Ch. 14
Inheritance
The rest of Tuesday passed mostly uneventfully. Darren and Haley had come down from upstairs and, with a few kind words from Donna, went back home so we could be alone.
I know you're probably wondering where all my high and mighty morals about how innocent people were getting used had gone. As I've said, in Donna's presence, the only thing that mattered was she and I. At least they really weren't being hurt. Exploited, but not hurt. And there was no question that they were enjoying the exploitation part, but how real was it? All those who Donna had exploited had very much enjoyed it and, wrong or right, so did I.
You may also be wondering if her comparison of humans to dogs had escaped me, especially considering her feelings towards dogs. It didn't but, whether or not the comparison was accurate, the things she'd said had all been true. I'd wanted to do what I saw as God's work in a world where the last thing that anybody cared about was God. Even most Christians could be described the way that she'd described people. Even I could have been described in that way- as I've noted, I certainly wasn't innocent of ambition. A lot of the things my parents tried to tell me about the Army had gone in one ear and straight out the other. Once in private, I would even grin, rolling my eyes at some of their claims and accusations. I didn't want to believe them, I only wanted to make Major before I was thirty. I'd refused to really listen because that personal status goal was more important than truth, more important than my desire to do the Lord's work. I'd been a perfect example of all that was wrong with the Salvation Army and, ironically, it had nothing to do with the fact that I was a slut.
By the time Wednesday rolled around, I realized that I no longer had any real interest in the Mission. I put up the promotional pictures, more for something to do than for any other reason, but I had no more concern for fixing the place up, certainly no interest in painting the exterior. That seemed like a hell of a lot of work for nothing. After all, the only thing the Mission had been used for was, as Candace Caraway had put it, 'a den of iniquity'.
By noon, Donna and I were both sitting outside in the backyard, under one of the shade trees where we'd placed the white plastic patio furniture that Margie had 'donated'. She was wearing a very short pair of black cotton and Lycra shorts with a lightweight, deep red halter top. The fact that she wasn't wearing a bra was quite obvious, and I was fine with that. In fact, I was wearing my non-regulation uniform as I thought about my life.
What was I doing there at the Mission anyway?
How much longer would I even be in uniform?
"Something on your mind?" Seraphine asked.
" ... You once told me that none of this meant anything and that the Mission is only here for appearances. Did the Major himself tell you that? I mean, did you influence him and...?"
"He alluded to it, but he didn't have to. The Salvation Army has been all about appearances for a long time."
"And... they really don't care about me? Because of my parents?"
"Sweetie pie... I don't want to influence your thinking here, if you'll excuse the expression. These are things that you should best figure out for yourself because that's how people
start
thinking for themselves. Me telling you the way things are only makes it my reality, not yours."
"How am I supposed to do that?" I asked. "It's not like he'll offer up the information for my asking nicely."
"Have some faith in yourself," she suggested. "Instead of waiting around for your believed version of God to move in your life, have some faith in your own instincts and abilities, and make your own moves. You'd be surprised how far you'll get, how things start to improve and how much happier you'll be when you realize that you're to be credited for the outcome, rather than having waited around for
God
to show you the way. People who do that only wait for enough outside influence to convince themselves of what they want to do, or think they ought to do. They credit God for the successes, but blame themselves for the failures. Pretty good deal for God, huh?"
I shrugged, passing a thin smile.
"I know it's hard to make transitions in life," Donna said.
Taking a sip from my screwdriver, I only nodded in reply.
"I also know you're a little depressed right now because of it, but you'll be okay. I promise you. In the meantime... maybe you just need a little diversion."
"A diversion?"
"Yes. Something to take your mind off things. Would you like me to give you one?" she asked with her devilish grin and darting flecks of green in her eyes. "Liven things up a bit?"
"You're asking this time, huh?" I teased.
"Yes. I want you to agree. In fact, I want you to ask me to liven things up for you." she teased back.
"Sounds more like a dare."
"If you prefer."
" ... Alright," I dared. "Liven things up for me."
"That's not asking."
"Donna, will you
please
liven things up for me?"
She fixed me with a naughty grin, paused in thought for about five seconds, then said, "Go down to Fifth Avenue and sell yourself."
That had to sink in for a moment.
"You mean...?"
"That's exactly what I mean. And do it in your uniform."
"Donna!" I exclaimed, but with a growing smile as the idea began to somehow appeal to me just a little bit.
"You'll have fun," she told me.
"Prostitute myself?!"
"Absolutely."
"No!"
"It would be so hot if you did, though."
"You're insane!," I laughed, the vodka getting to me a little.
"Make yourself a few bucks the good old fashioned way," she leered.
"Oh sure, what if I caught something?"
"Have you ever so much as caught a cold in your life?"
"No, actually."
"You won't catch anything."
"That's not the point!" I defended, vaguely wondering at the reference to my good health and what connection it had to her.
"I guarantee you'll love it," she laughed, "and I'm pretty sure you know you will too."
"That's prepost-!"
"And I'll reward you if you do," she offered.
"Geez, I keep telling you I need to
stop
doing this stuff! ... What kind of reward?"
"A big reward."
"What?" I practically whined, wondering if this was blowback for all my insistent questions.
"It'll be a surprise."
" ... You want me to prostitute myself for a mystery surprise reward?"
"A
big
mystery surprise reward," she corrected.
"Well, maybe I can have some kinda
hint?"