The Savage Girl - Alex Shakar [101]
“They do?”
“Yes, Ursula, they do. But to get to your second question, we aren’t sure why they do. Behavioral psychologists are of two minds on the issue. One view is that it’s a form of ritualized submission, like beta monkeys’ bending over to take it in the ass from the alphas. The other view compares it to Stockholm Syndrome, the phenomenon of hostages’ identifying with their captors.”
“Which one do you believe?”
He scowls at her.
“Neither, of course,” he replies. “What kind of academic would I be without a theory of my own?”
“Which is?”
“It’s rendering unto Caesar, so to speak. It’s kicking the moneylenders out of the temple. It’s a rebellion against the power those little bills have over our fate. Purely symbolic, of course. Fleeting. Ineffectual. Utterly moronic any way you slice it. But nevertheless. That’s the essence of it. It’s a rebellion against Mammon.” He looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Who would’ve thought I could ever be part of such a thing? It’s humbling, really.”
He goes back to watching the screen, eyes misted with wonder.
“Chas,” she says. “Let me ask you something. Do you care about Ivy at all?”
He says nothing, but she sees him stiffen.
“How can you do this to her?” She’s promised herself she’d keep her cool, but her voice now starts to tremble. “You see how crazy she is. She needs help.”
“Don’t patronize her, Ursula,” he says evenly, turning to face her. “You see all that money? That’s help. That’s more help than most little schnooks out there’ll ever get.”
“How long do you think she can keep this up?”
“However long she feels like it. And when she feels like doing something else, I’ll help her do something else. Whatever she wants. She can do whatever she wants, Ursula. How many people on this shitball of a planet can say that?”
“And what if she feels like destroying herself?”
Chas studies her for a moment, then props his forearms on the desk and leans closer.
“What if?” he says softly. “You think that’s what I want? You know how I spend my mornings nowadays? Dreaming away about those other mornings I had before, the ones where I could lie there in bed watching Ivy put herself together piece by piece—towels, toothpaste, hairpins, stockings. It took her forever. I didn’t give a fuck.”
He shakes his head, staring at Ursula, his eyes bright and wondering.
“I realized that was all I ever wanted,” he goes on. “Just to watch that weird girl put herself together, with the sun shining on her wet, showered body and the scent of her all around me in the sheets and the radio blabbering on about traffic delays and temperatures at the airport, just like it does for every other pie-eyed, addle-brained couple in America. And then we’d eat breakfast, and that would take forever, too—coffee, toast, even some eggs, because she liked big breakfasts, and so did I then, because real food didn’t make me nauseated the way it does now; it actually tasted pretty good. But Ivy wasn’t meant for mornings like that. People destroy themselves, Ursula. All the time. Sometimes that’s what it takes to keep themselves entertained. If Ivy wants to destroy herself, that’s her call. She knows what she needs to do. And if she doesn’t, I’m gonna be right here, waiting for her, with a pile of money so fucking high we can disappear into it and never be seen again.”
He rests his head in his hand again.
“You’re using her, Chas,” she says. “You’re driving her like a mule. She can’t take this kind of pressure.”
“Don’t get in our way, Ursula.”
“Consider me in your way.”
“Yeah, whatever. Consider your resignation accepted. Go find Javier and help him save the motherfucking children. Start an orphanage. Raise us up a whole slew of discriminating consumers. Make us proud.”
He swivels around, showing her the back of his chair.
Conspiracy
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