After being heavily leaned on for months, Dr. Gilbert finally got Dion to go to one of his staff mixers. The skunk finally ran out of excuses and did not want to know what would happen if he said no again. Besides, this one did not seem so unbearable. A gathering of the heads of various departments and their favorite professors working under them. And, perhaps, favorite grad students with benefits. There were maybe a couple dozen people and the atmosphere was less formal.
Maybe a little too informal? The conversations were raunchier than Dion liked. Prior perceptions indicated professors were above telling blue jokes and expounding upon their various sexual conquests, but a lot of his perceptions about the purity of academia shattered over the past year. It was nothing like academia old timers in St. Ambrose spoke of. He wondered if it was always this bad under the surface or changed for the worse recently.
He took his place against the wall, overdressed in his suit and tie, holding a plastic cup of Bob’s Soda long enough for most of the ice to melt. Everyone else was dressed in casual attire, everyone else was taking advantage of the bevy of social lubricants on the refreshment table. He was so strait-laced and stiff it was comparing an unyielding leather dress shoe to a flip-flop. He knew Samantha expected him to make connections, but did he really want to connect with these people? It was a requirement, but he felt like this was a poor setting for it. So naïve. He had yet to figure out this was how business was actually done in academia. It was always about who one knew and what favors they could get. Not research, but agendas. Not hard work, but exchanged favors.
One of them was talking to him. A professor of biology with tenure (a fact she brought up four times in the five minutes of their conversation so far), working on a project on the correlation of gender expression between fungi and lab rats. She was a particularly short capybara a head and a half smaller than Dion. She had an abnormally blunt muzzle with prominent front teeth decorated with several colorful stones. Her outfit? Garish. A suit jacket the color of radioactive bananas festooned with around two dozen buttons. A knee length skirt with rainbow stockings and high-top sneakers. Headfur dyed blue and shaved so there was only a bit shaped like a wave on top of her head. He addressed him as a her, despite his magical vision telling him otherwise. Her button had ‘she/her’ listed as her pronouns. Dion was starting to pay close attention to those. He found it saved the kind of headache aspirin could not cure.
“So anyway, the last time I went out with Marcia, Fantasia, and Lamontin, we made it to Little Nasty’s afterparty. Best upcoming third wave noise rapper, wild stuff. None of us made it home that night. It was wild.” Her voice was… not entirely unpleasant. It had a strange lilting quality that felt forced.
She started this story some minutes ago. Dion was not certain it had a point. Her research would have been interesting, but she had not given the smallest hint at steering the conversation toward something productive. He just kept nodding along and trying to look uncomfortable. It was all he could do to signal his dislike without appearing rude. Ineffective; she either did not notice or did not care. Eventually, he stopped really paying attention.
“… so, I hear your significant other is pregnant.” Until she dropped that on him.
Dion’s focus zeroed in on her, as it should whenever someone talked about a man’s wife. Hard to suppress when one was happy with the situation. Even though they had not yet picked out a name, he was already proud of his developing daughter.
He nodded. “Yes. Didn’t think it was possible, but it is.” He could not hide his smile. “We’re going to have a beautiful daughter and I couldn’t be happier.”
The capybara did not look happy. She made a face like someone poured caustic lye on her birthday cake. “How do you know it’s a girl?” She asked.
Magic? No, do not say that. Go with a simple explanation. “Well, we got an ultrasound. Doctor said she was a girl.” This was technically true. Liz wanted an ultrasound even after Dion confirmed it. She could not wait until the birth to get a look.
“Did you ask it?” Her retort.
Dion tilted his head, mind going blank. “… what?”
“Did you ask it what its gender is?” She repeated.
“That’s… not possible. The doctor….” Dion could not finish his thought.
She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything. Doctors are always doing stuff like that, especially the old ones. I don’t care whatever witch doctor, medicine man, or level 10 cleric you brought your significant other to. If the fetus didn’t tell you its gender, you have no right to assign one. You’re not even a biologist, Mr. professor of chemistry!”
He knew he was in trouble now. He should have known better. Never share personal details with anyone. It was bad enough Dr. Gilbert had all his personal information. He would curse his own pride if he was not busy seizing up with internal panic. The capybara was glaring at him, expecting him to talk. He could not even remember her name.
Dr. Gilbert sidled up to them. A glass of scotch in his gloved paw, wearing another black evening gown of many he owned, he looked expertly put together. All smiles too. “Dr. Farber, really, don’t get so upset. You know his wife’s an empath, right?”
“Empath?” She raised an eyebrow at the cat, making her hair look like it was sliding off her oddly small forehead.
“Indeed.” He leaned in. “I’ve met her.” A lie, but Dion did not interrupt. “A remarkably sensitive woman, for someone cis.”
Dr. Farber nodded and crossed her arms. She was listening.
“She badly wanted a daughter. Apparently, her little, growing daughter could sense that. She spoke to her, saying she would be the daughter she desired, happily so, no matter what the outside of her body looked like. A mother does have a unique bond to their children, after all.”
“….the fetus spoke to her in the womb? That’s… incredible. What makes you say that? Is there some kind of biological mechanism for hearing your own kid’s thoughts?” Incredulous, now she was giving that same critical eye to Dr. Gilbert.
The cat took a sip of his scotch, the smile not leaving his muzzle. No hard look from Dr. Farber could ruffle him. “Some things transcend simple biology. You yourself know how complex gender can be. Besides, a mother’s intuition has been manifest throughout history. You know full well a mother knows when a son is a girl trapped in a boy’s body long before the father ever catches on, if at all.”
Dr. Farber’s lips puckered a moment and she looked away. “Yeah… I hate my father… asshole.”
“So, you see, she knows quite well what her daughter will be. I know you want to be a mother someday too.”
Dr. Farber nodded. “Yeah… science’ll make it possible. Someday.” She smiled.
“… so you’ll know yourself. And you can have a little child to mold as you see fit.” The look on Dr. Farber’s face in response to that showed elation Dion found both surprising and unsettling. He could not picture her as a mother.
“Hm, yeah. I get you, Dr. Gilbert.”
“Please excuse Dr. Thade. He’s only supporting his significant other in her motherhood. Saying what she told him.”
When the capybara looked at him, all the malice was gone. “Well, good for you being an ally. Sorry I thought you were a bigot.”
Dion looked back in stunned silence. He was out of trouble. Saying something would ruin it. He looked to Dr. Gilbert for further aid.
“He’s quite the ally. Helped me more than anyone will ever know.” The cat’s tail gave a knowing swish, probably thinking about his last grad student. “So, you’ll have to forgive his awkwardness. He’s from a small town. Homeschooled too.”
Now she was looking at Dion the way a sympathetic noblewoman looked at a starving street urchin before giving him a few coins. “Oh… you poor dear. Being raised like that… it’s a wonder you even made it through college!”
Really condescending, but he did not care. He just wanted it to be over. Had to say something, though. “Yes, I am very awkward and thankful to be through college.” He said with all the warmth of a hostage video.
“... all right, come here.” She opened up and hugged Dion. He saw it coming but, with his back against the wall, there was no escape. Every muscle in his body went taut. He counted the seconds until it was over. Something was said, he did not hear it. Just nodded. It was, quite possibly, the least pleasant hug he ever experienced. Her fur was coarse and matted, ugly hair tall enough to brush his nose, and her hands touched his tail, which was something he hated from strangers. Anyone but Liz, really. She smelled like tainted marshmallow cereal with body odor and feral cat chow. She let him go and he could breathe again. That smell would stay with him. Quite an insult from a skunk, even one whose people did not have the ability to spray.
“You should come to one of our events some time.” She continued. “Maybe get you to open up a little. We could use more people who know what it’s like to grow up in such an abusive environment.”
“One step at a time.” Dr. Gilbert commented. “You can crack the egg, but they only come out when they’re ready.”
Dion was not sure what Dr. Gilbert referred to, but Dr. Farber gave him a knowing smile. “Right, I’ll let you two do your thing. I’ve seen the looks he’s been giving you all night.” She looked back to Dion. “You stick with this one. She’ll set you right. Couldn’t ask for a better mentor.”
The capybara left, leaving only the memory of their encounter. Unfortunate as it was, he would not be able to forget it. He knew she would find him again. Just like a shark drawn to a bleeding cut, she sensed something in Dion that would make her circle back for him. A weakness that could be exploited. Willingness to tiptoe around offenses and give tacit approval for… whatever it was she did with her life. Those people were somewhat easy to figure out.
What he could not figure out was why Dr. Gilbert defended him. Shielding him from someone who shared the cat’s worldview was flummoxing. “Uh… thank you. For that.” Dion stated.
“Think nothing of it.” He gave Dion a pat on the cheek. He knew better than to recoil. He did not even bristle, something that made the cat smirk. Training did that.
Besides, he was distracted. “Why’d you stick up for me?” He had to know. Izorian curiosity, but this would apply to anyone in such a circumstance.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Answered a question with a question.
“I thought… you wanted to torment. Me. Um, yes.”
Samantha shook his head. “Diomedes, really?” He scoffed. “Why would I want to do that? I take care of my assets, and you’re quite the little asset.” He stepped a little closer, a more intimate speaking distance.
“That’s… not what it seems like.” He was still backed against the wall and could not move away. “I never wanted this. I just… want to research. Not… you know.” He really did not want to talk about the perfume in public. Samantha wore it to the party. He could smell the floral bouquet, thick and cloying and dripping with magical essence. How he loathed it.
Samantha sighed. “Diomedes, you’ve been here for nearly a year. If I wanted to destroy you, I would.” He smiled. “But, I like you, I do. You’re… well, kinder and gentler than I expected. A decent man. Too decent.”
Dion glanced at Dr. Farber, now occupying space on the other side of the room. “I figured you’d be on the side of… uh, that one. You two are… well, you’re alike, right? In… views?”
Samantha scoffed, but did not look offended. “We’re nothing alike, I can assure you. Dr. Farber is so short-sighted I’d be astonished if she knows what she’ll have for breakfast tomorrow. Seeker of pleasure and people to use for a day or two before getting bored and moving on. I have a more… grand view of things.”
Dion disagreed, but was sagacious enough to avoid saying so.
“But, yes, you supply me with something I need, so I’m obligated to keep you… socially healthy.” He continued.
“Uh… thanks again… then. I guess.”
He gave Dion a pat on the shoulder. “Think nothing of it. But, honestly, you need to loosen up. I won’t always be available to save you. Dr. Farber may dress like she rolled around in a pile of thrift store jewelry, but she can be quite dangerous to one’s social standing if one crosses her. And she’s not the only one you have to watch for.”
“… I’ll be more careful.” The thought of being ‘saved’ by Samantha again made his solar plexus ache.
“Will you?” Samantha tilted his head. “You poor dear… you really have no idea how things work. Even after all this time.”
“My work will speak for me.” Dion felt the need to say. Social stuff was good and all, but his objective was not to pal around with perverts. “Um… eventually. It’s enough.”
Samantha sighed. The look on his face suggested an exhausted elementary school teacher trying to convince a child hopped up on sugar sticks to color inside the lines. He leaned with his back against the wall next to Dion. No longer looming over Dion, it was a welcome change. Made him seem almost relatable; like he was letting his guard down to talk frankly. For all the skunk knew, it was a cynical front made to play with his head, but Dion did not have the interpersonal guile to pick up on it.
“It most definitely is not. Sometimes, your work isn’t even important.” Samantha crossed his arms under his breasts. “It’s about appearances and who you know. About using whatever is possible to your advantage.” He smiled, eyes wistfully cast at the ceiling. “A game, you see, one of strategy. You learn to use whatever leverage you can and make friends with those who may have leverage over you. To carry yourself with an air of superiority but play if off as authenticity.”
“That doesn’t seem right…” Dion replied.
“How do you think Dr. Farber got where she is?” He motioned his muzzle towards the chatting capybara. She was currently occupied with a young, female pine marten who could not have looked more uncomfortable. Dr. Farber was loudly giving the sensibly dressed woman fashion tips while taking such big slurps from her wineglass her teeth clanked against the glass. “I guarantee you she knows the least about living cells of anyone in the room. But, she is boisterous and knows how to make her point forcefully. And her father is one of the university’s largest donors.”
That figured. Dion’s shoulders slumped, his suit making a dull rustling sound against the wall. If he had to be like that to get anywhere, he might as well dive out the window and aim for something sharp to stick the landing.
“I know what kind of background you came from. A small town with religious parents, right?” A fair assumption to make.
To Dion, it felt like he knew. He quickly nodded in the hope that he would move on.
Samantha’s ears flicked, a cat playing with a toy mouse. “They are good people, I’m sure, but their backwards way of thinking has no place in the modern world. To get anywhere, you’ll need to learn to be less… straight laced. In several ways.”
“… huh?”
Samantha chuckled. “You’re so tense one would think you’re crushing coal into diamonds in your ass.”
Dion flinched, his ears turning an alarming shade of red.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” He grinned, finding Dion’s discomfort amusing. Just the reaction he hoped for. “Learn to let your hair down and relax. Look around. Everyone is enjoying themselves. Relaxing, drinking, telling lewd jokes and behaving like college students rather than college professors. Our jobs are stressful. We need a release valve or we burn out. You will too. This is nothing like the low stakes community college you came from. I’m sure most students can’t even read their diplomas after graduation. Don’t know how you survived in such a vacuous wasteland.”
Dion bristled. He thought he felt no loyalty towards his old stomping grounds. Hearing Samantha insult it, however, made him want to defend them. All of them. The students who were actually somewhat pleasant to talk to and didn’t tromp around demanding everyone recognize their proclivities, the other professors who did not have to have booze on tap during staff functions, and Doreen, who was probably sharper than Dr. Gilbert. But, he kept quiet. Stuff the outrage back down. Do not anger the cat. No good could come of it.
“But, yes, have some fun. I can even get you started, if you like.” He smirked. “I happen to know a few of my grad students have a thing for skunks. I could hook you up, if you like.”
Dion shook his head. “No. Not at all. Liz is all I need. I’m a happily married man and want to stay that way.”
Samantha snorted, trying not to break into laughter. “Of course. Everyone needs something on the side. It’s not like she’ll ever find out. We can keep secrets.”
“Doesn’t matter. It isn’t in my nature. Not to do that to her. I don’t see how anyone could.” He was blushing now. Dark red. He hated talking about this stuff. Embarrassment and anger. He had to keep it under control.
“Your nature?” Samantha’s tail flicked and he gave a big grin. “I’ve seen your nature. I know your people’s appetites. She had a favorite rabbit too, but it didn’t stop her from having her way with the rest of us… and we all loved it. Even the ones who didn’t want to admit it.” He stepped away from Dion. “So think on that. With your abilities, you could have anyone you want. Do anything you want. We just have to teach you to be less… boring. Keep it in mind.”
Dion watched the professor, viewed so highly by his peers, walk away. So respected, seen as a vision of class and intellect, sashaying off after speaking to him about affairs and hedonism.
He spoke as the cat walked away. “I will.” He said. A lie, but one he was comfortable telling.
Dion was early to mass for the first time in a year. This was mostly because it was the first time he went since transferring to Crawford. At first, he was too busy to go. A good excuse to miss something he found boring and preachy, even if Liz was there. Over the years, his tolerance for church diminished. Funny how that works sometimes; the longer you stay away, the less you want to come back. It was like putting off getting a rotting tooth fixed because the dental office is uncomfortable.
When he started making mood altering perfume for Dr. Gilbert, the weight became too heavy to carry into church. He lost all motivation to go with Liz. She went every week, he said he was working. Not entirely incorrect; he was working on keeping his deeds under wraps and gathering supplies to keep pace with Dr. Gilbert’s appetites. The best time to do research was when Liz was away. Old books he brought from home and practicing his enchanting on innocuous fluids. She liked to stay and chat with the other parishioners after the service, so she was always away a few hours. Everything was cleaned up by then. She was magically naïve, after all, so it was not hard to keep it hidden. He needed to improve his skills. Samantha was bound to make a special request someday and a master perfumer he was not.
Guilt was a funny thing. Even for someone who felt guilty his entire life, Dion did not fully understand it. He was aware it was compounding, but it was like adding weight to a bridge designed by someone with no knowledge of physics. You can keep adding weight, but you never know how much is too much. When the collapse happens, it is spectacular. The burden was familiar enough that he thought he could keep it hidden forever. Simply keep holding it inside where it could not bother anyone. It was his to bear.
But, it was getting harder and harder to look Liz in the eye. Something had to give and even he could see the warning signs. It was not right for Liz to go alone week after week. With a baby on the way, it was all the stranger the father was not with her. She had to be tired of explaining why her husband was working every single weekend. Most did not understand how academia worked, he assumed. Being religious, it was unlikely they were prepared for intellectual rigor. Well, Liz did talk about meeting various doctors, lawyers, and other business professionals at church, but working in research was different.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
He caught himself thinking like that sometimes and felt guilty all over again. Looking down his muzzle at others, just like his ancestors did. That might have been what finally pushed him into waking up early, showering early, and eating an early breakfast of orange juice and bowl of Frosted Fruit Frings before getting out his church suit. Liz was brushing her hair and saw him remove it out of the corner of her eyes. She looked at him, smiled, and said “Thank you.” Despite his nervousness, it made him smile back.
So, he stood in the vestibule of the church. Adjusting his tie, staying close to his wife, eyes darting nervously about. The abundance of windows overhead filled the room with light. Rows of mailboxes were on the left-hand wall, full of church bulletins and exchanged messages between congregants. Another wall held a bulletin board with artwork from the kids’ classes. Such a bright and cheerful place that he did not belong here. This was not his world. How could it be, with what he had done? Congregants walked by. They smiled, giving him friendly looks and pleasant greetings. However, to him, they felt like accusing glances and disparaging comments.
But Liz? She was in her element. Being six months pregnant and showing up in a maternity dress might make some self-conscious, but not her. She had something to say to everyone, social butterfly she was. A devoted wife, she did not leave Dion’s side as he stood frozen near the entrance. She did not have to; the people came to her.
“Good to see you, Elizabeth.” A nervous-looking yellow lab approached her and tugged at his necktie. “Maud’s sick. Can we count on you to set up the donuts and serve coffee instead of just making the coffee this week?”
Liz chuckled and nodded. “Neither of those jobs are hard. Maud could use the day off.”
“Great, thanks.” He said before running off to do something else.
Only to be replaced by another person, a red panda in a baby blue blouse and black skirt, both of which looked too big on her. “Thanks for the recipe the other day. Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on brussels sprouts all this time…..”
“Well, it is a versatile vegetable. Too many people get turned off it as kids, but if you cook them right, the bitterness goes away. I’ve snuck them to my husband a few times and he’s always cleaned the plate.” She smiled and patted Dion on the arm, who felt on the spot. He said nothing, but nodded at the panda.
She returned a polite smile. “Oh, good to finally see you. I’ve heard a lot about you, Dr. Thade. Glad you could make it.”
“Yes, I am also glad to make it.” Dion replied, sounding as relaxed as a set of clenched teeth.
“Hm.” She must have picked up on his discomfort, because she took a step back. “Well, I’m Susanna and I’ll let you two settle in. Lovely to meet you again. We’re all nice here, so you can relax.” Another smile and she trotted off.
Only to be replaced by another person. A young bear who couldn’t have been more than 7. “Hey, Mrs. Thade! Is the baby ready yet? Your belly’s getting bigger, so is she ready?”
Dion instinctively took a step away from the energetic kid. Despite the discomfort of shifting her position, Liz leaned down and ruffled the boy’s hair.
“Look at you, so excited to meet her! I’m going to have to watch you, aren’t I?”
The bear, flustered, pulled away from her. “I just wanna see her is all, cause I never see Mr. Thade.”
“Um, Dr. Thade.” Dion interrupted. He may be awkward, but had his pride.
Looking up at him, the bear had big eyes the way kids did when looking at something they did not expect to see. He looked from Dion, to Liz, back to him, then to her. The couple stood there, waiting for him to speak. Liz knew the child would say something eventually and Dion had nothing to say.
“That’s your husband?” The bear finally said and pointed to the skunk.
“Yep.” She smiled and gave Dion’s arm a squeeze.
“But… he’s so fat.” The kid pointed directly at Dion’s prominent midsection.
The skunk’s entire head grew hot. He covered his stomach with his paws. Embarrassing in that he was not wrong. He knew he was getting a bit… fluffy, but did he really have to point that out? It was bad enough Samantha kept saying he would be better looking if he lost some weight. At least when Liz hinted at it, she was tactful.
Liz was better at laughing it off. She put a paw to her muzzle and chuckled. “And you’re so short.”
“Hey!” The bear huffed. “I’m getting taller.”
“And he’s getting thinner.” Liz replied.
Dion raised an eyebrow. He was?
“We’re all works in progress.” She continued. “And that’s not what’s important. I love him.” She put an arm around her husband’s waist. He felt a little flustered from the public affection, but was happy for it to cut through the awkwardness.
“… oh. Uh, I guess he’s… good.” The bear child looked down.
“He is.” She smiled. “And your mother’d be very upset if she heard you talking to people like that.”
He stiffened up. “Okay, sorry.” He looked at Dion. “Sorry I called you fat. Um, you’re not that fat.”
“Hm. It’s okay. Thank you.” Dion was not sure what else to say.
It turned out he did not have to say anything else at all. Two more people closed in behind the child. A lioness with a floral print dress with a tropical feel and a black furred rat in a blue suit with similar floral accents.
“Trevor, there you are!” The lioness put a paw on the young bear’s head.
A mother’s paw making contact made him jump. He was on the cusp of being in trouble and parents sometimes turned invisible when observing their children doing something rude. He looked up, and smiled as if he was never rude to Dion.
“Hi mom.” He said.
“Hi. Glad you apologized to Dr. Thade.” She hugged the sheepishly grinning bear before looking at Dion.
“Sorry about that.” The rat added. “You know how kids are.”
“Not yet. But we will.” Liz replied for him. Dion was not sure what to say to that. He felt as out of place as a plastic army man in a chest full of stuffed animals.
“Parenthood is a joy. Trevor’s been a real blessing.” The mother hugged her son, who was now squirming. He was at that age where getting hugged by mom in public was starting to get embarrassing.
“Moooom…” Trevor protested, prompting her to release him. Seeing some other kids nearby, he ran off to bother them. Dion was thankful.
“He’s got a lot of energy.” Liz commented.
“Wish I could bottle it.” Rat dad ran his fingers through his headfur for the third time since they started talking. Nervous tic? “I’ll be good when his younger brother’s walking. Give him something to keep up with.”
“And we have another on the way.” Lion mom added, putting a paw to her stomach.
“Really?!” Liz exclaimed and the lioness nodded. “Ah! That’s wonderful!” the rabbit went in for a big hug. Embrace exchanged between two giddy mothers while their husbands looked on awkwardly. A common scene.
“The baby shower’s next week, by the way. Think you can bring some more of those carrot cupcakes like you did the last one?” Lion mom asked.
“I’d be happy to, but only if you make some of those vegetable lumpia you brought to mine.” Liz replied.
Wait… Liz had a baby shower? When did that happen? He looked at her with confusion. Sift through the memories, look through the old files. She had to have told him about it. Not the sort of thing she kept to herself. The memory came to him after twenty seconds of searching, an eternity for a normally quick mind. It was a night after he met with Dr. Gilbert, handing over one of the perfume bottles. Emotionally, physically, and mentally drained, he staggered back home to find Liz putting a crib together. When he asked where she got it, she told the truth. Told him all about the baby shower and what a wonderful event it was and how excited they were for their little daughter.
And, somehow, he managed to forget all of it. Something did not feel right. Felt downright wrong. It flowed from his head to his fingers and toes. A sense that he was missing out on the important aspects of his own life. What for? Money? It was good money. Connections? Not all good, those. Still not sure what to make of them. Fear? Definitely. He was terrified of Samantha ruining him.
Stewing in his own insecurities, he missed the conversation until it started to turn back to him.
“… so, yeah… told my dad and he’s happy, but he joked that I’m definitely Catholic now with all these kids.” Lion mom stated.
Her husband muttered something that sounded like ‘well, he’s not saved cause he’s outside the church’, but she ignored it to focus on Dion.
“By the way, you haven’t introduced us yet. Is this your elusive husband we’ve heard so much about?”
Liz put a hand on his shoulder. “You can ask him. He does talk, you know.” She smirked and winked at him, letting him know it was okay. He was safe here. Dion still felt unsafe, but it helped.
“Yes. I’m, um, Dr. Diomedes Thade. Her husband you’ve heard so much about.” He stiffly offered a paw.
Rat dad raised an eyebrow, but took it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Raymond Schneider, and the missus is Carol.” He squeezed Dion’s hand and gave it a firm shake. He felt a twinge of pain in his wrist, reminding him he had the body of a thinking man.
“It’s also nice to meet you and the missus.” Dion replied, flexing his paw a bit after rat dad released it to resolve some sensation issues.
“Great. Mass’ll start soon, though. We better go, Care.” Rat dad stated.
“Soon as we find Trevor.” She replied.
“I saw him run to see mom and Theo. Kid’ll always find his little brother.” He said before they both headed into the main church area… what was it called? Sanctuary? That sounded right.
Whatever the nomenclature, Liz led him towards it. They walked hand in hand toward the door separating the vestibule from the sanctuary. He had the presence of mind to open it for her and they walked inside, still together.
Looking up, Dion took in his surroundings. Near the doors was a large baptismal font full of holy water. Upon entry, Liz dipped the fingers of her right paw in and used it to make the sign of the cross. Dion did not think to do it, still looking around. Stained glass windows colored the light streaming through them, illuminating the bodies of various saints and the savior they worshipped. Rows of wooden pews with long, red cushions filled the space leading up to the altar, and what an altar it was. A raised area with a solid oak table covered in a red and gold tablecloth. A chair for the priest was nearby and the altar was flanked by tall white candles on long brass candlesticks. Behind the table on the back wall sat the tabernacle. An exquisitely carved wooden structure flanked by angels, holding more candles aloft. A golden chest sat in the center. It was small, maybe about a foot and a half tall and a foot wide. The ornate etchings on the side and beaten gold finish marked it as important, as did the large cross on the door.
As grand as the tabernacle was, what he saw when he cast his eyes upward was more impressive. Statues of Mary and Joseph, lovingly carved and painted. Both holy mother and father’s eyes cast upward to the crucified savior of mankind. Jesus Christ, His sacrifice illuminated by the stained glass above Him. A reminder of the lengths God went to in order to save mankind from their sin. To offer everyone a chance to be forgiven. The living sacrifice that, once and for all, removed the barrier between God and man.
Say what you will about the Catholic church, but they knew how to inspire with their architecture. Dion stared, taking it all in. The simplistic church he was raised in was nice. Homey and comfortable. This attempted to convey God’s majesty. Even then, it could only mimic a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of it, and that was enough to fill him with awe.
Liz’s fingers laced with his, giving his paw a squeeze. “We’d better get a seat. You can take it all in from the pews.”
Dion took his eyes away from the beauty of the building to the beauty of his wife. A big smile on her muzzle, he had not seen her this happy in some time. Either joy from him being in church or from being able to spend time with him. He would take either.
They approached a pew four rows from the front. Not too close, but not too far back. Liz knelt by the pew and looked towards the altar. She made the sign of the cross and rose to take her seat. Dion awkwardly did the same.
They settled on the edge, giving Dion the aisle seat. In public places, he preferred it and Liz knew this. It was easier for him to leave if he got too anxious. While he was feeling a little overwhelmed, he wanted to be there. He had little time to sit before one of the deacons, a panda bear whose name Dion forgot, called everyone to rise for the opening hymn. The air filled with music. Old fashioned as a church could be, a pipe organ played by an elderly vixen accompanied the hymn. Liz picked up the hymnal and began to sing. She held the book so Dion could see the words and sing with her, but he was too self-conscious. Being what he was, how could he lift his voice in song inside of a church? Not with what he did.
How long was this going to take? The longer the song went on, the more exposed he felt. He was a leper amongst the whole. It was a mistake coming. His heart sped up. Leave, Dion. They are worshipping something greater than themselves. Even if it was not real, it was a beautiful lie. Maybe he belonged with the likes of Dr. Gilbert? A voice in his head calling him back to a familiar place. It was not safe, not at all, but at least he knew what to expect around the other professors.
Rabbit fingers laced with his. Liz squeezed his paw, almost like she sensed his discomfort. He did not feel like leaving anymore. He watched as the priest, flanked by two acolytes and led by a third carrying a large brass cross, walked up the aisle toward the altar. They took their places; everything had a place during mass.
The song ended. People sat down. Dion was so withdrawn into his head the service started to blur. Words were said, more songs. Light streaming through the windows and illuminating everything around him. A sense of awe should have been calming, but Dion felt restless no matter how often he tried to tell himself to stop overthinking things. He was not able to pay attention.
However, his focus returned as one of the parishioners walked up to the lectern. Ah, he recognized him. It was the rat dad from earlier. What was his name again? Rabbert? No, that mess was not a real name.
Whatever it was, he stood before the lectern and cleared his throat. Opening the large Bible to a bookmarked page, he prepared to deliver the weighty words within. He spoke clearly, as if this was not his first time. “The book of Revelation, 21: 1-5.”
“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth. The former heaven and the former earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. I also saw the holy city, a new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, God's dwelling is with the human race. He will dwell with them and they will be his people and God himself will always be with them, as their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed away." The one who sat on the throne said, "Behold, I make all things new." Then he said, "Write these words down, for they are trustworthy and true." He said to me, "They are accomplished. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give a gift from the spring of life-giving water.”
“The word of the Lord.” He finished.
“Thanks be to God.” The churchgoers replied. Not in unison, but close enough.
The priest finally approached the lectern, Father Steven Ortega. Dion expected an old man, full of weight and gravity. Instead, he might have been a year or two younger than he. A red panda with a thin frame barely able to fill out his clerical robes. He may have been small, but when he spoke, his voice was deep and confident. It radiated with such conviction that even the staunchest anti-theist would take notice. Bred from surety, he began the homily. Dion listened, of course. His attention was not divided or diverted, trying to understand the words. Difficult as it was, he felt he had to pay attention. Liz would probably ask him about it later. Father Ortega spoke of Jesus, naturally. How He was God and man both, made flesh to dwell among us. To die for our sins so we could have a relationship with God. Everything Dion had heard before many times in his churched childhood. His mind started to wander slightly, but he could power through it.
“…… and that’s why Christ’s sacrifice was required. Of our own power, we can’t save ourselves any more than a man jumping out of an airplane without a parachute can save himself by flapping his arms. Christ, through the church, wants to have a relationship with you. Anyone who believes on him and is within the church can have that.”
The church this and the church that. The guy was definitely Catholic. Dion kept listening.
“And traditions and rituals? They have no power on their own.” He smirked. “Odd, I know, coming from a priest.” A scattering of chuckles from the congregants. Father Ortega waited for them to die down before continuing. “But, all the sacraments and hymns are meaningless without God. Getting Baptized alone, taking the Eucharist alone, sitting in church like a sack of flour won’t save you without Christ. The Israelites had the law of Moses, which was given by God. Over time, their priests forgot the spirit of the law and focused following the letter of the law. Tradition became more important than anything. Blood and heritage became the focus of their existence.”
Dion’s ears folded back. This sounded familiar.
“Some became so fixated on their own unworthiness that they never felt like they could become clean. They had tradition, but all it did was bring them farther from God. They were trying to live up to standards that they couldn’t keep.”
He shrank back into the pew, hoping to vanish. It sounded even more familiar.
“Jesus Christ freed them from their empty tradition. Their empty guilt. ‘Behold, I make all things new’ is not just a promise for the future kingdom of God, but a promise for all believers once they trust in Christ. No matter what you are or what you came from, God will make you a new creation. Whatever sin cursed behavior you think your heritage brought down on you, through Him, you will be made new. Starting in baptism….”
He went on, but Dion was no longer paying attention. As with any good sermon or homily, he had something very personal to think about. He thought he was unique. His past, that of the Izorians, a heavy burden he never could overcome. Coloring his thoughts, his behaviors, and the guilt that came with it.
Behold, I make all things new. Maybe he was not cursed from birth to live in the body of an irredeemable wretch? There might have been hope for him.
But, it was in his blood. Izorians were not supposed to mix with other races. ‘Inferior’ races, as they would call them. A seal placed on them so they could never have children with them. It was impossible and had been that way for centuries upon centuries.
Behold, I make all things new. And yet, his wife was pregnant with his child. There was no explanation for that. He felt it when he was young. All Izorians recognize the magic placed on their bodies. He was so used to it being there he did not even notice when it was gone. It might have happened years ago, or the moment she conceived. He only realized it after she told him she was pregnant. Timing was irrelevant, the explanation was not.
When one eliminates all their options, the last one remaining, no matter how implausible, was the true one. God was real and this was His doing.
That meant he had done a terrible thing. His race’s sins were one thing, but he was responsible for what he had done over the last year. He gave something powerful to a person who should not have even the smallest amount of power. And he hid it from Liz.
He turned his head to his wife and whispered. “We need to go. I have something to tell you.”
“Hm?” Her left ear flicked and she glanced at him. “Now? Church will be over….”
“It’s important… I’ve done something.” He hated interrupting her.
Her eyes went wide for a moment. He never did this. Had to be a shock. She nodded and they slipped out as fast as possible.
A relatively quiet ride home. Liz must have seen Dion’s discomfort, because she did not accost him with questions. They had been married long enough for her to know he needed to be somewhere safe. Best to wait until they got home.
When they finally arrived, she made some chamomile tea and they settled in the living room. The guilt was unbearable, but he needed time to put his words together. Words tumbled around in his head, refusing to sort themselves out.
But, when she sat down, they all flowed out. No thought required. Told her everything. Starting with the party, meeting Samantha, and all the way to the present. He told her about the blackmail, Dr. Gilbert’s ultimatum, and making the magical perfume for that monster. He had to explain the nature of it, as the simple act of making perfume was fairly innocuous. In the wrong hands, Dr. Gilbert’s hands, it led him to victimizing dozens of college students. And he just kept wanting more.
She took it all in, holding her questions as her husband explained. She never looked angry. Occasionally, her lips pursed. A look of concern on her face here and there. Did not mean she interrupted him; one should never cut in when someone was pouring out their heart.
“And now… I don’t know what to do….” He finished. He managed not to cry. She did not cry either, so it was a successful confession. Even with pregnancy hormones racing through her body, Liz did not cry so easily.
Liz sighed and shook her head. “We should’ve never left Carston… I knew this place was going to be toxic.”
“Yeah… but I wouldn’t have listened even if you said something.” Dion replied. “This was what I thought I wanted. My dream. But now I’m beholden to some horrible pervert and if I stop helping him, he’s going to hurt you.”
“I’m not afraid of some old transvestite. None of the people I work with care about that pronoun garbage. Even if they did, I can always find another job. Even if it’s not as a dietician, God’ll provide. He always has.”
Dion shook his head. “… I wish I could trust like that, but I can’t. I don’t want to lose my position. But I can’t… I can’t keep doing this.”
“No, you can’t.” Liz sighed. “You need to turn him in. If he’s raping those college kids, then you have to call the cops.”
Dion shook his head. “It isn’t that simple….. The perfume makes it so he doesn’t have to force himself on people. It’s worse than when we were in school. These kids are all oversexed, hormone addled teens with no real restraint to speak of. They throw themselves at him.”
“At the very least, it’s statutory rape, right? I mean, a professor with his students?”
“No… he’s protected. They wouldn’t prosecute someone like him for that. No one does anymore.”
“Can’t you turn him in to the head of the department?”
“He is the head of the department. And the head of mine won’t make a move against him. I don’t think I’ve spent more than five minutes talking to the guy since I started here, so he wouldn’t stick his neck out for me. Dr. Gilbert’s too well connected with the other professors. They won’t touch him out of either admiration or fear.”
Uncomfortable silence. Both knew it was true.
“What about the president? Of the university, I mean. Couldn’t you go to him?” Liz offered after sufficient internal deliberation.
Dion considered it, but shook his head. “I… doubt it. He’s not going to want a scandal like this. He’d probably bury it. And quietly fire me.” Dion sighed. It was unfortunate how worldly this job made him.
“… do you really want to keep doing this?” Liz finally asked.
“Doing what?”
“Working with these people? You don’t like it here. I’ve never seen you this miserable. It’s no wonder you’ve been so distant. They’re horrible and horrible to you. They’re making you something you’re not.”
Dion could not argue with that. “… it’s true… but I have to get past it, right? I can’t just quit. I still want to do research. This is my only shot.” Dion leaned back in his chair. The skin around his eyes felt too tight. He took a sip of tea and rubbed the bridge of his muzzle. “Besides… if I quit, Dr. Gilbert basically said I’d never work at another university. Just running like that after one year isn’t going to help.”
“You’d rather work for that scumbag?” Liz’s left ear twitched.
“No!” Revulsion clenched his guts. He calmed. “No… but, I can’t keep doing this… but I have to get through it to get a research position… but that means I have to help him… you can see why this’s been destroying me…..”
Dion should have told her this sooner. Should have brought it to her and they could have worked on it together. He missed out on so much because of it. Funny how problems got so much worse when you tried to hide them from your spouse.
“You’re intent on staying, then?” Liz asked.
Dion nodded.
She sighed. The look on her face said she was not happy about it, but it vanished quickly. “Okay. I’ll still be here for you, supporting you, regardless of the outcome. But you have to say no to that pervert.”
“… just say no?” That was her solution? If only it was that simple. “But….”
“There’s a lot of power in the word ‘no’.” Came the interrupting explanation. “Just… refuse. Whatever happens after that will happen, but we can’t participate in evil.”
A head tilt from the skunk. “We?”
Liz nodded. “We. We became one flesh when we got married. I’m just as much a part of this as you are. And I know you can do this. You’re strong enough to tell him exactly where he can stick that stupid perfume.”
She was right, of course. It might be career suicide, but that was a big might. What was the worst that sex offender could do to him?
… what was the worst he could do to Liz? Or their daughter?
“… I… I don’t know. I can probably manage, but what if he tries to do something to you?”
Liz laughed. “Told you, I’m not afraid. There’s nothing he could do to me that I couldn’t handle. I’ll be fine.” She leaned in. “You shouldn’t be either. No matter what, I’ll support you. We’ll be fine. Everything’s in God’s hands.”
“… I wish I had your faith.” All Dion could say.
“You will.” She reached out and took his paw in hers. He gave it a squeeze in return.
“Next time I see him, I’ll confront him… pray for me.” Dion was scared. Of course he was scared. He hated confrontation. Someone with as much power as Dr. Gilbert made it all the scarier.
“I will… but you can pray too.”
“Yeah….” Well, no. If there was a God, He would listen to Liz. Dion? Only hope he had was that it did not turn dangerous.