{"id":3536,"date":"2016-02-03T19:26:27","date_gmt":"2016-02-04T02:26:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/?p=3536"},"modified":"2016-02-03T19:33:35","modified_gmt":"2016-02-04T02:33:35","slug":"fiction-how-to-fix-men","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/?p=3536","title":{"rendered":"Fiction: “How to Fix Men”"},"content":{"rendered":"

This…came out in a single afternoon, and it’s flawed enough that I will never bother to submit it for publication, but still there’s something<\/em> there that compelled me to write it in the first place. It felt weird because it’s such<\/strong> broad allegory (and allegory is not my bag at all) but I didn’t actually know how it was going to end until I got there and wrote it.<\/p>\n

Obviously it has a lot to do with being a mother to three boys. In this story there are four blessings, for three sons.<\/em><\/p>\n

How to Fix Men<\/h4>\n

\u201cAnd why haven\u2019t we done it sooner? I mean, that\u2019s the question, right? The thing that we\u2019re all not saying.\u201d Lorelei picked at the label of her beer and splashed her fish-tail in the gutter. She was blond and plump and gorgeous, though she didn\u2019t know it: her breasts were still taut with the firmness of youth, completely overflowing those two scallop shells she insisted on using for a bra. The effect was devastatingly sexy, but it embarrassed her, so the others didn\u2019t mention it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think this topic should be off-limits,\u201d said Moira, the moderator, carefully: \u201cbut we have to be careful to avoid victim-blaming and derailment.\u201d She said this without looking up from her knitting, which in this context constituted a move as blatantly aggressive as a knife between the teeth would\u2019ve been for the sirens. Moira was the head bitch in charge.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m just saying,\u201d said Lorelei. \u201cThe historical subjugation of women could not have happened in the face of an organized and spirited resistance. We\u2019re a little more than half of the population, and we\u2019re their moms<\/em>. Boys adore their moms, they get tattoos about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Moira dropped, or perled, or did whatever it was she was doing. The finished end of her scarf (was it a scarf?) trailed in the gurgling run-off of the street, growing increasingly darkened and tattered. Her skein of yarn twisted down the block and disappeared around the corner. \u201cDo we have a talking stick this time?\u201d she asked mildly. \u201cIf there\u2019s a talking stick, somebody pass it to Kore.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKore doesn\u2019t talk,\u201d said Orlando tartly. She was the third woman, tall and rangy. \u201cYou\u2019ve got me, kiddo. You\u2019ve always had me.\u201d<\/p>\n

The other third woman (she would have been the fourth, except that mythic numbers of women are never allowed to cluster in groups of more than three) said: \u201cI\u2019ll talk.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lorelei stopped a twig with the trailing end of one of her fins, and handed it to the other third woman. Her fingers were made of shadow and her bones of cold wanting.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t say no,\u201d the shadow-girl said, spinning the twig around her bony fingers like a cheerleader\u2019s baton. \u201cI didn\u2019t realize I had to. I thought that he would look at me\u2014stiff a board, silent as a shadow, crying a little bit\u2014and he would have cared. But he never even looked. He says he did but he didn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s Eurydice,\u201d said Moira, not unkindly. \u201cYou\u2019re Kore today.\u201d<\/p>\n

The shadow-girl sniffed. \u201cSorry,\u201d she said. \u201cThere\u2019s too many of me sometimes. I can\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you sure Kore didn\u2019t want to be carried away?\u201d Lorelei said, and then hastily added\u2014because the others were glaring death\u2014\u201cI mean, I believe you. I do! I just thought, sometimes, the leather biker-type, you know. I wouldn\u2019t mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou would,\u201d said Kore, her chrysanthemum eyes shedding petals, \u201cif you were just all seized up and scared and waiting for him to notice, and he never did and then it was over. You might pretend for a while that you didn\u2019t mind, but you would. It does a number on you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Moira looked up. \u201cWhy?\u201d she said mildly. \u201cWhy should it matter so much? More than a skinned knee or any of the other crappy things that happen to us all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause you feel like you were never even a person to him. Nothing more than a shadow. Maybe nothing more than that to anybody.\u201d Kore turned the twig over in her white-bone fingers, then held it out. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. I\u2019m done. I don\u2019t want this anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

After a long moment Orlando took it, and they all tried to hide their sighs of relief.<\/p>\n

\u201cMoira\u2019s right, though,\u201d she said in her husky voice. \u201cThere\u2019s a lot of ways of being hurt by other people.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd we still want men,\u201d said Lorelei, anxiously. \u201cRight? We\u2019re not talking about just\u2026\u201d She trailed off.<\/p>\n

\u201cA clean slate? No,\u201d Moira said without dropping a stitch. \u201cNo such thing. Women come from men, men come from women. Women are men sometimes, right, Orlando?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA person is what a person says they are.\u201d Orlando\u2019s voice was nothing but spun-sugar, and Moira looked discomfited. \u201cI could tell you. I could tell you, but you wouldn\u2019t hear.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo how do we fix them?\u201d said Lorelei. \u201cThere\u2019s got to be a way.\u201d<\/p>\n

Moira gave a twist of her needles, pulling her knitting out of the sewage. It dripped darkly onto her knees. \u201cMake a wish,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

They were all silent, for a moment, as the gutter-river ran on. Then Lorelei pulled out a single iridescent scale and placed it delicately on the dripping fibrous pile. \u201cBe brave,\u201d she said. \u201cAsk for what you want. Protect those you love. Be manly and be brave.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kore leaned over and let her grave-breath stir the knitted mass. \u201cBe wise,\u201d she said. A single chrysanthemum petal fell from her skull, like a tear. \u201cListen in the silence. Look into the dark. Be manly and be wise.\u201d<\/p>\n

Orlando laid a long, lacquered fingernail on the pile. \u201cBe kind,\u201d she said, her voice deep and rich. \u201cYou are not lessened by difference, you are not threatened by change. Be manly and be kind.\u201d When she pulled back, a flake of color remained.<\/p>\n

And at that Moira gathered the whole ball up, twisting and wringing out the dirty water. \u201cBe afraid,\u201d she said briskly, \u201cor I will come back and consume your hearts on the battlefield. You have been coddled too long. Be manly and be afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMoira<\/em>,\u201d the others said, reproachfully and almost in sync. <\/p>\n

But Moira merely handed over the thing they’d made to Lorelei–and the gutter mermaid accepted the whole sodden, trailing mess with open arms, pressing it to her shell-clad bosom. \u201cBeautiful one,\u201d said Moira. \u201cAll of our hopes go in your hands. Make them worthy of you.\u201d <\/p>\n

Lorelei smiled, exposing row upon row of shark-white teeth. \u201cI will,\u201d she said. \u201cI always have.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This…came out in a single afternoon, and it’s flawed enough that I will never bother to submit it for publication, but still there’s something there that compelled me to write it in the first place. It felt weird because it’s such broad allegory (and allegory is not my bag at all) but I didn’t actually […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[19],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3536"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/6"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3536"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3536\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3543,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3536\/revisions\/3543"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3536"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3536"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/shannon.users.sonic.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3536"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}