Chapter 24

By the time the waitress left, I knew what words I wanted to use. I looked at Sherri and smiled.

"It feels like there are some things missing from your story," I said. "For one, it's hard to believe you became a prostitute because of a noble goal of helping screwed-up men who aren't screwed up enough to see a shrink. There have to be a handful of other ways to help them that don't involve selling your body."

She snorted. "I'm not selling my body. No more than an athlete or actor sells theirs. I get paid for my skill in using it and it's insulting to imply that it's just my body."

"I apologize for the insult," I said, my voice still firm. "It wasn't intended." My gut fluttered, but I refused to let it pull me into backing down. "Let me rephrase. There have to be other ways to help men than becoming an escort."

"True, but they aren't as effective."

I looked down at my plate for a moment. I could feel my frustration building, but I couldn't give into it, any more than I could to fear.

"So, why didn't you mention them?" I asked finally. "Did you spend any serious time looking into them?"

"I considered some other choices," she said. "But, like with being a surrogate, I didn't feel any calling."

"Aha," I said. "There's that word again. You make it sound religious, but no religion embraces prostitution."

"That's not true," she said. "in fact, prostitute priestesses were common in several early religions, like the Canaanites."

"What?" I said, feeling like I'd just missed a curve ball.

"The Canaanites, from the Bible. They were neighbors of the Israelites and they practiced sacred prostitution in their temples to Astarte. It's one of the things the prophets were always railing against. Although I think that had far more to do with politics than immorality. Yahweh was certainly selective about what was considered moral."

I looked at her with surprise.

"Read your Bible, Joe. Yahweh regularly killed people for the smallest of slights, like stumbling into the Ark of the Covenant. He even ordered the genocide of the Midianites because some of the Israelites were sleeping with Moabite women. Though some say that was Moses and not Yahweh. In fact—"

"Is this another soap box?" I asked. "Because I didn't actually ask about Yahweh."

Sherri flushed. Then she chuckled and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I guess I get worked up about some things."

"Nothing wrong with that," I said. "In fact, the passion is admirable. The problem is..." I bit my lip while I searched for the words.

"Yes?"

I smiled. "I'm picking my words carefully." I thought a little longer before I had it. "The problem is, sometimes passionate people don't do a good job of really listening. They already know the answers, or what they want the answers to be."

"I do a good job of listening."

"You do," I said. "At least most times, and probably with most clients. But you misread me, didn't you? You projected suicidal tendencies onto me, because of your brother."

Sherri fell silent. Our dessert arrived then, and she took a bite, chewing slowly.

"And that's not the only example," I said. "There were a handful of times when I was sharing my story where you told me what the answers were. What if you were wrong?"

"Was I?"

"Most of the time, no. But some of the time, yes. And I didn't stand up to you and tell you when you were."

Sherri chuckled. "Is that what you're doing now?"

"Yes," I said. Who would have thought it? "Don't get me wrong, you've done an incredible job, and I appreciate the help. But I think you'll be a better 'counselor' and I'll be a better, well, human being, if I do speak up."

"True."

"But we're also off topic," I said. "I asked about your 'calling' to become an escort. I don't think it was because you'd decided to revive the worship of some dead biblical goddess, so tell me more about it."

Sherri paused and then nodded.

"Have you ever had a strong gut feeling that you needed to do something?" she asked. "An intuition, except you felt it in your body as well as your mind?"

I nodded.

"Well, that's what it was like. When I tried meditating, it just felt stronger."

"Did you talk to anyone about it?"

She frowned. "I mentioned it to a couple of my friends in school."

"But not your mom, or your friend Susan?"

"No. Though my mom's probably figured it out by now, and she wouldn't disapprove anyway. She worked a little with COYOTE on sex worker rights several years ago. They advocate decriminalization of prostitution."

I raised an eyebrow. Sherri caught it, but decided to ignore it.

"I read a novel once," I said, "that dealt with discernment. Glamorous Powers, by Susan Howatch. The main character has a psychic vision in the first chapter, but he and his spiritual advisor spend a third of the book trying to discern whether it's from God, from the Devil, or from his own unconscious."

"Are you implying I made my call up?"

I shook my head. "I'm just wondering what you did for discernment, if you didn't talk to anyone."

"I made the right choice," she said, her nostrils flaring slightly.

I paused. I didn't need to push her any further. This wasn't about winning a debate, after all.

"You're probably right," I said. "And, at least with me, your 'calling' made quite a difference. Can you imagine what would have happened if one of the strippers from Allen's bachelor party had showed up instead of you, that night? She would have tried to 'rock my world'." I couldn't help grinning.

Sherri chuckled. "I'm really glad I was wrong, you know. About your being suicidal."

"I'm glad you were wrong, too," I said. "If you'd figured it out the first night, I'm not sure you would have stuck around, and I did need your 'ministering.'"

We smiled knowingly at each other.

"So," she asked. "Is that all?"

"No," I said. "But we can talk about other things now."

Sherri nodded and noticeably relaxed. She leaned back in her chair and gazed at me for a moment.

"Have you figured out whether you want Tina or Sharon back?" she asked.

I sighed. "Not entirely. I've had a hard time sorting out my feelings. I mean, I do have deeper feelings for Tina than I'd ever let myself admit. But is it love? I don't know. I feel guilty, and ashamed, but I also really miss her. I've been wondering more and more about what could have been if I had just let myself really love her."

I took a deep breath.

"You know I'm going to have to talk to her father," I said, "if I want to get her back. I terrified of doing that."

"But you can do it."

I nodded.

"And Sharon," I continued, "I'd be lying if I said I still don't want to sleep with her. But I'm also pissed at her. On the one hand, it feels weird to not be talking to her every week, and I catch myself thinking of things I want to tell her during our next phone call. On the other hand, ever since Alicia and I broke up, it was a strange friendship, in some twilight between being purely platonic and dating. There are times, since the blow-up, where I thought that maybe I loved her, too, and I wasn't being honest with myself to deny it. But it doesn't feel the same as when I think about Tina."

"Why should it?"

"Well, I don't know. I mean, if I love them both..."

"What do you mean by 'love'?"

I paused and stared at Sherri for a moment. Then I got her point.

"It's one of those words, isn't it?" I said. "That have so many meanings that it's ultimately meaningless."

She nodded, grinning. "You can say you love wine, but it doesn't mean the same thing as loving your parents."

"Or loving your girlfriend." I nodded and started chuckling. "Or loving your dog."

Sherri laughed. "Well, for most people those are two different meanings."

"Thank goodness," I said, rolling my eyes. I let our temporary merriment fade before speaking again. "So, how do you define love?"

"Me, personally?"

I nodded.

"I like to use the Greek definitions. Philios, Eros, and Agape."

"Ah, brotherly love, erotic love, and divine love."

"I actually prefer to define Eros as romantic love. Any of them can be tinged with the erotic."

"Really?"

"Sure. Sex is an act. Love is an emotion. They can go together in a lot of combinations."

I started to object, but then I thought about the sacred prostitutes she'd mentioned.

"Okay," I said. "I'll grant that. But 'erotic' is more than the sex act. It's more of a mood or a description."

She nodded. "It's an adjective. Which means it can go with any noun. You can have an erotic friendship, an erotic romance, or an erotic experience of the Divine."

I snorted. "I think my Sunday School teacher would be shocked."

Sherri grinned. "Probably."

"Then it's a good thing she's not here," I said with a smile. "But ... I'm not sure how those definitions help me."

"Well," she said, her professorial tone returning, "you can use them to sort out your feelings. Spend a little time thinking about how you'd define love and maybe you'll figure out how you really feel about Tina and Sharon."

"Hmmm." I paused to savor the idea. While I was thinking about it, Sherri checked her watch.

"I need to get going, Joe. I have another appointment tonight."

"You do?" I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

She nodded. "And he's a regular, so I don't want to be late."

I considered asking her about him, but decided that she wouldn't answer anyway, so I just nodded.

"Thanks for the meal."

"Sure."

I motioned the waitress for the check. After paying the bill, I followed Sherri back to the entrance. She turned and faced me then.

"I'd like to continue talking," I said, "if we can get together again."

"Sure. When?"

I grimaced. "When I have the money. Unless ... we can make some other arrangement. Like I could cook for you."

She paused and cocked her head to one side.

"Besides," I said, "you don't want to cut off your 'ministering' in the middle, even if I'm not suicidal."

Sherri snorted softly.

"C'mon," I cajoled. "It's not like I'm asking you to fix things for me. I just need someone to bounce ideas off of. In exchange, well, food is probably my best bribe."

Sherri chuckled. "Okay. I'll think about it and call you tomorrow."

"Great."

I suspected she already had my phone number courtesy of the agency, but decided to give it to her again to be safe. Once she'd confirmed that she could read it, we hugged and said our goodbyes.

The drive home found me surprisingly elated. I caught myself singing along to the radio and just laughed at myself. So this is what it feels like when I stand up for myself.

Because I had, really. Not just when I told her that I thought she wasn't telling me the whole story, but also that she'd be wrong sometimes in making assumptions. I let out a deep breath, and almost trembled at the memory. It wasn't a big act of bravery in the grand scheme of things, but it still felt exhilarating.

Maybe that's where the thrill of battle came from, I mused. By conquering their fears at Agincourt, Henry's men truly could say they were one of "we few, we happy few." Or whatever the exact quote was.

The giddy adrenaline faded away by the time I reached my apartment. I'd been musing about that Henry V quote, so I decided to pull out the play and check it. I'd remembered it correctly, but rereading the St. Crispin's Day speech led to me reading more of the play, until eventually the yawns caught up to me and I retired for the night.

I slept late the next morning, waking from dreams of sword fights and dark-haired damsels in long dresses and no underwear. I was just about to slay the dragon when it morphed into a clone of me, startling me so much I dropped my shield. That's when I woke up.

I didn't know exactly when Sherri would call, but since I didn't have anything particular to do this Saturday, I decided I could stay around the house until she did. I cleaned and did laundry and was just starting to do some meal planning when the phone rang.

"Joe, this is Sherri."

"Hi!"

"I've got an overnight client tonight, and my roommate is planning on having her own guest, so I don't want to head home too early in the morning. Want to fix me brunch?"

"I'd love to. When?"

"Is nine too early?"

"Not at all."

"Good. I look forward to seeing how your ideas bounce."

I chuckled. "Hopefully like a rubber ball and not a brick."

She laughed. "Hopefully."

We hung up and I started thinking about what ideas I did want to bounce off of her. Now that my cooking skills had earned me a counselor—well, really a consultant—I'd knew I had to make good use of her time.

I let our conversation from the night before wander in and out of my conscious thoughts as I shopped and then baked muffins for the next day. Agape, eros, philios. How exactly did those mix, in my feelings toward Sharon and Tina? It wasn't easy to sort out, because the sex kept clouding my vision. Even when I could push my desire aside, my feelings were a swirling mix. I wanted the women to be happy. I wanted them to be with me, in some form or another. I wanted some things to be the same as they had been and I wanted a lot of things to be better.