The Hermaphrodite's Curse Ch. 19

PART THREE - PARIS

- 4 -

As the sound of snipping scissors was replaced by running water, Saphy shut the door between bedroom and bathroom, leaving Gabe to his own thoughts. He certainly had a lot to think over given what had happened over the last couple of days, a few mysteries that seemed solved only to present new mysteries in their place. So, the naiads had killed the National Gallery victim, but who was she? Come to that, who were they? Could they really be mythical water spirits protecting their supernatural secret?

All of these mysteries played on Gabe's mind, but he was too tired really to focus on any. His head still ached from the day before and he kept finding himself distracted by the sounds of the shower through the thin wall separating the two rooms. Next door, Saphy was singing. Gabe could hear the muffled sounds of her voice, not the most impressive vocal performance, singing, "You better watch out on what you wish for. It better be worth it, so much to die for."

Of all the mysteries that Gabe was puzzling over, his travelling companion was probably the greatest. Her moods infuriated him, yet he admired the passion with which she believed she was right about virtually everything. He longed to feel that kind of passion about anything, but the only thing that had ever stirred him that way was the story he had once loved to read and re-read. The one in the book that Saphy had given him. The book that she had stolen from the college library. The book that had started another argument between them.

Saphy seemed to wear her heart on her sleeve, quite literally in terms of all her tattoos, and yet Gabe sensed there was more to her than met the eye, more of her story beneath the surface than that which was written on her body. Gabe might not have the strength of tastes and opinions as Saphy did, but he had always prided himself on his ability to read people, to see them through his camera lens and come to some understanding of them. With Saphy, this kind of ability was beyond him and that was beginning to make her a mystery that fascinated him every bit as much as the mythical fountain they were searching for together.

His thoughts were interrupted by their subject exiting the small bathroom wrapped in just a towel. Her hair was now short and spiked up in a completely different style to the neat bob she had sported before. As it dried, the bright red colour of the dye became obvious, every bit as stand out and distinctive as the purple that it had been before. Saphy might have changed her look, but she would still never blend in with the crowd. Maybe she would never be able to suppress that part of her that sought to show off her individuality.

As she sat down on the bed beside him, Gabe couldn't help but notice that the towel barely covered her dripping wet skin. Rivulets of water still ran down her naked skin and Gabe watched it weave between the dark ink of all her body art. He had only seen Saphy before in vests, t-shirts and jackets. Now he discovered there was far more written and drawn across her body than he had thought before. He wondered just what it all meant to her. Just above the level of her towel, he could see the beginning of a quote inked into the small of her back, just below her shoulder blades. It read "Oh mother, dear..."

"What's that?" he could not help asking.

"Hmm?" Saphy replied, deep in thought, before noticing him reading her back, "Oh, that. It's just a song lyric," she slid the towel further down to reveal the rest of the quote, "Oh mother, dear, we're not the fortunate ones", and, in doing so, revealed a little of her chest on the other side, "It's from Girls Just Wanna Have Fun."

"Cyndi Lauper?" he asked with surprise.

"Yes. What's wrong with Cyndi Lauper?" she became defensive, pulling the towel back up to cover both lines, grasping it against her chest just like the Venus statue at the Louvre.

"Nothing," Gabe said, worried she might close up to him, even while her inked body was most exposed, "It's just a bit surprising to see on you, that's all. This morning you were wearing a Rancid t-shirt. It's hard to square that with a love of 80s pop."

"Well, I'm a complicated woman, ok," she said, and Gabe could not help agreeing, "It's a great song and I agree with the sentiments. I can take inspiration in how I live my life from a pop song as much as from classical verse. It's true. All I really want is fun, but it's never that easy."

Gabe was impressed. She was, albeit warily, revealing a bit of herself to him, and he did not mean the flesh she was baring. He could tell that this could be the way to best understand her, to learn the meaning behind those things that she had decided to have permanently etched into herself. On one arm there was the now familiar female symbol, Venus' mirror, and, above it, a series of colourful rainbow stripes. The other arm was covered in Chinese figures. At the top, four symbols were in a row, a rectangular shape with a series of horizontal lines across it, another with a cross in the middle and then two far more complicated patterns.

"So, what does this one mean?" he asked, pointing to this row of Chinese letters, his finger nearly brushing against her wet skin.

"These are the Chinese symbols for free will," she replied, "It's to remind me always to take my own path and not be forced and guided by anybody else," she pointed to the next row, three more Chinese letters inked into her bicep, "And these are for stubbornness!" she laughed a little, "Yes, I know that's how I come across, but I have to stick to my own mind and not be led."

"Having spent a couple of days with you, I can't ever imagine you doing anything that wasn't your own choice," Gabe said, quite honestly.

"Yes, well, love makes fools of us all," she quoted in a kind of dismissive, offhand way that made Gabe suspect that she wanted to distract from her real feelings on the subject.

"How do you mean?" he pressed further.

"Since you've spent all this time in awe of the lovely Venus, you must know all she can do," she said, with a hint of sarcasm, "'Her mere gaze made Helen, who surpassed all mortals in beauty, readily bend and led her far from her path. It made her desert the best of men, forget her daughter and her dear parents.'"

"What's that from?"

"It's the poet Sappho," she replied, "Forever my guiding light and greatest influence. See here."

She adjusted her position a little and opened her towel just a bit to show her thigh and the curve of her hip. Just above her waist, a series of Greek letters were inked in elegant calligraphy into her white skin. She ran her fingers over the markings with a sense of tenderness and regret.

"It says: 'I would rather see her warm supple step and the sparkle in her face than watch all the chariots in Lydia and foot soldiers armored in glittering bronze,'" she explained, "Those are the words Sappho used to describe her love, the most beautiful love there has ever been. It is a reminder to us all of how it should be."

"Is that why you have those tattoos?" Gabe asked, "To remind you?"

"I saw a film once where the hero was investigating a murder and had all the clues tattooed onto his body so he wouldn't forget them," she answered rather tangentially, "I always felt that was the way to be, indelibly branding yourself with what you are, where you've been and what you've done. Each of these marks is a memory, a reminder for me never to forget what I've learnt from life."

"So, what has love done to lead you astray?" Gabe asked, excited at how Saphy was suddenly being so open with him, in every possible way.

"See my broken heart," she said, turning toward him.

She lowered her towel a little so that some of her breast was on show, covering just the nipples. Above the left breast, there was a deep red heart tattooed onto her chest. A name had been inked into the middle that looked like it could have been "Anne", "Anna" or "Andy", but it had been obliterated, gouged out leaving a nasty looking scar.

"My first love," Saphy said, regretfully, running her finger along the scar, "I learned all about the madness of Venus the hard way. I did this to myself. As you may guess, it didn't work out so well!"

"I'm sorry," he replied, genuinely, "What happened."

"We grew up," Saphy went on, "And grew apart. Society's conventions pushed her into a little box I didn't want to be inside."

"Well, I guess you had to stay true to your other tattoos!" he laughed, making her smile a little as well.

"And I'll always remain scarred and broken because of her," she said, "I'll always remember what she did to me."

"I thought you did that to yourself," Gabe pointed to her scarred heart.

"That's not the only scar she gave me," she said, "I've never shown this one to anyone before, but I feel like I can now."

Saphy opened her legs a little and showed him another tattoo that he would never have guessed was there on the inner thigh of her right leg. Gabe leant in to look closer at it, realising the strange awkwardness of being this close to the exposed flesh of a nearly naked young woman like this. Getting closer, Gabe could see that the line along her thigh was another nasty looking scar, but there were words tattooed into and against it, crudely scratched and inked into the skin, words like "dyke", "lez", "bitch". Underneath it, Saphy had tattooed "Sticks and stones can break my bones, but never break my soul".

"Yeah, I was one of those kids who was beaten up a lot in school," she grinned coldly, "But I always gave back as good as I got."

"Wow," Gabe replied, "I don't really know what to say to any of that."

He reached over and touched her thigh, gently and tenderly ran his finger along her scarring, seeking some understanding of her pain and angst. He felt her body tremble a little as his skin touched hers. Even though it was only the slightest touch of his finger, Gabe felt strangely intimate, running his digit over her thigh. There was a sensation of life and excitement flowing through him that felt quite unusual out of his dreams.

After a moment, however, Saphy recovered her composure and seemed to feel she had revealed enough of herself. Gently pushing Gabe away, she wrapped the towel back tightly around her, covering the tattoos that were the most personal, the scars that ran deepest.

"Well, that's easily enough about me," she said, "I haven't told anyone nearly that much in years. I guess you're a good listener, but you've got to give something back. You've seen my broken heart, now what about yours?"

"None," he answered, slightly embarrassed, "I've never had my heart broken, never been in love. I have no scars about my body. I'm a blank page in an open book, an uncarved stone, unmoulded clay. I've never really done anything. This, these murders and mysteries, are the first exciting thing that has ever happened to me!"

"You know, that is probably more tragic than any number of broken hearts," Saphy replied, "You mean you've never even been with a woman?"

"No," he admitted, "Never."

She looked at him with an expression of mixed surprise, pity and, perhaps, even a little tenderness. Maybe this new redheaded Saphy was a really different creature to the purple haired one. She certainly seemed more receptive and willing to share. Perhaps it was just that her life was truly in danger now. Seeming to have the same thought, Saphy shook off her sympathetic look and went back to her usual one.

"Well," she said, slightly joking but with a hard edge back in her voice, "When we're sharing that bed tonight, don't get any ideas. Remember that I like girls, ok?"