Heart of The Trident

Seven ~ Nia

“I’m sorry Cade had to work today. Dr. Rutherford insisted on it. Well, he can be an ass sometimes, but don’t tell him I said that. He’ll freak out and…”

I’m no longer listening, staring at the woman beside me with wide eyes as we walk through the mall.

Catherine. That’s her name, right?

I’ve only just met her. She arrived at Cade’s apartment earlier and he introduced us hastily before hurrying to work. I can barely remember what went on in that introduction but I do remember him saying she’s a doctor, too, and that they’ve been friends for a few years.

She doesn’t look like a doctor, I think as I take in her shoulder-length hair, the tip of some strands curved inwards and the rest curved out. Even their color seems undecided, a cacophony of black, chestnut, copper and burgundy. I wonder which is her natural hair color.

She doesn’t even look like a woman, or rather, she isn’t dressed like one. While I’m wearing a dress, she’s wearing overalls with ripped legs over a gray shirt, a red backpack with several pins and key chains hanging from her shoulders.

Who knew an adult human female could look so…strange?

Then a woman passes us by with purple and pink braids, a spiked collar around her neck and a black outfit - lace gloves, shirt and a tight, leather skirt – and I think that Catherine looks fine.

I glance at my own lemon-colored dress with the ruffled tiers.

Maybe I’m the one who’s a little too plain?

“So, that means you’re stuck with me for today,” Catherine finishes, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind.”

I shake my head. “Not at all.”

If Cade trusts her, so can I.

“Good.” She takes her hand off me. “Anyway, you and I are going to have more fun doing girly stuff.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Girly stuff?”

“You know, the fun things you only get to do with your girlfriends. You do have girlfriends, don’t you?”

I pause, remembering Jessie and Lani. Well, everyone at the orphanage was a friend but those two had the same birthday as me so we all shared a special bond.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. That was insensitive of me.” Catherine grabs my hands. “I forgot they drowned.”

Yes, they did.

“But hey, I’m sure they’re in a better place now.”

I nod. I know they are.

“We didn’t do much, though,” I tell her, pulling my hands away and tucking them back in my pockets as I continue walking slowly. “We just studied, sang, talked.”

“About what?”

“Home.”

We were all just waiting for the day we’d go to the sea, when our lives would have meaning and purpose, when we would be free.

Well, they’re home now.

I glance at Catherine, who’s fallen silent, eyebrows furrowed and fingers tapping on the straps of her backpack as she struggles to find something to say.

“What kind of girly stuff exactly did you want to do?” I ask her.

Slowly, her painted lips curve into a smile as she offers me her hand.

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

--

“There. Doesn’t that look better?”

I stare at the mirror Catherine is holding in front of my face, which shows my slightly parted lips painted a glimmer of coral pink.

Undersea Ballerina, I think that’s what it’s called.

It’s perfect for me, I guess, only I don’t really understand what the point is.

“It feels weird,” I confess.

“It does at the beginning,” Catherine agrees. “It’s like wearing new shoes. At first, you’re completely conscious of having them on and you don’t want to get them dirty or cracked but then, you get used to them. You get comfortable and then the next thing you know, you’re not even aware you’re wearing them. And then you can’t leave the house without them.”

I glance at my recently bought shoes, not really understanding what Catherine means. Personally, I prefer to go barefoot.

“Catherine, it looks nice and all,” I tell her. “But I’m not sure I need it.”

Catherine chuckles. “You’re not going to make me explain the benefits of lipstick, are you?”

I say nothing.

She sets down the mirror. “Well, for one, most lipsticks have moisturizers so they keep your lips moist and soft. This particular one…” She picks up the tube I just tried. “Says Moisture Lock so it will definitely keep your lips moist. It also says waterproof so it won’t easily wash away and it’s even made of all-natural ingredients. Really, it’s a keeper.”

“Maybe, but…”

“I know, you’re still not convinced you need a lipstick,” she interrupts, squeezing my shoulder. “But most women don’t get a lipstick because they need it. Well, not in a life-or-death necessity sort of way. We wear lipstick because it makes us feel more feminine and more beautiful and happier. Plus, let’s face it. It makes men want to kiss us more, or at least, that’s what we’d like to think.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Lipstick draws a man’s attention to our lips,” Catherine explains. “And sometimes, they just can’t help themselves so they end up getting a taste.”

“Why don’t they just wear lipstick then?”

Catherine laughs. “Because that is neither fun nor sexy. They want to wipe the lipstick off our lips with theirs. It’s like taking our clothes off but of course, not as bold.”

My eyes grow wide. “They want to take our clothes off?”

She gives another chuckle, then pats me on the shoulder. “Oh, dear innocent Nia. I hate to burst your bubble but yes, most men want to take our clothes off.”

“Why?”

“Because they want to see what’s underneath.” She turns around. “Miss, we’ll take two of this, please.”

As she goes to pay for them, I pick up the mirror, staring at my reflection again. Does that mean Cade wants to take my clothes off, too? But last time, when he saw me without clothes in the tub, he was so angry. He didn’t even want to look at me.

On the other hand, he couldn’t take his eyes off me when I was wearing that aquamarine dress, just the memory of that look making my heart pound.

“Here you go.” Catherine returns to my side.

I put the mirror down.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asks.

I turn to her with a puzzled look. “Catherine, why do men want to see what’s beneath our clothes?”

Her eyes grow wide then she leans in my ear. “Well, because they want to have…sex, you know.”

“s*x?” I ask.

She holds a finger to her lips then quickly glances around.

“What is s*x?” I ask in a whisper.

Catherine grins, scratching her head. “I should’ve known you didn’t know. And boy, you think that after four years of being a doctor, I wouldn’t have a hard time answering questions about human bodies, but you’ve got me all flustered here.”

I say nothing, waiting for her explanation.

She sighs, placing her arm around me as we walk out of the shop. “Let’s just say it’s how babies are made.”

“But how are babies are made?”

She pats my back. “Yup. I knew that was coming. How old are you again?”

“Twenty-two.”

“And no one told you at the orphanage?”

I shake my head.

“Oh, right. It’s because nuns ran the orphanage. Well, anyway…” She takes a deep breath. “Babies are made when a sperm cell and the egg cell fuse together. At that moment, they become a single cell, a zygote, which then grows and…”

“How do the cells meet?” I interrupt, consumed with curiosity.

“Well, sperm cells come from a man and the egg cell is in a woman’s body so a man’s body and a woman’s body have to be, er, joined in order for…”

“Joined how?”

Catherine stops, exhaling. “You know, maybe we should talk about it some other time.”

“That’s what Cade said, too.”

She turns to me in surprise. “You asked him?”

I shrug. “I was just curious.”

“And what did he say?”

“That he’ll tell me after I learn how to use the microwave.”

“Okay.” She continues walking. “Tell you what, how about when you know how to use a microwave already or rather, after you’ve successfully cooked something in the microwave, you give me a call and we’ll have another talk, okay?”

“Okay.”

I don’t really understand why they can’t tell me now or why Catherine and Cade’s cheeks turn red when they talk about how babies are made but I guess I’ll wait. Maybe that will give me something to look forward to, which I don’t really have right now.

“Come on.” Catherine grabs my hand. “I know just what we’re going to do next.”

--

“Mmm,” Catherine lets out a moan as she sits back on the couch, her feet soaked in a tiny tub with foaming bubbles. “This is heavenly.”

It is? I glance at my own tub, the bubbles almost spilling over.

It’s refreshing, yes. I love how my feet feel in the water. But I also wish I didn’t feel like stepping on needles or stones.

“You’re not going to tell me that men like to look at our feet, do you?” I ask her.

Catherine turns to me with a laugh. “You’re funny. Cade didn’t say you were funny.”

My eyebrows crease. “What did he say about me?”

She shrugs. “Only that he can’t seem to resist you.”

I blink. What is that supposed to mean?

“You’re like his Kryptonite.”

“Kryptonite?”

“His weakness,” Catherine explains.

My eyebrows shoot up. “And I’m supposed to be happy that I’m Cade’s weakness?”

“Women usually want men who are strong and good at everything but weak in the knees when it comes to them, only to them. And maybe to their kids.”

Now, I feel even more confused. Catherine makes men sound like they’re an entirely different species of humans.

“Mmm,” Catherine distracts me with another moan as her eyelids fall shut. “This is really so good but I think I should shut up now or someone might think I’m having an orgasm.”

“What’s an or--?”

Catherine holds a finger up to silence me. “We’ll talk about that when we talk about the other thing, okay?”

“Okay.” I sit back in my chair, hugging the purple pillow to my chest.

“What about me?” Catherine asks. “Does Cade say anything about me?”

“He said you’re friends,” I answer.

“Of course.”

“How long have you been friends?”

“I’ve known him for five years now. We’ve been friends for, say, four years and ten months.”

“Wow. The two of you must get along so well.”

“On the contrary, we argue a lot,” she says. “He’s stubborn, after all. Sometimes, he doesn’t know his limits so he pushes himself too much. He’s smart but sometimes, he can be stupid, too. He cares too much. And he used to like R. Kelly, who I just can’t stand.”

“And he can be bossy,” I pitch in. “Also, he thinks highly of himself.”

“Oh, you bet.” Catherine nods. “But he does have some good points, too, like the fact that he’s really smart and really good at what he does and that he cares too much.”

“And he looks good,” I blurt out without thinking.

Catherine chuckles. “Yeah. He does, doesn’t he?”

I fall silent, blushing. What on earth am I saying?

“Hey, Nia, what do you think of Cade?” Catherine suddenly asks in a serious tone.

I throw her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“Do you like Cade?”

I shrug. “He’s a good man.”

“He is,” Catherine agrees. “Don’t you forget.”

I raise my eyebrows. Once again, Catherine isn’t making any sense.

“You know, it’s funny because I thought I wouldn’t like you but I do. I really do. There’s not a fake or mean bone in your body.” She reaches for my hand, squeezing it. “So I’ll support you just like Julia Roberts supported Cameron Diaz at the end of ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’.”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry but I don’t understand. Who’s Julia Roberts?”

Catherine gasps. “You don’t know? Wait. Don’t tell me you’ve never watched a movie.”

I shake my head again.

She gives my hand another squeeze. “Don’t worry. As soon as our feet are dry, that’s what we’ll do.”

--

“I can’t believe she died.” Catherine blows her nose into a piece of tissue paper. “I totally didn’t see that coming.”

I say nothing. I don’t really know what to say so I simply pat her shoulder.

Who knew Catherine was a crybaby? Now, I didn’t see that coming.

She turns to me, sniffing. “And I can’t believe you didn’t shed a single tear.”

I shrug. “I don’t really cry.”

Catherine’s eyes grow wide. “Let me get this straight. You’ve never cried?”

“Never.” I can’t even if I want to.

“What do you do, then, if you’re very sad?”

“I sing,” I answer.

Suddenly, Catherine stops, her eyes on the empty stage in front of us.

“Well, then sing,” she says.

“What?”

“You said you like to sing.” She hauls me to the stage. “So sing. I, for one, would like to hear it.”

“Catherine, I…”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she speaks into the microphone. “I give you Nia.”

She applauds as she steps aside, a few other people clapping with her.

Looking at their expectant faces, I sigh.

Oh, well. I guess I have no choice.

Stepping in front of the mic, I hold it with both hands. Then I close my eyes, take a deep breath, open my mouth and sing.