Firefly. Part 8

"Oh, yes! Let me see it."

He lurched off. In a moment he brought the stone back. It was about six inches long, weighed about five pounds, and was pitted like a meteorite outside. But it was only half a stone, cut across the center and polished so that the crystalline center was exposed. "It's just quartz," he said. "But I've had it all my life."

"It's beautiful!" she exclaimed. "It's you, Geode! All gruff and sober outside, perfect inside!"

"Oh, no, I'm not-I mean, it's perfect, but I'm-" He couldn't formulate his demurral.

"I understand! What I mean is that no one can tell from the outside what a person is like inside, and maybe a person looks stupid or mousy outside, but there's so much inside that may be beautiful if you just understand."

"Yes!" What a perfect way of putting it!

"Then I will tell you my secret name too, Geode. I am none. That's ee-NO-nee, not 'onion', though I may have layers to peel." She was cutting an onion under water as she spoke.

This was too much for Geode to grasp all at once. She had seemed so shy, and now seemed so open. "Not Jade?"

"No more than you are George. Shall we be friends, Geode?"

Was she teasing him in some way? His doubt returned. Who wanted to be friends with him?

She paused in her activity. "Did I offend you? I didn't mean to. I apologize if-"

"No!"

"But I said something wrong?"

He struggled with it. "I don't have friends."

She resumed her activity, evidently relieved. "Maybe you have one now. Why do you say that?"

Was this folly? He wanted to tell her, but feared the consequence. It was so nice being with her like this, watching her bustle, he didn't want to alienate her. He shook his head, neither yes nor no, but confusion.

"But I am prying," she said. "I didn't mean to do that, Geode. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Would you like me to tell you about me? I mean, my name?"

"People don't like me, when they learn," he said with difficulty.

"You see, my husband's name is Paris. That's where it started. That's really his name. In Greek mythology, Paris was married to the nymph none. So I became that. Am I talking too much?"

"No."

"none is a rather sad figure. Because Paris-do you know about him, mythologically?"

Geode thought. "He-Helen?"

"Exactly. Helen of Troy. Paris left the nymph for the face that launched a thousand ships. none was not completely pleased. But how could she compete with Helen?"

She evidently wanted something of him, but he wasn't sure what. "I guess she couldn't."

"Yes. So she just kept to herself. What else was there to do? So she didn't have many friends. Paris had a good time while none suffered."

"I keep to myself," Geode said.

"Yes. Like your namesake. All the good things are inside."

"I don't know if they're good."

"Would you like to tell me?" She looked at him and smiled, and it was like a splatter of sunlight from the surface of a dark pool.

He still wasn't sure, but decided to tell her. "I see things. Hear things. But I guess others don't."

"Good things?"

"Just things." He swallowed, then said it: "Animals who talk to me."

"And they called you crazy," she said.

"They put me in a hospital."

She nodded. "When I was little, my Raggedy Ann doll talked to me. n.o.body believed. So I learned not to tell them."

"Yes," he agreed with a rush of feeling.

"Another time I told them something, and they did believe. That was worse."

"Yes. First they thought I was just trying to get attention, and laughed at me. But when they believed-" He paused, getting it straight. "When they believed I believed, they put me away. Until I told them I didn't believe."

She thought for a moment as she worked. "I must tell you something, Geode. I don't want to, but I have to."

He was silent, knowing what was coming. He had told her, and it had been a mistake. He should have known better.

"I have nowhere to go," she said. "I have no money, no marketable skills, no hope. Suddenly I am in this dream house, like a poor peasant girl who has been mistaken for a lost princess. What is she to do?"

"I don't know."

"She is going to try to act like a princess, so as to fool them just as long as she possibly can, because once they catch on, she will be out on the street and her life will be over."

He stood there, watching her, not understanding what she was getting at.

"If the King's butler tells that girl something strange, will she laugh in his face?"

That he could answer. "No."

"That's right. Because she doesn't want to offend anybody in the palace. So she will believe anything he tells her, so long as it is not inconsistent with her being a princess. Do you understand?"

Now he did. "You won't laugh at me."

"Yes. But I am not to be trusted. Oh, I will behave perfectly, and be the very model of the princess, but what is in my heart you cannot trust, because I don't want to be thrown out. I need your favor, and I will do anything to get it and keep it. I am like a hungry cat, purring at your legs so you will feed me and let me into your house. Can you live with that?"

Geode was troubled. "I work for Mid. If he says you stay, you stay. If he says you go-"

"But he will let me stay if you want me to."

"I guess so."

"So I will try to make you want me to."

"You don't have to-"

"Beginning with this," she said, setting a sculptured salad down on the dining-room table. She had somehow fashioned it from lettuce and tomato aspic and carrots and beans. It was beautiful.

He sat at the table, then realized that it was a one-person salad, and the only one. "But you-"

"I ate before. Now it's your turn. What would you like to drink? We have milk and orange juice."

"Juice. But-"

"Coming up. Dig in while I prepare the next course."

"But you don't have to-"

"Yes, I do. Now settle down and let me play my part." She really did want to do this, he realized. So he started eating, and let her do it her way.

It seemed that only a moment had pa.s.sed when he finished what turned out to be a very nice meal concocted of simple ingredients. none was sitting opposite, watching him. She had washed his dishes and put them away as he finished them.

"Do I talk too much?" she asked abruptly.

"I like to listen."

"May I be candid again?"

Geode had not known what to expect, and his fancies had been fragmentary. The reality was infinitely more detailed and fulfilling. Whatever she wanted to say he would hear. "Yes."

"I do not want to sleep alone. May I sleep with you?"

He stared at her. Again, he couldn't answer.

"I realize I'm not much," she said. "But whatever I am I will offer you, only for your company this night. Do I affront you?"

"I-I don't know what you mean."

"I want so much not to be alone that I have no scruples about it, no inhibitions. If you want me as a companion, I will be that. If you want me as a s.e.x object, I will be that. Only let me be with you, and I will do for you whatever you ask, to the extent of my power to do it."

"But I can't-"

"If I could make myself beautiful for you, I would. I will certainly try. I realize I am not eighteen, but neither am I sixty. Perhaps in the dark-"

"I'm impotent!" he said, hating the word.

She was not fazed. "Would you let me try to make you potent?"

He was amazed. "You would do that?"

"I would."

He knew this was crazy, but the dream of becoming normal took hold of him. "Yes."

"Let me change, and I will join you in a moment."

She had spoken most plainly, but this was hard to believe. He nodded.

She left the dining room and went quickly upstairs. In a surprisingly brief time she was back, clad in a negligee.

Geode stared. She had been, as Tishner had said, mousy. She had been transformed. She had let her hair loose and fluffed it out, and put on some makeup, and the negligee made of her body a hazy, floating form showing a bit of cleavage. The lines of her face had faded, and her eyes were no longer pocketed but shadowed.

"You're beautiful!" he exclaimed. It was an exaggeration, but not much of one. "Pretty" would have been a better word. Yet the change was so great that a stronger word was required to satisfy it.

"You are kind," she said.

He just looked at her, taking in the change. Perhaps she remained a mouse, but now she was sleek and soft and interesting.

"How would you like me?" she asked.

He just shook his head. His belief simply could not make the jump.

"Would you like to dance with me?"

"I can't dance."

"I don't do it well, but I could show you the steps."

"I-I don't know what to do."

"Then stand," she said.

He stood. This was surely a dream!

"Put your arms around me."

He did so, clumsily. In a moment she might burst out laughing, but until then the dream remained.

She embraced him. "Kiss me," she said, lifting her face.

"I don't know how."

"Purse your lips, close your eyes, and bend your head forward."

He followed instructions. Then he felt her lips against his. She was kissing him on the mouth! He was so amazed he lost his balance. He pulled her with him, involuntarily, and the two of them fell against the wall.

Appalled, ashamed, he opened his eyes and tried to pull away. But she clung to him. "The first time is never perfect," she said. "All things must be learned. But perhaps we should practice lying down."