Part 29 (1/2)
She had been nice about it, but before long she had taken up with a boy who could get it hard. That had been Geode's closest approach to s.e.x and to romance. No other girl had bothered to try. Boys had a.s.sumed he was queer, but he wasn't; he just couldn't get into s.e.x.
But his animal friends had filled in. Not for s.e.x; that was a lost cause. For companions.h.i.+p. They talked to him. After his time in the crazy house he kept as quiet about that as he did about s.e.x. Not until none had come on to him.
It had taken time to learn her full story, but he had realized right away that she was a lot like him in the matter of being alone. Of wanting companions.h.i.+p. Of wanting s.e.x, and being unable. He could not express himself well, but she could; she just didn't have anyone to listen. She wanted s.e.x, but no one wanted it with her. He wanted to listen, and to have the s.e.x. They were an ideal couple. They should be able to do it together, just as Mad and Nymph had.
But his deep-down heart was slow to believe. It refused to accept what he believed. It was a different system, with its own rules. So he had disappointed none as he had the girl. He hated that, but was powerless against it.
Still, none had made progress. He loved her, and he felt that love driving inward, beating at the bastion of his resistance. If you deny me her love, I'll die! That was the message his love was sending, and daily it advanced against that hard core of resistance. His lifetime of lonely certainty was under siege by his days of new love, and love was gaining.
Now he supported that love actively. He ran his right hand down along her back, to her b.u.t.tock. He felt resistance as it approached: the resistance of his core, claiming it was evil to touch a woman. He fought it, forcing his hand down. The resistance increased, taking the strength from his arm, but he put all he had into it and got it there. Her right b.u.t.tock was cupped by his fingers, and it was the most wonderful thing he could imagine.
none stirred. ”You're making it,” she whispered into his ear.
Then he knew that she had been awake, or had wakened while he moved his hand down, and been still, letting him do it. She wanted him to make it, and she was letting him try.
He put more force into his arm, willing his fingers to close. Slowly they did, and he had a handful of b.u.t.tock. But the effort was so great that he was breathing hard.
She lifted her head, moved it over, and kissed him. ”Keep going, Geode,” she said.
He tried, but his arm would go no further. ”I thought I could,” he gasped.
”And you can!” she said. ”I'll help you!”
She got up and bestrode him. ”Nymph is here. You lie there and let her see if she can get it in.”
He put his hands behind his head, and she handled his p.e.n.i.s. But it did not get hard. She tried licking it and sucking on it, as the girl had done, but to no effect. She moved up, her thighs spread wide, and tried to fit his p.e.n.i.s into her, but in its limpness it merely bent and bowed and didn't go in. Determined, she used both hands, and finally did manage to force it in, but even then it had no firmness.
”I thought I could,” he said miserably. ”I really want to!”
”I know you do,” she agreed. ”And so do I! But you can't be forced. You have to do it; I can't do it for you. I wish I could, but I can't.”
Then he felt a small surge of stiffness. She felt it too. ”Geode, you start only when I express true affection and desire. But you are turned off by any forcing, and by artificiality. You have to want me so much you are ready to take me.”
”I do want you!” he said.
”But there's an inner self that doesn't,” she said.
”Yes. I'm trying, but it's resisting. Please don't be angry with me.”
”Angry? Oh, Geode, I'm not angry! I love you and want you, and I'll do anything to help you get there. But I don't know what will help!”
”I think slowly. I'll keep trying, if you have patience.”
She smiled. ”I don't have a lot of that! But I'll try.”
They got up and dressed and had breakfast. Rain was threatening. ”Maybe you should stay in,” he said.
”But I want to be with you, Geode!”
”But I want you to be safe and dry.”
She started to argue, then reversed course. ”Yes, of course. I've been too pushy. I'll stay in, as you prefer.”
He wanted to kiss her, but couldn't move to do it. She stood there, just waiting, and he knew she wanted him to try.
He did try. He turned toward her, and his body became leaden, but he forced one step and then another, approaching her. He reached out, and his fingers caught hold of her sleeve, and he pulled himself in to her as if grasping at a lifeline. Finally his face was next to hers.
What was this business, where he wanted to, and he knew she wanted to, but he couldn't do it? He had to do it!
He forced his head down until finally his lips grazed hers. As a kiss it was clumsy, but it was a kiss. He had made it!
”Take care of yourself, Geode,” she said.
He nodded, and went out without further word. He was relieved that she understood. Anyone else would have given up in disgust long since.
He saw a figure a short distance from the drive. It seemed small and human. He stepped out from the house, toward it, but it was gone.
He went on foot, because he didn't want the water to harm the bicycle. He set off at a jog through the rain, following the trail that circled the ranch. The mud squished underfoot, and soon his sneakers were coated, but there was no help for it. He would wash them and dry them out when he got back.
There was a small person walking along the trail ahead. He ran to catch up, but the figure was gone. He continued at a fair pace, and came to the edge of the main pine plantation.
He looked at the red pump. The rain would fill the tub for the horses; he didn't need to pump it this time. The black biting flies were out in force, forcing him to swat constantly. He glanced over at the pole barn-and saw a figure there, taking shelter from the rain. It was a child, a little girl. She had green eyes and auburn hair.
He approached, cautiously. ”Who are you?”
She looked up at him. ”I'm Nymph.”
Then he knew she wasn't real. ”I'm not supposed to talk with you.”
”Lie down, take off your clothes. I won't tell.”
”It's no good,” he said. He turned away, and resumed his jog through the pines.
”You'll be sorry when I'm dead!” she called after him.
He ran on, pretending he hadn't heard. But she had scored. Dead? Why had she said that? He didn't want her dead! But there had been such a ring of conviction in her voice.
He spied a cottontail rabbit nibbling on blades of gra.s.s. The rabbit looked at him. ”Why didn't you do it?” it asked him.
”I couldn't,” he protested. ”I wanted to, but I couldn't.”
”If my kind ever let such a stupid excuse get in the way, we'd be extinct.”
”It's more complicated with my kind. We don't have periods of heat.”
”Oh. That must be confusing.”
”It is.” He ran on.
Near the point where the pine tree lane intersected the paved drive-where none had remarked on it being a triangle-there were cl.u.s.ters of sandspurs. He'd have to chop them out soon, for they accelerated their production when fall came. Several got caught in his socks, and p.r.i.c.ked his ankles with every step he took.