“Except heterosexuality!” Cantara bursts in.
“Heterosexuality is no longer illegal, but,” Jason quickly stops Cantara from interjecting, “the fact is heterosexual intercourse is just too dangerous an ill for the future of humanity.”
“Too dangerous an ill,” Cantara mimics, causing her mother to cringe.
Jason ignores her mockery. “We have to curtail human population. Calling for heterosexuals to choose celibacy isn’t the same as making it illegal.”
“Yes, it is.” Cantara’s voice rises to near hysteria. “Don’t you see? It was never illegal to be straight; it was acting on it—kissing, walking arm-in-arm, not just the having sex. All of it was illegal, but now you are asking us to give it up willingly just when Hadrian says we can make love if we want to.”
The two become a cacophony of voices riding over each other’s attempt to speak.
“You can still make love to any man you want—”
“Why in Hadrian’s name should I have to give up any form of sexual pleasure?”
“—you simply cannot indulge in procreatory intercourse. That style—”
“No one else is asked to give up any one style?”
“—of heterosexual sex is designed for procreation.”
“Bullshit!”
“It’s not bullshit!” Jason having passed beyond reason is now angry with the girl. “We have to curtail human population.”
“What? You think heterosexuals can’t prevent pregnancy?”
“Heterosexuals have to sacrifice their sexual desires for the betterment of man.”
“Never heard of birth control?”
“The government must remain in control of all procreation; thus, penile vaginal intercourse must remain illegal.”
“What about sixty year olds?”
By this point, Faial’s head is spinning. She can barely hear her own thoughts above their deafening roar. “Stop it, you two. Stop it.”
Jason complies with his friend’s request, but Cantara rages on. “A sixty-year-old woman can’t get pregnant, can she?”
“Cantara,” says Faial, beginning to rub her temples. “I said stop.”
Jason is pulled right back into the fight. “Maybe not, but a sixty-year-old man could still knock up a woman.” Jason is relentless. “Do you suggest we put age restrictions on heterosexuals, specifying who can love whom and at what age?” Ever since being placed in charge of reforming reeducation in Hadrian, Jason has begun to see the issue in another light. Although he still maintains that heterosexuality is natural, he believes he can see even more clearly why procreatory sex is a danger to mankind. As willing as he is to accept heterosexuality as a natural human condition, he is not willing to accept that heterosexuals be encouraged to be sexually active. In many ways, he wishes all sexual contact between heterosexuals was still illegal, but he knows better. Trying to make any natural sexual act illegal is pure folly. Rather, he surmises, what is needed is better education of our youth. “Instead of seeing yourself as straight,” he suggests, “try considering you’re bisexual.”
“I know I’m bisexual,” Cantara cries, “at least a little.” Faial raises a brow at this. This is the first time Cantara has ever willingly admitted to some attraction to the same sex. “I had a girl crush once and, maybe, if she had liked me too, well, who knows? We might have dated, but nothing ever came of it, and I’ve never been attracted to another woman since.” Faial can’t help but wonder whether Cantara means Tara.
“You see,” Jason responds, just a little too enthusiastically, “I knew it. This is the very thing we need to nurture in you and our youth. There’s really only 10 percent of the human population that’s fully heterosexual, and then, with our scientists fixing the human genome, Hadrian’s percentage is even lower.”
Jabbing her index finger into Jason’s face, Cantara begins shouting, “That’s the very sort of thing that pisses me off! How dare you bastards fuck around with human DNA?”
Jason grabs the girl’s hand and holds it tightly against the kitchen table. “How many people are there on this planet?” Cantara begins to struggle against Jason’s grip. Faial wonders whether she shouldn’t intercede, but she decides Jason is not physically harming her daughter, only restraining her from harming him. “You don’t want to answer, do you? Well, I’ll tell you—”
“I already know,” Cantara spits out whilst still struggling against Jason’s grip. “Over twenty billion.”
“That’s right.” Loosening his grip, but not releasing Cantara’s hand, Jason continues, “And how many of us can the earth sustain?”
Giving up on her struggle, even with a lighter grip, Cantara still can’t free her hand. With a harrumph, she answers, “Less than ten billion.”
“That’s right, less than ten billion. So whether we like it or not, humanity has to be responsible for decreasing its numbers—and fast. Hadrian’s doing everything it can to keep our population stable, and heterosexuals have to—”
“—pay the price,” Cantara finishes for him.
“It’s a necessary evil.” Jason is adamant. “And we are only asking it of less than 10 percent of our population.”
“It’s way more than that and you know it. Everyone who’s bisexual has opposite sex attractions. That makes it 80 or 90 percent!”
“And bisexuals,” Jason says, pausing for a moment to consider whether his revelation will help, “people like you and I who experience opposite sex attractions, are asked to control those urges for humanity’s sake.” Yes, Jason realizes, his confession did soften the young lady some.
Faial, too, raises a brow at this admission. Stunned by what she hears, Faial reaches for the nearest chair and sits down. I wonder how many people in the government know of Jason’s bi status? Faial quickly dismisses this concern. Everyone in Hadrian accepts that the majority of its citizens are most likely bisexual. The expectation placed on these citizens is that they choose to act only on their same-sex attractions, dismissing and/or repressing any opposite sexual attractions that they have.
Cantara refuses to allow a feeling of kinship to exist between her and Jason, though, so she lashes back contrarily. “You can’t stop a person from falling in love!”
“You can’t. Nor do I wish to. You can love anyone you want, just not sexually. Hadrian simply asks that all opposite sex love be kept platonic.”
“Sacrificed on the altar of human population.” Feeling bitterness rise in her throat, Cantara lashes out at Jason, “Do you love my mother?” Let’s play a little hardball, you bastard, she figures. Ever since her mother defended Frank Hunter four years ago, Jason Warith and Faial Raboud have spent a substantial amount of time together. Having just realized the depth of their friendship, Cantara decides to throw Jason a curveball.
Clearly stunned, Jason doesn’t know how to respond at first. Faial jumps to his rescue. “Cantara, how dare you insinuate—”
“No, it’s all right. The girl has asked a fair question.” Though Cantara is a bit too smug, Jason allows the girl her victory. “Yes, I do love your mother.”
“And are you sexually attracted to her?”
“Cantara!” Faial has had enough and begins insisting this line of questioning cease. As well as being inappropriate, it is beginning to make her very uncomfortable and may well endanger her friendship with Jason Warith.
Jason raises his free hand slightly (still holding on to Cantara’s). He has learned from past work with recalcitrant youth who do not wish to accept their bisexuality or shed their same-sex attractions that honesty is the best approach. “There have been times when I have felt some—” Jason can’t help but cough; he had never intended to make this admission before Faial. “I have felt sexually attracted to Faial, but,” he adds a little too quickly and a bit too ardently, “I have never once considered acting on those feelings.” Now looking directly at Faial, he says, “I would never put you in such an awkward circumstance. I would never even have mentioned it if your daughter hadn’t dragged
it out of me. Please, trust me.”
“It’s okay, Jason,” Faial says calmly, more calmly than she feels. “I believe you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about Mom,” Cantara adds. “She’s 100 percent pure lesbian. I can assure you, she’s never once thought of you that way.” Cantara throws that last little bit in just to be hurtful.
Jason, however, takes the words as a balm, giving him a strong sense of relief. If Faial had been bisexual, the temptation to act would have been so strong he would have had to end their friendship and never see her again.
“So,” Cantara asks, secure now in having gained an upper hand in the debate, “why are you still holding my hand?” Now being coy, “Do you like me, too?”
“No.” Although Jason’s admission was not intended to hurt, Cantara can’t help but feel some sting. Jason Warith is an attractive man, the quintessential tall, dark, and handsome. In other circumstances, she would have liked to seduce him. “I want,” he continues, “to look at your fingers.” Jason releases his grip on Cantara’s hand. Curious as to his request, Cantara turns her palm face up and her fingers spread open.
“My fingers?”
“Yes, if I may?” Jason places both his hands beneath hers. His have formed a cup holding her hand as if it were life-giving bread or water. “Close your fingers for me.” Cantara obeys. “Look,” he says, pointing to her index finger. “Your index finger is shorter than your ring finger.”
“So?” Cantara is baffled.
“What does it mean?” Faial, who has avoided much of the conversation, is also flummoxed by Jason’s observation.
“Now let me see your hand, Faial.” Although Faial extends her hand forward, palm up, fingers closed, Jason avoids touching it. “You see,” he says to Cantara, “it is the same with your mother.”
Exasperated now, Cantara flexes both hands open on each side of her head. “So?”
“It’s the mark of the heterosexual man and the lesbian. The index finger is shorter than the ring finger.18 With gay men and heterosexual women, the opposite occurs.”
“Rubbish,” Cantara exclaims.
“Medical fact,” Jason rejoins.
“All that really proves is that I’m bisexual and I’ve already admitted that.”
“Yes,” Jason agrees, “and that is the material point. You are bisexual, meaning you have same-sex attractions and those are the attractions upon which all your sexual desires and energies need to be placed.”
“And what about you?” a snide Cantara iterates. “I suppose you have long delicate fingers. No doubt your index is longer than your ring finger.”
A long, scintillating pause evokes tension—scintillating for Cantara, that is. For Jason, it produces excruciating pain. Suddenly, without warning, Jason slams his hand on the table, fingers pressed tightly together. Cantara screeches with joy. “By all that is gay and glorious, Jason, your index finger is shorter, too!” Then far too jubilant, she adds, “Way shorter!” Snickering gleefully, she adds, “Isn’t that the mark of the lesbian and the heterosexual man?”
Faial simmers. She has let this fiasco go on far too long. “That is enough out of you, Cantara.”
“Oh, no, it’s not.” Cantara giggles ecstatically. She has guessed the truth. She can see it in his eyes. “You’re not even bi; you’re 100 percent, fully, a big fat ZERO on the Kinsey scale heterosexual. Oh, Antinous loves me.” Then with a smirk, “I can hear him giggling. You got yourself big ol’ fat stubby there, don’t ya”
Faial stands. Glaring at her daughter, she demands, “Stop mocking the man!”
“Oh no, Mother. He’s not getting away with this! How dare you,” she derides, “How dare you counsel young men to deny their sexuality when you’re straight!”
Jason’s hand forms a fist that trembles against the table. “That. Is. Exactly. Why. I. Can. Counsel. Them.” His eyes close tight.
“You hypocrite!”
“Cantara, I said enough!” Faial has never felt more impotent in her life.
“I am no hypocrite.” Jason struggles against his inner emotional turmoil. “I happen to be celibate.” Jason spits out the word “celibate” much like the hiss of Eden’s snake.
“Cantara, leave him alone. This is going too far.” Faial’s love and respect for Jason as a dear friend has strengthened immensely as a result of her daughter’s attack on the man.
“Oh, for the love of Hadrian, Mother, the man denies himself!” Cantara’s mood switches instantly from sardonic to joie de vivre. Turning back to taunt Jason, she asks, “So what does that make you—Hadrian’s equivalent of the Catholic priest?” Tears stream down Cantara’s face as she partakes of joyous laughter. Unable to control her laughter, she sputters a few times before spilling out, “Chriss du calisse, Mamma,” more shaking and sputtering followed by knee slapping along with an outright burst of jocularity, “il est un vierge!” Noting the look of confusion in Jason’s face Cantara translates for him, “I said, ‘Jesus Christ, Mom, he’s a fucking virgin!’” She was going to add, “Of course, that’s not an exact translation,” but she is too busy falling into a chair in a spasm of mirth.
Jason’s fist, no longer shaking, slams into the kitchen table, resonating its boom throughout the Raboud household. Faial cringes, but then, thankfully, she remembers that her partner, Yuusi, and their young daughter, Kaafiya, are out for the evening. Jason takes no note of Faial or even Cantara’s reaction (even more merriment) to his sudden, violent outburst. “I live this life for a reason. For a purpose greater than merely having sex. I happen to believe in what this good country stands for. I happen to believe—” His breath expels itself and Jason slumps down in the nearest chair. He breaks down into tears. Cantara, taken by this sudden burst of emotion and distress, is finally able to control her outbursts. His sorrow rekindles her own grief over Tara’s death. Emotions begin to surge and sway inside her as she dives down from her high into agony. She, too, collapses into sobs.
Faial stands, caught between the emotional anguish of these two. Her mother’s instinct kicks in and she chooses first to kneel beside Cantara. As soon as her hand touches Cantara’s shoulder, though, the young woman bursts up and out of the room. She exits, screaming something about het’rophobes, murderers, and Jason Fucking Warith. Shaking her head in dismay, Faial crosses to Jason’s side, crouches beside his chair, and gently rubs his shoulder. “It’s okay, my friend. The life you lead is truly noble.”
Slowly, Jason stutters out his conviction. “I—I really do believe—believe in Hadrian’s four cornerstones—the n-need for humanity’s population to decrease. Hadrian is on the right track.” His eyes meet Faial’s, imploring her to understand, or at the very least, believe his sincerity. “It’s just, prejudice—prejudice, can’t be part of the picture.”
*****
Cantara stands in the entrance to the kitchen, the soft light of the living room creating a glow around her form. Her face is wretched. After a high-pitched squeal, Cantara screeches, “Agony is shredding through every fiber of my being, and you’re comforting him!”
“Go to her,” Jason mumbles. “I’m okay.”
Faial is unconvinced, but before she can utter her thoughts, Cantara retorts, “No, Jason, you’re not okay.” Now looking her mother in the eye, she adds, “And neither am I.”
Faial quickly stands and reaches for her daughter. “Baby—”
Cantara refuses to let her mother in. Slapping away her outstretched arms, Cantara demands, “Leave us!”
“Go,” Jason whispers. “We need to do this.” Faial is stunned. Everything is wrong, suddenly backwards; her loyalty to her friend has suddenly superseded her loyalty to her daughter. What happened to my mother’s instinct? Jason nods his head as Cantara stands back, giving her mother room to leave. Sarcastically, she waves her past. Jason chides her with, “You are being too rough on your mother.”
Cantara stares down at Jason. “My best friend just died.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Because she was straight!”
“I know. I’m—”
Cantara mimics him. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m know. I’m sorry. I know. Do you? Do you really?”
Jason stands, angered by this attack. “Yes! I know! I understand! That’s why I’m in this business. To help kids like Tara and you!”
“And you?” Her question is dripping with pity.
Jason takes the query like a slam to the gut. “Yes,” he coughs out, “like me.”
“How? By telling us we don’t belong?”
Regaining his composure, Jason begins to fight back. “No, by helping you find a way to belong. By teaching you how to blend in and be a part of our society.”
“Why?”
“Because I believe in our good country.”
“Good country, my ass.”
“Yes, good country. In many ways, Hadrian is a paragon amongst the countries of this planet.”
“Not when it comes to treating everybody equally.”
“Everybody is treated equally!”
“Not if you’re strai, or actively bi!”
“The values our country stands on are critical—values like population control and reclaiming the natural balance of our planet. These are critical, and to this end, we have to work together!”
“YES!”
Jason smiles slightly, cautiously, fearful of a verbal trap. “You see, you do understand.”
“No. I see things differently.” Jason sighs and closes his eyes. It was too good to be true. Too easy. Cantara continues, “I see humanity working together as a whole.”
“You can’t mean outside, too?”
“Ultimately. But we can’t reach out to them until we’ve healed ourselves.” Shaking her head discriminatorily, she states, “You can’t keep doing what you’re doing, Jason. It’s wrong and you know it.”
Jason recoils with momentary self-doubt and then, reining in his terror, he lashes back at Cantara with full force. “It is not wrong to try to keep our country solid. It is not wrong to try to help children fix broken lives.”
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