“Come over here and sit with me.” This invitation made me feel vulnerable. As soon as she touched me, it would be all over. But of course I went.
“Sex?”
Startled, I turned to look at her, but she was exactly the same as she ever was. Nothing threw her. I nodded. Her arm tightened around me. “I promise you,” she said, “talking changes the whole nature of your worries.” With her maybe. But not with Sandro. Well, that was a bit unfair because it hadn’t been tested, but it was difficult to imagine him understanding my fears; even if I could get them out. “Everyone thinks everyone else is good at sex. They’re not.”
“But Sandro would be.”
“Probably not.”
This was definitely incorrect. She couldn’t know about his past. When I tried to inform her without running Sandro down, she shook her head.
“He can’t possibly be good at sex with you, because you haven’t had any practice together. It takes time to get used to each other’s bodies, and what works for one doesn’t work for another.” To my embarrassment, she continued. “You’ve had a bit of practice yourself.” This made me close up instantly. “It’s my guess you’ve had considerable practice at doing what comes naturally, but you’ve never been able to share your needs with anyone.”
“How do you know this stuff, Homarta?”
“Who do you think is the Caretaker for sex?”
I was stunned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, all the creatures on this planet have some type of sex life. That all falls under my portfolio.” She grinned at me. “Do you think we don’t know about life and what makes it continue on?”
The science of it had always appeared quite clear, but imagining the spirits involved in humans making love was a mind blower.
“What does the word fecundity mean Bridey?”
“Well… it means rich, fertile fullness of some sort.”
“When you get more into fecundity, you’ll be more comfortable with your own sexuality. It’s part of the Source’s energy and spirit which humans don’t understand. They just get the rutting bit, and keep working on that.”
“Sometimes,” then I decided to go for it, “when I’m with you I feel very sexual. I want to do unusual things.”
“Like what?”
“Well like take off all my clothes, dance, and play with the soil and.....”
“What sort of feeling is that?” she asked me. “Is it the sort you feel after having sex with someone you’re not really comfortable with?” She was onto something here. It was actually completely the opposite.
“It makes me want to talk with the Source.” This surprised even me, as it hadn’t been a conscious thought.
“Of course it does. Who do you think invented it?” The conversation was cheering.
“Go away with Sandro and let your body do what it wants to do naturally, without thinking too much about it. When Sandro does something you don’t enjoy, which he will, tell him about it.” The expression on my face gave away my resistance to that piece of advice. “It’s exactly the same as what you just saw with Irri-tat,” she said firmly. “You have to do the hard stuff Bridey. He needs it.”
We had big cuddle. She was wonderful and deserved to be pleased, so I went away determined to do my best to follow her advice, and her instructions.
14
Bridey
Friday night arrived. The weather was brooding. Rain fell intermittently, and the drive was quiet each of us wrapped in our own thoughts. As we approached the mountains, they transformed into a deep purple when the light faded, and clouds loomed over them dark and active. The B&B had looked inviting on the internet, and we were not disappointed to pull up at dusk outside its rocky garden walls and bright pink flowering trees. Our room was called the waterfall room.
This had two outdoor areas, one of which was obviously the waterfall. The constant soothing sound of water running over rocks still brings beautiful memories when I recall the weekend. The strange tension between us would have bothered me much more before my conversation with Homarta, but I held myself firmly in hand and that felt good. On the way out there, we’d found a lovely old pub to have dinner. While we ate in front of an open fire the weekend ahead looked exciting. Exercise was high on the agenda. Not the sort we’d been looking forward to for weeks; the type where you struggle up mountains. Sandro was obviously superior to me in fitness, but I was clear that if he tried to push me too hard I was going to sit down on the path and wait for him to come back.
Everything about the room worked. Dim lights made the huge wrought iron bed inviting. It was tucked into a corner against one of the six walls each with its own window into a secluded garden. Wood panelled walls and ceilings and a heated stone floor increased the cosy atmosphere. The bathroom was huge, decorated in an Egyptian theme. It also had a spa big enough for six. I began to notice Sandro was nervous, and that gave me courage.
We didn’t make it into the spa. By the time we’d undressed each other, it was clear we had waited long enough. All the curtains were open onto the garden. Being naked in that space was enough to set me free, and made Homarta’s advice feel exactly right. I think I’d expected fireworks, but instead we got tender, dreamy stuff where we stared into each other’s eyes and wrapped ourselves around each other. Sandro was shy and gentle. My body relaxed into him. Afterwards, we lay wound together, my legs over his back, him still inside me, and I didn’t want to let him go. After a few minutes I began to feel tears running over my face. They weren’t mine. It was as though we had always been together like this. That we knew each other deeply. Sleep was a cocoon, and life was safe.
The next day, we were reluctant to leave the bed. Most of the morning passed moving around the room to make breakfast, into the spa and back into the folds of the blankets. Eventually we had to break out and get some air and exercise. An afternoon drive led to an unexpected real waterfall. The track into this was short enough for me not to have to test my endurance against Sandro’s. Massive moss covered boulders led the way up the river which burst in torrents over many smaller falls. At one place, the river appeared to be flowing out from a great rock in a cascade which reminded us both of Torrenclar. It was some time before we found where the river had taken itself underground.
We had no idea we would soon be returning here, but it held us gripped because we could both feel the spirit of the place which was overwhelmingly intense. At several points we stopped in silence. Our thoughts were off into a place where the Source held kus own conference with us. Although we’d begun to follow the lead of the Caretakers in this way, there was a quality about this meeting with the Source which changed everything. It was intimate, and it called to me. I wanted more than anything to meet it, but was helpless to know how to make that happen.
Over dinner, we reflected on the journey: the time we met, our experiences of each Caretaker, our desire to join in on any projects coming our way. Sandro discussed Josh. We tossed around the pros and cons of allowing odd people to become part of our lives. It seemed like an adventure which could easily go wrong. That’s what some of this felt like; like we were on a journey where the stakes were high and dangerous. Anything could happen and probably would. Neither of us felt the least desire to turn back at that point. Perhaps if we had, life would have been far less difficult.
By the end of the day, tiredness overtook us, and we both slept soundly for ten solid hours waking to that dreamy closeness which makes you want to stay snuggled up forever. Eventually, hunger won out again, and we decided to find a project for the day, or rather the late morning because Sandro had promised me we would get back in time for me to finish my questionnaire. We tackled a long walk which involved literally hundreds of steps. Sandro was going twice as fast as me, and it was annoying when he kept inferring the problem was mine. The quiet distanced us in the car on the way home.
***
Josh began to spend time with us and the group. I really took to him. He was cheeky and full of life and cou
ld be counted on to keep the party interesting. When we talked he often surprised me with his comments on life and also with how much he saw of what was going on around him. We were gradually encouraging him to give up stealing his food and use the house to eat. It felt like suddenly taking on an adult child. Shopping, rather than being optional, became essential because now there was another mouth to feed, and boy could he eat. Sandro regularly either contributed supplies or left money on the table for me for food. This also strengthened my guilt if he came and there was no food in the pantry. Laziness stood out like a beacon now. Before, there’d been one to care what I did, and my mother’s criticisms had always resulted in me doing the opposite.
The weather this day was dull and grey with a disconcerting drizzle making it uncomfortable to be without a coat. Irri-tat was sitting under our one tree, but there was no sign of Homarta. Grabbing some protection, I ventured out to find the reason for the look on her face.
She glanced up at my footsteps but dropped her head instantly. Not happy. What had disturbed her this time?
“Hello there.”
“Oh. Hi!” Her head hung indicating her expectation that it would be me doing the talking. This was frustrating. She hadn’t made much progress with getting to know us, or making much of a contribution to anything. Each of the Caretakers took it in turns to work with her on this, but Homarta bore the brunt of it because Irri-tat wasn’t keen on being left, and she wasn’t keen on going on any adventures either. Fortunately, Homarta didn’t seem to worry much about Irri’s moods. She issued invitations, but most times if they were declined she simply went off to do whatever it was she had planned. For me, it was more complicated. She wasn’t exactly my guest, but feelings of being responsible for her kept washing over me.
“What’s up Irri?”
This wasn’t useful. She was addicted to silence which meant most questions were followed either by long periods of waiting on my part, or a frustrating exercise in asking questions which lead nowhere. This time she surprised me.
“Homarta says she thinks I should stay in the mountains.” Up ‘til now all efforts had been concentrated on keeping her here with us and getting her to actively participate.
“Why?”
“She says I’m not doing enough, so I may as well go back to my old work.” The sullen tone and the bitter sense of being wronged made my blood boil.
“Well, you’re not doing much are you?” I shot this at her without giving it any thought. Of course it got her back up.
“It’s alright for you, you know what it is you’re supposed to be doing.” The bitterness dripped from her words. “And everyone loves you.”
Ah, here it is. To Irri-tat, my life appeared easy. Any attempt to share struggles or feelings with her had resulted in a rapid change of subject; much to my disgust. How could she know what life was like for me if she never listened to any of it?
“How would you know?”
“You have Sandro, and he’s always all over you. Flagran and Torrenclar want to be with you all the time. Homarta thinks you’re perfect.”
“She does not.” I said angrily. “Oh, you are such a frustrating person.”
She glared at me. “I’m not a person. I’m a spirit.”
“Are you Irri? You don’t act like one. You sit here sulking making out everyone’s against you, and then when the Source suggests you go back to the mountains, you sulk about that. You didn’t want to come here in the first place. What have you done to make your stay worth it? I’m sick of your shit.”
“I knew you didn’t like me,” she shouted back. “You just want me to go away so you can have Homarta and everybody to yourself. If Sandro knew what you were really like...”
This was the point where, if she’d had real human eyes, I would have been longing to scratch them out. Turning on my heel and storming back into the house would have been an attractive, and it turns out, a safer alternative, but I was so angry I wanted to stay and fight her.
“How do you think people get to be loved?” I shouted at her. “Certainly not by sitting in a heap and waiting for everyone to fuss over them.” Really, it came pouring out of nowhere getting nastier as it went along. “How can people like you if you don’t even want TO TALK TO THEM?” The neighbours would have been listening to this all over Clifton Hill.
Instead of hanging her head further and going deeper into a sulk, she jumped up and came towards me. Her reddened face was fierce and dark. She leapt, and all the gentle, quiet, shy, unsure aspects of her had disappeared. Before I thought to defend myself, her hands were around my neck, and she was strangling me, totally out of control. My hands scratched and pulled at hers, but she was extraordinarily powerful. As my legs buckled under me, I fell to the ground, which was a good thing because she let go of my throat. My raincoat had fallen open and she ripped at my clothes then began pushing dirt into my face. It was difficult to breathe because she had her elbow across my chest and throat. It was terrifying. I clenched my eyes tightly shut against the dirt while in desperation my knees tried to lift her off. She was pummelling me everywhere she could reach and then going back to the face.
As the likelihood of dying became certain, I called to the Source desperate for help.
Instantly, a change came over her. She stopped fighting me and went still, her hands full of mud pressed into my face. My eyes wouldn’t open, but the sense of the Source’s presence was strong and terrible. “Get off her Irri-tat. Now!”
She obeyed instantly, but I lay there helpless and disgusted with myself. What a terrible thing! Even if my eyes hadn’t been stuck down with dirt, I don’t think I would have looked up.
“Homarta will you find a wet cloth?” My shame grew. Homarta was there. She said nothing but came to me quickly and began to clear my eyes. Her hands were soft and nurturing. The water flowed from the cloth she was squeezing, but her silence horrified me. When she’d finished, she drew me to my feet, and I still couldn’t look.
“Take Irri now and keep her near. She will await me.” The voice was clear and crisp. It had the same sweetness of Elaris, but with more dignity or something hard to describe. I stood, my head hanging, dreading what would happen next. Thoughts of the principal’s office and disgrace flooded my head. I shuddered trying to shake them off.
Somehow, we were together on the bench Torrenclar had made from the rubbish, and the Source was holding my hand. While this was comforting, at no point did I attempt to look up, partly from fear and shame, and partly because it was overwhelming.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
“For what?”
The question startled me. “For making her do that.”
“How did you make her do that?”
“Well I told her off and told her she wasn’t doing enough. I can’t remember much of it.” The silence flowed between us, expectant. The garden was filled with sweetness and although disgraced and frightened, I didn’t care what happened next as long as it continued.
“Are you okay? Are you in pain?”
My throat wasn’t aching anymore and breathing was easy. The skin on my face felt smooth and perfect. “I think I’m alright,” I said puzzled.
“Did you expect we would leave you with scars from this?”
“I don’t know. I don’t understand anything about it.” There was something more urgent to know. “Am I in disgrace? It was a terrible thing to do, wasn’t it?”
“Bridey, it was silly to take her on. But now you know. Spirits are stronger and more powerful than humans. These differences make them dangerous, both physically and mentally, if you get on a bad side. It will take a while before you understand how it all works.”
“Have I messed things up for her?”
“No, she has messed them for herself. I’m very sorry you had to suffer her attack.”
Being there and having this conversation filled me with delight, but when the thoughts of what had happened returned, shudders ran through me. It was confusing.
“This w
ill leave some inside scars. You can’t experience being attacked by a spirit without it leaving blackness behind.”
The thought of danger was alien after all the lovely moments with the Caretakers. This would change many of my assumptions about beautiful angels and gentle caring spirits always on my side.
“Sandro had a battle with Flagran didn’t he? Was it like this?”
“No, nothing like it. Flagran is a far more advanced spirit than Irri-tat. He shook Sandro up, which was needed. Bridey, you and I have some sorting out to do now.”
A wave of fear swept over me. “Okay.” I said reluctantly preparing for a list of my faults and transgressions.
“Do you know, every time we get to this point people expect me to tell them off. It’s very disconcerting for me.” Despite the trauma, I laughed. It made sense. “However, let’s be very clear about Irri-tat. She is now in disgrace.”
“But I started it.”
“Yes you did.”
“Homarta is angry with me now,” I said sadly.
“No Bridey, she isn’t. She’s angry with Irri-tat, and she’s anxious about what will happen next, but more than anything she’s feeling concerned because she left you in danger.”
I thought about this. “Did she?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Are you angry with her?”
“No, I’m not at all angry with Homarta. She is a very close friend of mine, and everyone makes mistakes.”
“But you were angry with her when you made her stay here and took away her powers.”
“There’s a lot about that you would need to understand before I could discuss it with you, but accept that it takes a great deal more than mistakes to make me angry. Talk with Homarta about what happened. It will be okay with her.” This was momentarily reassuring.
“I’m so grateful you came straight away. Thank you. If you hadn’t, the worst would have happened.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“But she was strangling me and stopping me from breathing.”
Reluctant Activists Page 23
