"Very well. Beautifully, in fact. I had a good talk with Ben, and I do like him."
"Yes, we go back a long way, Benjamin and I. It's a sort of brother relationship - the brother neither of us had, I suppose. I'm glad you had a chance to talk to him." He smiled, "I'm going to get your booster. Be back in a moment."
I wandered into the living room, saw two more big pillows on the carpet beside the piano, and dragged them outside. George was still curled up under the tree, and Ruth lay next to him, murmuring gently. I could hear only small sounds from George, and wondered what kind of difficulty he was having.
J don't know him, though; I don't know any of them. Maybe George always curls up in a blanket during experiments. Maybe Leah always feels chilled.
I couldn't understand my own lack of response to the drug, although there was always the possibility that my need to be in control was overriding everything else. No way to tell. The additional two milligrams might make a change.
Shura brought out my glass, with some juice in it. I said thank you and drank it down. He climbed up on the ivy to sit with George and Ruth.
I found myself in conversation with John Sellars. He asked me friendly, polite questions about myself and told me he was an anthropologist. Then we discovered our mutual love of art, he
as - in his words - a lifelong student and critic, I as a person who had drawn and painted all my life. We talked eagerly about the Brundage collection in Golden Gate Park, where the museum had built an entire wing to house some of the greatest masterpieces of Oriental art in the world, and I told him how the sight of the great seated Buddha on the path above the Japanese Tea Garden had piercedmy heart, on the peyote day, many years ago. He, in turn, offered his experience in the Oakland museum, under the influence of one of Shura's materials, enchanted by the blue and red horses of Franz Marc.
An introverted man, I thought, slow to trust somebody new. Yet he seemed to appreciate my responses, his brief smile startling in its sweetness.
I finally rose to go to the bathroom, and as I passed by Leah, she reached out a hand and I took it. She looked up at me and smiled with unmistakable warmth. I felt a surge of gratitude so strong, my throat caught on tears. When I squeezed her hand in response, she released me and withdrew again into her blanketed isolation.
A short time later, I was sitting inside by myself, on the couch, still not more than slightly off baseline, despite the supplement, when Ben came in and sat down on the hassock. He leaned forward, hands clasped, his face serious.
"I was hoping to have a chance to talk to you alone," he said, "I thought perhaps you might be interested in hearing somebody else's view of our girl, Ursula?"
"Yes," I said, surprised, "I certainly am."
"I'm going to speak rather bluntly," said Ben. "She's a good-looking young woman, bright, charming, and highly manipulative. She has Shura totally blinded; he can't see what she is, and of course he won't hear anything from anybody who doesn't worship the ground she walks on. It so happens that I've come across her kind before. Shura's had relatively few women in his life, and certainly not this type, and of course he doesn't have the background of experience with different sorts of people that a practicing psychologist does, so there's no reason to expect him to understand what he's up against."
My God, what is this? He doesn't like her! He doesn't like Ursula!
I nodded, my eyes riveted on his face.
"Ursula is - how best to put it - she's a person who, when she's attracted to a man, intuitively senses what's lacking in his emotional life, and she has a compulsion to become whatever that man most needs in a woman. She probably convinces herself each time that she's truly in love, but I doubt she's capable of what most of us would call real loving. The Jungians have a term, 'anima woman.' The anima woman lacks a solid identity; like many great actors, she borrows -
she takes on - a sense of wholeness from playing a part. In this case, it's the part of the muse, the inspiration, the adored dream-woman. She fulfills a fantasy, and you can imagine the tremendous emotional rewards there are for her in such a role, as long as the affair lasts. Each affair lasts, of course, only until the next needy attractive man comes along.
"It's all unconscious, by the way; I don't think Ursula has the slightest idea of what she's doing or why she feels compelled to do it. Or, for that matter, why the men she's drawn to always happen to be married. When ifs time to move on, she explains - and probably believes - that she's ending the relationship because she couldn't live with the responsibility of having broken up a marriage."
I sat stunned, listening.
"When she first joined the group, we had long talks with each other, under the influence of Shura's materials, and she told me a lot about her involvements with married men; she told me more than she realized or intended to. It was a subtle form of preening, under the guise of telling problems to a wise, sympathetic psychologist, you understand?"
He grinned briefly at me. "Gradually, I put enough of the pieces together to understand the pattern. By that time/' Ben chuckled, "She had stopped telling me personal things about herself and her life, and I sensed that she was feeling uncomfortable around me. Nothing obvious, no overt avoidance, but nonetheless...." He paused, "As I said, she's highly intuitive."
I lit a cigarette, noting a very slight tremor in my body. It felt delicious.
Ben went on, "The dynamics of this kind of psychological compulsion are more than I want to go into right now, but what worries me is that I believe Ursula is simply not capable of true emotional commitment to anyone. She'll play the role for a time, as I said, until somebody else comes along - someone she finds appealing, with an emotional hole that's begging to be filled - and she'll move on to the new challenge.
"That's what's going to happen to Shura. I'm sure of it. IknowW I love him very much - we all do, you know - and sooner or later, he's going to be badly hurt. That's why I'm more pleased than I can say, to see you here. I don't know what your relationship is with Shura, but it's clear that you care for him, and I hope that - umm -1 hope you'll stay around. To help cushion the blow, when it comes; to give him something real to hold onto, when the unreal thing begins to unravel. Which I'm sure will happen before long, now that Ursula finds herself involved with a man who has - quite unexpectedly - become free to make an open commitment to her and ask her to do the same. Her bluff is being called."
Oh, you wonderful man! The clouds are beginning to lift. The sun is breaking through. Twenty-thousand tweety-birds are singing their damn-fool heads off!
I said, "As a matter of fact, Ben, Shura has said several times that he's beginning to wonder whether she'll ever ask her husband for a divorce, as she says she intends to do, and he's getting a bit cynical about all the promises she keeps making. He's aware that certain things just don't fit, don't make sense - like her husband's behavior, for instance. He says that whenever he's called Germany and Dolph has answered the phone, it's as if nothing is happening; Dolph still talks as if he and Shura are the best of friends. Not the kind of response you'd expect from a betrayed husband, is it?"
Ben was watching me, occasionally nodding.
I continued, "Maybe Shura's intuition is telling him what he doesn't want to acknowledge consciously. Otherwise, why would he have allowed me into his life, even just the little bit that he has? I keep asking myself why, if he's so much in love with Ursula, he's let himself get more than casually involved with me? He knows that -," I hesitated, not sure I should trust Ben with this one, then realized he'd already detected the signs, " - I'm in love with him. I told him that; I stated it very clearly. Maybe it hasn't scared him off because he already has some inkling -." Ben said, "I'm relieved to hear that. Thank you for telling me." He shrugged, "I may be wrong, of course; Ursula may yet surprise us both. But I don't think so. I don't think I'm mistaken about her."
He stared at his clasped hands for a minute, then smiled at me, "I wish you luck. I also wish you a great deal of courage. Shura isn't the easi
est person to understand and probably not the easiest to live with, either. But he's worth the effort. At least, I think he is. But, then, I'm not a woman who loves him; I'm not vulnerable to the kind of pain you could find yourself facing, in a situation like this."
Ruth came in. I could feel her intense desire to know what was going on, but she only waved to us and walked through, heading for the kitchen.
"Thank you," I said to Ben, who was getting up from his seat, "I'll keep what you've said to myself, of course, but it really helps to hear a different opinion; something besides how wonderful and sensitive and intelligent Ursula is, 'specially because I have no way of evaluating any of it."
"Glad you're here, Alice," said Ben. He pressed my shoulder firmly, and left to rejoin the people outside.
I sat on the couch for a long time, mentally replaying the conversation, word by extraordinary word, smoking absentmindedly.
The whole universe just took a step to one side of where it used to be. Reality shift.
In the early evening, we gathered together for supper. George sat at the table, his blanket still draped around him, making a brave effort to join in with the talking. He smiled shakily at me and said, "I must say, this day has been a surprise, not what I expected. Looks as if I'm a tad more sensitive to Aleph-2 than the rest of you. Happens that way, sometimes."
John seemed to be in a good state of mind and body; he ladled out a bowl of Leah's matzoh ball soup and reminisced with Shura and Ben about past experiments. Ruth and Leah laughed, occasionally adding details the men had forgotten. Now and then, Ruth would glance at George, who had settled down to eating bread and soup. The food was apparently helping him; I thought he was beginning to look more comfortable.
Finally/ Shura sat back, burped loudly, and - after the boo's and catcalls had subsided - said, "Summing up time, yes? Ben, why don't you go first?"
"Good day, for me," said Ben, "Good talking. Body felt fine. No hints of trouble that I can recall, physical or mental. Plus-three and generally a positive experience."
Shura was making notes again. He turned to John and pointed.
"I had a good one, too, although it was light. There was a slight body tremor for a while, but it wasn't a problem, just felt like good energy. No dark corners. No particular insights, but I was too busy talking to go inside much. It was a friendly material, for me. What else? Oh, yes. I'd put it down as a plus-two, definitely. And I wouldn't hesitate to take it again."
Leah was next, "I was really cold, most of the time. I'm just beginning to warm up now, in fact. The food probably helped. As for insights, well -" she paused, "I didn't feel like doing much talking, so I reviewed some things that've been happening recently - difficult interactions with a certain professor, a couple of good discussions I've had recently with other people, that kind of thing - and I was able to get a fresh view, see some things I hadn't seen before. So I'd have to say there was insight, yes." She smiled impishly, "Of course, it might not have been the drug. Maybe it was just giving myself a chance to be quiet and think for a while. These days, I'm so damned busy, I forget I should make time to just sit and think about what's going on,"
Shura chuckled, "Don't we all, luv, don't we all!"
Leah concluded, "I'd say it was a plus-three, pretty strong, with the only negative being the cold; I was just as cold inside the house as outside. I couldn't seem to get warm anywhere.
Otherwise, mainly okay, but I've had a lot more fun with other materials."
"I'll second that," said Ruth, "Okay for me, too, but not much fun, not the kind we've had on other things. Of course, I was a wee bit worried about George, and that probably influenced me. It wasn't more than a two-plus, I'd say, and I'm not sure I'd get too excited at the prospect of taking it again, to tell you the truth."
We laughed
Shura pointed his pen at me, so I took a deep breath and gave my report, "I was off baseline, but not very much. Even after the supplement, I couldn't feel anything more than a pleasant relaxation, about a single vodka-with-juice's worth."
Shura scribbled and said, "I'll put it down as plus-one."
"I think I talked a lot, though," I added, "And I forgot to be terrified about what Shura's best friends were going to think of me."
There were sympathetic smiles and murmurs of approval around the table. Even George grinned and croaked, "Good for you!"
Not entirely true. I'm still wondering what they think of me. But I'm no longer scared to death, just plain ordinary everyday so-what-else-is-new anxious.
Shura was saying, "I had a fine time. Plus-three, body good, mind brilliant, thoughts incisive, observations profound - as usual, I might add."
Loud hoots and snorts erupted. When the noise had died down, Shura went on, "Don't remember any great insights, but I was too busy exchanging wild tales and fond memories, most of the time, to bother looking for any. I think seven milligrams is about the highest I want to go, though."
He wrote again, then looked over at George. "You got the overload this time, friend. Sorry about that. Plus-three and much too strong in the visuals department?"
"Yes, I'd say that's accurate," said George, his voice sounding stronger, "About as plus-three as you can get, and even with eyes closed, I couldn't escape the movement. You know how I love visuals, usually, but these were so powerful, I was almost seasick!"
"Can't figure it out," muttered Shura, "That wide a range is very unusual; Alice barely plus-one with a total of seven milligrams, and you blasted out of your skull with five. Looks as if I'll have to go carefully with the rest of the Aleph's, in case this turns out to be typical of the whole family."
An hour later, I was getting ready to go home, feeling entirely normal, sober and back to baseline.
Ruth and George had agreed to stay the night on a big mat which Shura had laid out on the floor of the living room.
John was preparing to leave. He said he was feeling quite okay and able to drive, but he kept getting into animated conversations with Shura and the Closes, obviously reluctant to see the day end.
Ben and Leah had already gone. Both of them had hugged me, Leah saying she was sorry she hadn't had a chance to really talk with me, but next time she'd make up for it.
I said my goodbye's. Outside, standing next to my car, I took Shura's face in my hands and kissed him on the forehead, suspecting we were being watched from the house. I said, "Thank you. It was a very good day, even if I didn't get much effect."
Shura hugged me and said he would be in touch soon, adding, "Thanks for being so courageous and going along with things so gracefully."
Driving home, I savored the word, "gracefully," rolling it around in my mind. I decided, finally, that it tasted like a superb caramel custard.
Crossing the San Rafael Bridge, I broadcast a message.
Thank you, Ben, with all my heart. Blessings. Sleep well.
It wasn't until I had reached home and was getting out of my car that I remembered the blue nightgown in the shopping bag, and laughed.
Next time. God and Mercy willing, next time.
CHAPTER 24. 2C-B
The crucial communication which Shura was relying upon to tell him, once and for all, whether Ursula was going to follow through on her promises, turned out to be a letter, and it was less decisive than he had expected, but sufficiently persuasive to renew his hope. He phoned me on Thursday to read me parts of it.
She sounded both eager and sad, assuring him that Dolph knew the marriage was at an end and that she was leaving him soon. However, she cautioned, her husband's emotional and mental state was fragile, and she had moments of fear that he might lose control and "do something terrible," if she did not smooth out the hurts and reassure him of his essential worth. "Before I go," she wrote, "He must know in his heart that I will always care for him and that no part of what has happened is his fault." She pleaded for Shura to believe that it would not take long, concluding that she had to do it her way, the loving way, "Otherwise, our bright future will be
clouded with guilt and blaming."
I was beginning to believe her, myself.
"She's a compassionate person," said Shura, "And I can certainly understand why she wants to end it as gently as possible, even if I don't think she's going about it the wisest way."
After the letter-reading was over, he asked me if I would like to come out to the Farm after work on Friday, to stay the weekend. I hesitated for one entire second before saying I would like to very much, thank you.
Friday evening, we took a drug called 2C-B, which Shura described as one of his favorite materials, among his best discoveries. He told me it was a relatively short-acting psychedelic, lasting only about five or six hours.
"Unlike MDMA," he explained, "This one heightens all the senses. You'll enjoy food, smells, colors, and textures. The texture of skin, for instance -" he stared at me, stone-faced, " - and other aspects of eroticism, are thoroughly enjoyable." I nodded, equally grave.
"Most people can't begin to have an orgasm with MDMA, but 2C-B places no such restrictions on you, as I hope you'll discover." He flashed what was probably meant to be a leer, and I broke into laughter at the ridiculous sight.
"I suggest we try a modest dosage level, this first time," he continued, unabashed, "I think eighteen milligrams should give you a plus-three without bowling you over. I'll take the same."
After he had given me my wine glass with the tiny bit of powder in it, Shura poured a small amount of water onto the white crystals, telling me, "This stuff doesn't dissolve quickly; it takes warm water to get it into solution." He handed me one of the glasses. "Give it a moment." We carefully swirled the liquid until no white flecks were visible in either glass.
Then he said, "I want you to take a small sip of the 2C-B as it is now, before adding juice, just so you'll have the experience of tasting the pure material - even if you only do it once -
because the taste is part of its character."
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