maybe, I called Randy Vandevoort and told him how much I missed having him ram his big cock up my virginal ass without even spit for lube. He's bigger than you, you know--a lot bigger."

"So," asked Thule, "how do you talk to guys you're not trying to get back?"

"About the same," said Maya, laughing and lying back to pull her pants off.

"Stop taking your clothes off," said Thule, "In five minutes, you are leaving this house, clothed or unclothed, willing or unwilling. If you scream 'rape, ' the police will come and take me away. I will spend the night in jail. When it turns out you haven't been raped recently, they will let me out and put you in jail, probably for a long time. Even if they don't, they'll eventually figure out that you're completely around the bend and lock you away for good in a rubber room."

"All I need is one night," said Maya, "one night with you or one night without you. Either will serve."

"What the fuck are you babbling about?" asked Thule.

"78," Maya sang, "17-45-26-91."

Thule recognized the combination to his safe immediately, "Maya, what the hell are you up to?"

Maya lay back on the pillows, completely naked now and spread her legs, exposing the curly black hair between her cafe-au-lait thighs, "Better not to find out, lover. Now, come to bed."

Thule looked at Maya, lying there and undulating, one hand caressing herself between her legs, the other pinching her own nipple. She was already starting to get off on the combination of pleasure and pain.

"One night?" asked Thule.

"One night," said Maya, "then you can go back to Florita if you like."

Thule crouched in his closet, unzipping the duffel bag on the floor. Maya looked up a little, "What are you doing?"

Thule answered, "Just looking for something in my bag of toys, dear."

"I'm not going to let you tie me up," said Maya, "If you try, I'll scream."

"What?" asked Thule, pulling out and brandishing the waterproof rope, "I thought you liked being tied up."

"I like being tied up," acknowledged Maya, "I do not like being tied up and left until morning."

Thule cursed under his breath, then said out loud, "Have it your way. Hey, do you remember the orgasm mitt?"

Maya sat up, "No. What orgasm mitt?"

Thule held up one hand with an oven mitt on it, "Wasn't it you I used the orgasm mitt on? It was one of my girlfriends."

Maya examined it from a distance, "What makes it an orgasm mitt? It looks like an ordinary oven mitt."

Thule came over to the bed, "Lie back," he said. Maya did.

He layed the mitt on her stomach, stroking little circles out from her navel. Almost immediately, Maya began to writhe in pleasure. "Touch yourself," he ordered. Maya did. Thule rubbed his way up Maya's ribs and into her cleavage with the glove. Maya started to moan tremulously. Thule stroked one breast, then the other with it. Maya gasped with the pleasure.

Thule lay down on the bed next to her, still stroking one breast, then the other. He got his face right down next to her ear and demanded, "Come for me, Mayita."

Maya started to moan. Thule let her moan three times, then put the mitt over her face, just in time for her to inhale deeply. He could see by her face that she recognized the smell of chloroform a split second too late. She tried to struggle, but Thule pushed the mitt into her face. In a few seconds, she lay still, the rise and fall of her breast the only motion.

Thule moved quickly, putting Maya's clothes back on her, picking her up, cradled in his arms, and carrying her out to the car. Compared to him, she was so tiny that it looked like he was carrying a sleeping child. He put her in the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt. Running back into the house, he retrieved a few items. When he came back, Maya was still out cold.

This late at night, it was about forty-five minutes to the city from Thule's house. He was five minutes from the Holland Tunnel when Maya started to stir. She looked up at him, bleary eyed. It seemed to take a couple of minutes for recognition to kick in, "Oh, Thule," she said, "I'm so sorry." Then, she started crying, big, wet tears that splashed when they landed.

"It's okay," said Thule, "It's going to be okay."

"What happened?" Maya asked.

"I chloroformed you," said Thule matter-of-factly, "And now I'm taking you home." He handed her a bottle of water, "Drink this. You must be thirsty."

Maya took the bottle, nodding and drank deeply.

"Now," asked Thule, "are you going to behave yourself or do I need to drug you again?"

"I'll behave," said Maya. Her voice was raspy and the fight seemed to have gone out of her.

"Maya, you need to get help."

"I know, Thule. I know."

Thule drove through the toll booth, watching Maya like a hawk while he paid, but she seemed wrapped up in her own world now, staring ahead, glassy-eyed.

"Where do you live now?" Thule asked.

"Just drop me off at Port Authority," said Maya, sounding miserable. They drove in silence halfway through the tunnel. Then, she said, "I saw him today."

"Who?" asked Thule.

"My little boy," said Maya, "I found out where he was and I went to go see him. I didn't approach. Nobody knew I was there. They've got him."

"Maya," snapped Thule, trying to break her out of her trance, "fewer pronouns. Who has him?"

"The Vandevoorts," said Maya, dully, "Ivan Vandervoort's cousin adopted my little boy."

Thule's face was ashen, "Maya, I'm so sorry."

Maya looked out her window as the tunnel opened up into the city, "I guess I went a little nuts after that. I'm so sorry, Thule."

"Maya," Thule said, his voice filled with hard compassion, "I can't see you anymore. You need to get help."

"I know and I know," said Maya. "Trust me. I'm as disgusted by my behavior as you are."

"I'm not disgusted," said Thule, "only incredibly concerned. Please tell me you'll get help."

Maya nodded, "Soon. There are some things I need to take care of. Then, maybe, when I get the money..."

"Marigold's stepfather will take care of the money," said Thule. "When you're ready, let me know and we'll get you help."

Maya didn't answer for a long time. Then, she said, "I won't be bought, Thule. You, of all people, should know better than..."

"You've got nothing left to sell, Maya," said Thule quietly. "This isn't in exchange for anything. This is because Marigold and I want you to get the help you need."

Maya wept quietly. After a minute, Thule reached over and stroked her hair with the back of his hand. The look of gratitude she gave him was almost enough to break his heart.

As they emerged from the tunnel, Thule looked around, "Are you sure I can't take you somewhere to get help?"

"Take me to twenty-third and eighth," Maya said. "I'm staying with a friend for the time being."

Thule drove her downtown in silence. When they got to the corner, Maya asked, "Can I e-mail you, if I promise not to get all crazy?"

Against his better judgement, Thule said, "You understand that I can't always write back right away." He wanted to be free of her, but he didn't want her to just disappear, unmissed and unmourned. To some degree, however small, she was still his problem.

Maya nodded, "Thank you, Thule. You're a real gentleman."

"That's me," said Thule, "Sir Bartholomew of Chloroform." Then, he got out of the car, came around Maya's side, opened her door, and gave her a balancing hand out. As she rose up out of the car, Maya fell against Thule into a hug. He held her there, his arms around her.

Maya tilted her head back, "Rape, rape," she said in a stage whisper, much too low for anyone but Thule to hear.

Thule released her, "You really are fucking nuts, you know that."

"And you're better than she deserves," said Maya, "Good night, Thule. Thank you for the ride."

After that, Thule drove uptown for a while, eventually pulling into a parking space to use his cell phone to find a twenty-four hour office supply store that would sell him a new safe.

After transferring the contents of the old safe to the new safe, Thule fell into a deep slumber. It took a good half hour of loud music emanating from one of his computers to rouse him. He grumbled mightily, but since he was already dressed and had done so earlier that morning, decided it wasn't the end of the world. He gave himself a quick washcloth bath, changed his shirt, and headed out.

Dawn bounced into the car and rubbed the top of Thule's head, "Good morning," she said briskly.

"You're chipper today," said Thule.

"I was up half the night, talking to my girlfriend," said Dawn in a singsong.

"She's your girlfriend, now, is she?" asked Thule.

"She said she wants to be," said Dawn, "We have a date for this weekend."

"So," asked Thule, in his best "dishy" voice, "Where are you going?"

"Um, nowhere," said Dawn, mocking him, "that's sort of what being in the closet means."

"So," said Thule, as if he'd made a great discovery, "by 'date, ' you mean, 'sweaty, lesbian sexfest.'" Dawn flushed bright red and didn't answer, "Sounds like a pay-per-view event."

"This is a private show," said Dawn, "Nobody gets to view, no matter how much they pay."

"What if I just ask real nice?" asked Thule.

"No," said Dawn, "besides, why would you want to watch a couple of hideous girls have sex?"

"Oh," said Thule, "you didn't tell me she was hideous, too. I thought I could just block my vision of you and watch her. But, I guess if she's a lesbian, she's probably got a hairy back and wears flannel everywhere."

"No," said Dawn, getting a faraway look in her eyes, "actually, she's beautiful. And you're a cretin."

"Hmmmm," said Thule, "do we have any beautiful cheerleaders at Mannsborough? Some of them are pretty homely... well, some of them rise to homely. Most are pretty hideous."

"This is why women get eating disorders," lectured Dawn, "unrealistic standards of beauty."

Thule's stomach grumbled audibly. "Sorry," he said, "I skipped breakfast."

"Long night?" asked Dawn.

"Off the record," said Thule, "one of the longest in my life."

"Want to share?" asked Dawn.

"No," said Thule emphatically, then softer, "but thank you."

"Want a banana?"

"What?"

"I've got a banana in my lunch," said Dawn, "you can have it if you like."

"Thanks," said Thule, "that would help a lot. I'll get you another one before lunch."

"You don't have to," said Dawn, handing it over, "I only ask one favor in return."

Thule split the top of the peel with his thumbnail, "Name it."

Dawn's grin was broad and evil, "I want to watch you eat it."

Thule chomped off the top of the banana, chewed it up, and swallowed it, "Get pay-per-view."

Dawn stuck out her tongue, "Spoilsport."

At Marigold's house, Thule bounded up the path and rang the doorbell. Marigold came to the door and followed him up the path. Impulsively, halfway to the car, he turned, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her full on the mouth.

"I love you, Marigold Tarr," he said quietly, "and I take back what I said about you being as crazy as Maya."

Marigold looked puzzled, "When did you ever say that?"

"Well," said Thule, "I may never have said it out loud."

Dawn honked the horn at them. Thule bounded up the path.

"Wait a second," Marigold called after him. "Did you just tell me you loved me?"

Thule turned and nodded. Marigold smiled, "I thought so."

In the car, Marigold wrapped her arms around Thule's neck and kissed his cheek, "Thule just told me he loved me."

"Well, duh," said Dawn, "I've known that since the first day I saw you two together."

Thule and Marigold turned to each other and burst out laughing. Dawn looked at them, puzzled. Thule spoke first, "In that case, you knew before we did."

"You're in a good mood this morning," observed Oksana.

Thule shut his locker, slapping his lock on and spinning the wheel. He was, he realized, deliriously happy--sleep-deprived, but happy. As bad as the scene with Maya had been, the break with her had been like dropping a lodestone from around his neck. It had also made him realize that he really did love Marigold, no matter how their relationship had started. He smiled, "What gave it away?"

"That odd curvature around the edges of your mouth," said Oksana, "It looks like you're smiling, but lacks the general malice you radiate when you do smile. I've only seen you smile like that once before." She looked around conspiratorially, "Did you get into MIT again?"

"No," said Thule, "althought I do believe I'll be able to pay--for the first year, anyway."

Oksana bounced up and down, wrapping Thule in a congratulatory hug, "You sold your software? Congratulations."

"Actually," said Thule, hugging her back, "it was more of a finder's fee sort of deal."

Rocking back on her heels, Oksana said, "Well, whatever you did, congratulations. That's got to be a huge weight off of your mind."

"It is," said Thule.

After she had walked away, Randy Vandevoort, who had been lurking off to one corner of the hall, chatting up a freshman girl, strutted over to Thule, "So," he said, by way of introduction, "my old man says that you're Jonas Tarr's new favorite."

Thule shrugged, "I suppose I am."

"Word to the wise," said Randy, "be a little more disreet when dipping your beak. Girls like Tarr, they can be a real pain if they see something like that."

Thule took out his pack of cigarettes and packed them against the back of his hand in short violent motions while he thought about his answer. Finally, he said, "Thanks for the heads up, but I got it covered. She won't care about that one."

Randy seemed to consider the statement, then said, "You know, my old man keeps telling me I should marry Tarr, but she always seemed like too much of a cold fish."

Thule chuckled ruefully, "Plenty of fish, if that's what you want." He worried that the allusion was too subtle for Randy, but apparently, its crudeness got the point across.

"Yeah," said Randy, slapping Thule broadly on the shoulder, laughing harshly, "You're all right, Roemer."

Once Randy was gone, Thule breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He'd received Randy's blessing. He was in. Now, all of the rules had changed.

Several other times during the course of the day, Randy made some gesture of approval towards Thule--a wave, a nod of the head, a smile. Thule wondered how many of these subtle signals he'd missed over the years. He doubted that anything had been said, but by the end of the day, people who hadn't spoken to him since he quit the track team were coming up, patting him on the back, acting like there hadn't been a three and a half year interruption in the conversation. Thule, for his own part, behaved like he was glad and at least a little bit grateful to be back. Mostly, though, he acted like he deserved it. Soon enough, so did everyone else.

After his last class, Dawn met him coming out the side door on his way to the car, "Boy," she said, "your star sure seems to be rising today."

"Rising or falling is a matter of perspective, dependent on your sorting order," said Thule. He kept walking towards his car, Dawn following along beside him, almost two strides to every one of his.

"So," Dawn said, not able to keep the hurt entirely out of her voice, "I guess you'll be eating lunch with the jocks tomorrow."

Thule kept walking, "Dear lord, no. Not if I can help it."

"Really?" asked Dawn, "why not?"

"I don't have any friends there," said Thule.

"You sure seem awfully friendly," said Dawn.

Thule reached into his pocket for his keys. He decided that a small lie was in order, "It's easier to be friendly with them. If they're not being antagonistic, why should I?" He unlocked his door and got in the car. Then, he reached around to unlock the back seat. Dawn got in. Thule waved to Marigold as she appeared over the rise.

"They're not good people, Thule," said Dawn. "You haven't spent a lot of time with them, so you don't know. But, the friendliness only lasts as long as it takes them to get their hooks into you. Then, they're mean."

Thule turned to face her, "That is a remarkably astute observation. I thank you for your warning, Dawn. But tell me, if you think they're so evil, why are you planning a secret rendez-vous with one of Brianne's handmaidens?"

Marigold opened the door just in time to hear Dawn say, "She's different."

"Who's different?" asked Marigold.

"Dawn's girlfriend," said Thule, "is different from the other cheerleaders."

"Well, at least in one critical area, yes," said Marigold.

"Why do I get the feeling that you two are making fun of me?" asked Dawn.

"It's just funny," said Marigold, "Whenever I hear girls talk about guys, their number one frustration is that guys only want the 'cheerleader type.' I meet one lesbian..."

"I still don't think I'm a lesbian," Dawn protested.

"Then, it must be an odd-numbered day," offered Thule.

"Now, I know you're making fun of me," said Dawn, "but, I'm serious. I just think that I didn't like the boys it was acceptable to date. What do you think, Thule?"