At The Woodchoppers Ball Bk 01 Ch 04

Chapter 4

We left the pool infused with the kind of bone-penetrating warmth that only comes from spending a few hours at an overheated bathhouse. Outside, the temperature had cooled although the sky was clearer and sunlight glinted off window panes. Enide dropped me off by the cafe, almost exactly where she'd intercepted Andra and me coming out of Remond's. The two then headed off to pick up Mirrla and Rebeka from school. I set off to fetch Mother from town and drive her back home.

Even though the afternoon had been convivial, I was keyed up by what had passed between the girls at the pool. I recalled the way Enide had brought up Andra's brother and how it had beclouded Andra's mood. Did Enide seem wistful as she spoke about this Oviau fellow? I sensed that there was more to the story than just a sister weighed down by the absence of a much-loved brother.

Notwithstanding all this, Andra had soon shed her sombre mood and spent the rest of the afternoon joshing and bantering with me and Enide. Likewise, Enide appeared to be in high spirits as we mucked around in the pool and relaxed in the steam room afterwards. Still, I felt certain that some unspoken thing blighted the atmosphere between us. Naturally, I couldn't be certain about any of this which only served to further agitate me.

Also, our time together had done little to abate my growing attraction to Enide. With all this simmering in the back of my mind, I can't claim to have been bubbling over with joy as I drove the short distance to my mother's office.

I was still brooding over the afternoon's events when I arrived at Togreg and Veijorc, the law firm where my mother worked and presented myself to the young receptionist. Although I didn't know her, she appeared to thaw considerably on hearing my name and invited me to proceed inside.

Interiors in certain respects are like people. What I mean is that rooms are apt to develop eccentricities if left to their own whim. The interior of Togreg and Veijorc was a prime example of the phenomenon. Ever since I could remember, within the warren of rooms and hallways of this place, a form of orderly chaos had prevailed.

Every room had piles of notebooks, papers, ledgers and a few decidedly battered-looking books. Some stood stacked, tidied away in corners. Others were strewn on desks alongside ink bottles, pen holders and neat trays of pencils. The pervasive smell of pipe and cigarette smoke wafted about the premises.

In her capacity as general manager, my mother presided over the establishment with vim and influence. There was, however, no mistaking the fact that these offices were first and foremost the personification of the firm's founding partners and their long-serving middle-aged colleagues.

Mother was still busy bustling about in her oak-panelled room when I walked in. After exchanging greetings, I waited a short while as she put away her things and we left the office soon after. Once she and I were in the car, Mother began to rummage through her briefcase.

"Do you have your identification card with you?" she asked.

"Yes — why?"

"You need to be registered with the doctors here. I have all the other paperwork they need," Mother explained and extracted a thin folder from her case. "Could you drive over to the surgery first? I need to pick up a few things from the pharmacy anyway and I can register you while I'm there."

The surgery had been a semi-regular destination for me and my sister during our childhood so I had no difficulty finding the way. Although Mother hadn't explicitly stated it, I had the impression that she preferred to go inside alone. I assumed, absent-mindedly, that she wished to attend to some delicate matter and wanting to respect her privacy, remained in the car.

It wasn't a short wait. These things typically necessitate the completion of all manner of forms and documents I suppose. Thank heaven for my mother. She approaches a stack of forms or an unruly pile of paperwork much like a vulture circles a fresh carcass.

After a period, I saw her leave the clinic and enter the pharmacy next door. Following a further wait, Mother re-emerged with a brown bag in one hand and the paperwork she had brought with her tucked beneath her arm.

"I forgot to ask, how did things go with Enide and Andra?" she enquired as we set off.

"Good... I think," I replied.

"You sound dubious."

"Not about Andra... she was very nice ——"

"Rather gorgeous too," Mother suggested teasingly.

"Er... yes, I noticed," I replied, a tad self-consciously. "It's just that... this business with her brother joining up — she seems to be finding it — I don't know... unduly troubling."

"

Unduly

?"

"Well... yes," I mumbled, wondering how to explain myself better. "What I mean is that... I didn't expect Andra to be so affected — still. Didn't he join up a while back?"

It seemed as if Mother had become more guarded. "Did Andra seem upset?" she probed.

"You know... I didn't mean to imply she burst into tears or anything like that," I answered. "But when the topic came up, she seemed... affected — it seemed to pain her," I added.

Mother took a deep breath before responding. "My understanding is that Oviau's parents did not support his decision. They were expecting Ovi to start taking over some of the responsibilities of overseeing the family's assets," she clarified. "As for Andra, she and Ovi are close. I know she misses him terribly."

This confirmed what Enide had told me earlier at the bathhouse. It ought to have been the end of the matter, yet I couldn't shake the sense that somehow there was more to it.

"And what is the story with this Filor Kosnac fellow?" I prodded. "Do you know anything about that?"

"Oh... I don't think there was anything significant between them," Mother replied with a disinterested shrug. "Andra had been seeing him over the past few months — but it wasn't serious."

"Was there anything serious between Andra's brother and Enide?"

There was a pause. "What makes you think there was anything between them?" Mother asked.

"Something Enide said," I replied, more tersely than I'd intended. "Or perhaps it was the way she said it."

Once again, Mother paused before speaking. "Enide and Andra have been good friends for a while now, as you know," she explained in a measured tone. "Enide has seen a lot of Oviau these past few years — when she was with Andra, he would often be around," she explained. "I'm sure Eni also misses Ovi," I felt her glance across at me before continuing. "The three of them spent a lot of time in each other's company. That doesn't imply Enide and Oviau had become... something more serious," she cautioned.

Though my mother was not herself an attorney, she had been working among them for some time. On occasion, it would be readily apparent that certain qualities of the creed had rubbed off on her. I could sense her response had a lawyerly quality to it. Her words were measured and deliberate. I wanted to scrape away this shrewd veneer but Mother changed tack before I could press on.

"Now that you are home again and... socialising... with young ladies," she told me as her fingers rhythmically patted the brown paper bag in her lap, "there are things I need to discuss with you."

I sensed danger, but there was no exit. I was trapped.

"Perhaps these are things a young man would prefer discussing with his father," Mother noted. "But... well, here we are," she concluded, although she appeared entirely unperturbed at having to substitute for the absent paternal figure.

I stifled a groan — this was exactly what I had feared. I braced myself for the undoubtedly uncomfortable topic Mother was about to unleash.

"I know that at school, they carted in girls so you could mingle with each other," Mother stated somewhat dismissively. "They did that when I was in school too," she remarked. "You might think you are up-to-date with how things are done these days — between men and women I mean," she intoned with maternal tactfulness, "but I think there are... shall we say, some new paraphernalia with which you might be unfamiliar," she concluded with a knowing smirk and held up the paper bag from the pharmacy.

I would have rather faced death with a rusty fork than have this conversation with my mother and grappled for a way to curtail her. As it happened, I was familiar with the "paraphernalia" she spoke of — or so I thought.

"You know Mother, it wasn't just at school functions that I had contact with girls," I offered feebly.

"I am not talking about pulling a chair out for a girl Rody," Mother stated. "Those old goats at Fortunbrae kept many things from you boys. Some things that go on these days — well, it would set their hair on end," she asserted.

By now I was pulling the car onto our driveway. I wondered if Mother had colluded with my sister to ensure Mirrla would be out while she addressed the alleged shortcomings in my knowledge of sexual etiquette.

Mother led the way to the kitchen and began filling the kettle.

"From the way you were talking," she said while rummaging about the kitchen, "It sounds as if you like Andra."

I saw no point in vacillating, "I like Enide."

"Well... of course, you like Enide — oh!" she turned to face me. "Do you mean, like,

like

Enide?"

I nodded glumly.

She moved to sit across from me, "I see — and how long have you felt this way about her?"

"Since yesterday," I realised how ridiculous I sounded but I went on regardless, "and my brain is already reeling from it."

Mother chuckled though it wasn't mocking or unsympathetic. "Is that why you were asking about Enide and Oviau?"

"Is she pining after him?" I asked, trying to conceal my trepidation.

"No," Mother replied. "Not in a romantic sense."

"Is she... pining after someone else?" I wondered, encouraged by her straightforward response.

"Not as far as I know," she stated without hesitation.

"Alright — that's good," I let out a breath of relief. "Onwards to the next obstacle."

"Are there other obstacles?"

"Well, for one thing... I don't know if she likes me."

Mother smiled patiently, "True — but no one ever knows... in the beginning."

"Things could become awkward — uncomfortable," "I pointed out. "I don't want that to happen — we are friends — it makes our situation different."

"You

should

tread carefully," Mother agreed. She rose and began making tea for us.

"Also... do we have a future?" I wondered aloud, looking up at my mother. She had her back to me, pouring boiling water into the teapot. "I mean... past the end of the summer."

Mother turned her head toward me, "A 'future'?" she asked, a little derisively I thought.

"I am going away again — Eni is staying in Earnell."

"I see," Mother mused as she brought the teapot to the table. "In the meantime though, you have a few months."

"Yes, but... I mean... I can't just have a fling with ——"

"Why not?" Mother interjected matter-of-factly. She returned to the table with two mugs and sat across from me.

"Well... uh — you mean with Enide!?" I mumbled, rather perplexed. Mother made a confirming gesture.

I wondered if she had misunderstood. "Enide is not the kind of girl who ——"

"The kind of girl who would engage in a romantic relationship with a boy during the summer." Mother asked while eying me perceptively. "Come now Rody — she is a beautiful young woman — at the prime of her life ——"

"That's not what I meant..." I interrupted. "I am not going to..." I stopped, not knowing what I would say next. My anger had flared for a moment and I could see Mother had been a little taken aback. I took a deep breath and started again, not wanting to say something out of turn.

"It's not going to be like that with Eni — a summer fling and then we forget all about it at the end of summer," I stated emphatically. Even saying it was grating but I kept my temper in check. I could see that Mother wanted to interject so pushed ahead before she could. "Yes... yes, I know, she is an adult, she can make her own decisions — so on, so forth," I huffed dismissively. "I don't know what I am to her — but that's not what she is to me."

"You know what she is to you?" Mother challenged in a droll tone. "And you know this — after two days?" she asked sceptically.

I was in no mood to be lectured. "I do," I countered unequivocally. "And besides, it would still change things — between us... as friends, I mean," I groused while tapping the tabletop with my fingers.

"That's a valid consideration," Mother allowed, then poured tea into the mugs. "Sex changes things between people."

"So the issue stands — I am leaving, and Enide is staying," I sighed. "A discouraging stalemate."

Mother sipped her tea and then fixed me with an admonishing gaze. "Now look, Rody — you are rushing ahead of yourself. You've barely spent time with Enide or Andra. It's good that you are being careful about Enide. You should be careful about Andra too. I just don't want you to become fixated on some romantic idea and sit about moping. It's only your second day back. Go out and enjoy yourself. Get to know them. Give them a chance to get to know you."

I shrugged dolefully. "It's what I'm doing — not that there is much else I can do. I wasn't planning on marching up to Enide and declaring my undying love."

"Good — now stop looking so morose." Mother stood and went out to the hallway. She returned carrying the brown paper bag from the pharmacy.

"Oh, wonderful — this again!" I grumbled.

"Don't be petulant," Mother admonished in her most motherly tone. She took out a box of pills from the bag. "This is a Biolanta. I trust you know about it."

Though not unexpected, I was nevertheless incredulous. "Mother, do you think ——" I objected, but she raised her hand to interrupt me.

"Do I think a strapping young man," she began in a tone that was both condescending and flattering, "who came third in his class at wrestling ——"

"Third!?" I interrupted. "In my class!?" I was both outraged and wounded. "For your information, I came second — in the county!" I protested.

"I'm sorry darling, I hadn't realised you did so well — well done!" Mother intoned brightly. "But the fact is, even young men your age are taking Biolanta during intimate encounters," she insisted, bringing the discussion back to the pills on the table. "Make sure to have them with you — it's the expected thing nowadays. No need to use them if the occasion doesn't warrant it."

I gave her a dubious look, but retrieved the box and scanned the writing on its back.

"Now then," Mother announced taking another, similar-sized box out of the paper bag. "This is Biolanta-K — have you heard of it?"

I shook my head. "Isn't it a more potent version of Biolanta?" I wondered.

"Not exactly. In fact, recovery time is longer."

"Then what is the point of it?"

"Well, the thing about Biolanta-K is that it increases the amount what a man ..." she paused, giving me a mischievous smirk, "...

makes

."

"Oh...

really

!?" I yelped — too astonished at first to be embarrassed. "They made a pill for

that

!?"

"It is very popular," Mother asserted confidently. "But, Rody — do please read the instructions in the box. You mustn't take more than the recommended dose — it's very important."

"What will they think of next?" I mumbled under my breath and reached for the pills on the table. I tried not to dwell too much on how my mother had acquired her knowledge of sexual potency-enhancing drugs, although it remained in my thoughts.

"And finally... we have this," Mother announced with a flourish. She took out a much larger box, about the size of a carton of cigarettes, and plunked it down on the table. The name of the product was printed across the green box in bold, black letters.

"Neessajun?" I looked up from the box. "Never heard of it. What does it do?"

Mother opened the box and took out a square blister pack from within. It was similar to the sorts of thing pills are often packaged in except that it had only three, rather large blisters. The one in the centre was oblong-shaped and smaller. It was flanked by a pair of much larger, capsule-shaped blisters containing something which looked to be about an inch long.

"It's for hygiene — you'll need to read the instructions — carefully," Mother said and pursed her lips, suddenly coy. "Each pack is for daily use. The carton has a month's supply. Take the pill in the morning," she pointed to the smaller central blister in the pack, "and apply the product twice a day." Mother's hitherto unflappable demeanour seemed to be faltering, "It may seem — invasive, at first — but you'll soon get used to it." She placed the pack back in the carton and closed its lid. "I can't recommend it enough. Life is improved greatly. Everyone is using it nowadays — sex or no sex," she concluded and placed the box back in the bag.

I watched almost apprehensively as Mother extracted another item from the bag. It was a thin metal case, similar in size to a cigarette case, a touch thicker but not as wide. Somehow it made me think of detective novels where deadly bullets were forever being stopped by a metal case in someone's pocket.

"This will let you discreetly carry everything in your pocket," she said as she handed the lustrous chrome-plated box to me.

"Thank you," I said, dumbfounded.

Mother got up from the table and picked up her mug. She began to walk out of the kitchen but paused at the doorway and turned back to face me.

"A word of advice Rody," she offered thoughtfully. "At the beginning of a relationship, it's not always easy to share everything about yourself. Secrets seldom belong to only one person. Answering a question may sometimes require betraying another person's confidence. You have to let people tell you about themselves when they are ready. Pushing people away is much easier than drawing them close. Be careful not to overstep."

Was she speaking about Enide, Andra or both? I felt an acute craving for more exactitude but rummaging for detail was the exact opposite of what my mother had just told me. In any event, before I could even consider replying, Mother walked out the door, leaving me alone at the kitchen table.

- - - - - - - -

Not long after Mother left, I dispatched the last dregs from my mug down the sink and tended to the washing-up, then picked up the brown paper bag and climbed the stairs to my room. I tipped the bag's contents onto my bed, then snatched up the big green box, reading the information on the box and the enclosed leaflet with increasing astonishment.

It would seem that Neessajun, used diligently, promised to leave one's most intimate hinterland cleaner than a mountain stream and fresher than a spring meadow. The pill in each blister pack was to be taken daily in the morning. The literature pledged that after a few days of regular use, one would experience a "solid" bowel movement within less than fifteen minutes of swallowing it.

This was, however, only half or rather, a third of the procedure. The two blisters on either side of the pill contained suppositories coated in lubricant. These were not, from the look of things, very large, which was just as well because to achieve the desired levels of internal cleanliness, a person was required to insert one into his rear after the aforementioned pill-induced bowel movement had occurred. The second suppository was intended for use some twelve hours after the first, presumably for additional cleanliness.

As I examined the stylised logo on the box, I vaguely recalled passing large billboards advertising Neessajun here and there. Mother had been right to assume there had been no mention of such things at my old school. The presiding philosophy at Fortunbrae had been one of ruggedness among the elements — to make do without creature comforts. What they would have made of such a product, I can't begin to imagine. It appears previous ways of cleaning oneself were now deemed inadequate. Although these Neessajun-related escapades didn't seem all that comfortable, having a pristine tailpipe certainly was appealing.