Kashmira stood frozen, looking at him in disbelief.
Mathias walked over to stand partly behind her. He put his left hand on her left hand holding the cloth, and placed his right arm and hand around her waist. Next he rotated her so that she was facing the table. She didn't resist, but still looked at him in surprise. "Now bend over a bit and put the cloth on the table." She did. Mathias paused for a few seconds – distracted by the aroma of her hair and feel of the flesh of her waist under her blouse.
"Now you wipe all of the bits and pieces over to the edge of the table, but not so far that they'll fall on the floor."
Kashmira looked at him incredulously. He had dared to touch her?
Mathias interpreted her inaction as a sign of ignorance on the proper techniques of wiping a table. Yolanda had taught him how to do this as soon as his nose had risen above the tabletop. That perspective had given him the ideal height to see crumbs that needed to be disappeared.
"Use long sweeps. Like this." Mathias guided Kashmira's hand to the table and began the motion with her. He could feel the muscles of her back contract and relax as she stretched across the table and then straightened.
"You can tell from the moisture on the table if you've missed anything. You should be able to see right now that a whole side of the table hasn't been cleaned yet. You'll have to move over to that side because the table is too big for you to reach all the way across."
Kashmira turned her head and looked up at him. She had a few choice words ready to snap at him, but became distracted by the closeness of his face. She noticed that he wasn't old enough to shave yet, but she detected a lingering smell of whatever soap he had used to wash his face. Then she was being steered again. His right hand on her waist, his left hand on her left hand. If it weren't for the damp washcloth in her hand, they could have been dancing. They managed to make a full circuit of the table without stepping on each other's toes.
"Now you have all the crumbs in one place. You have to move them from the table to the sink." Mathias released his hand from around her waist, and stepped away so that he could guide her right hand to the edge of the table. He had to use both hands to form her hand into a crumb container. He noticed that she had a soft palm but the skin at the tips of her thumb and fingers was hard. He paused in curiosity. Analyzing. Deducing. The palm was soft because she did no work. The hard skin on the fingers baffled him. Then he realized it was from the guitar.
Meanwhile Kashmira was looking down at two strong hands holding her own hand. Soft touches from one hand were almost caressing her palm. Firmer touches from the other hand were stroking her fingertips. Without understanding why she did this, she closed her hand on the fingers touching her palm.
"You'll need a place to hold the crumbs." Mathias gently opened her hand again. "Now you'll brush the crumbs into your palm."
"I have to put that filthy stuff into my hand?"
Reality surfaced. The music screeched to an end. The dance was over. Mathias and Kashmira wouldn't have lasted long on So You Think You Can Dance Year 81. They had flubbed the ending.
"You'll carry it over to the sink and drop it in. Afterwards you'll rinse the crumbs down the drain and you can wash your hands at the same time."
"I don't think so!"
"Here, I'll show you. It's easy." If Mathias was trying to impress her with his proficiency in cleaning tables, he was failing miserably. In Kashmira's world, cleaning is what servants did.
# # # # # # # #
"Do you work for the owner of a big house back where you live?"
"Work?"
"Yes. As a servant. What are your duties?" Normally, Kashmira didn't concern herself with the duties of servants.
"I don't work as a servant. I work as a pilot. I fly a large plane."
"Your family is very poor?"
"No. Why would you say that?"
"In Maasin City, if you work, you are very poor. People who aren't poor have servants to do all their work."
"We aren't poor and we don't have servants. We don't need them. Each of us makes sure that our bedroom is clean and tidy, and we all help with family chores."
"You live in a strange place. Where is it?"
"Far away. In North America."
"I have not heard of that place. Where is North America?"
"It's on the other side of the planet."
"What's a planet?"
"You've seen the full moon, right?"
"Yes, of course."
"The Earth where we live is like the moon, only bigger. It's a globe that turns around in the sky. You live on one side of the globe; I live on the other side."
Kashmira giggled.
"What's so funny?"
"You tell funny stories. Living on a moon. How did you travel from this moon of yours to Maasin City? Did you fly through the air? Like Superman?"
Kashmira was closer to the truth than she knew.
"Do you know about Superman?"
"Everybody knows about Superman."
"Did you see the issue where..."
# # # # # # # #
"Señorita? Señorita?"
They heard the guard calling as they came back into the music room.
"Si."
"Señorita? Tiene hambre?"
"No." Then Kashmira whispered, "He believes I'm in trouble and is asking if I'm hungry."
"Señorita? Está seguro?" [Are you sure?]
"Si. Está bien." Again whispering, "I told him I was alright. He'll relax if I sing."
"Why don't I play some of your music instead?"
Kashmira nodded and curled up in the loveseat with one arm on the armrest, her feet curled underneath her, and her face looking at him. Mathias started up one of her longer songs and sat across from her on the low stool.
...
"That song was very good."
"I could do better. I was short of breath on the ending and didn't finish properly."
"I have a sister who has a very strong singing voice. She could help you."
"Don't start. You know it won't work."
"Yeah. As soon as you showed that you really liked to sing, your father could use that to control you. If you didn't do what he wanted, he'd take away your music room."
"He couldn't do that."
"Why not?"
"The room belongs to the church. So does the machine. He donated it to them. But he can control me in other ways."
"Such as?"
"He could lock me in the house and put guards at the doors to keep me in."
"Why would that be bad?"
"I wouldn't be able to go to church."
"So you miss a couple of weeks."
"You don't understand. I must go to church at least once a week. I have to confess my sins. If I don't confess my sins fully every week, I'll go to Hell when I die."
"Every week seems a little excessive."
"Paterfamilias says that he has to hear a confession from me every week so that he can stop me from learning evil ways from my father."
"And you have been doing that for how long?"
"Every week since I was a little girl. Confessing keeps the evil from accumulating. Paterfamilias pardons my sins and I feel clean again. One time my father wouldn't let me go to church and I told Paterfamilias what he had done in confession the next week. He wouldn't pardon me. He said that I must have disobeyed my father and I should be very sure not to do that again."
"Uh... Kashmira."
"What?"
"Do you trust this paterfamilias?"
"Yes. He's the father of the church's family. Of course I trust him."
"I checked up on some of the people who are around you before I met you. Your teacher, for example. Did you know that she reports back to your father? He pays her for the information."
"Yes, I knew. That's how he learned that I had had sex with my first boyfriend. My teacher caught us in a storeroom. She was very angry with me. My father took Tomás to another city but let him live. He told me that
he'd kill Tomás if I didn't have sex with Pablo. He'd also have to kill Pablo if I didn't have sex with him. I didn't tell Paterfamilias about my sin with Tomás that week because I was sick. I told him the next week and he too was very angry with me for losing my virginity. I won't confess my sin of having sex with Pablo. I don't believe it's a sin because my father is forcing me and I must obey. Pablo didn't want to have sex, but it was that or be killed. Why did you ask me if I trusted Paterfamilias?"
"Because he comes to your home and tells your father what you've confessed. He takes money in exchange."
"You believe that or you know that?"
"I know it." Mathias was on sure grounds with the teacher and priest. One of the drones on the ground floor of the house had recorded the exchange. He wouldn't be able to explain to her why he knew what he did, but he didn't have to. Kashmira had screamed, gagged on the scream, and fled the room.
"Señorita? Señorita?"
Mathias clicked the ON button for the next song and left the room. He was back two seconds later, loaded up a dozen more songs, and left at a run.
# # # # # # # #
Mathias found Kashmira easily enough. He just followed the sounds. Gut wrenching howls of anguish. Kashmira was sitting on the floor in a corner of the kitchen; her feet were drawn up tight to her body and held in place by two arms ending in fists; her head was on her knees. She was weeping convulsions of tears and sobbing moans of anguish.
Mathias knelt in front of her and tried to lift her head with a hand. She resisted. Her breaths were coming in short grunts now. "Aaah. Aaah. Aaah."
Mathias tried to put his arms around her, but she was glommed tight to the wall. He tried once again to lift her head, but she not only resisted but she shook her head violently sideways. Soon her whole body was rocking sideways, and then back and forth. If her head knocked against that wall...
Mathias put one arm under her knees, another arm around her waist and scooped her into his arms and away from the wall. She struggled and kicked so hard that he lost his grip on her legs and dropped her. She landed on both feet and turned inwards, her hands clawing for his face. Mathias bent his head over her shoulder where she couldn't connect and pulled her head gently towards his chest. "It's me. It's me. I'm not your father. I'm not your paterfamilias. It's Mathias. It's Mathias ... " Kashmira pounded her fists on his back in reply.
In time, Kashmira opened her eyes and recognized who was with her and where she was. The pounding stopped. Kashmira closed her eyes again and let out a long, soul-wrenching moan of despair that went on forever. Then, she was vomiting down Mathias' shirt, and after that, shuddering. Mathias held her tight, and without knowing why, he began stroking her hair and telling her, "It'll be OK." Over and over.
# # # # # # # #
"Can you clean it?" Kashmira asked. She was sitting on the counter in the kitchen, a blue and white tablecloth wrapped around her. Mathias was standing at the sink, scrubbing a white blouse that was immersed in soapy water.
"Yah. The first wash took care of most of the mess. This one is to be sure all of it is gone. I'll hang it over the cooking elements on the stove so that it'll dry. Might take a couple of hours."
"The skirt?"
"Not as bad as the blouse. I won't have to wash the whole thing."
Kashmira looked at Mathias, hands busy in the soapy water, his shirt covered in drying vomit. "I will wash your shirt," she declared. "Because of how you helped me."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am sure. I have watched you. It doesn't look difficult. But you'll have to leave the kitchen. I can't keep the tablecloth around my body and wash clothes at the same time."
"If that makes you more comfortable."
"It would be very risky for me if you saw me in my underwear."
"Really?"
"Yes, of course. Men have irresistible urges. They can't help themselves. Women must not act in a way to tempt them."
"Is this what Paterfamilias told you?"
"Yes. Women must protect men from themselves."
"I don't know your religion. For some men, he may be right. Not for me. I've seen my sisters wearing bathing suits. They're like underwear. No big deal. I won't attack you if I see you in your underwear."
"Huh."
...
"I've already sinned by letting you touch me with your hands."
"It was an emergency. You were hyperventilating."
"No. Before that. When you showed me how to wipe a table."
"That kind of touch is a sin?"
"Yes. I must not allow any man to touch me with his hands. Accidental contact, like in a classroom is permissible, but that's all. If I let a man touch me without fighting him off, I have sinned. Did the paterfamilias lie about that too?"
"I don't know your religion. Did it feel like a sin to you when I touched your hand?"
"No."
"So don't worry about it."
"I don't think I can see him again anyway. I would not be able to hide my feelings towards him. Then he'd tell my father that I was hiding something."
"I understand why you would feel that he was a very bad paterfamilias for telling your father what you confessed to him. That was supposed to be secret. But why do you care if your father knew that you had confessed to breaking some dishes, or saying some swear words. Who would care?"
"Are those the kinds of sins that you think I confessed?"
"Yeah, I guess. Those were the kinds of things I did wrong when I was a kid."
"I had to tell Paterfamilias everything about my life. What I did each day that was different or unusual. How I felt towards people in my life. My teachers; my father. I had to tell him when I was feeling angry or happy. He had to know if I was interested in any boys. I even had to tell him when I ... started being a woman. That way, he'd know that I'd be tempted by sexual thoughts and he could make sure that he'd protect me. He knew everything about me. Everything. My every thought; my every feeling."
"He betrayed you."
"Yes. He was my only friend in the world and he was only pretending to care about me."
# # # # # # # #
They had resolved the problem of how Kashmira could wash Mathias' shirt without letting him see her in her underwear. She was standing in her underwear at the sink. Mathias was sitting at the kitchen table wearing the tablecloth over his head.
"Is that all you ever did wrong as a kid? Swear and break dishes?"
"Pretty much. I'm the sixth kid out of eight. That meant that I had two parents plus five older brothers and sisters who kept an eye on me. I managed to escape from all of those eyes when I was 11 and started working as a pilot. I still took my school courses, but did them when I was flying. I was on my own most of the time which I liked."
"How old are you now?"
"Close to 14."
"You've been living on your own since you were 11?"
"Yeah."
"And you've never done anything seriously wrong?"
"It's hard to do something wrong when you live by yourself all the time."
"Don't you miss having people around you? In the Philippines, we have people around us all the time."
"I like it this way. I don't have to pretend to like people."
"You don't like people."
"Most people, no. There are some exceptions."
...
"You've never had to confess to any sins because you're perfect?"
"I'm not perfect. I've done some things that I wished I hadn't. But my family doesn't go to a church that makes us confess."
"You never tell anybody when you've done something wrong?"
"I did once. Something happened and I was very upset. And I thought some things about myself that weren’t true. I told my Granny and she helped me."
"This is the Granny that you would have used to fight the guards?"
"Yeah. Before I was born, an evil man tried to kill my father and mother. He succeeded in poisoning my mother and killing her unborn baby. Wh
en my mother couldn't fight any longer with my father against him, my granny helped my father. She has a big bow and is deadly with it. They won the war, but she was injured and walks with a limp now."
"What happened to the evil man?"
"He's dead now."
"Did he die from an accident?"
"No."
"We have bows and arrows here."
"All of us kids had to learn how to fight with bows. It was a big, long war."
"Are you going to tell me what you did that upset you? I told you that I wasn't a virgin and that I have had sex with two different boys."
# # # # # # # #
Mathias and Kashmira were now back in the music room. They had decided to stay in the music room while Kashmira's clothes were drying over the stove. Mathias' shirt had joined them there. He was sitting on the love seat, bare chested and wearing the tablecloth over his head. The tablecloth had meant that Mathias couldn't see well enough to return to the music room on his own. This time it was Kashmira who lead them out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and around two tricky corners – all of this with one hand firmly on Mathias' waist and the other grasping his elbow. The dance judges would have been impressed.
"OK," Kashmira recapped. "You had been talking about sex with a guy friend and he told you that he would introduce you to a girl that he knew would be friendly."
"Yeah. I didn't know much about sex and my friend had had sex already. He didn't want to explain things to me. It would be better if I met this girl and she'd let me do things with her. He said it was petting."
"I know about petting. It is something that is very dangerous for the girl."
"I didn't know anything. So I met her and she kissed me a few times which I knew about. And I did all right on that. She offered to let me pet her and sat on my lap. My friend never explained what petting was. He did the eyebrow waggle instead. Do you know the eyebrow waggle?"
"Show me?"
Mathias performed the waggle.
"Yes, I know this waggle. Little kids do this when they don't want to say any of the bad words."
"Yeah. So she was sitting on my lap and she had pulled out the bottom of her blouse. But I thought that she was only making herself comfortable."
"It is not pleasing to me to hear about her sitting on a man's lap. She was very stupid."
"I don't know about that. All I knew was she was expecting me to pet her and the only petting that I had ever done was with one of my sister's baby wolves. So I put my hand on her back and petted her like I had petted the baby wolf."
"That's not the kind of petting that boys and girls do."