GERMANY

Morning light prisms off the dew, exhaled by the night onto the grass. Ethen has been virtually sleepless since his date. He is now an unwilling convert to a semi-nocturnal existence and is ready to get this conversation over with. He could grab something to eat after and use the weight to anchor himself to the bed. Maybe he could even spend a solid portion of the morning sleeping, when the fierce sun is still cool enough to keep the sheets dry.

The pavement leading to the community apothecary, ivory-white and seamless, has been swept clean by the time the store is set to open — 7 AM. The click of the door's lock announces the time as punctual as church bells. Ethen meets the man in the doorway.

"Welcome!" The shop owner stands about 5'9" with a hand on his hip, and smiles behind a thick, oiled, black beard with no upper lip or neck visible. He seems of some Spanish descent — perhaps Portuguese — with a tan-olive complexion and beady but inviting dark eyes that toggle between Ethen's own like casters under a pallet of prominent eyebrows. He is suave and exudes entrepreneurial charisma. Not quite movie star good-looking, but certainly local anchorman tier, if a bit portly.

"Come in, please." They are indoors.

"Your name is Germany, isn't it?"

The owner turns around, a fleck surprised. "Yes, that's me. Germany Conception. What can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to you about the Church of Oedipus."

His expression capsizes into a serious stare, and he surveys the store front for any incoming ears. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I was raised in it."

His eyes narrow, his voice low and nearly growling. "Who are you?"

"I'm Martha's boy. Martha Merriview. Remember her?"

His stance relaxes. "Martha. Yes, I remember her. She was a beautiful and charming woman. I enjoyed the few conversations we had. How's she doing now?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her in two years. She went on a mission trip."

"Where?"

"I don't know. She never said. I don't think she knew herself. I found your name and business address in an old Rolodex she kept at home. I hope you don't mind me... sort of cornering you like this. About this."

"Listen. The Church likes to keep a low profile. You know that. I'd be happy to talk to you about... your Mother or whatever. Let's just do it somewhere other than my livelihood."

"That's fair."

"Good. Let's meet at Blanton's. Tonight at 6 PM after I close up shop. I'm usually there for a drink anyway."

"See you there. Thanks."

…

The cobblestone street is peppered with streetlamps, each solid iron and crowned with an amber halo. Bulbs strung from them in dipping arches signify the patio to Blanton's Review, a brick & bookshelf spot; the connoisseur's whiskey and spirits bar, and also specializing in artisanal beers.

"Germany!" Ethen waves him down.

"Hi again. You know, I realized after this morning, I didn't even get your name."

"Ethen. With an 'e'."

"Ethen with an 'e', I like that." His face wears an effortless smile that could last all day. It pinches itself upwards on one side into a smirk, almost connecting with the crow's feet bracketing his eyes. Out of his work smock and in casual business attire, Germany assumes a debonair demeanor. He was not too much older than Ethen, but seemingly ages more in spirit and worldly travel. Ethen got the impression that he hit above his weight class in many respects.

They took a seat outside, anywhere they liked.

"I'll take the pumpkin beer." He looks to the waitress, young and peppy, without glancing at the menu. "What's your name?"

"Mallory. I'm new here, you must have noticed."

"Actually, I ask because you remind me of my Mother." He says this deadpan into her eyes and smiles.

The waitress giggles, but Ethen can't figure if it was out of flattery & interest, or a discomfort that mirrors his own. Ethen orders a water. Mallory walks away with no need to write anything down, her single-curl ponytail bouncing as she leaves, rushing to share the encounter with her coworkers.

"Jimi Hendrix used the same pick-up line." Germany smiles grandly at Ethen, a twinkle in his eye.

"I think it has a whole different meaning for you though, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Yes It does. And I'm sure it does for you too."

"Actually no."

Mallory returns with two glasses as ordered, her face a shade shy of beets. She informs them to let her know if they need anything else, and bounces away as before.

Ethen waits, then continues. "I was never a full member of the church. I never found their teachings... accurate."

"Huh." Germany tilted his head a jot, taking the glass to his nose.

"Are you still a part of it?" Ethen asks.

He sips, releasing a long ahhh. "Oh yes. I wouldn't dare think of not being." Foam patches his mustache. His bottom lip bounces beneath, cleaning it off. "So what is all this about?"

"I just... need to speak with someone who understands. I can't talk about things that have to do with my mother or the church with anyone else." Ethen didn't include that he didn't have any friends anyway.

"I understand. The Church is controversial and not very well understood by most people. It's difficult to talk about it with someone who is not a member. I am here to listen and understand whatever you have to say. Always happy to connect with a fellow Oedipus." He raises his glass for a cheers.

Ethen doesn't reciprocate. He pads his refusal with a false cough and an ahem. "I'm… not an Oedipus. But, on that note... I hope I can ask plainly... when did you... first... and your mother..."

He takes his glass back to his chest, resting it partially on his belly. "Oh my bad. I was about 9 years old. I don't remember exactly how it happened, but I remember seeing her walk from the bathtub to her room, naked. I think it was accidental, but her door was wide open, so it's hard to tell. There was a conversation with her after, and all the curiosity and desires inside me came out all at once. It was very powerful for me at that age. At the same time, it felt very natural and right. I had known that I had those feelings but I never knew how to express them or deal with them, so it was very liberating to finally talk about it with her. It was the moment when everything changed."

"Changed, how?"

"Many things changed after that. I was a man."

"A man? At age 9?"

"Yes. I'd explain but I get the idea you wouldn't care to understand anyway. You think kids can't grow up that fast? "

A pause signifies to Germany that Ethen is listening for more.

"I was no longer ashamed of my feelings for her. I felt comfortable to express my desires and we talked openly about it. This made our relationship much closer and more intense. From that moment on, I had the opportunity to explore my feelings without feeling guilty or alone. I also became much more aware of the society I lived in and the different norms and taboos, but that was something I was able to process much easier after having been in such a freeing experience."

"You are, what, 40 years old?"

"I'm flattered. 47."

"And your feelings on the matter haven't changed? They are the same as they were when you were 9?"

He sips slowly. "What I feel now is a deeper and more mature version of what I felt at 9. But the main feeling of desire and appreciation for my Mother has stayed with me all my life. Her's is a beauty that doesn't age. I still believe it is the most natural and fulfilling relationship in human nature, just as the Church teaches." He leans in close. "And trust me... I can fill buckets thinking back to those memories."

Ethen is embarrassed and can feel himself blushing; a tell to his ongoing boyishness; an involuntary and clear sign of conversational submission. He starts to sweat, his forehead like his glass, the droplet-dappled surface interrupted by his anxious fingerprints. "I just... I have a very hard time believing that this... practice doesn't produce some truly horrible consequences. I guess that's why I wanted to talk to you. I mean, out here..." He gestures to the remainder of the patio, occupied occasionally by patrons, none within earshot. "... it's downright abuse. It's illegal. Unfathomably immoral. I expect you have some serious... issues."

"I understand your expectation. But I don't have any issues or traumas related to my relationship with my Mother, not as far as I'm concerned. In fact, I consider it the most profound connection I have ever had with another human being. I think I'm very lucky for being able to experience that kind of bond with my Mother. It was extremely fulfilling, in all ways. It's definitely something I am very thankful for. Do you know how many people who never had that fantasize about it? Just go consult the internet."

These words strike Ethen. "Maybe it's such a popular fantasy because it's so unthinkable in reality."

Germany continues. "Our society has a very different point of view and has some strict taboos on this subject, and that is fair. It's their prerogative. I can't tell society how to think. However, it is a taboo only from the outside, meaning for people who are not a part of the Church. These things are relative, Ethen. Cultural. We all know that. Some of the most advanced cultures on the planet knew it too." He pulls out a black cigarette from a carton in his shirt's front pocket. "Would you like one?"

"No thank you."

"These aren't the modified domestic ones, in case you are thinking that. Not the ones that taste like cardboard in order to meet regulations here." He leans in. "They're the real deal." He sends a mischievous wink, then gradually returns to his reclined position. "It takes 3-6 months for a carton to be shipped here. That's why it has these gross images of cancers and autopsied lungs plastered all over the carton, see? Some sort of requirement in the country they are from. Scare tactics… it's absurd. I mean, let me make my decisions in peace, am I right?"

"No, thank you." Ethen reiterates.

Germany takes the cigarette to his mouth, watching it, its tip becoming a pyre. "Look." He says between puffs. "I can tell you have some complex hang-ups about this. Worse than normies have it, and worse than Oedipuses have it; a limbo of sorts. Between the two of us, you seem to be the one with some serious, and I mean serious, unresolved Mommy issues. Most everybody has them. Most everyone's are unresolved, just like yours. But for an Oedipus..." He drags deeply. "… they're resolved." A pause to send the smoke on its way swirling. "Let me ask you something; do you think your Mommy issues are a result of you being abnormal? Or because you've suppressed normal feelings?"

"I've heard the sermons, all of them. There's nothing you can try to teach me that I haven't heard before."

He inhales again and jets the smoke out his nose, keeping his eye contact. "Then you know that the worst thing you can do is ignore it."

There's another pause.

"I mean..." Germany looks far off. "It's there... whether you put blinders up or not. If you ask me, saying 'Ok' and moving forward instead of straight down head in the sand is the healthier option." He gestures to the rest of the patrons as Ethen did. "Haven't you noticed how contradictory they can be? They use 'mama', 'oh mama', 'hot mama'... and other such pet names as terms of sexual endearment, and they don't seem to bat an eye. Our waitress, for example, took my comparison of her to my Mother as a romantic compliment. It's everywhere. Once you see it, you notice it."

Ethen retorts. "'Everywhere' is right. The taboo is nearly universal."

This seems to be well-trodden ground for Germany. "Yes, and that might just be an overcompensation for something. I thought you said you've heard all this before."

Ethen can't believe what he is hearing. "I can't see how sleeping with your own mother is in any way a good thing for society. Maybe the reason it is a universal taboo is because it's just a terrible idea."

"'Many a man before you, in his dreams, has shared his mother's bed.' Those are Jocasta's words, written 400 years before Christ." He flicks away the remnant ash, its shape kept but sagging.

The waitress returns to the table unbidden to ask if everything is alright, and if anything else is needed. Germany politely says no and thanks her. She hangs over the table a second or two longer than the dialogue would justify, as if something else was unsaid, but she walks away just as quickly.

Germany watches her walk away. He continues. "An Oedipus is lightyears ahead. He has self-esteem. A safety net that no woman can break. He is a completed man, and it fits us into our rightful place; subservient to women in worship, by the most enjoyable of leashes."

Ethen grimaces slightly, as if smelling sulfur, but Germany is at peace, his smile radiant, his cheeks nearly pressing his eyes shut. "Ethen, don't tell me you want this out here... we've seen enough of this. The patriarchy has had its time. Do you think Mothers, if they were in charge as the Goddess is, would reduce nearly everything to the barbarity of a dick-measuring contest?"

Ethen jabbed back. "Your justification for the sexual abuse of young boys by their own mothers is that it makes you more of a Don Juan? Isn't that a rather patriarchal fantasy? How is that different from the Catholic scandals?"

Germany inhales the last of the unspent tobacco, and speaks out a cloud of smoke. There is pity in his tone. "Because it's out of a pure love, not a pure lust. Nothing can ruin the Mother-son bond. Nothing can spoil it. It transcends everything. You don't lose a Mother. The world gains a man."

Ethen scoffs, reclining to escape the encroaching smoke.

"It doesn't have to be so promiscuous either, if you'd like." Germany notes. "Most Oedipuses go on to be productive, loyal, dedicated, monogamous family men. They know how important the family unit is. The Church is predicated on it, after all."

He finally snuffs the cigarette out in an ashtray.

"Look, I'm crooked, I know it, that's just the way it is. Don't base your judgment or our outcomes on me. I'd rather not be tied down, and no matter how I was raised. Do crooked people not exist in the larger society? What's to stop us from seeing them as emblematic of a problematic culture? No. That's a fool's game. There are good people anywhere. And you know it."

He savors the first sip of his beer since lighting the cigarette.

"You've been on the offensive here pretty good, Ethen. Now I'd like to ask you some questions. You can argue with me until closing time, but the fact is, you've come to me, and for answers. Why the renewed interest in the topic? Have an epiphany you're not ready for?"

Ethen finally takes a sip of his water. "I went on a date with an older woman. Which is my point; why can't this simply be about older women? Why our mothers specifically?"

"Well then we really would be exactly like the Catholic church, wouldn't we? Tell me about her."

"... we hooked up through a dating app."

"What did you put in your bio and likes?"

"What does that matter?"

"Fine." His belly boils, laughing. "Ok. How much older is she than you?"

Ethen raises his eyebrows. "About 12 years. I see where you are going with this, and yes she has features in common with my mom maybe, but I don't think anyone would see that as odd."

"What was it about her that reminded you of your Mother?"

Ethen sighs uncomfortably.

"I'm helping you here, Ethen. Let's get more out of this than bitterness. If that's all this was, we could have just ordered two porters and not said a word."

"… It wasn't uncanny or anything. Maybe it was even as abstract as femininity itself."

"How did you feel after the experience with her?"

"Not good. It wasn't the joyous revelation you described. It was disturbing. I was so uncomfortable I couldn't... it wasn't easy opening up to someone like that, you know. After being raised in the church."

"I think you mean to say 'after not following the Church's teachings'."

"No. I don't." He sniffs micro-aggressively. "Turns out she was a psychologist, and so I guess she felt like she had a diagnosis for me, and tried some roleplay therapy as my..." He lowers his voice to a whisper, mostly mouthing the words. "... mother figure."

"Did it work?" Germany giggles tickled, as if he already knows the answer.

Ethen looks up at him, defenseless for the first time at the table. "Yeah. Yeah, it worked. That hasn't happened for any other girl or woman in my life. There's been multiple attempts. This was the only time that it was a success."

"How did you feel about her afterwards, knowing what you learned about yourself?"

"I appreciated what she did, felt a ton of a feelings and attraction to her for it, but. I was scared of her. I am scared of her. I haven't talked to her since. I haven't returned her calls or scheduled another date."

"Why not?"

"I can't. I just can't. That's wrong. That was wrong."

Germany clicks his teeth together, raises his head slowly and squints, so that in making eye contact with Ethen, he is almost looking straight down. "Hm."

Ethen struggles. "I'm not even sure what Melody did has helped or hurt. I mean, you hear that a guy has been pressured his whole life into a certain… dynamic… and then you pantomime that exact dynamic? After there's clearly a lot of emotional baggage? Seems almost... I dunno. Opportunistic. Questionable."

"Or keen. I can understand how that could be scary, especially since it happened so fast. And with someone who you're not sure truly cares for you."

They pause to give acoustic space to passersby.

"Are you also a little worried about what else you might discover if you continue to see her? Are you even ready to face that possibility, Ethen? Is it worth it to you, to know yourself and what you truly want?"

"I don't think most people can even ask themselves that question. And you know what? At least I can. And the answer is a firm 'no'. A roleplay is still very different from… what you do."

"What I did, Ethen. You should be thankful the Church has gotten you as far as it has."

Germany stands up, but keeps his voice down. "The larger society's take on this is backwards. Most people are afraid of expressing their desires and feelings. They end up having very negative experiences in their relationships; with their own mothers and others. Like you say, the topic can barely be discussed. How healthy can that be?" He finishes his beer.

Ethen stands with him. "If I understand you, you're saying that the attraction is not an endpoint, but something to overcome. To move beyond."

"Yes. This is a big reason why the Church exists." Germany pushes his chair in. "Will you excuse me, I have to use the restroom." He stops, and turns back to Ethen before he is too far. "Ethen, my boy. You're not a man until you come to terms with this." He turns and walks off.

Ethen becomes hot under his collar. He fingers his pockets anxiously, unsure of the discussion's outcome. A few dollars find their way from his wallet onto the table, and he walks over to the waitress station, directly to Mallory.

"You met my friend there?" He blurts out, getting her attention.

She looks at him quizzically. "What can I get you?"

"We're fine, just wrapping up. I just wanted to pass a message along."

She perks up, her eyes brightening. "Oh?"

"He sleeps with his own mother."

Mallory's enthusiasm is murdered.

"Have a nice evening, ma'am."

Ethen leaves the establishment.