Forgetting the Dreamtime-A novel of growing up.

About the Author

Social Philosopher G. V. Loewen is the author of over two dozen books and was professor of human sciences for over two decades.

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Forgetting the Dreamtime

Published by Austin Macauley at Smashwords

Copyright 2018, G. V. Loewen

The right of G. V. Loewen Irving to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the

Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All Rights Reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the publisher, or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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A CIP catalogue record for this title is

Available from the British Library.

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www.austinmacauley.com

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Forgetting the Dreamtime, 2018

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.

ISBN 9781788784290 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781788784306 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781788784313 (E-Book)

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First Published in 2018

Austin Macauley Publishers.LTD/

CGC-33-01, 25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf, London E14 5LQ

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Acknowledgments

To Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for Through the Veil and to H. G. Wells for The Stolen Body. To Sir Arthur C. Clarke for Childhood’s End. To Britt Marling for Another Earth, and to my very own indomitable heroine, Jennifer L. Heller.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Of Blindness and Vision

Chapter 2

The Discovery

Chapter 3

Head to Head

Chapter 4

Heart to Heart

Chapter 5

And Hip to Hip

Chapter 6

Burning

Chapter 7

Reckoning

Chapter 8

What Now?

Chapter 9

‘I Killed Myself’

Chapter 10

Tomorrow

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That which is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil.

Nietzsche, 1886.

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Chapter 1

Of Blindness and Vision

They’re not really going to do this, are they? No, they wouldn’t, would they? How could they? Nah. Well, maybe they will. They’re really pissed. But it’s been over three years. No way they’ll start up again now. Or will they? Kristen mulled it all over, back and forth, swaying on her haunches, her knees a little shaky. Poised on the edge of her bed, door ajar, shuffling sounds below her. Both Mom and Dad were down there, she inhaled sharply with this realization, then tried to relax. Maybe I should put on some jeans, just in case. Then,

Kristen Anne Smythe, get down here right now! Mom’s voice. That in itself was a good thing. Or was it? Maybe her dad was so angry, he couldn’t speak. Either way, she’d better get up off her bed and descend, hadn’t she? I might really be in for it this time. Well, I’m not going to be a baby about it. She arose. Then promptly sat down again. Hmmph. Maybe this’ll be the last time in a while that I am sitting. She thought to herself sardonically. But I’d better get down there anyway. Okay, here goes.

Without replying to her mom’s acerbic demand, she crept around her bedroom door and surveyed the empty staircase. No sign of parents, but as soon as she had reached the main floor they’d be there, towering in front of her. The stern judgement of their combined visage. Not going to be a baby, she reiterated. Yeah, I’ve been super bad too lately. What the hell, I have to admit it. Kristen began her trepidatious descent. Like heading into the depths, maybe. Deep, dark and scary. And she might have a hard time getting back up out of them after what her parents had been promising her. She landed with a slight bounce at the bottom of the stairwell.

Look at me, Kristen. Well, what have you got to say for yourself?

Kristen forced herself to look up, slowly. Her mom and dad stared rather starkly at her. Their lips appeared more stentorian than anything that had so far emanated from them. But this was just the start. Kristen was trying to recall the last time, so long ago, to see if there were any signs in her favour, any way she was going to get out of this, this time. It sure didn’t look like it at present, though she quickly noted that her dad’s belt was still around his waist. For the moment, anyway, that might be a favorable forecast of future events. Immediate future, that is.

Um, er, uh, sorry? she attempted. Nope. No way. That was hardly enough to mollify her parents’ heated sensibilities. Yeah, forget it. You’re dead, girl. Gonna be sleeping on your stomach tonight. If you can sleep at all. Kristen’s inner voice, upon which she relied so much in a world with few friends and many rules, was trying to let her down as gently as it could. Kristen gulped a little, and then tried again: Well, I know I’ve been a bit of a brat lately. Um, I was just wondering if we could just sit down and talk about it first, you know, and then deal with it, if you still want to? Now she was playing for time. How transparent this was to all three of them was underscored by a sudden rush of cool air through the house. Surprisingly cold. It must have pushed in from one of the open windows and whisked around, until it had found the equally open front door. But now Dad was opening his mouth and fingering his buckle at the same time. Oh man, here it comes.

Listen to me, young lady. Your gift of understatement is going to go unappreciated. In fact, its perilously close to the edge of a lie. I’m done with discussion for the moment, but if you want to tell us later how and when your behavior is going to improve, I’ll listen.

Kristen stood swaying once again. Her eyes had opened a little wider during her father’s response, its succinctness and implication netting her fullest attention. Another slight gulp. Another pause, and she relaunched what had to be the final gasp, Right. You’re right. I’m so sorry. I just haven’t been myself lately. Very distracted. But I’m still at the top of my class, the whole school, in fact. Have you checked with the registrar? He’s got the honour roll lists at his fingertips. Um, and I’m still a virgin on top of everything else. Kristen thought maybe a little humor would lighten the leaden atmosphere a touch. And besides, it was, alas, true. Her dad raised his eyebrows and her mom rolled her eyes in a way that Kristen herself was absolutely not supposed to do.

This isn’t about that. Her dad quickly retorted.

Thanks for the intimate update, sweetie, her mom. Yep, her mom was where she’d gotten her pawkishness from, after all.

But that’s got to count for something. I mean, er, the grades and all.

It’s your attitude that needs addressing, Kristen. Even now you’re wearing things that we told you are a no go. You got a note from school two days ago, a phone call from the principal yesterday. Your teachers tell us you are arrogant and brash and smart-mouthed. You haven’t been to Sunday school for a month. You even missed service last week and we heard about it instead. The list was growing by leaps and bounds. Kristen nodded, a little absently, thinking that all of this – and the rest of it that it appeared for the time being that her parent’s didn’t even know about – was indeed adding up. Like weight and debt. Easy to accumulate and hard to get rid of. She of course had neither of these other problems. Yep, so they know about school. They’re getting on that dress code thing again. They’re using that generic term, my ‘attitude’, good all-bases coverage. And yeah, that’s what’s about to get ‘adjusted’, as they say. Kristen then dared to interpose:

I’ll try to be less rude at school. It’s hard—

It should not be hard to be polite, missy, her mom cut her off. Kristen jumped in again while she still could,

Yes, I know, I meant that it’s hard to get along with the others without some sign of non-compliance. Most of the kids aren’t, well, as ‘supervised’ as I am. I’m not blaming others for my behavior. I’m just saying that I want to fit in better. The clothes thing too. More than anything else, clothing and hair were paramount. Yes, the school itself was conservative, but not all parents were as old-fashioned as hers. And even hers hadn’t disciplined her since she turned thirteen. But after three and a half years, it looked like the old-fashioned manner of correction was about to reappear. I guess I shouldn’t be appearing to try to get out of this. It’s cowardly. I’m not going to be like them. They can be cowards if they want. Not me. Don’t be a baby, Kristen. Get it over with and then state your case.

We know the ‘reason’, Kristen, her mom had mimed the single quotes around the word ‘reason’ just as her daughter had just done with ‘supervised’ before her.

And it’s no reason. Be yourself. Don’t follow others’ bad influences. Those kinds of friends you don’t need. You shouldn’t be trying to attract attention to yourself by acting out. The fact that you are still the best student by grades alone doesn’t give you a free pass. If other measures were made, you wouldn’t show as well. Kristen tried to listen attentively to her mom, who had now taken over the chastisement, at least its oral phase, but she found that she couldn’t always meet her mom’s eyes.

I’m not myself under your rules. House rules, Church rules, School rules. Kristen didn’t want to get too adamant. It would just anger them even more. Her parents never yelled at her, she found herself realizing, just then. They simply and briefly had always told her why she was going to be punished, what the punishment would consist of, and what they expected her to change about her manner and demeanor, her behavior and her accomplishments. Now it was all coming back to her. Jeez, she’d been punished quite a bit before becoming a teenager. And she really thought she’d hit the big time when they had stopped, saying that she was no longer a child and needed to learn to be more responsible without the threat of physical discipline. Hah. You milked it dry, didn’t you? You played it for all it was worth. It’s totally your own fault your gonna be so sorry now. Yep, I’m at fault here. They probably should have done this a long time ago! Hmmph. After this latter day internal diatribe, she uttered:

And I do want to be myself. Just me. Find out who I am and where I need to go. Isn’t that what you want? Me growing up? Being my own person?

At length, yes, Kristen, we do. But you’re also a member of a family and a community. In eighteen months, if you want, you can throw it all over, but don’t expect we’re going to support you in that endeavor. If you dislike it so much, you can move out and make a new life for yourself. A heathen life, more than likely. See how far that takes you in this life, and the next. Kristen breathed in a little rapidly and blinked. She couldn’t possibly start crying this soon. They hadn’t laid one lick on her. She had to steady herself or she was never going to make it even through this evening.

And as for where you’re going now, it’s over the end of the sofa, her dad opined, rather mean-spiritedly. Kristen blinked few more times. Dear, would you close the front door for us. Well, at least the whole street isn’t going to hear it. Kristen thought to herself. Her mother had moved across the large open-concept sitting room. Kristen followed her movements in order not to have to bear witness to the incontrovertible fact that her dad had undone his belt and was now slipping it around his waist, folding it in two in the approved fashion, and flexing it out tight. Gulp. Wonderful. Her inner voice again. Well, I’m a lot older now. A little bigger. Maybe it won’t feel so bad after all. And I’m not going to be a baby about it. For the nth time, Kristen found herself repeating this mantra, more and more half-heartedly now that it was clear what was about to happen to her. But just then, she was distracted by her mom pulling up short by the door and squinting out at the twilit meadow that stretched out in front of the Smythe residence, last as it was in a new cul-de-sac. What the heck? Her mom seemed to be staring at something in the distance, but the angle of aperture was obscured from where Kristen and her father were standing. Then her mom opened her mouth just a little, like she had been astonished. Then there seemed to be a touch of anxiety in her features, but she quickly brought them under control and shut the door with a sharp snap. Oops. That sound might be about to be repeated some number of times on her rear end, Kristen gulped again. But before this event could occur, the front door opened again with a creak and a brusqueness all its own. It did so while her mom had been walking away from it, rather purposely, but also somewhat loosely, as if she had just said farewell to an old lover with whom she was both angry, but also still curious about, and maybe a little unsure about exactly who he now was, and how she had ever loved him in the first place. The door was in fact no lover, of course, and Kristen herself had started a little when it had decided to impeach her mom’s command.

Might want to lock it next time, dear. Her father was getting impatient, now that the means of adolescent correction was in his hands.

I could have sworn I just did, was her mom’s uneven reply. And now the door had been whisked open by another brisk breeze, banging it against its stop and rebounding it close to its frame once again. Her mom caught it, but apparently had to force it back fully into its frame to shoot the bolt. Yes, Kristen thought, her grip tightened on it and she actually heaved a little, as if there had been something on its far side that was shoving the door back at her. How weird. No, it was just the force of wind. Not weird. Oh, Kristen, anything to distract you from taking the consequences, right? Now her mom was finally back. The door in its place, her dad motioned her to take the position he had announced to her a few moments before. Gulp.

Okay, but, um, can I quickly go change and come right back? I’ll be right back, I promise.

Not a chance, Kristen. Whatever those things are you’re wearing, and they’re a public disgrace, by the way, they’re going to serve a constructive purpose now. A convenient purpose. Maybe we should have you wear them any time discipline is required, instead of just throwing them out. Her father was going on about her simple leggings, an article of apparel that every girl in the world probably owned. But yeah, they were skin tight and to top it all off, she wasn’t wearing any underwear at all underneath, since her parents had banned thongs years ago. Well then, I’ll go commando then, too bad for them. Kristen now knew that it might in fact be too bad for her.

Yes, little miss, tights are for wearing under skirts and dresses, not by themselves.

These are leggings, Mom. Tights have feet and they don’t look like this. The fabric is different. And Jeez guys, they’re black. You can’t exactly see anything. Oh wow, that was not the right thing to say. Not now.

Calling your parents’ ‘guys’ is rude. Taking the Lord’s name in vain is more than rude. I guess you really want this to be memorable, hmmm, Kristen?

I can’t believe you would speak to us in such a fashion, when you know you are completely out of line dress wise. Those things are skin-tight. The only advantage they have is you can leave them up, her mom glared at her, but she still seemed to be shaking something off her. What? Did she see something out there? What could it possibly have been? Kristen now saw her mom’s chin waver, her face falter. She flicked her eyes back in the direction of the door, and then to the huge bay window that arched up at the center of the living space. Kristen was distracting herself again. Who cares what she saw, she had to admit. Better take a deep breath and grit your teeth. Kristen inhaled as deeply as she could and leant herself over the end of the couch. Her dad walked around to the open side of it and stated flatly:

Your mom and I have already discussed this, Kristen. You’re getting your age in licks. Sixteen. And that only because this is the first time in a long while. If this is going to be repeated – and I doubt very much that it won’t be – the count will gradually get larger. I’d like to begin…Mom? This last to his wife, who then nodded, but Kristen was just bold enough to look back at the right moment to observe that her mom’s nod was given rather absently, and her attention was straying back to the door and window again. Come on, Mom! At least be a part of this! Take responsibility for assaulting your daughter. Shit, here comes the first one already. Kristen winced, prematurely, as it turned out, because her dad had also noted her mom’s seemingly blithe indifference to what should have been a major event in the Smythe household given the past three plus years of its daughter’s bad behavior and the absence of ‘corrections’ of this ilk.

Is there something the matter, dear? her dad asked. Her mom replied, rather too quickly, Kristen thought.

Of course not. Go ahead, carry on. Thanks a bunch, Mom. Kristen now tensed up again, and this time, finally, it happened. She heard the telltale swish in the air somewhere up behind her and then…well, and then she didn’t need to guess if it was really happening or not. Oh wow, that really stung! I can’t believe how much that stung. And again. And no, I’m not gonna cry. Maybe sob a little, yeah, gasp some, and yeah, snot is running out of nose now, and yes the tears are coming down my cheeks, but I’m not crying. And I won’t. No way. Oh my Gawd, that last one really hurt! Kristen was now clenching her teeth as tight as she could, wincing her way through the unexpected agony of it. Gripping the sofa cushion ever tighter as well. Closing her eyes as tightly as she could, brooking the tears back, at least a little, at least at first. Her whole face was soaked, between her eyes and her nose and even her mouth, though she hardly dared open it, lest real crying inevitably followed. Yep, you’re getting it now, aren’t you, girl. You deserve it too. Damn rights, you do. Your folks don’t even know half the stuff you’ve done over the past three years. And they’re not going to find out, either. Well, at least I can say I needed it, can’t I? Kristen’s rational side was trying to improvise some rationalization all the while the strokes landed on her behind and she was verging on breaking down.

But all of a sudden it was over, apparently. It took her a moment to relax her lithe form, unclench her muscles and soften her shoulders. She didn’t open her eyes or her mouth at first though. Wow, yeah, that was brutal. I needed it though. Huh? Kristen was beside herself in more ways than one. Aside from being flattened a little by the brief whipping, her ego bruised likely far more than her rear end, she also was surprised that her inner voice was telling her she deserved it, and a lot more, in fact. Says WHO? Kristen was arguing with herself, now. This isn’t right. It’s like abuse, kind of, isn’t it? Anyway, it isn’t right. What kind of parents would hurt their own kid? Kristen was slowly becoming aware that there was a real conflict inside herself about not only her behavior, but just what kind of consequences were reasonable, given its history. Not this, she thought, but maybe something like it? Well, fuck it. It’s done. At least this time around, anyway. And I’m not going to change. I’m going to go right on doing what I’ve been doing. Well, at least some of it. The stuff that really matters. Kristen realized that she was not only going to have make a list for her parents that catalogued planned alterations in her dispensation of self, but that it would also have to serve her own sensibilities, now admittedly, a little altered by her most recent experience over the sofa. And admittedly, that’s one thing opponents of corporal punishment often overlooked. It must be supremely satisfying to the one meting it out, not that that was a good reason for its continuation in some regions of North America, including the one in which she lived, for God’s sake. And admittedly, she herself did in fact also feel she deserved some kind of remonstrance. She had a conscience after all. It bothered her, at least a little, that she’d hurt her parents before they turned around and hurt her. She had betrayed them, hadn’t she? She’d hurt their feelings and had let them down. They were generally quite proud of her. Well, so they should be. That voice again. You’re the best, Kristen, baby, the hottest, smartest, wittiest little thing Calhoun County has ever seen. You’re the one-stop-shop when talk comes round to sexy and intelligent. Okay, that’s enough, smart-ass… Kristen had slipped off the couch and was now huddling herself on her knees and haunches on the floor by the coffee table, her mom’s embrace belated, but still welcome, and her dad’s reattaching his belt to its officially sanctioned place of residence all the more so. It was over.

Are you okay, my sweet angel? her mom was mincing at her. Kristen nodded.

Yep. Uh-Huh. I guess so. She kind of mewled it out. But she didn’t want to give them too much satisfaction even so. She tried to remember to breathe steadily and deeply, calm herself down. She hadn’t cried out. This was a big deal. She had sobbed and grunted and gritted her teeth. No big deal. Wow, her butt was burning though. More tears inexorably flowed out, but she didn’t make more than a whimper. No problem. We’re done. And if I can take it once, I can take it again. And fuck them too. But this more violent feeling didn’t linger. She arched her shoulders and her mom’s arms slackened their grip. But not wanting to exhibit too much resentment – and she didn’t feel all that resentful about it after all, surprising herself this way – she reached back out for her mom. In doing so, she had found she missed completely, and was finally forced to open her eyes to see what had transpired in that moment. And in that trice, she beheld both her parents, standing stalk still staring stolidly out the bay window behind her, their faces frozen in icy whiteness. What in God’s name…? Kristen found herself gaping at them for a second. But, when she herself swung round to follow their gaze, there was nothing, absolutely nothing out there. At least that she could see. Turning back once again, she found mom and dad now staring nervously at each other! This was getting to be a little much, especially since whatever had just occurred had basically wiped the memory of what had just occurred before it, and Kristen was in no mood just to forget about it and move on.

Hey! What’s going on? Forget about me? Are you guys okay? Oh, damn, the ‘you guys’ thing again. But her parents didn’t appear to notice it. In fact, they didn’t even seem to be hearing her at all. Kristen paused, trying to adjust from her own mordant plight to this new affair, whatever it consisted of, and found that she had to speak again, as no response was apparently going to be forthcoming from her latter day disciplinarians. Okay. Uh, Mom, Dad, can we keep it real here? Can we talk about this and set up some guidelines. I mean, for all three of us? Her parents were not really yet attending to her, such had been their distraction. Indeed, it almost looked like a kind of shock had spread itself over their faces. Kristen was now more and more authentically disturbed, and she herself began to forget about her posterior and her face. She decided that she would have to be patient. She didn’t want any reprise of the main course. After all, such a reprisal would really sting, coming on top of that already administered. Okay, girl, just hang-on. Your parents are out for the count. They’re more out of it than you are, by far. Yep. Wait this one out for a second, will you? Finally, she saw her mom take a sudden intake of breath, as if she had been holding off for some moments, and exhale just as sharply. And finally, she looked down at her somewhat penitent teenage daughter.

Oh, Kristen! I’m so sorry! Huh?

Uh, hey, don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Really. I’ll get over it. Her mom once again didn’t deem to be listening, and as far as her dad went, he had sat down in a bit of a heap, and had his jaw in his right hand, gently stroking a faint first day’s growth. What the fuck is going on here? Now Kristen was getting just a little agitated herself. But, at least her mom had remembered that her daughter was still here. That’s a start, I guess. Then, just when Kristen was thinking that she should throw in the proverbial towel for the evening and call it an equally proverbial night, her father belatedly spoke:

Yes, uh, sorry Kristen. We were distracted for a moment. Now what did you want to say to us. We’re listening now. Kristen looked at both her parents, who were now clasping each other’s hands together, something almost unheard of in a household where physical affection had not at all been as apparent as physical correction over the years. Raising her own eyebrows this time, Kristen began haltingly:

This is what I’m willing to do: I’ll stop being rude to my teachers. I’ll go to church once a week with you. I’ll stop cursing in front of adults. She paused. How tightly should she draw her own noose, anyways? And I’ll accept whatever discipline you think I need going ahead. But, I’m not going to start dressing like it’s 1950. No Sunday school, and if a teacher is factually incorrect or bigoted I am still going to challenge them. I’m going to work for the truth of things. There, she had stated her case. Now she held her breath.

Her parents regarded her with an odd mix of fondness and sternness. She had never quite gotten used to this mix, the alchemy of a sub-culture held between love as a mere feature of filial duty, and that more transcendental in form. But, when her mom spoke, after a few moments of this face to face tableau, it appeared that affection had secured itself the present lead:

Okay, Kristen. That’s fine. If you’re okay, why don’t you go up to your room and get ready for bed?

As long as you know, that we cannot support you wholeheartedly with the clothing thing, and that we might request that you tone it down sometimes depending on the context. Her dad added. Kristen nodded more or less obediently. But there was something else she needed to say, and now was the time to say it:

It’s not because of you going back to disciplining me that I’m offering these changes. It did make me nervous. I thought it was unfair after so long. I’m not a little kid anymore. But, it was really about me feeling some bad conscience about making your lives harder than they need to be. I can’t be your little angel. I need to become my own person. Let me find God in my own way. Let me find love, too. At this, her parents looked at her with some astonishment. Her dad’s eyes narrowed just for a moment, but he said nothing. Kristen took this as a cue that she could continue safely: I don’t mean that I’m going to rush out and become the ‘Scarlet Whore of Babylon’. But, sixteen is the legal age of consent here. I’m willing to compromise and love girls instead of boys if that make you feel better… The look on her parents shared visage was now one of the downright dismay. Her mom even blushed. Dad was stuttering, and finally managed to spit out,

Kristen, we don’t believe in pre-marital sex of any kind, whatever state laws may say. There is a higher law, and we would have you obey it. Girls or boys, it doesn’t matter.

Stick to holding hands and hugging dear, could you? Find the right boy and court for a few years, her mom was trying to strike a compromise of her own, but its scope failed to impress Kristen on any level. Her reply was, however, even-toned and almost sotto voce:

I’m going to leave all this behind if I can’t explore myself for myself. I said what I was willing to do, including staying away from boys that way and guaranteeing both my virginity and no unwanted pregnancies. I said I’d accept whatever discipline you wanted to administer. I can’t go on like this any longer, just seeing Evelyn and Mary the way in which I see them, anyways. Evelyn Engels and Mary Devlyn were ‘parent approved’ friendships, and the former had recently receded even from that parochial horizon due to her equally recent sexual activities, many of which Kristen herself had actively participated in, though needless to say, her parents were in the dark about this development. In fact, as Kristen waited apprehensively for their reply to her declarations of intent, she thought more and more that it had been these delightful but increasingly dangerous escapades that had brought her to the conclusion that she needed to ‘get out more’, at the very least.

We’re tired of fighting with you, Kristen. And we don’t really see the point of disciplining you if you’re not going to change. Can you at least keep these explorations discreet? Can you at least respect our place in our community and honor your parents? Will you at least plan to marry someone that we know and trust? Her mom was trying. She seemed to have aged more than a decade in the last fifteen minutes. What on earth had they seen out front, anyways? Wait a second, this was not the time for her inner voice to start its editorializing or its constant questioning, Kristen thought.

I’m tired too. I do respect you. Both of you. You don’t need to whip me to get that. I’m just not a kid anymore. I’m a young woman. I want to live like one. I’m not going to call you down in front of others. I don’t complain about you behind your back. I don’t hang out at other people’s houses just to escape your oversight. Kristen did spend a lot of time in her room, however, and even more time at the local libraries, first the public one, and then, just three months ago, the revelation of the university library, a scant ten-minute walk from the edge of her high school campus.

There may be more of what happened tonight in store for you, then, Kristen. Her father warned her, but without the customary menace. He had lost a fair bit of his wind as well due to whatever he and Mom had witnessed. But time enough to ask after that in due course. Kristen realized she was not finished getting her main point across:

I said you could discipline me whenever. But it’s only fair, that if that is going to start up again, then in turn I get to do what I want. It’s more important by far that I do that, then it is for me to avoid punishment, I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. Her parents once again performed the patent eyebrow raising, in tandem. Then,

Okay, Kristen. If those are your terms you may have to accept the consequences for them. On our side, we can’t just give in and allow you to practice lesbianism, atheism, and street-wise modeling just because we have to respond in kind. At this characterization of her proposed efforts, Kristen actually cracked a wane grin. Her mom responded with one of her own. Amazing!

I’m not going to become a lesbian, Mom! It’s just a stop-gap. It saves the family from a more public disgrace of the danger of an out of wedlock grandchild. No one knows that you’re having sex, unless it’s with a boy. Girls don’t talk about such things. And I’m an agnostic, not an atheist. There’s a big difference.

Oh, really? Kristen’s studying up all that time in the libraries was about to announce itself.

Yes! Yes, Mom – and Dad – the atheist believes in nothing as religiously as you believe in something. The agnostic keeps an open mind and waits and sees, forms their beliefs out of their life experiences as they go on. It’s the correct view for any scientist, for example. Agnostic just refers to our inability to know ultimate truths without faith, and the leap of faith, that one can know something coming out of experience, keeps agnosticism from sliding into a futile nihilism or a dishonest atheism. Now her parents were quite attentive, though their brows were furrowed, once again, in stereo.

Some of that sounds okay, Kristen. Her dad started up. God shows himself to us very personally, and some of it is based on our own experience. And…I guess experience can take you by surprise enough that one sometimes doubts what he has believed before. With this, he looked searchingly into Kristen’s mom’s eyes, but just for a moment. "So, thanks for