Spirits

By Michael Jesse

Chapter 28

Jack went to work a little early Monday morning, because he was eager to see Millie again. If nothing pressing was happening on his beat, he planned to go down to the library to do more building research – and hopefully have some interaction with Millie. The day was already becoming hot and humid, and as he walked to the Morning Star building, he was going over in his head how he would phrase the suggestion that they go to his apartment over the lunch hour to . . . practice.

However, as soon as he got to his desk, his editor told him there was going to be a big announcement later that morning from the Brayton Centre Mall development team. It was embargoed until the 10 a.m. press conference, but the word was that the financial logjam that derailed the project had been overcome – and that work would resume almost immediately.

Jack wasn't the lead reporter on the team, but it was an all-hands-on-deck situation and he was kept busy all day. Naturally, the TV news stations were able to break the story live, and the Morning Star wouldn't be able to report on it until the paper came out in the morning. But TV news couldn't match the depth of coverage a newspaper could provide.

Even though the mall story was the biggest news of the day, the fallout from Sunday's Wilcox expose was also all over the local TV news coverage. It was even making the national news because the Wilcox family was so well-known. In all the hubbub, Jack barely saw Millie all day, except when they were briefly passing each other, both on the way to meetings.

"Practice session at my place after work?" he asked.

"No, my place," she said, barely slowing her stride, "because we might finally get some rain."

He took a few steps beside her. "Okay, but . . . what does that have to do with anything?"

"If it finally rains, I want to experience it," she said, giving him a meaningful smile, "and I can't do that in your apartment." She whirled away and left him standing in the busy hallway feeling both confused and very intrigued.

Near the end of the day, Channel 8 interrupted its regular programming to break the news that Ted Wilcox was resigning from his state senate seat under pressure from his own party's leadership. Shortly after, everyone in the Morning Star newsroom received an email telling them to gather for a meeting outside Max's office.

Max Flemmings was not a tall man, so when moments like this occurred, he would climb up on one of the desks out in the newsroom. Although everyone already knew, Max repeated the news of Wilcox stepping down. He thanked the Special Projects team and led a round of applause for them.

"To all of you," he now said to the crowd of Morning Star staffers assembled around him, "I hope when you go home tonight or go out with your friends away from the paper, I hope you will not boast that the Morning Star 'took down' Teddy Wilcox. We didn't take him down – the facts took him down. Our job was to unearth those facts and present them fairly to the public to make up their own minds. Some folks in this town disagree with the editorials and columns we post on our Editorial and Op/Ed pages – but they know they can trust that what we put in the rest of the paper is unbiased and objective. Whatever their opinions may be of Teddy Wilcox or his family, they know that the facts reported by the Morning Star are accurate and not slanted in any way. All across this great land, journalists are working in news organizations that share our commitment to objectivity and accuracy. That's why we're the Fourth Estate, because Americans trust in our integrity. That's why the Republican Party withdrew its support for one of its most powerful members within 24 hours of reading our report. Political parties, by their nature, are not objective, but they are run by people of integrity for whom the truth matters. So remember, we didn't bring down Teddy Wilcox. The truth did."

At 6:30, Jack was parking in front of Millie's house. He looked up at the sky as he put up the top. The dark and heavy clouds seemed to hang lower in the sky than normal. Millie opened the door wearing another little sundress that he was looking forward to taking off of her. She kissed him and led the way to the kitchen, where she poured them each a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.

"I'm not used to classy wine," he said. "I have strategically kept my palate proletariat because it's more economical that way."

"Should I start buying jugs of Gallo for you? Perhaps a lovely Boone's Farm?"

"No, thank you," he said. "I'll try to get used to the fancy stuff."

"Oops, I need to turn off my sprinkler!" Millie suddenly cried and pushed out the screen door to her backyard. Jack followed. She bent to turn off the water spigot, and he took advantage of the opportunity to look at the backs of her thighs and the shape of her butt, clearly outlined in the sun beneath the thin fabric of her dress."

"I guess you don't trust the weatherman," he said, looking at the dripping flower beds.

"He has lied to me before. And my father always says the best way to make it rain is to water your lawn."

"Ah, the scientific method," Jack said, walking over to a vegetable garden that he hadn't noticed before. He knew nothing of gardening, but it looked neglected and overrun with weeds. "Looks like there's a lot going on over here."

"That's a Three Sisters garden," Millie said. "It's how Native Americans planted their fields. You combine corn and beans and squash, and they have a symbiotic relationship that controls weeds and bugs naturally. The beans wrap their vines around the corn stalk, which gives them height, and the squash spreads out its leaves close to the ground, which prevents weed growth."

"What keeps the insects away?"

"Nothing, but all bugs are present and prey on each other. Some of them still feed on the plants, but their populations don't get out of control like they do when there's only a single crop planted."

Jack looked up at the ponderous, indecisive clouds. "Maybe you should do a rain dance."

"I don't think those work any better than watering your lawn," she said. "But if it ever does rain tonight, you will definitely see me do a rain appreciation dance."

"That sounds promising. Is there nudity involved?"

"You'll just have to wait and see."

She led the way back up onto the porch, and Jack kicked off his sandals at the door because they were now covered in wet grass. " I thought I'd make us homemade pizza," she said. "Well, not entirely homemade. I use pizza crust that comes out of a box."

In the kitchen, she put him to work slicing up mushrooms and olives while she prepared the crust. "Speaking of Native Americans," Millie said, "I read a book recently on their religions. Each tribal nation had slightly different origin stories, of course, but they all had a worshipful reverence for the earth, which unfortunately is missing from Western religions."

"Is there a reason for that?" Jack asked. "Other than us generally being assholes?"

"I think it's because North America was so lush and verdant, so even though there were occasional droughts and floods, for the most part, people felt that Nature would continue to provide for them. But Judeo-Christian theology emerged in a much drier region of the world where it was probably a lot tougher to survive. So when they wrote their origin story, they had to explain why life is hard. So, we got kicked out of the Garden, but the Native Americans didn't."

"I heard that was all Eve's fault."

"Sure, blame it on the woman," Millie said, wiping her hands on a towel and turning on the oven. "I have a different take on that story."

"I'll bet you do," Jack said, laughing. "Lay it on me."

"Eve led her people out of bondage."

"She what?"

"Well, maybe 'bondage' is not the correct word," Millie pondered. "I just like the sound of that. Here's what I mean: Modern-day people go out in the woods and feel that it's so idyllic, but actually being part of Nature can be pretty rough. We just don't notice it because we're visitors. In Nature, there's lots of getting eaten by predators, and freezing in winter, and starving to death when the weather doesn't cooperate, and so on. And that struggle would've been a lot harder on people living in the Middle East compared to North America. So, I think the Adam and Eve story represents the period in human history when people in that part of the world started taking themselves out of the cycle of Nature -- which they had to do because nature was not being kind to them."

Millie spread the tomato sauce on the dough and sprinkled on the various ingredients Jack had chopped up.

"And a big step in the process was agriculture. While the men were still out there throwing spears at animals, the women were figuring out how to plant seeds and grow crops. And that's what I think Eve represents. She's the one who led humanity — at least in that part of the world -- out of their dependence on a very harsh state of Nature."

The pizza was in the oven, and Millie refilled their wine glasses. They went back out on the back porch and sat looking at the sky.

"So Native Americans never had to leave their Garden?" Jack asked. "Until we came along, that is?"

"Right. I don't mean to over-romanticize them because, after all, there were plenty of wars between tribes, and they captured and enslaved each other, and I assume they did other bad things that humans are prone to do. But their relationship with Nature remained positive -- which would make a big difference in how modern people treat the natural environment. Is it a sacred place or a dumping ground?"

They heard the kitchen timer ping and went back inside. Millie took the pizza out of the oven, and soon they were eating at her kitchen table.

"Whoever sliced up these mushrooms did a fine job," Jack said.

"Aw, do you need affirmation?" She reached across the table and patted his head. "I affirm you." The gesture gave Jack a nice look at her underarm, and he reminded himself that very soon he would be kissing that underarm. This thought roused his penis, and it began stretching for room.

"So, she said, "Want to hear my Sentient Earth theory?"

"I would absolutely love to," he said, repositioning himself slightly.

"Okay," she giggled. "It's not really a theory or even a new idea -- just something I've been thinking of."

"C'mon, just tell me. I'll affirm you, if that would help." He held out one hand near her head.

"No need for that," she said, turning up her nose. "I'm self-affirming."

"So, your almost-a-theory is . . ."

"Thought."

"Sorry, your almost-a-thought."

"So, there are cultures, like Native Americans, who worship the Earth and feel they can communicate with it. And we intellectual former Christians think that is nice, but we don't really believe they actually can communicate with the Earth because it's just a big space rock with stuff growing on it. We already decided that our own God can't exist. Why would an Earth God be any different?"

"I'll bet you're going to tell me."

"Well, for starters, the Earth is actually, physically here — as opposed to the other God being out there invisible somewhere. The Earth has a molten core and all kinds of activity going on just under the crust. It has a magnetic field, opposite poles, mass and gravity. It's spinning and hurtling through space, while also getting bombarded with radiation from the sun. So there is a lot going on."

"Okay, I agree." They were both done eating and were carrying their plates back to the kitchen.

"And here we are, these little hominids, and we are amazed by the fact that we have consciousness, but we're not sure how that happened. We just woke up with it one day. And our consciousness is so compelling to us that we can't quite believe it's just a function of our physical brains. The Ancient Greeks got a good look at brains because they hacked at each other with swords. But when they saw blobby gray brains inside each other's skulls, it didn't occur to them that THAT was where thinking and loving took place. They thought it was in their hearts because they felt emotions in their chests."

Caught up in what she was saying, Millie was pacing around her kitchen, which was right across from her bathroom, which had a full-length mirror on the outside of the door.

"I'm betting you're going to bring these two thoughts together," Jack said, intercepting her in front of the mirror and putting his hands on her waist.

"My point," she said, turning away from him but not resisting as he kept his hands lightly on her waist, "is that even today we don't understand how the physical brain produces consciousness." They were facing the mirror now, and his hands were on her belly. "So, we shouldn't be so sure of ourselves about what other physical or cosmic conditions might also produce consciousness." His hands slid upwards to cup her breasts. She wore no bra, and he felt her nipples harden under his fingers. "So . . . so, given all the forces and fields and LIFE going on in and on top of and around the Earth, I would . . . I would posit that it is MORE likely that the Earth is sentient than that the traditional God is."

"I am actually," Jack said, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear, "surprisingly intrigued by that even under these circumstances. I wonder if I might add something to your idea."

"What's that?" her reflection asked him as she leaned her head back against him.

He had by now slid his hands down her sides and gripped the hem of her little dress on both sides. He raised his hands and the dress rose with them until her white panties were exposed, the thin cotton clinging damply to the cleft of her vagina.

"I think your argument would be more compelling without this." He lifted the dress the rest of the way, and she cooperated by raising her arms to let the dress come up over her head. He let it fall to the floor behind him.

"Did it work?" she asked, keeping her hands above her head as he caressed her breasts again.

"It did," he said, pressing his erection gently against her back, "but for it to really work, the panties have to go too." He slipped his thumbs under the waistband and began to push them down over her hips, but she twirled out of his grasp, giggling, and led the way into her bedroom.

Jack wore only a t-shirt, athletic shorts and boxer briefs, so it did not take long for these to come off, along with her panties. They were under the covers, kissing, and he had a fine erection, but he knew they were not going to try intercourse, and that fact took away all of his anxiety. He had never felt so confident. She was kissing him passionately, and he felt the giddy rush of passion too, but he could not entirely lose himself in the moment because he was still aware of what they were doing. At times like this, his internal monologue was like a sportscaster at a golf game quietly describing everything that is happening . . . to someone.

But that was okay. Millie Jenkins was naked in his arms under the bedsheets, and that was enough. His right hand was gliding up and down her leg and hip and back, and he was kissing her neck and breathing into his lungs the intoxicating scent of Millie Jenkins as her magically glowing hair enveloped their heads. If he had to share this moment with his internal golf announcer, so be it.

Then they both heard it — raindrops on her bedroom window. A misty breeze swept over them through the screen. She pushed away from him, her eyes wide and her mouth a circle, and then she scrambled out of bed and ran from the room.

Jack followed, but by the time he got to the doorway, she was flying out the back door. He turned off the kitchen and porch lights and stepped outside. The rain was coming down hard and the clouds were black, but the ambient light of the city was enough for him to see Millie's starkly white body as she jumped and danced in the rain. Flickers of lightning in the distance illuminated her further in a strobe effect. He inched towards her tentatively. As much as he'd imagined women outside naked, it wasn't something he normally did himself. But something else made him hesitate. She was so free and in tune with what was happening. She was a full participant, and he was an observer.

Millie saw him and took his hands, pulling him into a twirling dance, and he finally let himself join in her enthusiasm. Then, she leaped on him before he realized she was going to do so, and they fell together on the grass, kissing. Jack let himself be in the experience as much as he was able, but the golf sportscaster in his head had become a panel discussion – whose members conversed at length about the epic boner he had at this moment, and they whooped and cheered because he was about to have sex with Millie Jenkins outside in the rain! Jack rolled on top of her, his elbows sinking into the soft earth on either side of her head. He was in position, his erection as hard as if it were made of marble. It would be so easy to slip it inside of her right now, and they would have sex the way it should be. Most of the panelists in his head were telling him to do it, to do it right now, that she obviously wanted him to. But one dissenting voice on the panel reminded everyone that Millie specifically said she did not want to do this one thing.

Jack made his decision and started kissing down her wet body to her belly button, then over her little tuft of hair, and then his head was between her legs, his arms wrapped around them and resting on her ribs.

His panelists were still there, but now they were in agreement, all of them cheering him on — because he was going down on Millie Jenkins!

Jack's lips and tongue at once became intimately acquainted with Millie's vagina, paying special attention to her clitoris. He reached his hands up to caress her nipples, and Millie arched her back in the pouring rain, her legs stiffening around his neck. His toes were digging into the soft earth, and his erect penis was rubbing against the grass as he ignored the tiny voice in his head that fretted about poison ivy.

The bolt of lightning came without warning, as bolts of lightning are wont to do, but this one was very close, and the flash illuminated the little back yard as if it were a sunny day. The boom of thunder came almost instantly, and seemed to be just above them.

Millie sat upright and looked at him with an expression that seemed to encompass every nuance of surprise and delight and immersion in the present moment. Then she was on her feet, running back into the house as he followed close behind. In the bedroom, their bodies slapped wetly together as they fell onto the bed.