“Being good isn't always easy,
no matter how hard I try…
“When he started
sweet-talkin' to me…
…he'd kiss and tell me everything is all right.
“The only one who could
ever reach me
was the son of a preacher man…
“The only boy who could ever teach me
Was the son of a preacher man.”
- Hurley
and Wilkins
After they'd entered The
Orion Coffeehouse—for what he passionately hoped was the last
time—Mantovanni allowed Parihn to continue forward, even as he stopped near the
coatroom. The Sicilian wasn’t certain he trusted himself to go any
further—without going too far, that
is.
Their quarry spotted them at once, looked past Parihn momentarily…
and, for the first time, his eyes met those of
Mantovanni communicated the gamut of his feelings on the matter
with a particularly eloquent glare, as brief as it was meaningful.
It said, to any who could read, “Thank her for your life.”
Jerrell got the message—quite clearly.
Then, she was before him, taking a seat at the counter, and
he found his attention focused, as it hadn't been since… well, since the last
time he'd seen her. For an instant, the hope Parihn had chosen him flared in his breast—preposterous
though he knew the idea was.
She shattered that flimsy fantasy with a firm declaration
he knew was half-foresight, and all preference.
Quietly, Parihn told him, “I had something I wanted… needed… to say. After this, I hope
you'll understand I don't I want to see you again—ever.”
Jerrell grimaced slightly… then, inclined his head.
“I can't say the same.”
She accepted that, and was perhaps, to his wonder, even slightly
complimented by it.
But her expression was resolute.
“You did a terrible
thing to me, Jerrell, and I have a feeling it's not the first time you've done something like that… but I
acknowledge now it wasn’t entirely
your fault. Whether or not I was willing to concede it at first, ultimately, I
agreed to what you proposed, even though I felt in my heart it was wrong. I let you have your way... have me.
“Perhaps, on some level, I couldn’t fully accept the life I’d made
for myself until I had a final look at the old one—through Aedra’s eyes and my own.”
She chuckled harshly.
“Who can say? Maybe I even knew,
on some level, that you’d do what you did—that there was unfinished business between us we needed to resolve. As the
humans say, ‘It takes two to tango’… and I don't primarily mean the sex—though
I guess that was a large part of it.”
Now Jerrell startled her.
He shook his head in denial and replied, “Don’t make the mistake
of shouldering more of the blame than you should, Parihn… and, really, almost
none of it is yours. You didn't come here looking to have me bed you; you and I
both know that. I could have simply
given you what you needed, instead of stubbornly indulging what I know was a
childish obsession with never having had a chance with you—never having had you—and pretending that was ‘love.’”
He’d obviously given it a lot of thought since she’d seen him
last… and considering his expression as he continued to speak, the conclusions
he’d come to about himself obviously weren’t very flattering.
“I'd never in my life failed to have sex with a woman I
wanted—until you, nine years ago. That festered
inside me, Parihn, especially since a few days before that, I’d had you right there and decided to show how restrained I was in an attempt to
intrigue you… I’d wanted you willingly, for a lot more than a night, and
thought I could lure you in with my supposed disinterest.
“A few weeks ago, well… I thought I had something to prove, stupid
and wrong though it was.
“You can’t know how
sorry I am.” After a moment, he shook his head, and appended a wry, “What am I saying? I can show you.”
Parihn had watched Jerrell with great interest and curiosity as he
spoke, eyes widening in near complete surprise when he actually apologized, and
admitted his motivation… then was further
amazed when she felt his mental shields erode almost totally—not in an
invitation to intimacy, but to reveal the truth of his sincerity and regret.
She wondered if this was the first time in his adult life he’d
ever done it, and, remembering what Xorc had told her over the years, wagered
it was.
Rather than examining his psyche in detail, though, Parihn gave
his thoughts and feelings a mere glance, feather-light and restrained—trusting that what he said was true,
rather than definitively confirming it.
Finally, she told him, “I believe you are sorry, Jerrell... and I accept your apology—as much as I'm
able.
“I think you know we can’t possibly be friends right now after
what passed between us… but I’ll keep in touch with Xorc, as I always have. I
hope to hear from him that you’re continuing to become more the person I
glimpsed once or twice ten years ago… and the one I’m seeing right now.
“Even he’s not a man I
could love… but he is one some
wonderful woman will find hard not to.”
Jerrell couldn’t believe she’d let him off that easily.
You’re the most graceful, gracious woman I’ve ever known,
Parihn. If only things—so many things—could have been different.
He struggled with his next statement.
“I’m not trying to offend you with this,
so please don’t be angry.”
She nodded her leave, and he continued.
“I’m sorry I did what I did, in the way I did it… but
I can’t quite bring myself to be sorry I had the night with you.”
At last, Parihn gave him a slight smile.
It was strained, though, and he realized that what he'd said had bothered her,
a little.
“I’ll try to take that as the compliment
you meant it to be.” She leaned forward then, and stressed, “But you need to
fully understand that while, on the physical level, it was somewhat pleasant
for me, Jerrell, I do regret it happened. It hurt me, and it hurt the
man I love.
“Though you tried to equate the two,
reactions are not feelings.”
For an instant, he couldn't look at her.
“I do understand,” he whispered. “And I also
know you've every right to feel that way.”
Parihn was moved by his obvious pain; she
knew how hard seeing yourself was... and with more regard for his self-esteem,
and sympathy for his personal anguish, than she would have thought possible
after the events of a few weeks past, told him, not unkindly, “You’re a very
attractive, intermittently charming man, Jerrell…” then added with an almost
amused, strangely compassionate, smirk, “…and you’re good in bed, too.”
Then, with her usual directness,
emphasized, “Not great… but good.”
Again, he stunned her, and himself, by
laughing aloud, and accepting with amused aplomb the sincerity of what she’d
said.
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “By the way… is that an expert
evaluation, Parihn?”
“If you wish,” she answered promptly. “I am eminently
qualified, after all… but I meant it simply woman to man. Oh, and thank
you for not using the word ‘professional.’”
“You're welcome.” Wryly, he queried, “Any
tips for betterment?”
Whoa. This is getting strange.
For a moment, Parihn didn't know whether
to be encouraged or appalled at the fact they were actually bantering
about what had happened… but then realized that, for her at least, sudden ease
with the event meant it was gradually losing much of its power to hurt her.
It just wasn't as important
anymore. She had truly begun to put it—and many other things—behind her.
The time had been difficult on them all,
but at last it seemed to be passing.
She decided to answer Jerrell as honestly
as she would any other question.
“Add love and real concern for
your partner to the mix, and I have no doubts you’ll improve your rating
significantly.”
I think she just very nicely told you to grow up, Jerrell.
Presuming to venture perhaps a bit more
than he knew he should, Jerrell flicked his eyes towards Luciano Mantovanni—who
was determinedly, chivalrously focusing his attention elsewhere, giving them
their privacy despite what must have been immense concern and curiosity.
“He looks… intense.”
She followed his gaze…
…and he saw her face change.
In that moment, transformed by emotion,
Parihn had never seemed more beautiful to him. Jerrell
felt a twinge of distress that the feeling wasn’t for him, but faced it… and
after doing so, found himself enjoying the sight simply for what it was: A
woman for whose happiness he cared—hopelessly lost.
“You can't even imagine,” she whispered.
Just then, something made Mantovanni turn; and, as the
lovers' eyes met, Jerrell saw her expression mirrored in his own.
The last thing Vaerth Parihn said to
Jerrell Gav’reme, as she was drawn away by the power of her emotions, was, for
him, bittersweet, and kind, and hopeful all at once.
“But when you really fall in love, you will.”
It was obvious Cicero could see something
in her face that told him it had gone better than she’d believed possible.
“You look satisfied,” he noted.
Parihn snorted, and muttered, “That's not a word that
applies in reference to that man and me, Cicero.”
He shook his head at her perverse sense
of humor, but let it pass.
Unbidden, she drew on her perfect recall
and relayed the minutes-ago conversation verbatim… and when finished, added,
“Xorc was right, though; Jerrell actually has, or at least is developing, a real conscience… and I think it'll bother him for a long time to come.”
Mantovanni gave a noncommittal grunt, and
muttered, "Bully for him."
Parihn nodded in understanding; it was
enough that he had permitted her to dispose of the situation in the manner she
thought best, even in the face of his own slightly more emphatic desires.
Requiring him to be happy Jerrell was still upright and breathing—even though
the man was genuinely sorry—was probably asking a little too much.
“Cicero… there’s no purpose in any of us hating
or resenting any longer. We all have lives to lead.”
He conceded the point, in part… but then
slipped an arm about her waist, and pulled her close to his side. She squeaked
in delight, and nestled happily against him.
“You’ll pardon me, woman, if I’m a little
overprotective and possessive. It’s the nature of the beast—at least this one.”
Her own arm had encircled him, and now
her small hand ventured a little further south than would have been possible
had they been in uniform. She gave him an affectionate, lingering goose, and
then returned to less controversial territory before he became too embarrassed.
In response to his expression—an alloy of
warning glare and resigned grin—she smiled wickedly.
“Well, perhaps we can go back to your
cabin…
…and you can ‘possess’ me for the rest of
the day. After all, I'm not particularly fond of detached duty.”
He gave no response, other than to
increase their pace more than a bit. She didn’t blame him in the least.
After all, it was a race they were both going to win.