Week 14

October 6

Tonight I had another date with Hon. He took me to dinner on a big boat called a yacht. We ate to the sun setting over the ocean. Summer doesn’t have that many oceans, but this one is big, and stunning. In Winter, most of our bodies of water are frozen, so there are always icecaps and frosted mountains in the background. It was almost ethereal to watch the sunset turn the golden hills pink and purple. Many things in Summer are like being at home, and many are different, but this scene really struck me that I am on another planet. The landscape is so different from anything I’m accustomed to. 

I love the ocean at home, too. It’s huge and vast and intimidating, like all good Winterians. But it’s cold and lonely and uninviting (also like all good Winterians). I wanted to step off of the boat and wade knee-deep in sunset waters. I’m certain that I’ve seen enchanting sights in my lifetime, but I can not for the life of me, recall one equally spectacular. There’s something different about a strange beauty, than one that we’re accustomed to.

I forgot how to speak or eat for about an hour, and when the invisible sun stopped sparkling against the pink and orange sky, I realized that I was being incredibly rude to Hon. He didn’t seem to mind. Something that I like about Summerians is their ability to spend hours in complete silence. It’s a talent that can be used a punishment as well as a reward, but in this case, the silence was a happy mutuality. I think he actually enjoyed the view as much as I did, though he managed to finish his meal.

After the most stunning part of the sunset was over, Hon took me inside, where he introduced me to roulette. Roulette is a game that would never be found in Winter. Actually, none of the games seemed like they would appeal to Winterians, but I didn’t get a chance to observe most of them. Roulette is a game in which there is a wheel with different numbers, not in order, and small barriers between each number. The wheel spins as a metal marble bounces between the numbers, and we’re supposed to guess which number the metal ball will land on.

I thought at first that I must be missing some strategic part of the game, but I wasn’t. You’re just supposed to guess and hope that you’re right. You actually be real money on the outcome. It must be the silliest waste of money in the world. People did win, but they were in the minority, and, I don’t know -- unless you’re practicing your telepathy, I just can not imagine a practical use for the game. Hon wasn’t able to come up with one either, but he didn’t seem to mind betting. I thought it was funny that a man who made certain to catch every downward trend in prices during our mall date, would find it fun to spend money on -- nothing.

I shared this thought with Hon who laughed, and after an hour or so of betting and letting me bet, steered me toward the deck of the ship, where the darkened sky had become respectably speckled with stars, considering how close we were to a major city.  A euphony of muffled shouts and squeals of hedonistic delight faded behind us as we walked along the railing. “You’re not really buying ‘nothing’”, he told me, as we came to a halt near the bow of the ship. “You’re buying a chance -- it’s an exhilarating feeling. Didn’t you feel like that when you started your own business?”

The question took me aback, since I wasn’t Danae and had never even moved out of my parents’ home, let alone started my own business. The deck at the bow was momentary home to several couples who were swaying to real guitars being strummed by masked musicians in capes and hats. Other couples leaned against the railing, facing the wind created by the movement of the boat through the water. “I guess,” I said, finally, thinking about his question. I rested my hands on the nearby railing, and tried to pick out the reflections of stars in the water. “Starting a business may be a gamble, to a certain degree, but I was -- we were both talented and intelligent and working toward a larger purpose.”

“Yes,” Hon said with a chuckle, “But the exhilarating part was taking a chance -- throwing everything you had, out there into Fate’s hands, and letting her decide whether your talent and intelligence would be enough. There are plenty of businesses that fail, but part of the fun was taking that chance and seeing what would happen.” He was quiet for a few moments. So many times in life, the best things we do come from taking the biggest chances.”

I mulled this over for a bit, and I guess he was right. I, for instance, could have said no to my appointment as the future Queen of Summer. And reluctant as I tell myself I am to be in this position -- it did sound exciting. It was also unique. Who else would have the opportunities that I would? A queen is an icon of both beauty and power, and has been since time began. I had to leave my family, my job, my friends -- my security. I had to leave all the boring, dragging, day-to-day things that I miss so fiercely now. And if I hadn’t, I never would have met my husband or Hon, or Stan or Todd, or Danae, Eliava, Zahina. I never would have met Adora who rivals Karen as the best friend I’ve ever had. How would  I ever have known how trustworthy humans could be, let alone Summerians, if I had never come here? I could have lived my entire life, thinking that trickiness could only ever be thought of as a virtue and that I could never truly trust anyone with anything important. It’s a lonely thought.

October 7

October 7

Karen is here! Oh, my sweet, wonderful, adorable Karen! She’s older than I remember, but then that happens every time I see her. She hates Summer, so far, which I think is natural. I hated being here when I got here – but the hottest part of summer is over and we’re heading into the coolness and colors of autumn, so this is the perfect time for her to visit. Apparently, she did not volunteer to come, which surprises me; first, because her attitude reminds me so much of myself when I arrived, and also because I can not in my memory, recall a time that Karen ever did anything she didn’t want to. What is she doing here if she doesn’t want to be here?

She does say that she missed me, which is nice. I missed her too – extremely, and I have tons to show her, thanks to Hon. I am going to take her to that mall tomorrow, and I think next week I will take her on the yacht. I think she will like the games; I always thought she had the soul of a gambler. We’ll see if she’s a bit more discriminating in her maturity than she used to be, and if she is I can show her the cave and the library and the real food restaurant. I know she’ll enjoy the real food restaurant because she loved the real food at her welcome party tonight. She has always had lusty appetites, and Stan and Todd did an above fabulous job on the delectations.

I went in to work today, to find Samson charming our third set of clients. He is as good with children as he is with everyone else. The family is the old-time version of what every family aspired to be; Husband and wife, older son, younger daughter, a baby one the way. They even have a dog and a cat. I find them intimidating, because even after thousands of years, they are still the archetype of the successful social unit. The woman is my age, although she is (like me) a few years younger than Danae. She is that woman women love to hate. She doesn’t try to be beautiful, she just naturally is – and along with that, she has radiance as a wife and mother whilst retaining a sense of individuality. Her figure and face are both infinitely pleasing, as is her demeanor. I don’t envy her, though. Some day, I will be her – or at least, I will have the belief that I am like her.

I’m getting closer, too. The other night, as my husband dropped me off from our date, he gave me a long, delicious kiss which curled my fingers as well as my toes, and made my eyes water as well. I am fairly inexperienced for a Winter woman and a wanton slut by Summer standards, but I have never had a physical experience like that before. Our next date is three days from now. I will have to, before then, look up some meditation techniques in order to restrain myself from tearing off his clothes. All I can really say is that I’m super glad he is my husband. Hon is as wonderful as ever, but nothing he does makes my intestines curl up and “meow”. I’m so glad he took me on that date last night, however, and my affection for him deepens every time we meet. He hasn’t really tried to kiss me, though, other than the pecks on the cheek; one at the beginning of the date, and one at the end.

Jeah is glowing, and I have been consulted in the plans for the wedding. We are going to go for a half-and-half split of traditional Summer wedding and traditional Winter wedding. The banquet hall will have Winter decorations on one end of the room, and Summer on the other end. At the altar in the middle of the room, will be a combination of the two styles. Her bouquet will be crystal roses mixed with violet asters. Her dress will be done in modern Winter styles with traditional Summer elements such as sheer fabrics and fresh flowers woven into the cloth. Adora is going to design the dress, and she has already come up with some stunning examples. The wedding has the entire palace abuzz. 

Karen’s welcome party was overshadowed by plans for the wedding, but she didn’t seem to mind, preferring to blend into the crowd and often hiding behind me and our cousins, rather than taking the limelight. This is very unusual behavior for her. Back home, she was always the life of the party. Perhaps it is discomfort about being in a strange land, or perhaps she has just gotten shy since I last saw her. It has been about two years, although we mail pretty much constantly. Still, there is much I have not shared with her and I’m certain she similarly has secrets. I hope that after enough time, we will be comfortable enough to be completely open with each other, like we were when we were kids.

I have told Zahina about Karen’s visit, and she is excited to meet her. I don’t know how to contrive to make it happen, since I am supposed to be Danae if I’m around Zahina, but perhaps Karen and I will regain our closeness quickly and I will be able to tell her about Danae and my double life as a former architect, current business woman. Our retrial is coming up in a few more months. I’ve hired that other architect, the one with the interior design experience, and we have two more clients on the roster, whom I will be meeting within the next week. Again, Carrot found them. I have not been able to convince her to stay on at the company but I have not given up. I hope that as we add clients and finish projects, that her interest in design will be renewed. It would be nice to have her on as a third designer, and I’ll take over the office drudgery of keeping files. Now that I have the hang of these fancy Summer computers, I think I can actually do a good job. It would be nice to have Carrot around in case I have questions, though.

October 8

Man, it was difficult to escape Karen today. It’s funny. My cousins have been here for over a month and the only one I’ve even seen privately is Jeah, and that was only once. But Karen wanted to hang out all day. I finally got her to go for a walk in the garden so that I could escape to the office. When I got back, she was hanging out with our cousins at court. She seemed to be doing fine, but as soon as she saw me, she glommed on and would not let go for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, we’re supposed to go to that mall. I’m going to drop her off at a theatre and then pop into the office. I’m going to have to get Karen a life, though, or I won’t be able to get anything done.

At work, we’re building a hermit-home into the side of a mountain for this woman who is agoraphobic. Her dream is to live by herself in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t even want her house to be visible; she wants it to be completely invisible to anyone who doesn’t know it’s there. I wonder if she’s on the run from the law or something, but so far there aren’t any hits on her identification -- and she’s paying cash. Besides, she wants us to build a house, not a bomb. And it’s pretty interesting. 

Samson has come up with some beautiful options. Of course, the most important thing is that it’s structurally sound so that it won’t fall out of the mountain, but Samson also designed some gorgeous, tinted window that blend in with the mountainside, which takes up the entire wall that face outside the mountain. It means that natural light will be able to shine through the windows all day long. Solar panels in the window will store the light and be able to reflect it all night long, and even longer during the winter. 

Sitera Perrine is the client. She is short, but long-limbed. She has these great fingers that seem to go on forever, and piercing blue eyes. She could pass from anywhere between eighteen and thirty, though her license says that she’s thirty-two. She’s not creepy or weird or anything -- and she’s not even that shy. She says that she feels self-conscious in public but nothing in her persona suggests anything but a Summer belle with that ramrod of iron in place of a spine. Although it’s difficult to believe that she’s dealing with a phobia, she does want the place to be self-sustaining power-wise, but still to be technologically in contact with the rest of the world. She’s an odd duck, but I can’t wait to see her house finished. This would be the dwelling that would put Danae’s company back on the map, if we were allowed to talk about it at all. Unfortunately, we’ve all had to sign confidentially agreements, so the company’s most brilliant success story is also going to be the best-kept industry secret. What a shame.

My next date with Hon is in a couple of days, and I’m trying to come up with an interesting place to take him. He has shown me all of these fantastic local places, and I’ve just gone along for the ride. I need to come up with a date that will knock his socks off. He deserves it. I always feel protected, yet never bored, in his presence. Honestly, when I have trouble falling asleep at night, I imagine that I’m lying in his arms, smelling that clean dirt smell of the farmer mixed with that spicy aftershave that he wears. Though he’s a farmer, you’d never get that impression. He’s a pinstripe kinda guy. Not that I’m seriously attracted to him, not like I am to my husband, but there’s something so comforting about his presence, whereas my husband’s aura is a constantly provocative one.

My husband is the complete opposite. When he’s playing Farmer Bohn, he’s all overalls and flannel. I think that’s one reason I don’t mind taking the lead on our dates; he does not inspire confidence in his leadership qualities. It’s really funny; in court, as king, you’d never question him. He’s all intense intelligence and the height (but not the ridiculousness) of fashion. I can see why he gets away with playing the farmer. Not only is his farmer persona much humbler than his kingly persona, but the way he stands, gestures -- everything is completely different. Not that I mind; I find his ability to portray both the peasant and the king, very interesting, but it is a bit unsettling to find that he is SUCH a talented charlatan.

Before my date with Hon, I’ll have to find a way to occupy Karen. I do not remember her being clingy or shy. She was always the loudest person in the room, and it’s not as though she has Ceci’s problem. Karen was never a model Winterian. She was always too stubborn and headstrong to care about reproofs. And she was so adventurous. By now, she should have suggested at least twenty interesting things we can do in Summer, and done half of them by herself at this point. Okay, that may be a slight exaggeration, but I’m really unaccustomed to seeing her waiting around for me to suggest something for her to do. After dinner, I was getting a headache from her incessant silence, so I sent her out into the garden. “Which garden do you like best?” she asked, and actually waited for my answer.

I sent her to the Tiki garden. The tiki garden looks like a miniature beach, complete with rope hammock and a faux ocean view. I hate that garden, because it’s so beautiful and I know that I’m not allowed to actually hop up into the hammock (not that I even COULD in the clothes I wear as myself). I’m tempted sometimes, to dress as a Summer courtier, and go enjoy the garden, but I have not gotten up the nerve to do so. Two persona’s are quite enough for the moment. Besides, the coconut scents there are too heady, and the flowers are bright enough to hurt my eyes. I don’t think I could relax there. So I sent Karen, just so that I don’t run into if I’m trying to get some peace in the gardens. I know, I’m a terrible person. It’s just shocking how much of an intrusive presence she is, when I thought she would be so welcome here.

October 9

Today we started construction on the bookstore. It’s the easiest project we have because we the building is already there, we just have to modify the insides. Lyre working with Samson to design the interior and he told me privately that she is very talented and he was glad to have her help on this. Lyre is an incredibly brisk and bossy woman. During our interview, she actually told me that I would be more efficient if I kept my questions to a chronological order. I liked her immediately. She reminds me of my grandmother, although she is just out of college, so dealing with her is interesting. I was surprised that Samson liked her, but then I realized that he’s probably relieved that he’s not attracted to her. He is known for liking every type of woman, but Jhea is austere, albeit less than commanding. Oh, she has her moments, but she’s a day-to-day follower, which is more similar to Summer women, and explains why out of the three who came her, why he fell for Jhea. 

Although, the reason I like Jhea is because she is quiet and mysterious without losing any of the formidability of a Winter woman. In any case, I’m glad that Samson is happy to work with Lyre because it makes my life a lot easier. Her manner is so abrupt and businesslike that I wonder how Summer men will deal with her. Fortunately, the gaffer of the bookstore is female, and doesn’t seem to take Lyre personally. Reilly, the gaffer is a small-boned woman with strong hands and a big voice. She has the ability to direct her people when they need it, and to let them work when they know what they’re doing. Apparently, we’ve met before, but according to Carrot, we didn’t like each other, so I don’t have to be too friendly. She did say that she was sorry about my husband but that she was glad to see me working again. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad that my first project is with you. I’ve looked over some of my past projects, and I noticed that most of my favorite end products had you as gaffer.”

She blinked at this, and didn’t seem to know what to say, so she turned to a crew member and told him to bring a piece of lumber over. “We got prime maple for a steal,” she said. “We told the company we’d do at least fifty-percent of our business with them over the next two years.” She rushed on, as though worried that I would object. “We got twenty-five percent off of the wholesale price, and this stuff is the best. Back in the day when people used trees as construction material, maple wood was known for interiors because it was resistant to abrasions and indentation.” The crew member returned with a two-by-four in a light reddish brown color, and turned it over to me for inspection. Reilly dismissed the man with a nod, and turned back to me. “Now, of course this’ll last about ten thousand years longer than actual wood would, but it’s called maple because it has similar properties.” 

I looked at the piece of lumbar. It looked like something that could hold up a building, which I guess is good, since that was its purpose. “Great,” I said. I stroked the material, feeling the solid smoothness of it. “This should work nicely.” I tried to sound like I knew what I was talking about. Apparently, I was successful, because Reilly nodded, and held out her hand for the two-by-four. I handed it over, and she smiled.

“It really is good to be working with you again,” she said, true joy shining in her eyes. “I know that we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I do admire your talent, or I’d have said goodbye to working with you a long time ago.” I didn’t realize I let out a laugh until she grinned in response and then turned back to the plans on her clipboard screen.

Karen wasn’t nearly the nuisance today as she was yesterday. I guess she was just nervous about being in a new place. I should have had more sympathy for her, considering how much I would have liked some compassion when I arrived. She must have gotten it from our cousins. She was sporting Summerized clothes at court, and I spotted her in the Tiki garden later on in the afternoon. She had a book with her, which was odd. I’ve never seen her lying around reading books. When she was staying with us, if she’d catch me with one, she’d smack it out of my hands and insist we go play.

Todd and Stan are flying high from their success at making real food and they want to make it a staple. My husband told them that they could do real dessert once a week and they are both on cloud nine. They’re working on making real ice cream. I think it’s fabulous and everything, I just wonder how they’re going to infuse the cream with coldness, without using computers. I know that in Winter, ice is cold. Maybe the original recipe called for using ice. We’ll see.

I’m trying hard not to fall in love with Hon. I actually think he would make a nice match for Adora, but I wonder if I can get them to meet. Fortunately, Adora is friends both with Danae and me, so I’d be able to introduce the two of them as Danae. But I’m still certain that Hon is not the simple farmer than he seems to be, so I don’t want to set her up with him just yet. Honestly, I’m not that keen on sharing him. Hon has an edge to him, but I think it’s that toughness that makes me feel so safe. I haven’t felt that hard softness since before my father died, and I miss it. I guess I guard it a bit more jealously than I should. Especially since I think Adora deserves a decent help mate. Still, much as she’d make a good farmer’s wife, I wouldn’t want to set her up with a super-spy, which I suspect Hon truly is. It’s funny; I never suspect him of that when I’m physically around him. There’s something so reassuring in his presence. It’s in his absence that I start to wonder why and how he’s friends with my husband during my husband’s masquerade as a farmer. I guess it’s my husband’s dishonesty that makes me suspicious of Hon, rather than Hon’s behavior in itself. Although, how many people have I met, who have been as wholesome as Hon seems to be….That is suspicious enough in itself.

October 10

Before I could fall asleep last night, I had to picture Hon lying beside me. This is bad. It’s really, really bad. I have a husband who I desperately need to fall in love with. Honestly, I think it’s just my lack of physical attraction to Hon that makes me feel so comfortable with him, and thereby relaxed, and thereby attracted. It is a frustrating way to fall for someone. When I first started going out with him, I never thought I’d ever fall for him. I have to stop seeing him, that’s all I can do, really. The next time I see him, I’ll just tell him things are crazy at work, and that I need to focus on my career right now. That’s understandable, right? He wouldn’t by hurt by that, would he? Oh! Why do I care?! He’s about as real as paper money -- 

In other news, Wanderlust got dumped by his wife. I can’t help but feel for him, angry as I was that he cheated on her and deserved to be dumped. He has so much charm and charisma, despite his lack of looks, that he could really have any woman he desired. The problem for him, I think, is that once he gets the woman, he stops desiring her. It’s a shame, really. His wife is a lovely woman with a brain and a backbone -- two things he really needs help with.

I got an unexpected visit from my cousin Ceci this morning. “This is unexpected,” I told her, as I opened my bedroom door. We haven’t had breakfast together since Mother left, but she has seemed to be her usual distant self in court.

“May I come i-in?” She asked. The request started out as an order and broke up there toward the end. Tears ran from her eyes and her face crumpled like a peeled apple that had been left in the sun too long. I stepped back quickly to let her in, and she entered the room. She took deep breaths that seemed to jerk breath directly from her shoulders as she looked around. “Am I interrupting anything,” she asked, looking around. 

She was difficult to understand, but once I worked it out, I said, “Yes.” I paused, watching her shoulders sag as she let out a loud, gulpy sob. Then she began crying in earnest. “What’s the matter?“ I asked, leading her over to the stool Adora likes to sit in when she visits me. 

It took her a few minutes to calm down, but when she did, she looked up. I was perched on the edge of my bed, the marble edge cutting through the thin layers of my dress. “I hate it here,” she said with such distress that I had to laugh.

I didn’t mean to, really, and it didn’t seem to bother her, so deep in her despair was she. “What? Why?” I knew why, but I didn’t think she did.

Ceci let out an exasperated sigh and looked inward. “ I’m mean, they’re nice. I like sharp, pointy objects, and they like soft, fluffy thing. I’m cold, they’re hot.” She paused, pondering her last statement. “I’m melting here,” she said, her voice breaking again. “I’m just turning into steam and dissipating.” She almost lost control again, then pulled herself back together. Tears continued to stream from her eyes, however.

“Wow,” I said. “I had no idea you felt like that.”

“That’s the point!” She exclaimed. She shook her head, disgusted. “I don’t wear everything on my sleeve like you and Jhea and Staejha. I’m strong.” The last word was emphasized with an angry tone, and then she burst out crying again.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed again, then reached out to stroke her hair. When she was quiet enough to hear me, I said, “And you’re the only one?” At my tone, she looked up, surprised into silence. “We’re all scared,” I said. “You’re just better at hiding it than the rest of us.” I paused, thinking. “But because it’s easier for us to show weakness, it means we get help when we need it.” I looked at her puffy red eyes. “You never seem to need help, so no one offers it to you.” I laughed gain, my voice full of rue. “You probably would have slapped the hand of anyone who tried to help you, anyway.”

She nodded, he voice hardening, and her gaze sharpening into defiance. Then she crumbled. “Now I’m weaker than all of you,” she sobbed into her knees.

It might have been more difficult to feel sorry for her, based on our lifetime of mutual resentment, but I could so relate that it was impossible to feel superior. She just exposed every fear I’d kept to myself since I’d arrived in Summer. When she seemed to be done crying, she sat up again. She looked at me with exhausted eyes. Her soul, unshielded for the first time since we‘d known each other, shone from the midst of despair. She was impossible to hate in that real state, and all I wanted to do was drag her onto my lap and pet her like a baby kitten.

“Okay,” I said, after a moment. “The first thing we’re going to have to get you, is a friend.” I raised a brow at her snort, and she subsided.

She struggled with herself for a minute, and when she spoke, her voice was nearly devoid of hope. “What is a friend going to do?” She lifted a helpless hand, then let it drop back down to her thigh.

I let out my own snort, irritated. “You really think you’re the only one, don’t you?” She looked up at me, wary but curious. I leaned forward, meeting her exposed soul with mine. “If I didn’t have people I knew I could rely on -- that I could be weak with, I’d be a bigger mess than you.”

Her mouth dropped open, but it took her a few minutes to gather enough breath, or maybe thought, to speak. “You -- have friends here?”

I smirked, with only a tinge of mirth. “Yep,” I said. “And fortunately, so do you.” I only meant myself, and spoke more from bravado than confidence, but my heart caught on a raw edge when she looked up at me with a mixture of wariness and hope.

October 11

Plans for the wedding are coming along. The dress is all white corsets and gold strings and gossamer butterfly wings. The meal is going to be tablets, and the cake is going to be real. It’s going to be huge. Wedding cakes, because they haven’t had to be real for a thousand years, are big and stunningly beautiful symbols at a wedding. Todd has been put in charge of the cake, but I suggested that he ask Samson for help with the design because everyone knows he just started that job as an architect. Todd looked doubtful, but he’s been practicing making layered cakes and is pretty nervous. He has been studying real cakes from the twentieth century on the internet and trying to make them, but some of the ingredients don’t even exist anymore. It’s okay, though. Because it’s a wedding that is going to be held at the palace, there are people willing to manufacture anything we need.

At work, the bookstore is coming along, and we’re going to be breaking ground on the house for the bed-and-breakfast couple next week. I can’t wait to see these two projects completed. I almost feel like I think Danae would, like I’ve been locked up for two unproductive years and the first fruits produced, now, are sweeter than in-season strawberries (which we had for dessert tonight. Yum!). I love love LOVE Bub. He has to be the sweetest man on all four planets. He’s so excited about the progress of his building. He is the perfect client; lots of money, few complaints. He just lets us get the work done. We’ll be done within the month, actually, because we’re not actually building anything. In the next few months we’ll be done with the B&B, and then we’ll break ground the family home for the archetypical family. (I can’t help but be a bit bitter about the happy family.)

I put Karen and Ceci together today, coming up with virtual arrangements for the bouquet. I’m going to see what they came up with tomorrow, and if I like it, I’ll let them do the arrangements for the whole place. We have some of my husband’s relatives decorating the outdoor cathedral; choosing chairs and ribbons and things like that. My wedding was completely planned by representatives from Winter and Summer -- politicians. It was cold and impersonal, so careful was each side not to add too much personality. I think I might have made a better impression if we’d done what we’re doing with this wedding, which is incorporating, rather than rejecting both cultures. 

And it gets both Karen and Ceci off my back. I still can’t believe how clingy Karen has been, and I’m beyond shocked at Ceci’s breakdown yesterday. She couldn’t quite meet my eyes for most of the day, and then when she would, she’d give me these long gazes, as though pleading with me not to expose her for the emotional fraud that she is. I would have laughed, if it weren’t such a mixture of pathetic and relatable. Even so, I think Karen and Ceci will make a good alliance. They never really got to know each other in Winter, but Karen is warm and boisterous and Ceci is icily reserved -- maybe they can balance each other out.

Hon called Danae at work today and asked her out. I said that I would go, but I tried to be more reserved with him than I have been lately. I’m sure he thought it was because I was at work. I told him that I’d be able to have coffee with him tomorrow in the mall. It’s a nice, public place, with lots of distractions. I have to tell him I can’t see him anymore. I am not looking forward to it. All of the people I trust here are female, married, or children -- or all three -- it would be nice to be able to rely on a big, strong man with my secrets. I can picture myself leaning against his broad, muscles shoulder, confiding all of my fears to him, or just being quiet. Resting.

I can’t imagine doing this with my husband -- I mean, I can, but not without a jangling of nerves, which kind of defeats what I what from Hon, which is that comfort and relaxation. I have a date with my husband the day after tomorrow, as well. I’m going to break up with him, too. Same excuse as Hon; work and motherhood. Now that I know how to be Summer, at least, enough that I can be comfortable being alone with my husband, I need to start getting him alone. I invited him hiking today after court was over. I mean, today I invited him, but for the weekend. He seemed surprised, but he said yes. We both know it’s not a good idea to seem too chummy, but that it’s important for diplomatic reasons for us to get along. It’s going to be a public stunt -- that’s actually how I presented it. I have to get my husband alone in public, before I can do it in private. Besides, I think I’m still a little nervous about being alone with him as myself. I’ve asked Adora to come up with a Winter/Summer climbing outfit for me. I love that girl. She’s a genius -- she had a prototype for me to practice in late this afternoon. We went hiking in our usual spot.

I think that physical exercise has helped Adora’s confidence a lot. In Winter, we’re required to learn every type of combat. We are not like Summer flowers who use the steel tone of our voices to ward off amorous drunks -- we can actually fight the man off physically. I can wander through the darkest alley in the biggest city and not really worry about my physical well-being. I do worry in crowds at the palace, though, because I know that Summerians, not as confident in physical prowess, are proficient in weaponry. And because I know that the majority of them still hate me. They may see me as a necessary evil, but the key word there is “evil” and as soon as I’m done being necessary, I’m done.

Even so, I find that I’m happy here, happier than I thought I could be, happier than I was in Winter. In Winter I had neither intensity nor the range of experiences. I was constantly trying to be Winter enough, and failing. I do the same here, but I also have to try to be Summer enough, business woman enough, mother enough, friend enough, lover enough. When I got here, I thought I was asked be too much, but the more that is required of me, the more I realize my strength. I don’t do any of those things perfectly, but I do them, and I don’t let my failures stop me from moving on. Failure is an option, sometimes it‘s a requirement -- quitting isn’t.

October 12

I broke up with Hon today. He didn’t seem happy, but he didn’t seem too upset, either. If anything, I sensed a bit of relief, like he’d been performing a chore and was glad to be let out of it. Maybe I’m just trying to make myself feel better, but that thought doesn’t work. I don’t like the idea that he was just trying to console the widow or keep an eye on me for my husband’s sake. Neither thought appeals to me, and it actually makes me angry. I’m glad I broke up with him. I’m nobody’s job.

At work, Samson has been showing his genius. Our sassy interior designer has taken over the bookstore while Samson focuses on the B&B. He’s met with all of our current clients, to show them revised sketches, and to assure them with nothing other than his presence and charm that they are getting their money’s worth in Danae’s company even though I am barely involved. Carrot has livened up a bit, too. Since I’ve taken over the majority of the bookkeeping, I’ve sent her out to the two sites we’re working on, and I think it’s inspiring her. I caught her in the common room, doodling houses in a notebook. She hid the sketches when I walked in, and I pretended like I didn’t see. If she stays with us or starts her own company, I’ll be happy. I hate the idea that she’d been so drained by this experience that she’d lost all passion for architecture.

Zahina is brilliant. I mean, she’s only six years old, but she’s already typing full sentences. Her drawings show real talent, as well. Unlike her ma, she focuses more on animals than on buildings. She’d be a great friend to Jhea, and every time I think about introducing them, I have to remember that I’m living two separate lives. But I still try to spend time with Jhea every day. In the olden days, people used sheaves of dead trees to draw and write on. Due to the advancement in technology and the terminal effects of killing trees on the entire planet, all drawing and writing is done by computer. But Zahina wants to try the old way. I told her that it was environmentally irresponsible, but she’s quite insistent, so I will have to look into a way to let her do that without messing up the environment. She likes to draw on the computer, and we have digital frames all over the apartment with her drawings in them, but she wants the aesthetic feel of writing or drawing, and not being able to take it back. She wants to spell things wrong, and not have straighter lines suggested to her by the computer. She wants to take responsibility for her development, not give it over to a computer. Go figure. She should be living in the nineteenth century, poor girl.

Adora has come up with a brilliant rock climbing outfit for me, combining pastel Summer colors and fabrics, with sharp edges on the collar. It shows off my figure, without exposing anything, and without me having to constantly stop and adjust things. One thing that Summer and Winter clothing have in common, is the complexity. With Summer clothes, you have to basically stand still, or the whole thing falls right off your body. Winter clothes are so stiff and complicated that you have to perform a series of tasks in order to change positions from standing to sitting and vice versa. Of course, this is just an illusion, but it’s an uncomfortable one. Adora has also got together a working prototype of Jhea’s wedding gown. Even half-completed, it is absolutely stunning. It makes the shapeless shift I wore look so boring that I can’t stand it. 

Still, if I can modify my image, I have years of beautiful gowns ahead of me. Lately, I’ve been wearing less make-up to make myself scary, and more to soften my features rather than sharpen them. I haven’t told Adora about my plans to get pregnant, but I’ve been envisioning layers of ruffles. I’m embarrassed whenever I think of really wearing these clothes, but I can’t stop myself from dreaming, anyway. In my visions, I’m always perfectly confident in wearing those designs. When it comes time to actually wear them, I will be mentally prepared. Or, maybe we don’t have to use so many layers of chiffon…

Hon took my rejection well. Too well. Like he’d been expecting it, or even wanting it. I can’t help but feel confused and hurt by the thought, even though I know that it’s possible I’m just projecting. I had so much fun with him, he took me places I’ve never been, and never really thought possible. If it had been my husband who had done these things, I would not miss Hon, but something else I like about Hon is his ability to be still, quiet. Most of the time, my husband is loud and animated – differently in either king or farmer persona, but he talks a lot, either way. It is only when he forgets himself, that he is quiet. Which is nice, but quiet is Hon’s default level. Not that I can blame my husband. I tend to chatter when I’m nervous too, and am rarely silent on our dates. Usually, we have two or three conversations at a time, just so that as we’re processing the other person’s last comment, we’re responding to the one before that. It’s sad, really, but pretty irritating too. I like having one conversation at a time with Hon, and sometimes no conversation at all. The idea of not seeing him again hurts more than I expected, which only confirms the fact that I was right to break it off.

Tomorrow, I meet with the perfect family, to show them new sketches of their house. Probably the worst thing about the woman is that she is so complimentary of my (Danae’s) style and she absolutely refuses to allow anyone else to design for her. Even though Samson is doing all the work and sits in on the meetings, I am taking all the credit, which just makes me feel wretched. He has assured me that he doesn’t mind so many times, that I’m determined not to bring it up again. It’s bad enough that he has to hand over credit to me, to make him keep reassuring me about it is doubly cruel. So I’ll suck it up and do my part and be nice to Mrs. Perfect and Mr. Perfect and their perfect children (one on the way!)

October 13

Mrs. Perfect came in by herself today. There was some sort of emergency at the school, and Mr. Perfect had to go take care of it. Mrs. P seemed to be okay about handling the business herself, but she didn’t have the same inner glow and enthusiasm about the project that she has had previously. She ended up taking the sketches home, in order to run them by the hubby and kids. Samson handled the whole thing like a pro. I find it difficult to believe that he’s the same guy I see prancing around court every day, kissing ladies’ hands and winking like he’s got a twitch. At work, he’s solid and professional, and I think he’s relieved that he can treat the women as equals, rather than pampered air-headed princesses.

It’s interesting to me, to see the change in him, because it only reminds me of the double life everyone seems to be leading. My mother is was born in Summer but pretends like she’s a native Winterian. Cecily is just as human as the rest of us, though she has always portrayed herself as the ultimate ice queen. Jhea, the most dispassionate person I’ve ever met, got caught up in lust and impregnated by Samson. Even Adora, who seems unflappable and deaf to the insults she receives from the maids and ladies every day -- when we’re climbing those mountains, in between breaths she curses those ladies out, fit the arghest pirate to blush. My husband is king by day, and later that day he is a humble farmer. 

Everyone has these faces they show in public, and it is often a completely separate face in private. I am three people; Winter, queen of Summer, I’m Danae, architect extraordinaire, widow, mother, and myself. Sometimes I think that my name is the reason I was the main, if not the only, reason I was chosen to marry the king. Winter is cold and cruel and delights in disemboweling animals, large and small. Danae, before she was widowed was warm and exuberant and charismatic, and she was incredibly talented, and a terrible businesswoman. I am scared, most of the time. I’m worried that I’m gong to slip and be Danae in court, and Winter at work, and I’ll never get to be me, ever. Ever.

I think one reason I took the loss of Hon so badly is because I could relax around him. As Winter and Danae, I have to be in charge. I make all the decisions, and none of my decision affect only me -- they affect the entire country, or Danae’s employees, or her daughter.  The last one worries me the most. But when I’m with Hon, he takes me places, he shows me things, he makes the decisions. Not that I’m some wilting flower -- rather, the freedom to just choose for me, is a blessed relief. I could be normal around him; an entirely unique experience, not only since I got to Summer, but even in Winter, I was always trying to impress my parents. I went to school and studied hard and barely dated and wished I could go back to the times on Whole Earth when women were commodities that were handed from parent to husband like some treasured heirloom (in the best situation in which both the parents and the prospective husband were loving, not abusive or greedy or otherwise perverted). With Hon, I got to live that wish, to some degree. If Danae had that with her husband, that complete protection, no wonder she didn’t know what to do with freedom when it was thrust upon her so suddenly.

People make such a big deal about how women were treated in the olden days -- not just women, but whichever minority happened to be around. Not that women were minorities. In fact, it’s nearly impossible to figure out what prompted both sexes to determine that women were inferior to men in the first place, and why the attitude persisted for so long. Anyway, there’s this huge emphasis placed on independence, especially in Winter. We’re never supposed to need anyone or act like we’re weak or tired or scared or sad. Summer is a bit more social-minded, but there is still quite a bit of emphasis placed on independence and freedom.

But if freedom and independence were so great, then we wouldn’t have four planets, we’d have millions -- one for each person. If we didn’t need that connection with other souls, we wouldn’t have sexual intercourse, we wouldn’t reproduce, we wouldn’t have friends. We need all of those things, because when we don’t have them, we crack up like Ceci did the other day in my room. If Jhea, one of the strongest Winterians I ever met, could figure everything out on her own, she wouldn’t have come to me when she found out she was pregnant. It turned out that she didn’t need my help (or so it seemed), but it must have been a relief to be able to tell someone about it. Adora never flinched when I met her, and Todd took his father’s beatings with that patience that only the truly dependent can.

If we didn’t need each other, we would never take the kind of abuse that we do from each other. Todd and his mother wouldn’t stay in an abusive home (although things are apparently better now). Hell, you think Stan was happy? The difference in him is night and day. Even when he does get frustrated, it’s not at the same level. I watch Todd tense, then relax, knowing that there has been a permanent change in his father. But this dependence on love, affection, just something as simple as contact, is what keeps us coming back for more. Not for more abuse, but for that connection. Because things aren’t always bad. I don’t assume that Stan beat his wife and child every day. He must have had good days, too. 

And who is to say that we always have to be perfect all the time? Why do we crave human contact and acceptance despite the fact that the humans we come into contact with, are so flawed? It seems to be enough, that though we often see the worse in each other, we also receive the best. We must be contented with that, because it’s the best we can do. And to love someone who is flawed or abusive (To a reasonable degree. I’ll say that Stan was abusive to an unreasonable degree. Even so it) just shows that when we’re flawed, we can be loved anyway. Who lives a perfect life? Who is always kind and gentle and patient? Who has ever, in history, lived up to that standard? Besides, Jesus Christ, who was God in Man, no one. Yet, we manage to love and accept each other anyway. Because we are not truly independent or autonomous. There is a craving for human connection that, in the face of an abusive relationship, overwhelms even our basic want of peace. This is not a good thing, but it does exist. People act like it’s some inherent flaw, but I think it shows the level of tolerance that we have for our fellow humans. We should all be autonomous, to a degree in which our self-respect and love of humanity is not damaged beyond repair. But should we give up on someone who has lost their humanity? What about Stan? What if I hadn’t discovered his secret passion, his largest disappointment, and offered him another choice?