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“Sometime will you tell me what happened with you and Tasia?” I ask.
“Sure. Perhaps I’ll write you a story to publish side by side with yours.”
I laugh, because we both know she’s a horrible writer.
A tap at the door and someone enters.
“You’re needed downstairs now, Samantha,” Miriam says, striding to the bed, almost as if this is a reprimand.
“We got distracted,” Peach says.
“There’s no time for that. Go now.”
I see Peach is reluctant, but she gets up, tosses Tasia’s shawl over her arm, and moves toward the door saying goodbye to me with a little wave of her hand.
“And you, Cassidy,” Miriam says, “you need to go down to the beach; you can see we have a perfect day for the festivities. The night should be even better when the moon is full.”
“I don’t understand what’s happening here,” I say exasperated. She helps me to my feet, the dress feeling all the more weighty as I try to rise.
“You look lovely,” she exclaims. “There’s nothing inexplicable going on here. Your imagination is running away with you again. This is a place of freedom, nothing more than a place to explore your vivid fantasies. Don’t make it out to be more than that. Let yourself enjoy these summer days. It’s never going to be like this again.” She fiddles with the dress, making sure each layer is exactly as it should be. Her soft hands and mellow voice soothe me, though not as much as Peach’s. I wonder though, at this fussing over me; it leaves me worried.
“There’s more to this than you’re telling me. I feel as if I’m getting only half of the story.”
“I don’t know the rest of your story, Cassidy, but I know that there’s no point in hiding from yourself. I told you that before. Now, you look ready for the night!” she says, turning me around, and pushing me almost proudly to the door.
I exit the house and walk towards the beach alone on the impetus Miriam gives me, and with the single thought that this episode in my life is nearly over. Peach and I will be going home soon, and even the thought of LA is not so vile to me now.
To my amazement, the scene at the beach instantly captivates me. It’s obvious that this is a special celebration, a feast of women expressing themselves in ways that are rare in the crazy world we live in. Where the women have been wearing unusual garments all week, there’s a very primitive elegance in the costumes now, and a clear sign that this will be an extraordinary night. Not nearly dark yet, there are at least a dozen women arranging an elaborate feast. Luau style tables are laid out in a semi-circle. They’re already laden with fresh fruit and vegetables, kept cool on ice. There’s an open pit barbecue with chicken cooking, and fish ready to be grilled when the time arrives. An oriental woman adjusts a steamer to cook a large dish of white rice over the open fire.
The women move in a productive union, busying themselves with preparations that evoke a sensuous quality to the very air around us. Ocean breezes ruffle skirts and make napkins fly, but there’s nothing that disturbs the sense of tranquil peace that pervades this private stretch of ocean.
I help two smiling, humming women adjust five foot torches deep into the sand. They’ve made a ring of them outside the circle where we’ll sit for the spectacle.
I feel part of this, and well removed at the same time, thinking that Miriam’s advice to relax and enjoy is likely wise.
When I finish with the torches, I swish Tasia’s beaded skirt down the beach to a rocky cove. I still feel the little twinges at my thighs where the thorns of her dress attack me, though by now they’ve become gentle friends, reminders that as sweet as the gathering may appear, there’s a darker side to this night that I’m sure will take place.
I find the cave at the end of the beach is not vacant as I’d hoped. A little private reverie was all I sought, but instead I’m faced with three women, two of them assaulting a younger woman with a scourge as the woman writhes against a rock. I watch transfixed, as if this is a pornographic movie taking place for my benefit, or some hallucination that Miriam has concocted as a reminder. Oddly, this is the first incidence of S&M that I’ve known to take place amongst these women. I realize how I’ve put myself in a world apart from them, when in fact, they all may be as wildly savage as I’ve been with Analise, and Tasia has been with Peach.
Their play arouses me, reminding me of a dull ache deep inside my belly, something I noticed days ago, that has only gotten worse each hour. I’ve presumed my need was Peach, but I begin to believe that my presumption was wrong.
I’ll face it when it comes, I
think to myself. I can’t rush these things, it will all happen in good time.
When I rejoin the other women, I feel their smiles inside me. I’m swept up in their lighthearted mood. This fest seems little more than an extravagant picnic. It feels as if I’m coming out of a strange dream, returning to the real world. These women seem so normal to me.
I note that Analise is not here. I half expected her waif-like form to be writhing before the fire tonight. Tasia is also absent. Peach and Miriam arrive together with smiles on, as if they are now lovers.
The sun is beginning to sink low into the sky and the feast is about to start. As the sun sets, the bonfire rises, lighting the sky with another kind of hue, that’s more reminiscent of the way I feel about this place… the darker side rising, looming amid the smoke and flames.
The dancing begins and then the rites of initiation. I know nothing of this except it seems to be a welcoming rite, where each bare-chested woman participating has some handmade necklace blessed by Miriam or some other female mentor and placed proudly about her neck. The participants dance as I have seen them dance before, but rather than some free for all as I’ve witnessed on other nights, there’s more pageantry about this one. I find watching remarkable, as the dark beauty of the hour rises all around, and each woman accepts it as a cherished part of her substantial nature.
“Cassidy.” I hear Miriam call my name. Above the music, laughter and the steady beat of drums, she calls to me.
When I rise to greet her by the fire, she has no necklace for me.
“You’ve already taken your identity from Anastasia’s wardrobe. And so it should be, since you’re her chosen this year.”
