A Walk Amongst Equals

I often say that Troy and Julie use their abilities to help people wherever possible and wanted to do a story highlighting that rather than the sex and mind control aspects of their lives. The next story, "The Continuing Education of Susan," will have more of that.

*****

"We're no threat, people, we're not dirty, we're not mean.
We love everybody, but we do as we please.
When the weather's fine, we go fishin' or go swimmin' in the sea.
We're always happy, life's for livin', yeah, that's our philosophy."
-Mungo Jerry, "In The Summertime"

Troy and Julie Equals joined hands as they crossed the street; a habit born of a shared childhood that, now that they were sharing their lives completely, had grown into a reflex whereby they unconsciously sought out each other's hand before crossing.

They stopped at the entrance of the park. Julie produced a rolled-up reusable shopping bag from her purse and tucked it between the purse's handles for easy access.

"Big crowd today," Julie told her husband as she hoisted up the purse's strap higher on her shoulder, next to the strap of her purple sundress.

"Open air bazaar and flea market? Yeah, figured one or two people would show up. The same procedure as last year, Mistress?"

"The same procedure as every year, Master."

"The same procedure... as every year..." he muttered, opening his wallet and doing a quick count. "Ok, so buy whatever you think will help, but don't just give anyone money. Phone charge?"

Both produced their phones and checked the battery.

"Full." Julie said before putting hers away. Troy nodded and did the same. The two of them entered the park, kissed each other goodbye, and walked away in different directions.

* * *

Karen stormed away from Joe; or she tried to. Joe was a couple feet behind her, trying to tell her she was over-reacting; which, of course, had the opposite effect of getting her to stop. Troy was buying a bag of popcorn from a cart and learned their names the same way everyone else in the vicinity did: By Joe repeatedly asking Karen to just stop and listen to him and Karen shouting at Joe to fuck off. Troy popped a couple pieces of popcorn into his mouth and moved to intercept her.

"Everything all right," he asked Karen, seeming to fill her entire field of vision. Not in a scary way, Gina thought; but like in movies where someone's lost in the desert and passes out and when they wake up, their rescuer is looming over them. He held the bag of popcorn out slightly as if he were offering, though he hadn't actually said the words. Like Karen was an old pal and he didn't have to say the words "Here, bought some popcorn, want some?" If she'd felt like taking some, she thought that this strange man would be completely ok with it.

"Fine," she sputtered before the unusualness of the moment hit her and she was back to anger. "Hey, this isn't any of your business!"

"Well, my name's Troy and I'm guessing you're Karen and the guy trailing after you is Joe based on the yelling that I and everyone in earshot heard, so the bits that you saw fit to shout out in the middle of a crowded park are sort of my business in a way. But I'm guessing there's more to it. Why don't you sit down and tell me about it?"

Karen's anger seemed to melt away as if the idea of being upset at this man who was stepping forward and offering to help in a park full of people who'd tried their best to ignore the argument didn't exist anymore. She couldn't think of any reason NOT to sit down with this man she'd just met and tell him everything that was going on in her life. As they sat, Joe stomped up to them.

"Oh, and who's this," he accused her. "I can't thank a waitress for a compliment but you can just walk up to some guy and start talking?" Troy looked over at him.

"Joe, is it? Hi, I'm Troy. You two are obviously having a problem; the kind that might benefit from talking to someone who's not emotionally involved and can see something from the outside that you can't. So, I'm going to have a word with Karen here. Why don't you go sit on that other bench across the way and I'll come see you in a moment." It wasn't a question, but Joe felt what Karen had felt in his presence and decided that he couldn't think of a reason not to wait patiently over on the other bench while this stranger had a private conversation with his girlfriend. He walked over to the other bench, sat down, and looked over at them as Troy turned to face Karen.

"Now, I know some of the story, Karen; something about a waitress. I'll be listening to Joe's version too, but I'd like to hear yours first. Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

Karen took a deep breath and, feeling no need not to tell Troy, began.

"We went out for breakfast and the waitress said something about his shirt being nice and he's all 'Thanks, babe, wore it just for you!' All right in front of me." Her outrage at the situation started to fade as she heard herself tell the story out loud to this incredibly nice man.

"I can see that being a little upsetting. My girlfriend was a waitress for years and she's told me how they learn to do that for better tips. Eventually it just comes without thinking. She got a better job last year; but when it was her turn to make the coffee the other morning, she brought it to my desk, set it down, and actually gave me a 'here ya go, hon; anything else I can get for you, sweetie' without noticing that she was doing it until afterwards. We laughed at that."

"Yeah, that IS pretty funny," Karen said with a smile that faded quickly. "But he didn't have to respond," she replied, realizing that her anger wasn't going to stand up in the light of reason, but still trying to defend her position.

"Well, has Joe gone there before without you?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"And was he checking her out before this happened?"

"No. I don't think he was, anyway. I wasn't looking right at him the whole time."

"I see," Troy said, offering the bag to her, but making it clear that's what he was doing this time. She took a bit as he continued. "So, there's nothing but your own suspicions to support the conclusion that it was anything more than 'She flirted with a customer hoping for a better tip and he tried to deflect it with a cute little joke?' That's all it really was, wasn't it, Karen?"

Karen looked down at the ground and shook her head yes. "That's all it really was." Troy leaned in a bit closer, but not close enough to touch.

"I admit, Karen, that I've only known Joe for less than two minutes; I don't have the kind of long, rich history with him as the two minutes and fifteen seconds that you and me go back." Karen looked up and smiled at that. "But based on what I've seen, he doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who'd try to hurt you like that. Is he?" A nod in the negative came. Troy bent down to look her in the eye and continued.

"Karen, that level of paranoid jealousy toward someone you know wouldn't hurt you exists for one purpose: to mask a guilty conscience. There's something going on that you haven't told Joe about, isn't there? Be honest with me." She sighed.

"Don't know why I'm telling you this, but we went out to the club a couple nights ago and I ran into an ex. We talked for a few minutes and ended up trading numbers. We've talked a couple of times since. He texted me before we left this morning."

"I'm going to take a shot in the dark here, Karen: The ex was the one who ended things because some other girl came along and turned his head, didn't he?" Karen nodded yes again, looking back down at the ground. "And some time in between the club and this morning's text, one of you called the other and you talked for a little bit, laughed about how some former mutual friends that either of you lost in the split are doing now, and soon it was 'Hey, why DID we ever break up, anyway,' wasn't it?"

Karen gave another nod yes, followed by the beginning of sobbing. Troy took the paper napkins he'd picked up with the popcorn and offered one to her. When she took it, he put his hand on her shoulder and gave Joe a look that said "I'm just trying to comfort her, ok?" Joe got the message and nodded his understanding, remembering that Troy was going to talk to her privately and get to him soon.

"So, did anything happen, Karen? Did you meet up with him somewhere? Or make plans to? Be honest, now."

"No," she responded, feeling the overwhelming need to be honest to Troy and fighting back tears, using the napkin to take care of the ones that had already come from her eyes. "It's come up, but not yet."

"Well, that's good, Karen. Except for the part where you punished Joe for the ex's crimes just now because you're looking for a justification to call him up and arrange that meeting. The fact that you had to reach that far for it tells me that maybe Joe's not a bad... you know, I didn't even ask if he's your boyfriend or husband or..."

"Boyfriend," Karen said as the sobbing stopped. "We've been going out for three months, we just moved in together two weeks ago."

"Ok, so maybe he's not a BAD boyfriend, but he could be better. And maybe some quirk that bugged you a little is now something that you have to live with every day and it's making you think how the ex never did that?" Karen thought for a moment, then agreed. "I know I'm lucky in that regard. My wife has been my best friend all our lives, so we entered into the relationship and marriage fully aware of, and ok with, all those annoying little things about each other."

"I thought you said you had a girlfriend."

"I do. And they love each other too. My situation isn't yours, Karen; there are other factors that make it work for everyone. You don't think there's anything weird about it." Karen nodded, not thinking there was anything weird about it. "You've made an error, but it hasn't become a mistake yet. When you fail to correct an error is when it graduates to a mistake. My suggestion would be that if Joe's a good enough guy to see past whatever the little thing is, lose the ex's number. He hurt you once, and if he knows about Joe and is still pursuing you, he hasn't changed and he probably just wants to use you to put some other girl through what you experienced; and then he'll do it to you again. I'll go have a word with Joe. He seems like an ok guy; if you follow my advice and end things with your ex before they begin, then there'll be no reason for me to bring it up and hurt him, ok?"

Karen smiled and agreed. She took out her phone. "On it."

"Cool. And if the ex won't take the hint, here's my card. Don't worry about the business stuff unless you want to talk about it later; the second number is the phone that's always with me. I'll have a word with him. I'll give Joe one too. He'll want it when we're done talking, just like you do." She took the business card that she suddenly really wanted and read it.

"Troy Equals Financial Planning. Troy Equals: President, Treasurer, and CEO; Ph.D. pending?"

"Little business I've come up with while working on my doctorate; I help people find budgets and investment plans that they can stick to. The name was a total accident. Or, rather, that wasn't why my wife and I picked it when we got married. HER card says 'Julie Equals Graphic Design,' which I think works for an artist. She did my logo. Here, go ahead and finish my popcorn. I'll get a new bag for Joe, and we'll probably all want a soda afterwards."

Troy walked back toward the popcorn vendor, giving Joe a "just going to get this, and then be right there" gesture along the way. As he put his hands in his pockets while waiting for the current customer to finish, the thought of last night in bed with Julie crossed his mind and he wondered what she was doing.

* * *

Julie Equals looked over a table of pewter and crystal figurines. Amongst them was a model of the original Starship Enterprise with sparkling yellow crystals at the fore of the warp nacelles and white ones on the aft. She thought Troy would love it and asked the vendor if he had another one for Susan.

While the vendor went to check the boxes he hadn't unloaded from his van, Julie took a look at the people around her. Her eyes lit on a girl with purple hair sitting under a tree and writing in a notebook. A backpack decorated with all manner of Sharpie-drawn symbols rested against the tree next to her. Julie recognized a few of them, as well as the look on the girl's face as she stopped to think about something, then gave a weak smile and wrote it down.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the returning vendor, who found another Enterprise in the van. Julie bought both of them, then her eyes set on another figurine on the table and she bought that one as well before strolling in the girl's direction. When she got close, she stopped and turned to her as if she'd planned to walk by, but just now noticed the girl, and came closer.

"Know what I always hated," Julie asked, seeming to fill the girl's vision. "When I'd be sitting there under a tree writing something in a notebook, not bothering anybody, and some asshole I never met and who knows nothing about me would come up and go 'What're you writing?' I'd always go 'My suicide note, fucker. So I don't have to deal with dicks like you getting in my face anymore.'"

The girl looked up with a "how did you know" look on her face before realizing Julie was making a joke and gave her a forced laugh.

"Heh, yeah," was her response. "So, that was funny, but what's your excuse?"

"I spotted another Purple Girl and had to come say hi. I'm Julie. Hi."

"Oh," the girl said, taking note of the dress Julie was wearing. "Er, hi." She bent her head down into the notebook and started writing again, hoping the strange older woman would get the hint and go away. Julie remained undaunted and sat on the grass next to her.

"Hey, we're rare as fuck. Take a look around." Julie started pointing out other girls her age walking around with someone or in groups. "Pink Girl, Pink Girl, Pink Girl, Pink Girl. Pink, pink, pink, pink, pink." She pointed to herself, then the girl under the tree. "Purple Girl, Purple Girl. And what do you think they're talking about? 'Blah blah boys, blah blah reality shows. Fitting in/being popular/prom, blah blah.'" The girl smiled and started getting into it as well.

"Yeah. 'Hey, party at Brent's house tonight. Football team's gonna be there.' 'Think they'll have enough roofies for all of us or should we bring our own?' 'Last one to get felt up by a drunk trust fund jock's Denise!'"

"You're fucking dark, lady, I love it," Julie laughed. "Or rather, Denise, I'm guessing from that last one." Denise nodded as her laugh ended. "So, what's your favorite season of Buffy?"

"Six. Evil Willow is so cool and poor Tara." Denise thought for a second. "Wait, I was like two years old when Buffy ended; how did you know I'd even have a favorite season?"

Julie's answer was to point to her own dress and Denise's hair.

"Pink Girls learn the lesson of Barbie, Purple Girls learn the lesson of Buffy. Mine's season 3. The Mayor reminds me of my best friend so much, if he's watching with me when the Mayor comes on, I'll just look over at him until he notices and tells me to stop it, cause he knows WHY I'm looking at him, too." Julie looked the girl over. "Sorry, I just love the look. I always wanted purple hair, but if you didn't notice, I've got weird hair anyway and dyes just don't take to it."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that. It looks really Eighties."

"Doesn't it? Like those 80s girls who went blonde, then when the brown grew back, they just let it go? That's not the deal, though. This isn't a dye-job thing, it's a weird medical thing. My hair's looked like this since I was a baby. I don't carry pictures, but my husband's walking around here somewhere; he's got some. It's, like, beyond rare. They don't even have a name for it, they say I might be the first ever case of it. Nothing else different, I don't have any extra toes or chromosomes or anything, just two-tone hair. School sucked. Well, that part of it. There were other reasons it didn't."

"School sucks all the time for me," Denise said, looking back down at her notebook. Julie craned her head a little, not really trying to read it, but looking like she was. Denise pulled the book away.

"Sorry about that. I'm nosy. I'm sure it's really personal stuff. Hey, if you were two when Buffy ended, that means you can't be more than fourteen or fifteen. Don't worry; I'm a pervert, not a sicko. I didn't come over here to hit on you. Just relax a little." Denise suddenly felt like relaxing a little and set the book down.

"That's... um... good. Thanks. Sorry, I'm working on something here."

"That's what it looked like. And that IS why I walked over. How's the note coming?" Denise scooted away a bit.

"Ok, that's the second time you've mentioned suicide notes. What's going on? How did you know?"

"I was only about 80% sure until you filled in the rest just now, Denise. I didn't say 'suicide note' this last time, I said 'note.' But to answer your question; when I saw you over there, it looked like as you were writing, heavy burdens were being lifted from you. Like, you were getting down the shit that needed to get said before you left. I know that look well."

"You? Why would you? You're gorgeous."

"Wasn't looking for that, Denise, but thank you; and don't think for a second you're not either. Not me, but I had a girlfriend whose life at home was such shit that I caught her writing away heavy burdens herself a couple times. My first girlfriend from around when we were your age, in fact. I see the little pink triangles and rainbows you've drawn on your backpack amongst the Crass and Subhumans symbols, I feel I can tell you that stuff; excellent bands, by the way. Lovely work, too. I draw a bit, myself."

Denise turned to face Julie, eyes wide that this "Normie except for the hair" who was older than her liked girls too, but also that she knew who either of those bands were.

"Thanks. You're into girls? You said you've got a husband."

"Yep," Julie said with a sweet smile. "Fortunately, it turns out he's also into girls, so it works out." Denise laughed at that. "Thing is, high school sucks, that's its job. Double for a Purple Girl, triple for a gay or bi one. So, what's brought this on? I've got guesses, but I don't know your life, Denise. You can tell me."

Denise sighed before speaking, realizing she could tell this woman.

"Well, it's not as bad as your friend. There's this girl at school, I thought she might be interested. It took me a long time to work up the nerve to say anything and when I did, she freaked out. She's told some people. I'm worried my parents will find out."

"And guessing by the note-writing, it won't go over well. Well, Denise, I give a fuck about you. I don't know if that's what you need to hear, but it's what my friend did, and it's just as true now as it was for her. Things got much better for her, and if you're not above talking to someone who wants to listen, I know they can for you. Here, it's a little weird, but tell me something that isn't when two Purple Girls meet."

Julie reached into the bag and produced a pewter figurine of a dragon with purple crystals for eyes and red and white crystals scattered amongst the "treasure horde" at the dragon's feet as it spread its wings, mouth open in a mighty roar. She handed it to Denise, who looked it over, admired it, and then tried to hand it back to Julie.

"Oh no, that's for you," Julie said, fishing for a pen in her purse.

"Wow, thanks," Denise said with a real smile. "How did you know I liked dragons?"

"Purple Girls always like dragons," Julie said without looking up, finding a pen and writing something on a card. "I'm going to write my cell number on the back of this card. I don't want you to ever tell yourself that nobody gives a fuck or you don't have anyone to talk to, because you've got to give a fuck about someone to give them a dragon. And you can call me whenever you need. If you need to have someone there when you talk to your parents, I'll be happy to explain things to them in a way I know they'll understand."