UnWholly (Unwind Dystology 2)

Miracolina notes that this is the first time she’s heard him say “they” instead of “we.”

“I’ve been here for weeks,” she says. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Lev reaches up and flips his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know. It was just bothering me.”

“Soooo . . . you’re going around apologizing to every kid here?”

“No,” Lev admits. “Just you.”

“Why?”

He begins pacing the small room, raising his voice. “Because you’re the only one who’s still angry! Why are you so angry?”

“The only angry person in this room is you,” Miracolina says, with antagonizing calm. “And there are plenty of angry kids here. Why else would your portrait get vandalized?”

“Forget about that!” shouts Lev. “We’re talking about you!”

“If you don’t stop yelling, I’ll have to ask you to leave. In fact, I think I’ll ask you to leave anyway.” She points to the door. “Leave!”

“No.”

So she picks up a hairbrush and throws it at him. It beans him on the head and ricochets to the wall, where it wedges behind the TV.

“Ow!” He grabs his head, grimacing. “That hurt!”

“Good, it was supposed to.”

Lev clenches his fists, growls, then turns like he’s going to storm out, but he doesn’t. Instead he turns back to her, unclenching his fists and holding his palms out to her, pleading like maybe he’s showing off his stigmata. Well, there might be blood on his hands, but it sure isn’t flowing from his palms.

“So is this how it’s going to be?” he asks. “You’re just going to stew and bitch and make things miserable for everyone here? Don’t you want something more out of life?”

“No,” she tells him, “because my life ended on my thirteenth birthday. As far as I’m concerned, from that moment on I was supposed to be a part of other people’s lives. I was fine with that. It’s what I wanted. It’s what I still want. Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

He looks at her for a moment too long, and she tries to imagine him all dressed in white as a tithe. She could like that boy; still pure and untainted. But the kid before her now is a different person.

“Sorry,” she says, not sorry at all. “I guess I failed deprogramming school.” She turns her back to him and waits a few moments, knowing he’s just standing there, then turns again—only to find that he’s not. He has left, closing the door so quietly she didn’t hear.

27 - Lev

Lev sits in on yet another meeting of the tithe rescue staff. He doesn’t know why they include him; Cavenaugh never listens to what he says. These meetings truly make him feel like a mascot, a favorite pet. This time, however, he’s determined to make them listen.

ext encounter with her is the following week, at an Easter dance. Tithes are notoriously inept when it comes to male/female interaction. Knowing that dating and all that goes with it won’t be a part of their limited future, tithes and their families don’t give boy/girl stuff much attention. In fact, it’s downplayed, since it would create the kind of wistful longing that a tithe should not have.

“These kids are all smart as a whip,” Cavenaugh exclaims at the weekly meeting of the tithe rescue staff, “but they have the social skills of six-year-olds.” It’s a fair description of how Lev was on his tithing day as well, and he’s not all that sure he’s come much further. He’s still never been on a date.

There are about twenty staff members, and Lev is the only one under thirty. Each of their faces are filled with concern that’s so long-lived, it seems burned into their expressions. He wonders if their passion comes from their own experiences with unwinding. Did they, like the Admiral, unwind their own child, and come to regret the decision? Was it personal for them, or did their dedication to the cause come from a general disgust with society’s status quo?

“We shall have an Easter dance,” Cavenaugh proclaims from the head of the meeting table, “and encourage our ex-tithes to behave like normal teenagers. Within reason, of course.” Then he singles Lev out. “Lev, can we count on you, as our goodwill ambassador, to join in the festivities?”

Everyone waits for his answer. It bothers him that they’re hanging on his response. “What if I say no?”

Cavenaugh looks at him incredulously. “Why on earth would you? Everyone loves a party!”

“Not really,” Lev points out. “The last parties these kids had were their tithing parties. Do you really want to remind them of that?”

The others around the table mumble to one another, weighing what Lev has said, until Cavenaugh dismisses it. “Tithing parties are farewells,” he says. “Ours will be about new beginnings. I’m counting on you to attend.”

Lev sighs. “Sure.” There is no challenging of ideas in the Cavenaugh mansion when those ideas come from the man who shares the mansion’s name.