Jade Awakening

The Guilty Ones

The more rational part of my brain started to come back and I became less sure of what just came over me. The primal haze that polluted my mind lifted to return clear thoughts.

Did that really just happen?

I almost couldn't believe myself. Instead of ignoring my want like I probably should have, I sought to satiate its hunger, and Beck helped feed it. There wasn't even the smallest bit of hesitation from either of us. But, whatever salacious and sure resolve I had was now long gone. The rapid beating of my heart, however, stayed.

I was suddenly hyper aware of myself – what I made happen – and now wished that I could vanish. It wasn't quite so much regret that I was feeling as it was uncertainty. What now?

We just shared a most unexpected, intense, and vulnerable moment. It wasn't something that we could just naturally move on from as if it was part of a regular routine.

Do we talk about it? Somehow that seems more uncomfortable than not addressing it at all. Neither of us have said anything for a second. Should I look at him? No. Awkward. Kill me now.

The heat radiating off of my skin could have just as easily been from anxiety as it was from excitement. The blanket trapped that heat, making it feel like Beck and I were cooking in an oven. Suffocating.

"That was..." Beck started, maybe hoping that I would fill in the blank for him, but I remained silent. Perhaps he could find the right thing to say. "... something."

Or perhaps not.

When I didn't say anything in return, he sat up to get a better look at my face. "Hey, are you-"

"What do you think 'The Guilty Ones' is about?" I whispered, deflecting from his concern.

"What?"

"Our duet. You're good at understanding things beyond the surface level. What do you think Wendla and Melchior were saying – really saying?"

"You're going to make me think right now?"

"Yes."

"Remind me how it goes then – sing it for me."

"Sing?"

"Yup," he chuckled. "If you're going to make me think, at least jog my memory."

I rolled my eyes outside of his peripheral and cleared my throat.

"Something started crazy / Sweet and unknown / Something you keep on a box in the street / Now it's longing for a home / And who can say what dreams are / Wake me in time to be lonely and sad / And who can say what we are / This is the season for dreaming / But now our bodies are the guilty ones / Who touched / And color the hours... Okay I'm not going to sing the whole song right now, you know how it goes."

"Fine, you were a little flat anyway."

"Beck!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Umm. So obviously, we sing this right after we have the hayloft scene..." We sat in silence for a moment while he thought carefully. The heat slowly fading to something mild. "I think Wendla and Melchior are struggling with the conflicting emotions that come from navigating their desires in a society that doesn't accept them."

"Wow. Now in English?"

"Think of the time period they live in. They're taught to suppress their desires, but they still have them, of course. And then they engage in something new and exciting in the hayloft. Afterwards, they feel guilty for their actions despite the pleasure, because in a way, they know that what they did would be seen as wrong... even if it was good. And then, when they say 'Who can say what dreams are' and 'This is the season for dreaming,' I think that means that there's ambiguity and mystery to the desire. But just as dreaming is a natural experience, so is lust. Being teenagers, they are in their season for 'dreaming'."