Chapter 18
Loxy was enjoying the walk in nature; the scratchiness of the grass against her legs, the colors, the smells, the random leaping of insects that jumped from her path, the variety of flying insects. The floating chair with Timothy in it followed her. He had long since gave up on protesting and was now sulking, not resigned to his fate, but sulking. He did not like nature, unless it was an immersive video game like Mine Craft. Imagining nature or experiencing it virtually was more his speed. She spotted a roaming party of giant lemurs, and as soon as she made eye contact with the lead female, the party approached her. If you meet a gorilla in the wild, you never make eye contact, but the culture of giant lemurs is different. Not making eye contact would be considered an act of aggression or at the least be considered suspicious.
Loxy met the lead female with open arms and love. She tolerated the lead examining her. It took the flower she had put in her hair out and ate it, and then made way for Loxy to greet her entourage. Loxy met them all with kindness in her voice and hugs, and then introduced them to Timothy. Timothy was clearly frightened of them and told them to keep back, and the males did stay back, hissing at him, while the females petted him, and smelled his ears.
“He is in my care,” Loxy explained. “And we’re just walking. Would you like to walk with us?”
“Are you crazy? They’re wild animals!” Timothy snapped. “And humans aren’t wild?” Loxy asked.
“Of course we’re not! We’re civilized,” Timothy said.
“Oh, so if aliens landed on the planet, we wouldn’t run like scared mere cats, or attack like scared gorillas?” Loxy asked.
“As opposed to greeting them with flowers and love?!” Timothy asked.
“I guarantee you, if aliens are traveling interstellar space, they’re going to be civilized and they’re going to want to meet you with flowers and love,” Loxy said. “Don’t you agree?”
The lead expressed a sentiment, sounding something similar to a combination of a cat’s purr meow combo and a howler monkey.
“What’s your name?” Loxy asked.
It again made a noise, a distinct squeaking noise.
“I am not sure I could say that as well. Would you be okay with Ri-ri?” Loxy asked.
“Right, you’re Doctor Doolittle,” Timothy said.
“Oh, I love that movie. The original, not the comedic remakes,” Loxy said, and started singing, “If I could talk to the animals,” a cross between the Vanda King version and the Rex Harrison movie version.
The lemurs danced as Loxy sang, and she began to walk, carrying her song. The chair followed. A butterfly landed on her finger and she gave pause to celebrate the kindness before it flew off.
“Fucking flower girls, hippies,” Timothy ranted, giving an emo, punk rock counter point to the song, which, though discordant, actually blended well, as if they were in a duet. His version had animals eating people and generally molesting them. He got stuck on the dolphin rapes. Yes, dolphins rape people, his version, but Loxy knew it was just dolphins being playful. They didn’t even care about gender. “Play’ was play. And they could be a bit rough sometimes. Not everyone that swam with dolphins have had pleasant experiences, but part of that is expectation that they’re gentle and kind, and they are, but they aren’t human, and they have to learn to be with people.
“How marvelous was that?” Loxy asked on finishing the duet. “Were you listening to my lyrics?” Timothy asked.
“Your contribution was beautiful,” Loxy insisted.
“This is not ‘Sound of Music’ and you are so not Julie Andrews,” Timothy said.
“No, I think I am more a brunette version of Sandra Dee, don’t you?” Loxy asked. “With the sultry, girl next door voice of Karen Carpenter, the eclectic stylistic mix of Bjork, the vocal range and technical allure of Maria Callas, the attitude of Aretha Franklyn, and the seductiveness of an Alizee- Katy Perry mix.”
“No,” Timothy said.
“Aww, Timy, Timy, Timy,” Loxy said. “You’re telling me out of that entire collage of possibilities, you can’t permit that I hit something that resonates with you?”
“I got something that will resonate in you,” Timothy said. Loxy was amused. “So, you keep saying,” she said.
The giant lemurs seemed more interested in eating random flowers than the conversation ensuing. They would fall behind, catch up, or run ahead, or away, and return.
“Why are you with Jon?” Timothy said.
“I love Jon,” Loxy said.
“Right. You’re soul mates,” Timothy said, with contempt and ridicule. “You don’t believe in soul mates?” Loxy asked.
“Of course not,” Timothy said. “There is no magical being who perfectly complements me out there. People are just fucking neurotic.”
“Good for you,” Loxy said.
“What?” Timothy asked confused, looking for the trick.
“Theorizing is healthy. How’s your theory working for you?” Loxy asked. “Just fine, fuck you,” Timothy said.
“Truth be known, I agree with you. There is no magical being who perfectly complements another out there, because people change and grow, which would also mean, soul mates, by definition, change and grow,” Loxy said, musing out loud. She paused to examine a flower, decided not to collect it, and turned to Timothy. His chair stopped when she stopped. “Everyone and everything is soul. All souls are mates. Every interaction with a soul, deliberate or unconscious, brings either a gift or a lesson. If you don’t get the lesson, the gift was opportunity.”
“He fucking made you. He owns you. He fucking raped you right out of the cradle,” Timothy said.
Loxy blinked, considering it, smiled subtly. “Tulpas are so interesting, aren’t they?” Loxy said. “Did he make me, or did he call to me to him and I arrived out of the Universe to complete him? Did he make me, or did we make each other?”
“Your history is a fucking lie,” Timothy said.
“Maybe so,” Loxy agreed. “But whose history isn’t? I think you will find some strong proponents for the theory that what you imagine is more real than the life you lead, more real than the life you think you had, because your memory isn’t as good as you want to believe.” Then she suddenly recognized the three notes that haunted her, like a auditory meme that usually introduced her or her wonderland, and she was finally able manifest it in its entirety, completing it with a song; it was something given her that gave her both roots and wings simultaneously.
Unlike “talk with the animals’ this time she had a full orchestra accompanying: “Come with me, and you’ll be, in a world of pure imagination. Take a look and you’ll see into your imagination. We’ll begin, with a spin, traveling in the world of my creation. What we’ll see, will defy, explanation. If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it. Anything you want to, do it. Want to change the world, there’s nothing to it…”
“What if I want to fucking rape you?” Timothy asked.
Loxy danced closer, brushed his cheek. “There is no life I know to compare to pure imagination. Living there, you’ll be free, if you truly, wish to be,” she sang gently.
“You’re not turning my life into a fucking musical!” Timothy protested. “Oh, dear, all of life is a musical,” Loxy said.
“You can’t have music about rapes?” Timothy said.
“Seven Bride for Seven Brothers, Pirate Movie implied, Pirates of Penzance implied, but still there,” Loxy said. “Beauty and the Beast, well, implied, and bestiality on top of that. Umm, Sleeping Beauty, I think that goes beyond implication,” Loxy said.
“You’re can’t Disney-fy my life,” Timothy. “I am evil.”
“Disney confronts evil all the time,” Loxy said.
“Is that what this is? Confrontation? Heal me and I will show you confrontation,” Timothy said.
“That impulse to go there is strong in you,” Loxy said. “Remember the first time you raped a non-family member?”
“It wasn’t rape, she wanted it,” Timothy said. “Is that how you remember it?” Loxy said.
She brought her hands together and when she unfolded, a vision unfolded before him, like a hologram that immersed him when she pushed into his face. His first vehicle was a van that he had acquired, surprisingly cheap because the old man didn’t realize the value of the Volkswagon bus that had been sitting in his garage in need of repair. Not only did Timothy repair it, he painted it to look like the Scooby Doo van. As he was immersed into his vision, he suddenly had access to more information than he had had during the experience. The girl, 17, walking down the side of the highway wasn’t just a meth-head, but had just been at the psych hospital down the street. She was homeless, no insurance, she had recently used meth, and though she had had a past diagnosis of bipolar, because she wasn’t suicidal or homicidal, and the hospital staff assumed she was simply looking for a bed, they had turned her back out onto the street. They assumed her recent meth use was her prominent issue. He pulled over, and she rushed up to him. Anything to get out of the cold, maybe have a moment to sit and be comfortable, maybe sleep. She spoke fast, hyper verbal, and her speech was nonsensical to him, as he had never experienced true flight of ideas. No sooner than she was in the car and the door was closed, he was dragging her into the back, where he raped her, and then threw her out of the van and drove on. She didn’t even tried to fight, and her words fluctuated from pleading, to rage, to acceptance, hate and love…
“She asked for it,” Timothy whispered, as if struggling to wake from a dream.
Loxy took him deeper. The truth was, she was not bipolar, but a victim of childhood rape.
Each of the three men that dated her mom after her marriage broke up had taken their turn with the girl, Amber Jones, each a different age. At age 8 Amber’s mother had her diagnosed with ADHD and Oppositional Defiance disorder. Since her symptoms, or behaviors, wasn’t ADHD, giving her Ritalin not only didn’t work, but sent her on a life path of seeking amphetamines.
Prior to going to the hospital, she had been walking and found a group of homeless men, who gladly gave her some meth, and then proceeded to rape her. She had gone to the hospital for help, but the bias of the staff had their own trajectory. Just another drug user. She gets what she deserves.
“She gets what she deserves,” Timothy echoed.
The vision faded. “Do people ever get what they deserve?”
“Don’t ever do that to me again!” Timothy said.
“Do what? Give you truth?” Loxy asked.
“Like Jon has never lied to get sex,” Timothy said. “You think he’s better than me? He is just like me. Jon would have been all over that Amber bitch.”
“Yes, Jon would have taken Amber in, and they probably would have fucked, but she would have had a safe place to sleep off the meth first, and food,” Loxy said. “And though he might have thought of about it, he wouldn’t have molested her while she was sleeping or high. You seem surprised to learn that you are not the only man in your world who would pick up a homeless woman under the pretense of helping just so you can fuck them. It’s part of the patriarchal paradigm that any exchange or help should be rewarded with sex. There’s an expectation that a woman should be grateful to the point of compensating with their body. That’s why heroes in movies always get sex. There are two kinds of men in those movies, the ones that would tie the woman up and take her against her will, and the men who rescue them from the first kind so they can fuck her.” Loxy scratched her head. “Technically, women’s liberation as resulted in emasculating men, which also increases the number of rapes. Rape is never about sex, it’s about power. Patriarchal societies are about power. Feminism is about power. AS female take back power, some men retaliate, by seeking power. And homeless woman, a child, with no power, and you, no power, but more than her, so you suckered Amber by letting her think she might get some relief, used her, and tossed her back into the world. That’s not love, that’s not even lust. Lust at least care about the source of gratification enough that you leave it intact so you can get more. Do you want to know what happened to her next?”
“No,” Timothy said. “I don’t care.”
“I won’t make you watch, then,” Loxy said. “But she walked into traffic and killed herself.”
“Life is hard,” Timothy said.
“It can be really hard,” Loxy agreed. “And, since you want to go there, and you are so ready to compare yourself to Jon, tell me, was your life as bad as his?”
“Fuck you,” Timothy said.
“You adopted him as a soulbound. It means you processed some of his past into your being,” Loxy said. “Now, look into that, see how he has struggled. More importantly, look how he responds to the world with kindness most of the time, sometimes anger, but never hate. You asked me how I can love him when he’s just like you. Yeah, he has lust and thoughts of rape and wanting to rescue people with the expectation he will be rewarded with sex and love, which is actually not about helping others but rather about helping self. Helping others is usually a pretense to make self feel better. Jon knows that, and still he walks with humility, and peace in his heart, and offers kindness. He chooses to respond to violence and aggression with love. He chooses being a survivor, not a victim. Between the two of you, if anyone had a right to respond with bitterness and expectation and hate, it would be Jon, as your world, though it sucked, it was nowhere near as awful as Jon’s, and more, nowhere near as bad as most of the human race, and most people don’t rape others as pay backs. What’s your excuse? What do you offer?”
“Undo my pants and see for yourself,” Timothy said.
Loxy patted his head. “And that’s why it so unhealthy to compare. Because it doesn’t matter that Jon’s life was worse or not. It only matters that your life sucked for you,” Loxy said. She turned to walk onwards. “What else should we discuss?”
Timothy resisted further interaction by remaining stubbornly quiet. Loxy talked a little, sang a little, she took time to hydrate herself and Timothy. She took a moment to pee, right out in the open, not bothering to hide behind a tree, but neither did she do it front of Timothy. Just stepping behind his chair was sufficient, and out of respect for his preference than fear of response. And they walked until she found a space that seemed ideal camping. She closed her eyes to get a sense of the ley lines, spinning arms out stretched. This was not Switzerland, and she was not dressed in a summer dress, but she felt like Julie Andrews about to launch into song. She became aware of a subtle change, like a change in air pressure before a storm, the smell of ozone after the rain, the sounds of snowfall lighting the ground, a discordant note, and wind winding up around her. She smiled, amused.
“Are you trying to caress me with a magical wind?” Loxy said, turning to face Timothy.
Loxy opened her eyes and found Timothy standing before the floating chair. His hand was up, his fingers in suggestive position of holding and caressing, but only from a perspective behind him, like the scene in Flash Gordon with Ming the Merciless testing Dale’s stimulation response. Loxy found herself encased in a glass cylinder, like an emergency cigar tube. Her feet were still on the ground. She touched it to confirm the magic had crystalize, it was no longer just pure energy surrounding her, but ascertained that information while maintaining eye contact with Timothy. The world seemed distant, like looking through a telescope backwards. Even the giant lemurs seemed miles away. They might have been in spitting distance, but were clearly outside the magical bubble of influence being pushed through Timothy.
“Ahh, Professor Fribourg, I presume?” Loxy asked.
“How did you know?” Fribourg asked through Timothy’s mouth.
“Please. Who else should I've expected to find holding Vader's leash? I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board.”
“Nice,” Fribourg said, approaching the cylinder trap. “Star Wars jokes never get old.”
“You realize you lost the game when you didn’t follow up with another appropriate line,” Loxy asked.
“Ahh, yes, stay on target,” Fribourg nodded, walking around the glass, dragging a finger around the tube. “But I am not really a game player.”
“OMG, that is so not true, Professor,” Loxy said, crossing her arms, but following Fribourg as he went around in Timothy’s body.
“I am curious. Why haven’t you told Jon you were in one of my classes?” Fribourg asked.
“How do you know I haven’t?” Loxy asked.
Fribourg paused. “I didn’t. I was fishing. So, why haven’t you?”
“Didn’t come up due to contextual relevancy,” Loxy said.
“You were one of my best students. I was so disappointed when you didn’t take another course with me,” Fribourg said.
“Well, surely you know why light workers do so well at shadow work,” Loxy said. Fribourg nodded Timothy’s head. “Indeed,” he said.
“And, while we are on the subject of light, I demand in the name of love that you free Timothy from your grip,” Loxy said.
Fribourg laughed so hard he nearly loss control of Timothy’s body. The body fell backwards as if it were going to fall all the way to the ground, but then came back to full standing in a very awkward, freakily possessed kind of way.
“Timothy belongs to me. Once you’ve started down the dark path, forever does it dominate your life,” Fribourg said.
“No it doesn’t,” Loxy insisted.
“Yes it does,” Fribourg said, using Timothy’s child voice, as if this was an elementary argument.
“Oh, for love’s sake, did you not watch Return of the Jedi?” Loxy asked. “At the very end, Anakin was there with Yoda and Ben. One big happy family.”
“Yeah, Lucas was always fucking things up. Do you really think one act of kindness erases all the evil Vader did?” Fribourg asked.
“It’s not the past behaviors, or even his final action, that save him,” Loxy said. “It was grace. Compassion and love is the only redemptive power in the Universe.”
“Oh, my dear, stupid, child,” Fribourg said. “All of that is an illusion.”
“By that, everything is an illusion. Reality is dreamlike in that everything ends, and what you thought was emotionally important yesterday has no or little relevance today,” Loxy said.
“Except this: Timothy is mine. I own him. He can never be a light worker, he has too much anger in him, and has done too much harm, and now he’s too old to start the training.”
“Yeah, well, as you said, Lucas was always messing it up,” Loxy said. “Here’s the new paradigm: you’re never too old to start the training, and once you’re on the path, you’re always on the path. No one gets left behind. I mean, think about it. You can’t unlearn what you have learned. Teach a magician a trick and he will always have that trick, and so if you send them out of the academy, they’re more likely to fall to the dark for being rejected and wanting to prove themselves to the people who rejected them. Once you’re in the fold, you’re always in the fold. Hence the song, ain’t no mountain high enough, aint no river wide enough, aint no magic strong enough, to keep me away from you…”
“I don’t think that last line was in the song,” Fribourg said.
“I was improvising,” Loxy said. “Point is, once a Safe Haven student, always a Safe Haven student. You will graduate or die trying.”
Fribourg tapped the glass. “Timothy will never be a Safe Haven student.”
“Everyone who knows of Safe haven, whether it comes in a dream, a whisper from a conversation from across the cafeteria, hand written in a snowflake that touched the tongue, or in the kiss of a muse, has an opportunity to become a student,” Loxy said. “Your days at the University are over. You have graduated. You have all the knowledge you will ever need to do good or evil. I am a Dakini, a Skydancer, and I will not allow you to make Timothy one of your minions. If you want to do evil, you will do it directly, not through the hands of others, not through Timothy.”
“He is a fucking rapist,” Fribourg said.
“So what do you want with him?” Loxy asked.
“I need minions,” Fribourg said. “And, he called me, Darlin. And yes, I have to call you Darlin, Darlin. He tried to possess me! Now he is mine. He has a contract with me. You can’t have him.”
“Then, why are you here?” Loxy asked.
“I am stuck in Timothy’s primary wonderland, due to Jon changing the access codes,” Fribourg said, disgusted. “I need those codes to get out.”
“I guess you shouldn’t have pushed him out of the riverboat,” Loxy said.
“Yeah, I should have known that was not Timothy’s Jon,” Fribourg said. “But I couldn’t help myself.”
“If I recall correctly, the only reason Jon is in Timothy’s wonderland is because you two summoned him,” Loxy said.
“So? Someone needed to be in the body when the world went south. Felt like good payback, too,” Fribourg said. “Still a bit sore about the whole end of the world thing. I was just making things better and Jon went and ruined my orgasm. You know how long I have been teasing that out?”
“Aww, poor baby,” Loxy said. “Want me to kiss it and make it better.”
Fribourg laughed. “I know better than to tangle with a Skydancer. You like to change men.”
“Men come to me because they want to change,” Loxy said. “And here you are?”
“Nope, I just need the codes, and the pilot Timothy commissioned for me, and maybe a hostage till I get away,” Fribourg said. “And a steak. A really good steak. One of those cows that was massaged by Japanese Geisha girls all its life.”
“You can’t keep me in here forever,” Loxy said.
Fribourg nodded. Using magic he drew a line on the cylinder, just at her ankle level, completing a circle. It was the circle that would become a portal. Loxy folded her arms.
“I need you to just jump over that circle,” Fribourg instructed.
“Yeah, right, not happening. I am not cooperating with you,” Loxy said. “Jump above the line, or I will make you rise above the line,” Fribourg said. “Do you even have enough power to open a portal?” Loxy asked.
“You might as well jump! Go ahead and jump!” Fribourg shouted. “No,” Loxy said.
“Fine, we’ll do it the hard way,” Fribourg said.
Fribourg placed Timothy’s hand against the glass tube, and where his hand touched, water began to flow on the other side of the tube, as if coming from his hand. It initially shot out, hitting Loxy’x Pith hat, soaking her blouse, and then flowed in a steady stream down the inside of the cylinder wall. The water was ice cold. Fribourg smiled at her.
“Love the wet blouse,” Fribourg said. “The cold really brings out your nipples.”
“A little ice water is not going to change my mind,” Loxy said. “My primary spirit animal is a Polar Bear.”
“That’s why you have a heart of ice,” Fribourg said.
“Really? How did you get to be a Professor with thoughts like that?” Loxy asked. “Polar Bears are warm blooded. They bring love and warmth to the winter.”
“Umm, good point. The females are also solitary animals, raising babies on their own,” Fribourg said. “Does Jon know you’re just going to fuck him and leave him?”
“Baiting is so beneath you,” Loxy said. The water was now to her ankles.
“Oh, so he does know, or did you give him like a promise ring? Or, did you two make a power card, combining your love for all eternity?” Fribourg said. “That’s comparable to what? Making a mixed cassette tape for each other? Are you two in high school or college?”
The water was now up to her knees. Though she wasn’t suffering from the cold, it was clearly starting to have an effect, physically, forcing her to divert energy into her body to maintain her temperature.
“All you have to do is jump,” Fribourg reminded her. “No,” Loxy said.
“What do you think is going to happen here?” Fribourg asked. “The water will fill this container. Feel it lapping at your thighs? I love your wet thighs by the way. I am so jealous of the water right not, twirling around your legs, teasingly rising in your shorts. Rising, filling you. Oh, I am getting hot watching you get immersed in freezing waters. Eventually though, you will rise above my line. You will do so consciously, or, after you have drowned and your body floats or I lift your unconscious body with magic, I will get you where I need you. And you know, if I touch your body with magic, there will be a ravishing.”
“Ravish away,” Loxy invited.
“Oh, the things I will do to you when you’re unconscious,” Fribourg said.
“Well, not to me. The body is just a body, and if it’s unconscious, you’re not doing it to me, you’re doing it to yourself,” Loxy said.
“Are you that well-grounded, or are you playing it cool because you’re in freezing water?” Fribourg asked, hugging himself in mock cold. “Oh, is that cold shivers, or is that my first water penetration orgasm? I am water! I will own you.”
“You can’t own water. The more you try to hold it, the more it flows away,” Loxy said. “You’re holding out against inevitability,” Fribourg said. “Wait wait wait, you don’t think Jon is going to come and rescue you, do you? Jon is just as much trapped there as I am.”
“I don’t need rescuing. I am not in danger of being harmed,” Loxy said.
“You’re going to drown, I am going to take you, and I am going to rape you,” Fribourg said.
“You’re going to try,” Loxy said.
“Break out then,” Fribourg said. “Can’t? Won’t? Oh, haha, you like being raped. Is that why you like being with Jon? Wait a minute, Jon made you. You’re a tulpa. So, sex with you is incest, by definition!”
“If you hold that we are all the products of consciousness, one originating thought, then all relationships are incestuous, by definition,” Loxy said.
“OMG, I should have realized. Jon isn’t your father. Jon is Luke and you are Leah! I am the father! Oh, this is too rich. If Jon won’t willingly join me, then I will have you. You’re much better looking than he, anyway, and a much better magician. Join me and you and I can rule Universe as father and sex slave daughter. I’ll even get you the Leah Hutt costume.”
“I do like that costume,” Loxy said. “I was thinking about wearing that for Jon’s next birthday.”
“Jon doesn’t celebrate,” Fribourg reminded. “He will celebrate that,” Loxy said.
Fribourg considered, and nodded agreement. “Yeah, he would,” he agreed. The water was now up to her shoulders. “Oh, I can feel your breast through the medium. Come on, just let yourself rise. Rise to the occasion, kind of like I am right now.”
“Are you sure that’s you, or is it Timothy rising?” Loxy asked. “How does it feel holding another man’s penis?”
Fribourg laughed, put his forehead against the cylinder. “My masculinity isn’t threatened by suggestions of homosexuality. In fact, doing so makes me want to fuck you all the more, to prove to you that I will take what I want when I want. I might actually use Timothy’s penis to do it, which would really annoy him to no end knowing his penis was in you but he doesn’t get to feel it, so I need up fucking both of you simultaneously. You got to fuck with your minions so they know who’s in charge.”
“You’re just a powerless child of the Universe, raging against the very wind that sustains you,” Loxy said.
The water was now up to her neck. Creeping up towards her chin.
“I am about to touch your lips. I am looking forward to caressing them, filling them, then your lungs. I will fill you with water first, then my breath, and then me. I am so going to fill every part of you,” Fribourg said. He kissed and licked on the cylinder, teasing her like Japanese POV kissing glass video.
“Do I look intimidated?” Loxy asked. “No, actually,” Fribourg said, perturbed.
“I am not afraid of you. Should you fulfill your threat to possess me, you will change.
How will you change, I don’t know, but you will,” Loxy shrugged. “I will change, too, as that is the nature of all relationships, to change. But I will decide in what direction I will go. I will decide what I become. And I will always choose to be more loving, more compassionate. I will even love you and extend compassion towards you.”
“Fuck you and your compassion!” Fribourg said.
“You want to know the secret to my love for you?” Loxy asked.
“You can’t love me! You don’t know me, bitch, and even if you had inkling of who I am and what I have done, by definition, you can’t touch this!” Fribourg said.
“You’re wrong. There is no fall that outdistances love,” Loxy said. “I love you, because you’re a part of Jon.”
“I am his father! I am your father by default,” Fribourg said.
“Why do you think you look like Adam Sandler?” Loxy asked. “You even have his whiny, wimpy voice when you’re frustrated.”
“No I don’t!” Fribourg said, stomping his feet “Yeah, you do,” Loxy said.
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