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estdeus_innobisThursday lunchtime
I have had a great deal to think about since Tuesday; so much that I'm amazed I haven't burned down my house by forgetting that the oven is switched on, or broken my leg falling over a consignment I have forgotten to put away. But somehow I have managed to keep doing the things I am meant to do, even if all the while I have had a great deal to think about.
First there is Glass, though I'll admit that's not been what I've mostly thought about over the last day and a half. I turned to Exodus on Wednesday. Thou shalt not commit adultery. But the Old Testament has always seemed like something of another time; its laws were useful for a time, but then Christ came and gave us new laws. So I turn to John again, the passage I mentioned, I realise, to Glass. Maybe it was that mention that made her comfortable enough to tell me, knowing I wouldn't send her away.
They say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou? This they said, tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not. So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again he stooped down, and wrote on the ground. And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee? She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.
If Christ can say neither do I condemn thee, how could I condemn Glass? I do not approve of what she has done; it shocks me, although knowing that Iago is somehow... complicit in it disgusts me more, and makes me worry for Glass, that she is married to someone who - I don't know, wants his wife to do such things for his own... satisfaction. The thought makes me a little sick. But as for Glass herself - well, I trust her to learn from her mistakes and to do what is right in the end. And even if she does not, I will still love her. I think of the way she touches my fingertips, a kinder gesture than embraces from nearly anyone else, and I smile a little. I think she's my sister, in bone if not in blood.
So I've put aside the matter of Glass, more or less. I've been thinking about Tess instead. I was looking through the Bible to see if there is any mention of - a woman loving a woman the way she would a man. But I cannot find anything. There isn't anything I can see about men lying with men; I remember our priest mentioning Sodom and Gomorrah, but when I read the story I find nothing but a strange tale of inhospitability punished with destruction. It seems to me that if God were worried about it, He would probably have mentioned it along with injunctions against murder and adultery. But He did not.
I don't think I'm worried that it's a sin for Tess to care for me; I am worried that I don't really understand what it means, and I am worried that I don't know what I want to do. After we talked I went to bed, and I had strange and restless dreams where Laurence shouted at me and said I had thrown him over for a witch, and when I woke up my pillow was wet with tears. In the morning it was a little awkward, having breakfast with Tess, but not painfully so; we could still talk, though I felt like the air was thick with things unsaid. I noticed every time she looked at me, and I kept glancing over at her and then away, feeling my neck and face flush. She is pretty, truly. She has a fine, fierce face, and I found myself reading the Song of Songs that evening and shivering - I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon. Thinking of her dark hair and the way her lips touched mine, just briefly. Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
I read the whole book again last night, sitting in bed. I went down into the garden of nuts to see the fruits of the valley, and to see whether the vine flourished and the pomegranates budded. I feel my thighs clench and my heart stutter at the reading of it, and I felt hot tears rise because I have never known the easy joy there is in that book. I lay in the dark, feeling like there was a hollow place in my chest, an aching kind of hunger that needs filling. I pressed my hands to my breasts, which seemed to both make the feeling better and worse, and when I went to sleep at last I dreamed of a valley filled with fig trees, and I woke feeling as if Tess's mouth was against mine again.
I decide that this lunchtime I will call on Parras. I promised I would, and besides, perhaps she can help me. I don't think I can tell her about Tess - just thinking about explaining it makes blood rush into my face - but maybe she will end up telling me more about her relationship with a woman.
I am nervous about visiting the brothel, though. It is strange, I think with a little smile, to go from studying the bible to visiting a brothel, but it's not as if I will be a client. All the same, I put on a conservative suit - a sober brown that has a high necked jacket - to make sure it's clear that I am not there for... well, whatever it would be women could go there for. I just hope I don't see Adonis - I've never been able to look him in the eye since he recommended visiting when I first moved here! Just thinking about it makes me blush again. Well. I will visit Parras, and it will all be fine, and hopefully I will not panic.
I pick up a box of macaroons from the bakery - they aren't the usual sweets I buy; I prefer something heartier and less fiddly, but I think perhaps Parras will like their elegance. And so I go over to the Boy and ring the bell. A maid answers and tells me they aren't open for business until later. I flush and tell her stiffly that I'm here to pay a social call on Ms Desmet. She ushers me into the lobby and I look around, feeling my pulse thump. I can't believe I'm standing in the foyer of a brothel.
[closed]
I have had a great deal to think about since Tuesday; so much that I'm amazed I haven't burned down my house by forgetting that the oven is switched on, or broken my leg falling over a consignment I have forgotten to put away. But somehow I have managed to keep doing the things I am meant to do, even if all the while I have had a great deal to think about.
First there is Glass, though I'll admit that's not been what I've mostly thought about over the last day and a half. I turned to Exodus on Wednesday. Thou shalt not commit adultery. But the Old Testament has always seemed like something of another time; its laws were useful for a time, but then Christ came and gave us new laws. So I turn to John again, the passage I mentioned, I realise, to Glass. Maybe it was that mention that made her comfortable enough to tell me, knowing I wouldn't send her away.
They say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou? This they said, tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not. So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again he stooped down, and wrote on the ground. And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee? She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.
If Christ can say neither do I condemn thee, how could I condemn Glass? I do not approve of what she has done; it shocks me, although knowing that Iago is somehow... complicit in it disgusts me more, and makes me worry for Glass, that she is married to someone who - I don't know, wants his wife to do such things for his own... satisfaction. The thought makes me a little sick. But as for Glass herself - well, I trust her to learn from her mistakes and to do what is right in the end. And even if she does not, I will still love her. I think of the way she touches my fingertips, a kinder gesture than embraces from nearly anyone else, and I smile a little. I think she's my sister, in bone if not in blood.
So I've put aside the matter of Glass, more or less. I've been thinking about Tess instead. I was looking through the Bible to see if there is any mention of - a woman loving a woman the way she would a man. But I cannot find anything. There isn't anything I can see about men lying with men; I remember our priest mentioning Sodom and Gomorrah, but when I read the story I find nothing but a strange tale of inhospitability punished with destruction. It seems to me that if God were worried about it, He would probably have mentioned it along with injunctions against murder and adultery. But He did not.
I don't think I'm worried that it's a sin for Tess to care for me; I am worried that I don't really understand what it means, and I am worried that I don't know what I want to do. After we talked I went to bed, and I had strange and restless dreams where Laurence shouted at me and said I had thrown him over for a witch, and when I woke up my pillow was wet with tears. In the morning it was a little awkward, having breakfast with Tess, but not painfully so; we could still talk, though I felt like the air was thick with things unsaid. I noticed every time she looked at me, and I kept glancing over at her and then away, feeling my neck and face flush. She is pretty, truly. She has a fine, fierce face, and I found myself reading the Song of Songs that evening and shivering - I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon. Thinking of her dark hair and the way her lips touched mine, just briefly. Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
I read the whole book again last night, sitting in bed. I went down into the garden of nuts to see the fruits of the valley, and to see whether the vine flourished and the pomegranates budded. I feel my thighs clench and my heart stutter at the reading of it, and I felt hot tears rise because I have never known the easy joy there is in that book. I lay in the dark, feeling like there was a hollow place in my chest, an aching kind of hunger that needs filling. I pressed my hands to my breasts, which seemed to both make the feeling better and worse, and when I went to sleep at last I dreamed of a valley filled with fig trees, and I woke feeling as if Tess's mouth was against mine again.
I decide that this lunchtime I will call on Parras. I promised I would, and besides, perhaps she can help me. I don't think I can tell her about Tess - just thinking about explaining it makes blood rush into my face - but maybe she will end up telling me more about her relationship with a woman.
I am nervous about visiting the brothel, though. It is strange, I think with a little smile, to go from studying the bible to visiting a brothel, but it's not as if I will be a client. All the same, I put on a conservative suit - a sober brown that has a high necked jacket - to make sure it's clear that I am not there for... well, whatever it would be women could go there for. I just hope I don't see Adonis - I've never been able to look him in the eye since he recommended visiting when I first moved here! Just thinking about it makes me blush again. Well. I will visit Parras, and it will all be fine, and hopefully I will not panic.
I pick up a box of macaroons from the bakery - they aren't the usual sweets I buy; I prefer something heartier and less fiddly, but I think perhaps Parras will like their elegance. And so I go over to the Boy and ring the bell. A maid answers and tells me they aren't open for business until later. I flush and tell her stiffly that I'm here to pay a social call on Ms Desmet. She ushers me into the lobby and I look around, feeling my pulse thump. I can't believe I'm standing in the foyer of a brothel.
[closed]
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Date: 2009-06-22 10:32 pm (UTC)She pats my hand, and I feel a little moment of - what? Reassurance, fondness, warmth...all of those, and yet something more, too. I think maybe it's hope, and I've schooled myself away from that recently. It reminds me of my dream, my friend's hand on mine. I smile at her back at her wordlessly.
"This week has been one where people have shared secrets with me, all of them surprising. You had an emotional week? I hope it was pleasant, rather than troubling."
"I won't ask after your secrets, but of course I'm desperately curious." I give her a mischeivous look. "This town seems to be full of them. I hear a lot of them in my work, and some of them are quite astonishing. As for my week...not troubling, no. A little melancholy, perhaps. I think perhaps I should try and meet more people in town - it's not good for me to be so much alone."
Of course, I meet people in the course of business, but that's very much a different thing. I should go around to Dorian's shop, perhaps - he was personable when he visited, and I'd like to see him again.
"So," I say, "how do you find the Boy? Is it what you expected?" I know she's not comfortable with my work, but I won't pretend it's not what it is, either.