When the waitress set the bottle of Pellegrino down in front of Chameleon, her mom let out a nervous titter. "Well, it doesn't really look like bottled water, does it? It looks like a bottle of wine or beer or something." She looked around at the other tables as if she expected people to be pointing accusatory fingers. "I sure hope everybody knows it's water."
When the salads arrived, Cameron said, "Shall we pray?" Chameleon's parents bowed their heads and closed their eyes along with Cameron, who intoned, "Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies ..."
Chameleon sat, eyes open and head unbowed. The cute waitress, passing by, gave her a supportive pat on the shoulder, as if to say, I know you're in hell, and I pity you.
Over plates of pasta that were so splattered with red that they resembled something in a horror movie, Chameleon, in an attempt to make chit-chat, asked her mom, "So how are things at dear old Carter County High?" Her mother was a home economics teacher who had been quite upset when Chameleon, as a high school student, had refused to take even one of her classes.
"Well, things are all right, I suppose," Chameleon's mother sighed. "But I tell you, sometimes I just get so discouraged with these girls today. You should see what they wear to school—skintight T-shirts cut off above their belly buttons, skin-tight jeans that come below their belly buttons. Some girls even have a ring in their belly buttons. I swear, I don't know what it is with girls today and their belly buttons..."
"I wish it was just about belly buttons," Cameron said. "But it's about more than that—these girls showing off their bodies, making themselves available to boys. With morality on the decline like it is, I'm so proud of our youth group members who take the chastity pledge."
Chameleon choked on her Pellegrino. "A chastity pledge? Is that anything like a chastity belt?"
Cameron smiled a fake-patient smile. "No, it's simply when teenagers—or if they're preteens, it's even better—sign a pledge saying they won't engage in sexual activity until they're married."
Chameleon laughed for the first time all evening. "But that's ridiculous! Most teenagers are so mixed up they can't even promise what they'll be doing tomorrow—let alone promise that they won't do what every raging hormone in their horny little bodies is telling them to do every second!"
"But human beings are not animals, Camille," Cameron said. "They can fight those hormones. I always tell the kids in youth group, whenever you're on a date, sitting in a car in the dark, just think, what would Jesus do?"
"And how are contemporary teenagers supposed to know what a rabbi who's been dead for thousands of years would have done in that situation?" Chameleon shot back, her voice a little louder than she intended it to be.
"Dessert, anyone?" The waitress had appeared at the table.
"I think," Chameleon's father said, "we're ready for the check."
As the gas-swilling SUV pulled up in front of Chameleon's house, she said, "Well, it was good to see you all. Thank you for dinner."
"We were wondering if we could come in for a few minutes," Chameleon's mother said. "We need to talk to you about something, in private."
Here it comes, Chameleon thought. "Sure, okay."
In her little living room area, Chameleon's mother, father, and brother sat bunched together on the little sofa that was the only place to sit except for pillows or beanbag chairs. "Can I make anyone a cup of tea?" Chameleon asked.
"Camille," her mother said, "your father and I saw you on the news last night. He was so upset I thought he was going to have a heart attack. We called Cameron, and he came over and we prayed about it until the Lord told us we had to come talk to you."
"Well, I'm sorry you saw me like that without any warning," Chameleon said. "If it had crossed my mind that you might be watching the news, I would have called you first so it wouldn't have been such a shock. But I've had a lot on my mind lately, and ..."
"Camille, your father and I are just so upset we don't know what to do. First, you told us you were a..."
"Lesbian?" Chameleon thought she'd save her mother the trouble of saying the word.
"And now there's this, and I guess this is just the next logical step from the other, but..."
"Mother, you really need to get out more. I didn't become a witch because I'm a lesbian. The world is full of lesbians who aren't witches and witches who aren't lesbians."
"You tell your mother she should get out more," her father spat, his face turning magenta. "Well, I say you should stay in more and read your Bible."
"Dad, I don't even own a Bible anymore."
Cameron reached inside his blazer, took out a small Testament, and held it out to her.
"Cameron," Chameleon said. "I went to church and Sunday school with you all those years, remember? I know what the Bible says, and there's a lot of good stuff in it. But overall, it's just not the path for me."
"It's the only path, sis," Cameron said, his voice calm and even.
"It is not the only path. Haven't you ever heard of Buddhists and Hindus and Muslims? They have paths, too. Shoot, there are even different paths to take within Christianity . . . new church franchises are popping up every day." Chameleon was interrupted by the ringing phone. At first, she thought she'd let the machine get it, but then she thought of her parents sitting there listening with horror to the kind of lesbian and Wicca-related messages that she tended to get and ran to pick up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Chameleon? This is Tia."
Talking with the woman who ditched her yesterday in front of her proselytizing family... suddenly, spontaneous combustion seemed like an attractive option. "Um... yeah?"
"You sound kind of rattled. I think I might have handled things pretty badly yesterday. I apologize."
"My parents and brother are here right now."
"They are? Shit, that's terrible, isn't it?"
"It sure is," Chameleon said in a sweet, cheerful tone.
"Say, do they live close enough to Knoxville that they saw you on the news?"
"That's right."
"Oh, girl, I am so sorry for you right now. Listen, the main reason I was calling is that all this media attention might help us get a court date sooner than we thought. I've got some papers for you to sign, and if I can get them to you to sign tonight, I can file them in the morning, and things should really swing into motion."
"Why don't you bring them on over?" Something about the way her family was coming after her made her want to have her lawyer present, even if her relationship with her lawyer was a little complicated.
"Are you sure? With your folks there?"
"I'm sure. I live in the Fort... in the garage apartment behind the big house on thirteen ten Clinch Avenue."
"Thirteen ten Clinch? I'm just down at the law library right now. I can be there in two minutes."
Chameleon hung up the phone, feeling strangely relieved. "Sorry... that was my lawyer. I guess you saw her on TV last night, too."
"That was the other thing we wanted to talk to you about," Chameleon's mother said.
"My lawyer?"
"Well, your lawsuit, really." Chameleon's mother's eyes were misty. "You have to understand, honey, that this story is all over the TV and newspapers, and even if you just use some made-up name, everybody back home still sees your face and knows who you are. And how does it look when people see you calling yourself a witch and starting trouble and they say, 'Isn't that Brother Cameron's sister? Isn't that Bill and Bonnie's daughter?' Think about how that affects us, Camille. You're thirty years old. It's high time you grew up and started thinking of other people."
"I am thinking of other people, Mother. And I think that protecting people from religious intolerance is a little more important than protecting you from small-town gossip."
The knock on the door reassured Chameleon that she was no longer to be alone with her family. She opened the door to Tia, who was stunning in a jade green silk blouse and black pants. Chameleon made a gagging expressi
on to indicate how the evening was going, then said, "Hi, Tia. Why don't you come in and meet my family?"
"Thank you, Chameleon." Tia strode into the room, all lawyerly confidence.
"Tia, these are my parents, Bonnie and Bill Masters. And this is my brother, Cameron."
"A pleasure." Tia shook hands all around.
Chameleon's parents and brother shook Tia's hand but did not make eye contact with her. Chameleon burned with shame to think that this was probably the first time her parents had touched skin so much darker than their own.
"My mom was just telling me how she thinks we should drop the lawsuit," Chameleon said.
Tia raised her eyebrows but smiled at Chameleon's mother. "With all due respect, Mrs. Masters, dropping the lawsuit would be a terrible idea. It's very important that this issue is made public. It's a matter of protecting people's civil liberties."
"Civil liberties is just a word liberals use when they want to send this country farther down the road to moral decay," Cameron said.
"Civil liberties is two words, actually," Tia said, and Chameleon stifled a giggle. "Now, Chameleon, if you'll just read through these documents and sign them, we should have a court date in no time."
"Just a minute, Miss," Chameleon's father said, standing up to face Tia. "Listen, I know good and well why you don't want to drop the lawsuit, and it doesn't have a thing to do with civil liberties or any of that hogwash. You don't want to drop the suit because it's money out of your pocket, and being a business man myself, I can understand that." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a checkbook and a pen. "Listen, I don't know how much my daughter is paying you for your services, but I'm willing to double it if you'll drop the case."
Chameleon was in shock. Her father was notoriously tight with money. When she was a kid, her mom always bought their clothes off-season to save money and drove to the grocery store two towns over when it was selling hamburger cheaper than the store down the street, all so she didn't have to listen to Chameleon's father carp about wasted money. And here he was, ready to write a check for an undisclosed sum to protect his family from the shame brought by his prodigal daughter.
"Mr. Masters, are you asking me to betray your daughter for thirty pieces of silver?" Tia laughed. "Well, it's not going to happen. I won't be bribed because I'm not in this for the money. My commitment to this case goes a lot deeper than that. As a matter of fact, Chameleon might not have told you this, but I'm a witch, too." Tia shot Chameleon a glance that said don't blow this, and Chameleon tried to keep a calm expression.
"You're one, too?" Cameron said, his mouth hanging open.
"That's right," Tia said. "As a matter of fact, Chameleon, did you notice that the moon is waning?"
"Uh—yes," Chameleon said, wondering if Tia had lost her mind.
"Well, shouldn't we do our ritual then? You all can join us." And then, to Chameleon's amazement, Tia started taking off her clothes. She unbuttoned her silk blouse and slid down her pants. "We always perform our rituals naked," she said. "There's even a special term for it, isn't there, Chameleon?"
"Skyclad," Chameleon said, unzipping her dress and letting it fall around her feet.
Cameron jumped up. "This is an abomination before God!"
"What is?" Chameleon said. "Our bodies? Our natural selves? We're not an abomination." She looked at Tia who was standing straight-backed and majestic. "We're beautiful."
Chameleon's family was standing up as if to leave, but they were frozen. In order to get to the door, they'd have to pass uncomfortably close to Chameleon and Tia. "Shall we draw the circle?" Tia said. "Chameleon, where's your ritual dagger?"
"It's a terrible thing," Chameleon's mother sobbed, "to know that your own child is going to hell."
"Well, we tried," Chameleon's father said.
Cameron pussyfooted past them with Chameleon's parents following, all of them averting their eyes. "I'll be praying for you, sister," he said. "It's never to late to get saved."
"And I'll be praying to the Goddess for you," Chameleon yelled as they walked out the door. "It's never too late to open your mind."
After the door slammed, Chameleon looked at Tia, and Tia looked back at her. They both broke up laughing at the exact same second. When Chameleon could finally speak, she said, "What got into you?"
"I don't know," Tia said, still laughing. "I mean, there I was, feeling like the liberal scapegoat on one of those pundit shows on Fox News, and then I thought, people like this are always trying to force their religion down other people's throats. What if we tried the same thing on them?"
"Well, it sure got them out of here in a hurry. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't shown up."
"I don't know, Chameleon," Tia said, looking her in the eyes. "There's something about being in your presence that makes me do things I wouldn't normally do."
"It's our polarity," Chameleon said, looking back at her. "It generates all kinds of energy."
"Maybe so, and it's exciting. But it's also scary. I mean, the reason I went and made that speech to you in the restaurant was I got scared. Scared that I had lost control and gone to bed with a client, but also scared because you really got to me. And I'm so rational that intense emotions tend to terrify me."
This confession was more than Chameleon had even hoped for. "Well, do you think that after you're not my lawyer anymore, maybe I could help you explore your emotions and you could... I don't know... maybe help me learn to balance my checkbook or something?"
Tia smiled. "Maybe so." She leaned over and reached for her clothes.
"Aw, you're not going to put your clothes on, are you?"
"Hey now, I'm still your lawyer."
"Does that mean I can't look?" Chameleon stepped a little closer to Tia. "Come here. I promise I won't touch you."
Tia stepped toward her. "You really are a witch, aren't you?"
They stood naked, face to face, close enough to touch, but not touching. "I just want to look at you," Chameleon said. "You can look at me, too."
Chameleon traced her eyes over the lines of Tia's cheekbones, over the fullness of her parted lips, over her neck which begged to be kissed but which she would not kiss, not yet. She gazed at the muscles of Tia's upper arms and how they tapered down to the soft crook that divided upper arm from forearm—a crook that, like the crook at the back of the knee, was good for licking, but which she wouldn't lick, not yet. With her eyes, she loved the planes of Tia's collarbones and her full, round breasts with nipples like chocolate kisses. She loved the slight swell of Tia's belly and the way it led down to the soft nest of curls in which, Chameleon knew, a lovely night orchid bloomed. She remembered the orchid's scent and taste but knew she would have to content herself with the memory for now.
But there was something moving between them that was more powerful than memory—more present and alive. As Chameleon gazed at Tia and felt Chameleon gaze back at her, their gazes became a kind of touch, and the air between them fizzed and popped with the energy of it. "Do you feel it, Tia?" Chameleon whispered.
"Yes," Tia breathed. "I can't explain it, but I can feel it."
Chameleon smiled, staring into Tia's gold-flecked eyes. "That's because it's magic."
Epilogue:
Water
Chameleon and her coven were working skyclad. Athena, Chameleon's working partner, stepped forward and knelt before her, preparing for the Five-Fold Kiss. As always, Athena was stunned by Chameleon's beauty as she enacted the role of the goddess.
While Athena only believed in the goddess as a metaphor, she did think that if a real goddess actually walked among humans, she would look like Chameleon on the night of a Sabbath. Athena leaned forward and kissed Chameleon's delicate, white foot, then her other foot. She kissed one knee, then the other, then rose to kiss Chameleon's belly—the goddess's womb, the source of life. As the other coven members watched, Athena kissed Chameleon's beautiful breasts and then rose to meet her lips in a k
iss which sent energy surging through the entire coven.
A year and a half ago, before she met Chameleon, if somebody had told Tia that she'd be joining a coven, taking the "witch name" Athena, and becoming the high priestess's working partner, she would have handed a psychiatrist's card to the person who had made the suggestion. But life was unpredictable, and so was love.
After the court ruled that Witches of East Tennessee could both adopt a stretch of highway and mark it with a sign bearing their name (a sign which would be defaced and replaced numerous times after the court's decision), Athena and Chameleon began to take full advantage of the fact that their relationship was no longer a professional one.
The first time they had made love as a real couple, Chameleon had insisted that they do it not in either of their houses, but in the open space of nature, where they could be free of all encumbrances. Driving in the country, they found a stretch of river about waist-deep with a waterfall splashing nearby. Water, Chameleon had explained, was the element of love.
At first Tia had been shy—what if some hikers or hunters stumbled upon them? But as they splashed and laughed, she started to feel freer, so that when Chameleon's lips pressed against hers, she kissed back with equal passion. The gentle movement of the water provided the rhythm for their lovemaking, and as Chameleon moved with her, Tia felt as if she were opening up, opening herself up to possibilities she had never imagined. And each day since then with Chameleon, she had opened up a little more.
Tia still believed in reason—that was why she had chosen Athena, goddess of wisdom and justice, as her namesake. And she still spent her days constructing arguments, providing evidence, and using reason to help those in need. But her nights were spent with Chameleon, and in the darkness as she embraced Chameleon, Tia also embraced another side of life that was mysterious, full of wonder, beyond the limits of reason.
Bell, Book and Dyke - New Exploits of Magical Lesbians Page 33
