Chapter Three: Two Weeks in Telluride by Tina Semanas Tiny wisps of snow were tumbling down out of the stainless steel-blue sky. Like miniature acrobats, white flakes playfully circled, danced and dropped in the December air carried in by the thin clouds of an early winter squall. Beck was up surprisingly early, it was 4 or 5 in the morning, she wasn’t quite sure. But she didn’t care...it was nice to be awake alone, lost in your thoughts while the world slept. For the last two weeks it took everything Beck had to play the part of the eager new bride. Athan was easy to deceive, and she knew how to perform to his likes and stir up male lust in order to make him believe. At first, Beck was sure the act would be a hard one to carry out; but with the backdrop of Telluride’s Colorado mountain valley - a wonderland of white crested peaks, forests of green pine, and sloping snow-covered glades - she found herself almost believing the ruse of newlyweds enjoying their honeymoon getaway together. How did Athan know? Did someone tell him about her passion for the fresh mountain air? When Beck was no older than 5 or 6, her male mentor yearly took her and her sister Bert to the ski slopes of Vail, Aspen and as far north as Jackson Hole, Wyoming. And here in Colorado, lost in the magical city of Telluride, Beck felt transported back in time. She became the gullible little girl again - when all the world seemed right. It took all she had not to be swept away in this land of enchantment; she mustn’t let Athan get any part of her heart. Beck always dreamed of living in a place like this, a rustic refuge far away from the demands of a busy, exhausting world. A river stone hearth with crackling fireplace was splashing the bedroom with a soft orange glow, reclining in a solid oak lounger, and a room with a view. Oh what a view! Cupping a warm mug of coffee close to her cheek, Beck let the aroma of the soothing dark drink mingle with the memories of a world she could never hope to get back. How did he know? Athan surprised her...but she must not let on, she knew it was not healthy to allow nostalgia to linger. Those she looked to, her confidants of power, warned her, “Rationality is abandoned when love for another lodges in your heart.” Beck was determined never to allow this to happen. She was too important, too ambitious and far too sensible to be swept away by such primitive passion. These two weeks in Telluride were coming to a close, and it was just as well, she needed to keep her heart locked and bolted shut as well. Beck took a long sip of the steaming liquid as she glanced over at the sleeping man, her husband for one more day. Athan was breathing deep and heavy on the large downy bed centered under the vaulted ceiling of pine. As a dark cloud of guilt passed for one small moment, she grinned knowing he had no idea who she really was. She played her part to perfection, the fawning bride on the outside; but inside, she was a deceptive Dowager of the finest degree. The first question she was asked to consider as she traveled down the pink ribboned road years ago: “What is a man?” It was answered for her in a hundred different ways. She was told by her Duenna that men were not hard to figure out. Every single man was a sexually hungry beast, dangerous when hunting, stupid when satisfied. The cis-male gender was an emotionally stunted animal which made them all relationally weak. Every woman inherently knew this was the chink in their armor, always at the mercy of the craftiness and emotional cunning of the superior gender. Those males who had an extra dose of compassion or expression usually joined the ranks of the genderfluid, non-binary, not stuck in a false narrative of “either-or.” But those who insisted on grasping foolishly to their biology at birth were mentally, genetically, and socially found to be inferior. They were born smaller, so the wisdom of The Sisters determined for them to be treated as such. A virus must be contained. Dowagers like Beck learned early on the fine art of keeping the male under control. Beauty and playful sexuality were the most obvious tools for male manipulation. But the dagger that pierced right to the heart of the beast was a woman’s tears. Every girl learned from toddler years that a single warm drop of water rolling off the cheek was her greatest weapon against a man. Silent but deadly...tears. That is why they must be conserved for important moments. When the man used threats and possible physical force to get his way, a sudden burst of tears could stop him cold. When a smaller woman felt sexually threatened (a crime punishable by death), or her superior station was disrespected, tears turned the tables. But a single salt-water droplet was put to the greatest effect when a man had something a woman wanted. And Athan had money. Brothers, playmates and young male classmates never knew just how powerful the weapon of a tear was. But the superior gender did. Beck was keeping hers hidden, ready to unsheathe after the bridal act was over. But not yet, not today. “Why are you up so early, darling?” Athan quietly questioned as he stretched his arms above his head. The stupor of sleep was still holding heavy on his tone body. Startled, Beck replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Sleep a few more hours, it is still really early.” “Oh, no,” Athan replied, “I have a surprise for our last day and I intended to be up before you to get everything ready. But you beat me, shoot!” “Another surprise? Wasn’t this chalet in the foothills enough? Athan you do too much…” “Nonsense!” He replied, “I wanted to share this with you. I couldn’t be happier - I hope to make this an annual reminder of our wedding date.” Beck bit her bottom lip not wanting to get sucked into a dream she knew that would never be realized. Athan pulled off the fluffy white comforter he was buried beneath and slipped on a robe heading to the desk. Pulling out a silver tablet, with a touch of his index finger Athan turned on a small flat screen. He stared into a soft blue light wearing a boyish grin. “What is it?” Beck asked curiously. “Our reservations are a go! In two hours we have our own helicopter drop into a self-contained canyon full of the best double-blue trails and mogul runs you have ever seen. I thought you would love the challenge? Are you ready? I saved the best day for last!” Beck’s heart jumped, she only was dropped out of the sky to ski fine powder snow once in her life. The experience instantly hooked her to the adrenaline of mountain skiing. She had to ask, “Athan, how did you know? Did Bert tell you?” Beck’s eyes were lit up, she looked 12 years old again, unable to contain her excitement. Smiling, Athan jested, “I have no idea what you are talking about?” “I’m going to kill her for telling you some of my secrets...and give her a big hug as well. I can't believe it!” Beck ran over to Athan and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “First dibs on the shower, and I’m going to show you some real skiing today!” Little did Beck know, a small sliver of her heart was melting. Athan was not as easy to dismiss as she first thought. ------------------------------------------------------ As the girls filed out of the classroom to prepare for their evaluations, Ara sat back down in her seat remaining silent waiting to be readdressed by Duenna Black. When a Deunna wanted to speak with you alone it was wise not to show fear or any shade of impertinence. Best keep your hands folded and mouth shut. The Duennas all loved the power they held over their students, each classroom was their own little kingdom. For a few short years they wielded unchallenged authority balancing each girl’s future in their hands. And Duenna Black was especially thirsty for recognition -- when she smelled fear she pounced, and Ara knew it. So there she sat in stoic silence not giving any ground to her teacher’s fragile ego. After the last girl exited the room, Duenna Black closed the door and locked it. Slowly turning toward Ara she said, “So, do you think you are ready for placement my dear?” “Of course I am, you have prepared us well.” Ara knew a hint of flattery went a long way with Duenna Black. “I see,” the large woman said under scrutinizing eyes. “I understand you are hoping for a ribbon of white? Very few girls are chosen for such an elite honor. What makes you think you deserve it?” Ara took a deep breath to try to calm herself, gaining confidence she boldly professed, “Because I am the smartest and hardest working student in the class and you even told me yourself I had a knack for debate. As The Sisters say, ‘Female fierceness is to be celebrated - - we must stand strong and never allow ourselves to be tread on again.’ So I am standing strong and claiming what I believe is rightfully mine: An invitation to walk the Vitup path.” And standing up, Ara made one final plea, “And did you not just say ‘no wallflowers allowed?’” Duenna Black’s lips grew thin and tight. She was caught off-guard by the strength of the girl standing before her and she knew it was time to lower the unsuspecting boom, “Hmmm, alright if you can do one thing right now for me, I will personally see to it that you get selected for the Vitup roll-call. It’s just one small thing.” Ara quickly responded, falling into her teacher’s trap, “I can and will do whatever you ask!” Duenna Black stood for a long second with arms folded looking straight into Ara’s piercing blue eyes. “O.k. then.” She went back to her desk and pulled out something that was sitting on her chair. It was a gray box with an L. E. D. touch-pad on top. Duenna Black picked it up with both of her hands, walked over to Ara and slammed it down hard on the nearby desk top causing the confused girl to jump. “Tell me, my prize student, what is in this box?” Duenna Black’s eyes were insistent as they remained motionless waiting for an answer. Ara stuttered a response, “Uh, I don’t know.” “Sure you do!” the teacher blasted, “Don’t lie to me Ara! The NWP agent who found this box hiding in the woods of a park near your house did a quick DNA sweep on the latch. Do you know whose name registered matching all three print samples? A 16 year old piece of scum by the name of Drew Dias. Is that not the name of your older brother?” Ara was stunned. Duenna Black continued, “What happened to your confidence? You are a...how did you say it...a fierce female? That’s laughable. If I am not mistaken it sure seems like you have grown a bit timid, weak, pathetic. Here, my dear Ara, is what I want. Turn your sorry excuse for a brother into your neighborhood watch team. Dial them up on my personal alert line on my desk. Tell them that you have evidence that Drew Dias is a law-breaker and needs to have all personal rights and privileges immediately revoked.” Duenna Black turned and paced the front of the room relishing this moment when a subordinate was at her mercy. She continued, “A true candidate that wants to enter the ranks of Vitup will not tolerate community codes from ever being violated. Tell me, what is in the box?” Duenna Black’s breath was hot on Ara’s face demanding a response. “I am not sure what you call it? It is some kind of oblong ball. I know my brother was throwing it around with the neighborhood kids. They didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong.” Ara’s voice lost all its earlier confidence. “What did you say? Not doing anything wrong? Tell me, when did you become the expert in domestic law? Who gave you the right to decide when you can choose to ignore the mandates of The Sisters? When did your sympathy for a foolish male over-ride your good sense?” Duenna Black was livid. “If you do not turn your brother in, I will send you along with your ex-classmate Maggie to enter the ranks of ‘the unspoken’.” Ara never dreamed in a million years that her chance for a life of success, promotion and glory could be snuffed out by the heartless whim of a bitter old Duenna. Her brother’s life in exchange for her future? It was like she was being swallowed up in black hole, no chance for escape. After what felt like an eternity, Ara relented and obeyed. “Duenna Black, what is the number for my community NWP agent?” In cold indifference wearing a wry smile Duenna Black responded, “3244, ask for an agent named Clay.” Ara punched in the number and a skinny mole-faced man on the other end answered, “This is Clay Parker, NWP agent for the local Carmel region. How may I assist you?” --------------------------------------------- Dia noticed a rover with three agents pulled into the driveway each in full riot gear carrying stun sticks. She looked at the clock, it was still early. This couldn’t be good.
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