November 10, 2009

~111~ For A Ride

Filed under: Jamie's Tale — Tags: , , — Alexandra Erin @ 10:19 pm
« « ~110~ Back And Forth ~112~ The Plunge » »

…or, Wagon Tongues

I hurried back outside. Bobby had told me that he’d left Iolana alone out by the wagon. She might have been alone when he’d left, but she wasn’t anymore. The girl—spirit, whatever—with the blue roots had showed up again and was sitting on the front board of the hay wagon.

Iolana was leaning against the vehicle when I approached. She was wearing a flannel shirt that looked like a tent and a pair of denim shorts that she probably could have fit thought one leg of.

“I called crossbow,” the sidhe girl said. “I hope nobody minds.”

She sounded slightly disappointed that neither of us complained. If that was the worst she could do for mischief, Iolana didn’t seem that bad off.

She looked so steamed to begin with, though, I couldn’t say how much her stowaway bugged her.

“Hey,” I said to her. I gave her a smile. I hoped it was reassuring and friendly. I wanted her to think of me as her friend. I wanted to be her friend, but that would depend on what happened next. “You okay?”

She turned and kicked her bare foot at the turf by the wagon wheel.

“Guess that’s a no,” I said. “Anyway, since I brought you here, I offered to help you get back. Just so you know, I don’t think Bobby’s blaming you for the window.”

“He shouldn’t,” Iolana said. “I didn’t break it.”

“I know,” I said. “I just want to make sure you know you’re not being kicked out.”

“Jamie, do you think I’d want to stay at the party of the bitch who started those fucking stories about me?” she asked. “I question Bobby’s judgment and his choice in women, but I am so far from caring about whether he blames me or not.”

“Marlot’s not that bad, you know,” I said.

She snorted.

“Okay, yeah,” I said. “The stories were a little—”

“They weren’t a little anything,” Iolana said. “They were hugely repulsive. They were massively stereotyped. They were immensely unfair.”

“Okay, get all the adverbs out,” I said. “But Marlot is more than this one thing she did.”

“Right, I’m sure she takes care of orphans and puppies,” Iolana said. “And it’s so tragic that she’s being judged for this one thing.”

“Hey, okay, you’re mad,” I said. “For good reasons. The stories did sound kind of racist.”

Sound? Jamie, they are,” Iolana said. “Do you think she would have made up rumors about volcano sacrifices and cannibal feasts about some white guy from Prax?”

“Well, there aren’t any volcanoes in Prax, so, no,” I said. “If anything, I think it’s more cultural or geographic than racial.”

“Oh, do you?” she asked. “Well, I don’t it separates out as neatly as that. And do you think anyone who heard and repeated it cared whether or not we have any active volcanoes, either?”

“I’m not sure anybody actually believed it,” I said. “I mean, I get called ‘treefucker’ sometimes, but that doesn’t mean people actually believe I fuck trees.”

“And that makes it less hurtful or hateful somehow?”

“Well, no,” I admitted. “It doesn’t. I’m just saying that, you know, the actual damage from this is probably not that much.”

“Jamie, are you telling me I shouldn’t care that someone thought nothing of starting and people think nothing of repeating stories that my people practice human sacrifice?” she asked.

“Well, not quite,” I said. “But I think that’s a key point: people weren’t really thinking. It’s not like Marlot set out to slander you or your people. We were playing cards and she was trying to rattle the other guys.”

“And I was a convenient way to do that,” Iolana said.

“Pretty much,” I said. “I’m not saying it’s a great defense—”

“It’s no defense, Jamie,” she said. “It’s bad enough that I have to up with being exotified and eroticized—something I keep thinking you would be sympathetic about—but apparently I also exist for the convenience of anyone who needs a bogeyman.”

“Wait, what do you mean about expecting me to sympathize?” I said. “I mean, I do like you, Iolana, but I’m not sure what you’re complaining about. Guys think you’re hot? That’s generally a good thing”

“They think I’m exotic,” Iolana said.

“That’s a compliment.”

“It’s reductive,” she said. “Even if it were based in truth, it would be saying that I’m not likable for who I am or what I can do, but what I am, where I’m from.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “If somebody thinks you’re exotic, it doesn’t mean they don’t also like you for other reasons. It’s like a bonus on top of everything else.”

“Or a reason not to look at anything else,” she said.

“Maybe for some people, but they’re assholes,” I said. “Why let them get you down?”

“I don’t think I want to have this conversation with you right now,” she said. “You know, I think I’m fine for getting back on my own, thank you.”

“I want to come along anyway,” I said. “I feel responsible—”

“Fine, suit yourself,” she said. She went around to the back of the wagon and climbed in. “Your feelings are what really matter here.”

“You know, I don’t even know what you’re complaining about,” I said, following her up. “I mean, yeah, you’ve got a lot to be legitimately pissed off about, but you’re snipping at every little thing instead.”

“You don’t have to be talking to me, Jamie,” she said. “I told you that I don’t want to have this conversation.” She looked around the bed of the wagon. “Do you know how to make this stupid thing go?”

“Uh, no,” I said. “Maybe I should have asked Bobby.”

The blue-haired girl gave a sharp whistle and the wagon started to move.

“Thank you,” Iolana said.

“Look, the other reason I wanted to ride with you is that I want to apologize,” I said. “For my part in everything.”

“Is your need to apologize more important than whether or not I want to talk about it?” Iolana asked.

“I wouldn’t say that,” I said. I braced myself. “But I think you deserve to know the truth.”

“The truth about what?”

“About my involvement in starting the rumors,” I said.

“Yeah, I already worked out that you were there,” she said. “And what? You egged her on? I’m not really surprised. You don’t seem to think it’s a big deal that people repeated them.”

“I didn’t really expect that. I wasn’t thinking, obviously, and that’s kind of the point.”

“That’d be my point, too, but I’m not sure we’re making the same point.”

“And to be honest, I did more than egg her on,” I said. “I kind of added my own embellishments. Like I said, we were playing cards. A little trash talking is to be expected.”

“You ‘trash talk’ people who aren’t even playing?”

“Not usually, no, but it’s still trash talk. It doesn’t mean anything,” I said. “Look, Iolana, you’ve got reason to be mad—”

“You keep saying that, Jamie,” she said. “I don’t know why you think I need your permission to be angry.”

“I’m not saying you do,” I said. “I’m saying I understand why you are. But I also think you’re conflating a lot of unrelated things and sticking them together to make one thing that’s way bigger than it should be.”

“Jamie, I’m sure you mean well,” she said, though she sounded like she thought otherwise, “but I’m really getting tired of you telling me how I should be feeling. It was patronizing before. It’s getting downright infuriating.”

“I’m not trying to tell you how to feel,” I said. “I’m just trying to give you some perspective.”

“I have a perspective,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“Well, like I said, you’re mixing up things that don’t have anything to do with each other,” I said. “When Marlot started—when we said those things, we weren’t being racist. You were just the topic of conversation. We played on stereotypes, but it’s not like we created them. It’s the world we live in.”

“We make the world we live in, Jamie,” she said. “You don’t have to be such a willing participant in things like that. I mean, do you remember the day we all introduced ourselves, and Marlot stood up and said the most interesting thing about you is that you’re part elven?”

“Yes,” I said.

“How did that make you feel?”

“Annoyed,” I said. “It was annoying.”

“But why?” she said.

“Because I didn’t want to go through college the way I went through high school,” I said. “As ‘the elfblood kid’.”

“Why not? Is there something wrong with being elven?”

“No, but I wanted to see how people would take me as me.”

“But don’t you think you should be able to get that even being ‘the elfblood kid’?” she asked. “And if not, where does that leave me? I can’t hide my ancestry. I can’t pass.”

“What do you have to pass as?” I asked. “You’re human.”

She laughed, but it was more a bark of surprise than anything else.

“What?” I asked.

“Jamie, do you really think it’s as simple as that?” she asked.

“It’s a human world,” I said. “Or at least a human empire. You might not be a citizen—”

“It’s a white empire,” she said.

“Well, yeah, it was founded by white humans,” I said. “But it’s not like even at the worst point in its history for civil rights there was any intra-racism in the laws. All humans have had the same rights under the law.”

She shook her head.

“What, you don’t believe me?” I said.

“I don’t believe you’re that naive,” she said. “Though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I was, too. My cousin was sent to Palatine to be in the choir for the imperial couple’s twentieth anniversary and she came back talking about how awesome it was and how it was way different from when her mom and my mom came here as kids.”

“What was it like then?”

“Horrible,” she said. “Brutal. People said things to them that you wouldn’t believe. To kids. They were six and eight.”

“Just words,” I said. “I’m not saying it’s right, but it’s just words.”

“Words to kids, Jamie,” she said.

“Okay, that’s pretty bad,” I said. “It takes a real jackass to treat kids like that.”

“Or somebody who doesn’t think anything of treating someone with browner skin that way,” she said. “I mean, I would have thought it takes a real jackass to make up stories like you did.”

“Hey, I participated,” I said. “But I didn’t start it.”

“You didn’t stop it,” she said.

“What was I supposed to do? She’s my friend.”

“I’d say the bare minimum is not pitching in,” she said. “But do you really think it would have killed your friendship to call her on that?”

“I don’t think it’s my place to ‘call her’ on things like that,” I said. “She’s an adult.”

“Right, so she’s got no excuse.”

“You have to understand her sense of humor,” I said. “Nothing’s sacred to her.”

“I don’t need to be sacred,” she said. “I’d just prefer people didn’t take hurtful myths and stereotypes and spread them around as ‘jokes’.”

“I agree,” I said. “You’re right. It was wrong, for both of us. Do I at least get points for coming clean?”

“Do you mean am I going to give you credit for eventually telling me you were involved after blaming your friend or your ex-friend or your ex or whatever Marlot is to you now?” Iolana asked. “Am I going to give you nixie points for letting me in on the joke, that you used me as a weapon against her after you and her used me for a punchline?”

“Okay, hey, I’m not defending myself on any of that,” I said. “I suck. I sucked. I’m trying to do the right thing now.”

“Well, how many ‘points’ would you give yourself?” she asked. “Honestly. How much credit do you think you deserve?”

“Okay, maybe I don’t exactly deserve any slack,” I said. “And you certainly don’t owe me anything. But don’t you think it would be a good idea to, you know, recognize that I’m being better than I was? Better than other people might be in the same situation? I’m going to try to do better anyway, but don’t you think people are more likely to improve if they get some kind of encouragement? I mean, it seems pretty basic to me: if people do stuff you like and don’t do stuff you don’t like, be nice to them so they’ll do it some more.”

“But we’re talking about stuff that should be more basic than that,” she said. “Don’t use racial stereotypes. Don’t start nasty rumors about people. Don’t use people as pawns to get back at someone else.”

“I hope you’re not attributing all of that to racism,” I said. “I’m lame, but I’m not that lame.”

“I don’t know if it’d be better or worse if my race was a factor,” Iolana said. “Because if it is, that means I’m singled out and if it isn’t, that means you could treat anyone like that. And anyway, before you say something like that you should remember that your friend Marlot is lame.”

“Well, yeah, I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve her share of—”

“No, I mean she’s lame,” Iolana said. “Physically. Literally. And you’re using it as a pejorative.”

“Hey, that’s not exactly a nice way of putting it,” I said.

“Because people use it as a pejorative,” Iolana said. “When I learned Pax, I only learned the original meaning. When I heard people going around calling each other ‘lame’ and saying ‘that’s so lame’ with so much scorn and derision, I thought that reflected how people here felt about people like Marlot.”

“Yeah, well, words can be tricky,” I said.

“Trickier than you think,” she said. “How do you feel when people say ‘gay’ like that?”

“Well, I’m not actually gay, again, but it does suck because I’m perceived as gay,” I said. “And even if I wasn’t, I like to think I’d still think it’s lame to use ‘gay’ like that. But it’s different. We don’t call people ‘lame’ anymore. I think Marlot would be insulted to know you consider her lame.”

“Because you—not you personally—turned it into an insult,” Iolana said. “So when everyone abandons ‘gay’ because it’s become too insulting, will gay people stop being affected by the implications?”

“You’ve obviously given this more thought than I have,” I said. “Languages are your thing, I guess. That’s cool. I think that maybe there might come a time when ‘gay’ has become nothing but an insult and nobody calls themselves gay anymore, but by that point they won’t be affected by it, no. The time in between is going to kind of suck for people, but that’s why we shouldn’t just give up on the word. And if I knew somebody who used it as an insult and was trying to change, I’d give them credit for it.”

“Well, that’s big of you,” Iolana said.

“What am I supposed to do, hate them forever for making a mistake?” I asked.

“I’m not saying I hate you,” she said. “Though I’m not feeling very fond of you right now, Jamie. The idea that this should be about my feelings towards you, or your feelings, or anything other than simple right and wrong, simple decency, simple respect is kind of bugging me, though.”

“I’m not saying it’s the most important thing,” I said. “I’m saying—”

“Stop,” Iolana said.

“I will,” I said. “I just want to have my say here. I—”

“Stop, Jamie,” Iolana said. “Look around.” I did. The first thing I noticed was that the sidhe girl had vanished. The second thing I noticed were the trees pressing in on the sides of the road. “Does it look like we’re going back to campus?”


Next: Over the woods and through the river.


Discuss this story on the Livejournal community.

« « ~110~ Back And Forth ~112~ The Plunge » »

If you enjoy reading, please consider a financial contribution.


« « ~110~ Back And Forth ~112~ The Plunge » »
Copyright © 2007-2009 Alexandra Erin | Send Feedback To feedback [at] alexandraerin [dot] com | Powered by WordPress