John Frum The Reluctant Messiah

Housekeeping!

Em inserted the key and the orange door swung open. She quickly cranked the window AC on as the motel room's heated air was stifling and stale and plopped her keys on the generic, Formica dresser. There were stacks of paperwork and books on the nightstand next to the bed, a small bag of picks and hammers- all the stuff you would imagine a workaholic archaeologist would have strewn about. It was not the tidiest of places and it seemed to cause Em a bit of embarrassment. 

"Oh, yeah, mmm. Oops," Em said as she began picking up stray clothes. 

"Here, let me give you a hand," John said as he began to pitch in.

"Sorry, wasn't exactly expecting guests." 

John glanced around and charitably offered, "I was thinking it kinda feels like home." 

Em looked over at him. Her gaze immediately lowered to his hands. He in turn looked down as well. Wasn't this awkward. Without realizing it, helpful John had picked up and was holding a very sexy, bright blue bra. 

"Feels like home?" she repeated.  A flustered John sheepishly handed it back to her. 

"Think I'll just... use your, um, restroom if that's OK." 

"Sure. You're gonna feel like you've gone home for the holidays in there," she said with a wry smile. "Hang on, just let me..." 

The bathroom, looking like a Victoria Secret storeroom, was filled with brightly colored, very sexy underwear hanging from every surface. 

"Oh," John managed to mutter. 

"Make some room for you..." Em finished her thought. 

John shut the door and stared at himself in the mirror. Standing there in silence he shut his eyes, held his head, and silently screamed,"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuk!!!" He opened his eyes and lectured himself, "Remember!! Sister! Sister!!"" He quickly regained his composure and came back out just in time to see Em putting a feathery, white costume into a garment bag. The same feathery costume that he had seen his dream caretaker seductively dancing in during the Kava ceremony back on the island. 

He immediately whipped around and went back into the bathroom and shut the door. "This just keeps getting weirder and weirder," he thought. He looked heavenward and then immediately came back out again. Em looked at him with a half-smile, waiting for an explanation for that move. 

"Forgot to put the seat down," John said nervously. "Bringing your pet rooster?" 

"This? Oh, it's a ceremonial costume my grandmother made. It's supposed to be used only in marriage because the dance is a little...I suppose...provocative. It's silly really." 

"Oh no it's not! I, I mean you're...I, I'm sure you're a wonderful dancer. You're not married right?"

 "No. You?" 

"Oh no." 

"Girlfriend? Boyfriend?" Em asked. John laughed. 

"Nope... to all the aforementioned. Truth be known, I'm actually a lesbian trapped in a man's body." 

"Perfect. I'm a gay man trapped in a woman's body. See? We have so much in common already," Em laughed. 

"I'll say," added John. "And you have no idea just how much," he thought. 

Long car rides can make fast friends or lifelong enemies. The conversations that ensue to pass the time are often stories of one's past and this was no exception. Ethan spent a great deal of time talking about his childhood, growing up black and affluent and the guilt that came with that. His father was a patent attorney, his mother a neonatal neurologist, which meant money was never a problem, but it also meant they were rarely home, leaving Ethan to figure out just where he fit in in an all-white, upper crust neighborhood. 

John had a natural affinity for him since the day they met. Probably because like him, his childhood was uniquely challenging and different and rather than allowing it to become a deficit causing him to wallow in victimhood, it became the very thing that propelled him forward, molding him into the extraordinary guy he was. Whatever struggle Ethan was going through, whatever insecurities he had failed to purge in his youth, John made sure to make fun of it, never allowing him the luxury of leaning on it as any kind of an excuse. 

John, however, was guarded in his answers and storytelling. He had adopted a healthy skepticism towards everyone and everything ever since that freakish night. He was unsure of Em's awareness to the possible family connection they shared and didn't want to tip his hand quite yet. There was also the matter of her involvement in the village. It was clear there were two factions within the community- the happy-go-lucky ones and the somewhat creepy, sinister ones. Until he was sure, really sure which group she fit in with, he needed to determine whether she was trustworthy or not- no matter how hot she was. And there was the whole sister thing. It was turning out to be quite a confusing kettle of fish. 

He was especially careful not to mention that he and Em had in fact, actually met before and just how recent that meeting was. He hadn't been on his best behavior while in Tanna. As a matter of fact, he had been mostly either comatose or a drunken idiot whenever she was present, and he wasn't keen on reminding her of that guy. At least not until he had a chance to show her his better side. He prayed the white ash paint job he wore on the island had done a good enough job in preserving  his anonymity. He owed her an immense debt of gratitude and was looking forward to the day he could thank her properly, but today was not that day.