John Barnes - Mother of Storms

Since practically anyone can afford a private cabin, the zipline has become the major place for temporary privacy. When he was a teenager, Jesse used to take girls from Tucson to dates in LA, Albuquerque, or even Dallas, just to have them alone in the compartment for that long, and it seems like every fifth XV drama is about a couple that meets regularly during a commute for a bit of adultery.

The other cliché is that couples have their fights on the zipline, and that’s the cliché Jesse and Naomi are acting out.

Jesse does not know what this one is about. A week ago, after they watched the UN missiles get blown up, they drove out in the desert and they made love in the back of the Lectrajeep, the top thrown back so that it was all by bright starlight. They lay together afterward, touching and whispering, and she asked him a lot of things about growing up in the desert.

It was the first time he ever felt like she wanted to know something about him without correcting it.

After they got back, they made love more often in the next three days than they had in months. They didn’t go to any meetings, and he had lots of time to study.

But since this morning they’ve been having this fight. It’s one of those really frustrating ones where Jesse can’t get Naomi to admit that it’s a fight; she calls it a “clarification.” As far as he can tell, the feelings she is clarifying for him at the moment are the ones that have to do with dumping him because she really likes him. He says so.

“I knew you’d take it that way!”

This does not reassure him. The two-person zipline compartments are barely large closets—their knees are almost touching and they can only lean back to get about three feet of separation at best, and Jesse’s shoulders touch both the wall and the door. So they are having this fight right in each other’s face.

“I don’t understand,” he says.

“I’ve told you, you’re not going to get what I’m saying if you try to understand it. Try to feel it, Jesse, can’t you?” She brushes her hair back from her face, and he sees that her eyes are wet, which startles him—somehow he had missed the point that all this is painful for her, too, and he’s embarrassed by that, so he stops arguing and listens for a moment.

The hair comes farther back and he can see how pale her skin is around her freckles. Her eyes are huge wet pools and there’s a catch in her voice.

“You probably thought we were just getting along great, didn’t you? I mean after we went out in the desert?”

He doesn’t see where this is going.

“I guess I should have explained but it didn’t seem like it would work if I did, Jesse. I—well, at the meeting, where everyone was watching the Siberian missiles get blown up, I was feeling so tired. I didn’t ever want to see any of that stuff again. And… well, you know, I got involved with you partly because it seemed like, oh, sort of a duty, I mean, you were intelligent and you liked me and I thought I could help you get your values clarified.”

Jesse had not thought of himself as a duty.

“But then as I got to know you… well, you know, I’m very lucky because I grew up with parents who had anti-centric life-and-Earth values right from the start, so I was raised not to be linear or centric. I mean, in most of the groups I’ve belonged to, that’s been my big strength; my big contribution to the group is that I don’t have to struggle against the old humanistic values. So it had always been my sharing my values with others, instead of them sharing theirs with me, because I usually had the values they knew they should have and I was happy to share.” She sighs and looks down at her hands, which are writhing like spiders mating in her lap. “But, see, Jesse, what I didn’t realize was that not only did you not understand real ecological values, you didn’t even know you should have them. So without meaning to—I mean, I’m sure you’d never do it intentionally, you’re a good person, Jesse—god, I’m being com plete ly judgmental—” She is now crying, hard.

Jesse is being pulled in too many directions. He wants to hold her and soothe her like he would a little girl, but he can’t help noticing that when her eyes are puffy and red, and snot is running onto her upper lip—especially after she’s just explained to him that she got involved with him as a duty to save his poor stupid ass from his bad values, which he never thought were bad in the first place—she is just not as attractive as she used to be. Except he’s also noticing that when she sobs, her big chest bounces up and down, too, and part of him wonders what it would be like to have her pinned down and sobbing while he squeezed it—and the fact that he’s having the thought (and that it’s turning him on) is making him a little sick to his stomach. Mostly he’s trying to figure out when and how she’s going to tell him that she’s going to dump him.

She wipes her nose on her shirtsleeve, checks her watch, and goes on. “Jesse, the problem is that I started to realize that your values were very, very attractive to me. I mean, like, I started to think about… well, you always said I was pretty, and I started to think about what it would be like just to get attention for that. And out in the desert… I mean, it was meaningless, totally meaningless, it was just using nature because it was nice, without understanding nature really at all, but still—oh, Jesse, it was so nice. And there’s the orgasms too.”

“Orgasms?”

She sobs. “You know, don’t you? I explained it.”

He sort of knows. “You mean the thing about female orgasm is being in touch with the world, or however that goes?”

“You see what I mean, you didn’t even realize how important that was, or that you needed to listen and get it right.” She sniffles. “The point is, the female orgasm is non-centric, and it’s the spiritual energy coming out and linking you to the whole universe, making you feel how you should relate to everything—completely opposite of the centric male orgasm, which is technological and aggressive and all. So… so anyway, I always had a lot of trouble having orgasms—my mom’s discussion group used to have whole meetings about how Mom could help me with it—but when I, did I was very non-centric, I really felt the whole universe and I was just so full of love that I didn’t even know I was having sex anymore. But with you… in the desert… I had about ten of them, and I just had them totally selfishly. I mean, I was completely male and selfish! All I did was look up at the stars and come; I didn’t think about anything except that it felt good between my legs.

“And this whole past week—I mean, I’ve been doing all the ‘in-love’ stuff that I shouldn’t. It’s been so much fun and I’ve enjoyed it so much… don’t you see where that’s leading? I always thought I was strong but I’m not. I’m just falling for all of this stuff like… like… I don’t know what, but I’m doing it. If I stay with you I might lose all my values, don’t you see that? I can’t… even though I really want to.”

She checks her watch again, and Jesse looks at his and realizes that they are only a minute from the station in Hermosillo. That’s when she says, “So see, I’ve got to stop all this and get back to working on my values. I guess in a lot of ways what you will always represent to me is the person I could have been if I had been born that way or chosen to go that way—I don’t mean I could have been you, but I can see where I could have been perfect as your girlfriend and very happy and so forth, and I can see where that would be a lot of fun, but it is not important for me to be happy or have fun; the Earth needs people to care for it properly, and if I stay with you I’ll forget that. I found myself just the other day calling myself a uniter in front of other people—just as if this were the twentieth and there were two sides that were debating, instead of acknowledging that the world already is one, and we have to act in accord with its unity. Gwendy called me on it. That had never happened to me since I was a little girl. I’m not used to needing values-clarifying, and I don’t like having to be values-clarified.