Moonstar (22 page)

“Take me, Sola,” Jobe insisted. “I belong with deviates.”

“Oh?”

“I—I'm wrong-chosen.”

Sola made no expression. “Do you really think that?”

“I know it, Aunt.”

“You're wrong, Jobe,” she said, reaching over and touching Jobe's arm. Her fingertips were gentle pads, their strokes were tender graces. “Really, you are. You were always meant to be Reethe. I knew it back on Kossarlin.” She smiled. “That's one of the things about not having any Choice at all—when you're an outsider, you can't help but see some things objectively. You may not think so now, but you will see it someday, if you'll just give yourself a chance to be.”

Jobe didn't answer. She put her arms around her knees and pulled them close in to her chest as if shivering. “I'm wrong-chosen,” she insisted.

Sola moved over to sit beside her. She put her arm around Jobe's shoulder and pulled her close. Jobe let her, neither welcoming nor rejecting the touch, only accepting its existence. Together, they studied the shiny, crinkled surface of the bay. “Listen to me, Little One. It's natural to have doubts. Everybody does. I've seen and done a lot of things in my short time; some things I've done are not so nice—at least, that's what so-called nice people would have to say; but I've learned an awful lot by being an outsider.” She rocked Jobe a little bit against her, and asked, “How do you think the Erdik choose?”

“They don't,” said Jobe bitterly. Any mention of the Erdik made her insides churn. “They're animals. That's why they're so—mean and frustrated and uncivilized.”

Sola smiled sadly. “Well, I suppose that's one way of explaining why they are what they are. But, I think they do have a Choice. Of a sort.” She let the thought hang, but Jobe didn't pick it up. “If you try to understand them, Jobe, you might learn something about them—and about yourself as well.”

Jobe's reply was small and mean. “What kind of Choice could an Erdik have?”

Sola half shrugged. “Think about it. There must be a moment that every Erdik child has, just like every Satlik child has to go through blush. There must be moment when the Erdik child realizes that there are two Erdik sexes and her body has already been given to one of them, that she has no Choice between Reethe and Dakka. The child realizes that half her race is different from her, alien—and always will be. There will be a level of experience that she will never truly know or understand. Do you know what happens to them when they realize that?”

“They go crazy and they hurt other people.”

“Sometimes,” sighed Sola. “But that's the moment of the Erdik Choice—they can choose to accept what they are and make the best of what they have to work with, or they can never be. In that, perhaps, the Erdik have an advantage—they can make that choice at any moment of their life, when they are young, or when they have had a chance to learn a little—or they can refused to make it, and that's a kind of choice itself. It is a choice that they are not committed to the consequences of; they can bounce back and forth within themselves all they want—and yes, sometimes all that freedom can drive them crazy too.” Sola stopped to catch her breath and compose her thoughts. “Of course,” she added, “we could make a choice like that ourselves, couldn't we?”

“I—I guess so.”

“I've met the Erdik, Jobe. They can be happy people, just like us. Not all of them are mean or crazy Dakkarik. But we have to learn about them to understand—when you understand, it's a lot harder to hate. Sometimes the Erdik can't accept the bodies they were born with—but sometimes we're like that too; but you have to learn to live within yourself if you wish to find fulfillment. Sometimes the solutions aren't always what we wish—they don't fit our arbitrary rules. Some Erdik choose to be singletons, never marrying at all—some Satlik do that too. Some Erdik prefer to mate with others chosen as themselves instead of opposite—some Satlik do that too. Some Erdik turn compulsive, trying hard to prove that they are Dakkarik or Rethrik by bedding every opposite they can—and there are Satlik too who live like that; lots of Satlik who have doubts about their final blush turn compulsive in their need to prove that they have chosen right.”

Jobe didn't say anything about that. She was thinking of Tarralon—had she been trying to prove something then?

Sola was saying, “Sometimes these are happy solutions, Jobe—because they are the person making the best of what she can; and sometimes they are unhappy ones because the person does them instead of being her best self. It depends on the person, every one of us is different—we don't fit a common set of answers. Just as the Erdik must seek their happiness in whatever form they can, so must we, Jobe.” She was silent a moment, then added, “I had to.”

Jobe looked up.

Sola's eyes met hers—they were dark and penetrating. “Yes,” she nodded. “I'm speaking from my own experience. Does that tell you something too?”

“The words are from your heart, Aunt Sola.”

“Do you know what I had to learn the most? Being deviate meant only that I had no Choice—it did not mean I had no body. We are not celibate, dear Jobe—just infertile. We have sensation. Our organs are . . . retarded at a childish level, but even children have sensuality; quite a bit of it in fact. We can have sex, and we do. And that is why there's prejudice against the Unchosen, Jobe—because being neither Reethe nor Dakka, we are like permanent children, frozen on the threshold of blush. Some people hate us because they are jealous of us, the freedom that we have to be of either gender as we choose, whenever we choose. We are special and anyone who's special is both feared and hated.”

“I never realized—I never thought about it—“ Jobe felt embarrassed and uncomfortable.

“You've never been a deviate, Jobe. You have to be a target before you can see where the bolt is coming from But, this is what it is—we make the best we can of being what we are. We can love, and we can have sex in our own way. Are we wrong to do so?”

“I don't know, Sola—there's so much I don't know. Once, maybe I thought I understood what I was supposed to be—but the only thing I'm sure of now is that I can't be sure of anything.”

“I met an Erdik once who wished that he—“

“He?”

“It's an Erdik word, a pronoun—it means the person is Dakkarik, a male. They have different pronouns for each sex. It's another way they keep themselves apart. Anyway, this Erdik wished he could have been a Satlik; he said, ‘If I could have been a female, even only for a moment during blush, perhaps I might know better what being a male must be. Perhaps I might be happier being male.'”

Jobe was silent, thinking.

Sola asked, “Was your blush a good one?”

“I don't know. I guess it was. I didn't seem so.”

“Nobody's blush ever seems a good one; even the best ones are unhappy somehow.” But she asked, “Did you have a chance to be both Reethe and Dakka?”

“Yes.”

“And—?”

“And what?”

“Which kind of mating did you like the best?”

“I didn't—I never—I mean, I couldn't tell the difference. That is, both were nice, Aunt Sola. Sometimes. And sometimes not. It depended on the person I was with.”

“I guess so.”

“But if you had to choose which way of loving was the best, which would you say?”

“Well, Dakka is fun because it's so—I don't know, Aunt Sola—I'm embarrassed to talk about it—but sometimes Dakka's fun because it's fun to be the one enclosed by Reethe. I mean, not always, but mostly—that is, the mechanics of the act let you feel that you've mastered something—“ Jobe's face was getting red, but she pushed on. “Well, it just feels that way. And—and—it's nice to bring your lover pleasure that way, to watch her face because she's glad that you're inside of her—and it's nice. Being Reethe is nice too, because it's a—a chance to just let go and just enjoy the ride. You can let another person be your strength that way. You can stop being responsible for everything while you are holding Dakka. Let her strength guide your sails, sort of. Sometimes . . . sometimes . . . you sort of want to be conquered that way. Um—it's not always Reethe and Dakka that way—sometimes Reethe is conquering and Dakka conquered—but you see what I mean . . .?”

“Did you know that those are Erdik attitudes?”

“I sort of thought they were—a lot of the ones were being Erdiki at Option.”

“Erdiki . . . yes . . .” Sola made a face. “But, as you said, you can be strong while being Reethe, and you can still be sweet and soft while being Dakka too. I am told,” she said, twinkling, “that the Satlik way of loving is that Dakka worships Reethe who consoles her for being so imperfect.”

“That's part of the rituals—we didn't learn them at Option. I mean, we did—but we learned them because we weren't going to practice them, so we had to learn what we would do if we were doing them, so we would know what we weren't going to do. They said those kinds of love games were old-fashioned.”

“Erdiki . . . yes . . .” Sola murmured. “Erdiki would have to conquer Satliki, just as Erdik Dakka conquers Erdik Reethe. We lose our heritage in little pieces, Jobe; each piece may be only a speck of dust, but the whole of it is crumbling as an avalanche.” She changed her tone of voice to the more immediate moment. “The point is, Little Fish—there is no wrong way of loving—not even the Erdik way is wrong if both of you want it. If you're having fun, if you're happy, and your lover's happy too, then that's the right way for the both of you.”

Jobe stared at the ground before her. “I've heard all that before.”

“But you don't believe it, do you?” Sola sighed. “It's true, Jobe, but you don't want to believe it so you won't. You're longing after the way you think it should be because you can't accept the way it is. I used to be that way myself, until I got tired of being frustrated.” She took Jobe by the shoulders and turned her so they were facing; she kept her hands on Jobe's shoulders and said firmly, “What I'm getting at is—well, sometimes your body knows your own mind better than you do. You might have thought you wanted to be Dakka, Jobe, but your body knew that you would be happier as Reethe. You'll see. You just need someone Dakka to be Rethrik to—and she'll need you to be a Dakka for.”

“That might be true of others, Sola—not for me.”

“Jobe—it's truest for the ones who won't believe it. At least give it a chance before you reject it so completely.”

Jobe shook her head. All of that just did not apply. “I still want to be a Dakka,” she insisted.

“Why?”

“I don't know why—I just do!”

“But the only difference between Reethe and Dakka is what you do in bed. And you admit that both are nice. Anything you want to be, you can!”

“I can't!” she cried, tears welling in her eyes. “I want to be Dakka. Dakka is—is better.”

“Why?”

“Because—just because! It feels wrong the way I am; it feels wrong! That means I should have been a Dakka, doesn't it? Dakka is the one who's free! Dakka conquers! Dakka's prettier! Dakka is!”

“Oh, Jobe—you can't believe that nonsense.” Sola looked so . . . dismayed and sad that Jobe felt anxious for her. “Yes, yes—all of it is true in its own peculiar way; but it's not the only truth. The whole purpose of Choice is so that you can discover other kinds of experiences and see the truth in them. Have you failed to do that? Was your blush a blind one?”

Jobe didn't answer. There was nothing she could say.

Almost immediately, Sola was apologizing. “Oh, Jobe—I'm sorry! I didn't mean to chastise you; every person's blush is private. You do what is right for you.”

“No,” Jobe said, raising her hand. Sola let go of her shoulders, dropping her arms into her lap. “You speak truth . . . at least, a truth that you believe in. I don't know what I believe in.” Jobe pondered it. Some truths perhaps were only for the speaking, not the living—at least not for Jobe to live. Is that what kind of truths these were? They didn't sound like they applied to her. And what did Sola know about it anyway? She was a deviate, unchosen. Jobe felt that she was wrong-chosen—didn't that make her a deviate too? What could either of them know of love? They both were on the outside looking in.

Jobe blinked away her tears. “I still want go with you,” she insisted.

“And if I let you,” Sola said, “would you be happier?” She shook her head; her expression was regretful. “I doubt it. I'd be cheating you of your life, Jobe. You'd be unhappier than ever. It's because I want the best for you that I am saying no. Jobe, it's time for you to finish growing up. You cannot be a blushling anymore. There's work to be done all over Satlin, and you're going to have to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start doing your part of it.”

“I don't want to—“

“No one ever said it would be easy. If it were easy, it would have been done already. Do you think it's easy being a deviate—not allowed to stay anywhere for more than a few days?” Sola's tone was rising and intense, as if all of her old anger was releasing itself again—as if Jobe's rejection were a target. “I'm jealous of you, Jobe—I want you to have what I will never know. You can dwell on your unhappiness and waste your life away while feeling sorry for yourself, or you can live it and be so busy living, you won't have time to worry! At least, give yourself a chance to live before you reject your future out of hand. When I realized that I would have no Choice, I felt such shame and rage I couldn't stand myself, and I couldn't stand my family and I was embarrassed just to be around all other people. I was angry at the gods, I refused to be a part of their world because I was so angry—I nursed that hatred for more than five years, Jobe. And then . . . I began to realize, after a while, that I had a Choice to make. I could continue on that way, or I could deal with the harder truth and make the best of it—just like the Erdik do. I could love in my own fashion even if I couldn't be a parent. I could love and be loved in return—and do you know something? That made me feel human! Finally! For the first time in my life, I felt complete because I could know love. And that enough has made my life worth living. I know it sounds . . . old-fashioned and clichéd to say such things—but those who have experienced them can tell you they are true; it's only those who've never known the truth of love who ridicule or reject it.” Sola's eyes were shining now. “Jobe, this is the finest gift that I can give you—if it sounds like a cliché, perhaps it is; but all truth is repeated endlessly until it's so familiar it's cliché—but it never ceases being true. Jobe, you will have to learn to live for yourself, just as I did—the same way every human being has to if they are ever to be mature. You have the same Choice that an Erdik does—the same Choice that I had—the same Choice every Satlik has—you can accept yourself and make the best of you, or you can choose to be unhappy.