The Mystery

Lacey is still technically alive.

And as such she doesn’t really know the other side.

And as Lem still struggles to comprehend how Lacey could have given herself to some other man after him…Desmond bobs his head to We Own The Sky and Michael and Louis, but mostly Michael don’t leave…Lacey grows confused.

Lacey has repeatedly asked God for guidance. She’s starting to wonder if He’s letting her figure out for herself that He doesn’t destroy our souls even upon death and therefore can’t stop or start Michael or Lem. He has to let them fail. And…that’s just the thing. Even if God’s allowing it…it’s still possibly Purgatory.

“Cause she’s Tom’s daughter so it’s in her genes to be a heartless person at will. …And Joe screwed with her heart far too much, Lem. He ruined her. Get that in your head, babe.” says a model to Lem.

“And it’s funny isn’t it, Lem?! You thought Jack was fine. You helped him. What’s it feel like to be on the other end?” asks a Bill Gates.

“With a woman. Who still loves you. And needs you too.” says the model.

“If you wimp out…- *a Bill Gates laughs* “Who gets her? Michael? …Or Louis?”

“If it’s Louis…why does that bother the dead Kennedy’s so much?” asks a woman.

“It’s Michael.” says a dead Queen.

“Is it?” asks a Bill Gates.

Gilded Lily plays.

“Who do you think it should be?” asks a Charles of a Bill.

Silence.

“Michael.” says a dead Queen.

“Why Michael?” asks a Philip. “Because he’s good for her.”

“But am I good for him?” Lacey worries.

“Does it even matter? I still exist!” says Lem.

“Are you working for the Kennedy’s or are you working for yourself?” asks a singer of Lem.

“Myself!” he says.

Bad Things by Cults plays.

“But then why do I keep feeling like Michael is running off with me?” asks Lacey.

“What happens, sister?” a witch asks Lacey.

“I’m not a witch, but if I don’t go to Hell…and patron saints exist…I’d love to be available to pray for witches. It’s a miserable experience.” says Lacey. “Maybe I’d not qualify for sainthood.”

“You swear. And you might…depending. It’s possible you’re being…hurt.” says Lem.

Rules plays.

“And if that’s true then how am I heartless?!?” asks Lacey, incredulously. “See the thing is…I try to love Lem. I pray for him. Trust God. It’s fine for a while. …But then I get savagely attacked and it’s unclear if Lem cares at all. At all. …It’s like Hell uses his hurt and refusal to truly understand why I moved on from him accidentally…to try to kill me. And…I keep trying to explain to him why it ever happened. …And I keep trying to apologize. But he refuses to understand my incredible vulnerability. And…then Michael literally tries to seduce me.” She thinks. “And eventually, the more I resist…Michael grows irritated and starts to run off with me.”

“What do you mean he runs off with you?” asks a witch.

Climate by Sleeping At Last plays.

“He literally picks up my spirit and runs off.” says Lacey.

“Do you change dimensions?” asks a witch.

“Possibly. It feels protective.” says Lacey.

“And I bet Louis and Harold have done the same thing.” says the witch.

“Yes. It’s been very protective if they’re ghosts.” says Lacey. “But why do they need to do it?”

Where is Lem?” asks a Catholic.

“Has he ever worried he’s in Hell?” asks a Catholic.

“He doesn’t seem to be in Hell. But that’s a fascinating question.” says Lacey.

“When he first thought I was falling for someone other than him. Yes. He thought he might just be in Hell.” says Lacey. “But I told him that that was absurd.”

“You told him that to be that hurt by you falling for someone else was absurd?! …Not because you didn’t love him. Not because you even wanted another man other than him but because…why?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Because I don’t understand the problem.” says Lacey.

Michael cracks-up laughing.

“Wait, what?!” asks a perfume hater.

“What’s the problem?” asks Lacey.

“Do you mean…like…why is Lem hurt?!” asks another perfume hater.

“Yes. Essentially.” says Lacey.

A witch laughs.

“But not because you don’t care about Lem’s feelings. It’s just…what?” asks a perfume hater.

“I’m still a full bottle. And in good shape. He can have me. For eternity. …Because he wasn’t clear. …And the thing is…I don’t get why he’s hurt. It’s just me. …And…it’s just me.” says Lacey.

“So…he could have had you anyway! …And it’s just a stupid ol’ bottle of some Guerlain crap anyway. …You love it. But…it’s…common enough. Not heartbreaking. …Maybe to some pedantic collector it’d be fascinating. It is 1920’s Shalimar. Parfum. In pristine condition. …But it’s just Shalimar. Nothing like Mitsouko. Or even L’Heure Bleue. …And…why does he like you anyway?” asks a Bill Gates.

“Pretty close.” says Lacey.

“And you figure he can find another bottle or something you suspect, based on experience, he’d like far better.” says a Bill.

“I might be Chanel No. 5 at times too.” she laughs. “But it’s so…just…me.” She thinks. “I don’t want to burden him.”

“You think expecting love from him would burden him.” says a witch.

“It feels like he’d rather I didn’t exist. He’d rather be fucked up the ass. …And I’m just some old hag who’s bothering him. And that’s what I get told by the living…frequently.” says Lacey.

Michael grows helplessly aroused. Breathes quickly.

“And Michael finds this arousing. Why?!?!” asks a Catholic.

Desmond laughs.

“Because Michael tried allowing himself to be gay. Possibly. Possibly sincerely… And…yet…he’d still have longed for her.” he says almost crying at the end. “If they’d met. He’d have loved her.” He thinks. “He refuses to be fooled into letting her go.” He thinks more. “He finds it horribly romantic. His pain and her pain and their inability to control it. Their inability to understand. Their inability to do anything but trust each other. And make love, finally.” He ponders. “And that’s just a start.”

“But Lem has told her it’s just him. And that they’re still married. And he knows she loves him the most…” says Scott. “And that he’s never going to let her go. Ever.” He laughs. “But he never fully tells her that he loves her.”

The witch laughs.

“And she is destroyed by his refusal to tell her that he loves her.” says Zelda. “But he does it out of bitter jealousy and hurt.”

Then.

“Sweetheart, all Lacey is doing is being compliant and helpful. She’s totally lost. Sweetie, she’s totally confused. You cannot…keep…holding that against her. …She may be Tom’s daughter. But who is Tom? Lem…what are you so afraid of?” asks a Native American woman.

Lem cries.

“People refuse to believe she’s right.” says Jack. “About anything. Ever. …And now it’s affecting homosexuality because Lem might not have been gay at all, but people can’t cognitively comprehend it. They don’t get how simple most of them are compared to a person like Lem.”

“But Jack that’s partially your fault if it’s true!” says the Native American woman.

“And that’s why I’m involved.” says Louis. “It rather, that’s why my involvement bothers their family so much.”

“Yes. That’s all very possibly true.” says Lem, struggling.

“So Louis makes them feel like they’ve lost? Lost their dignity?” asks a witch.

“Yes!” says Joe Sr.?

“And I bet Lacey thinks it’s all quite silly.” says the Native American woman. “But pretty much sincerely so.”

“Like…it’s just an antique bottle of designer perfume. Right? That’s not even loved by anyone but her nowadays. It’s just…one of the only bottles of its kind. But like…meh.” says the witch. “Right?”

Silence.

“Why does Lem not get the Michael vibe? And why does he not get her almost total lack of an ego. Like…she’s not…like that. At all.” says the witch. “Does he just like…what? And why aren’t they more bothered by Michael? That’s weird.”

“We don’t believe it’s Michael. And…I don’t know if Lem fully understands who Michael is either.” says Joe Sr..

A witch laughs.

“Why don’t y’all get who Michael is?” asks a black witch.

Joe Jr. laughs. “Because-“

Desmond scoffs silently. “They don’t really understand who I am either.”

“Who do they think Michael is?” asks the witch.

“And who does Lem say Micheal is?” asks the Native American woman.

“We interrupt her interactions with Lem.” says Mr. Blue. He thinks he’s hilarious. What It’s Like by Everlast plays. He believes it’s his song about his tough life. …He rocks it out. Pearl Jam Immortality plays next.

Harold Loeb rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, she’s such a sucker. Lem is obsessed with Jack.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater to Mr. Blue.

“Okay. Let’s be kind.” says the Native American woman to the perfume community.

“Whatever. They deserve it.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

Dishwalla Counting Blue Cars plays. Batgirl III claims this is her idea of good music.

“Do they control our thoughts?” asks the Native American woman of Lacey.

“At times. It’s just like ordinary demonic beings affecting us. It’s nothing special. They just hide it and make it seem creepy.” says Lacey. “Should they exist.”

Later.

“I’m awesome!” says Mr. Blue.

Running With The Wolves plays.

Why? Why does Mr. Blue think he’s awesome? Because Lacey just made love. Not to him, but to her eternal other half. …And how does he know this? Because he’s got Illuminati psychics watching her.

“That’s absurd. He can read your mind that well?” asks a reader of Lacey.

“Yup!” says an actress. “It’s how they control their members.”

The Native American woman laughs.

“Who was it?” asks a Bill Gates of Mr. Blue.

And that’s where Mr. Blue falters.

Why does Mr. Blue falter? Because he doesn’t know for sure. …He knows, based on his own secret Christianity, that it’s likely a man as arranged in God’s mercy. And in whatever part of his spirit and soul still existing that cares about what’s right and wrong he rejoices. He rejoices because he feels he’s helped someone. A poor person in spirit who was genuinely lonely and just looking for love. And he feels his evil is being redeemed somehow when she conquers the loneliness in the bizarre way he’s allowed her to experience due to his own accomplishments. …It’s not maybe that he is superior to her…but…he got in. In to a horrible situation. …And while he can’t get out…he can still breath and look up at God and be terrified. From time to time.

And in those moments of fear of an eternal, perfect Father he feels his humanity. And today he feels amused and pleased and excited that she’s possibly being loved. And he pats himself on the back for caring…at all.

Because it’s better to be violent and bring a human to their death than to let them live alone completely their whole damn life?

“As long as God can redeem it? It’s an interesting question.“ says a fellow Catholic. “Is it possible? I don’t know. If that’s all your capable of? …And no one was ever going to do anything? I wonder.”

“How wretched though. That’s all we’ve offered her as fellow humans. Just…a violent attack by the Illuminati.” a witch says cracking up laughing.

“Actually it sounds like a really interesting horror movie premise. An old widow in an old house who’s abandoned. And this psycho kid who is violent decides to burn her house down and kill her. But it’s unclear if it’s entirely without empathy or if he actually cares a little about her loneliness.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater. “And like nobody in the town ever knows how to reach out to either of them, really.” She thinks. “And she makes the mistake of being nice to him and so he decides to kill her.”

The Leftovers plays.

“So, who is it?” asks the Native American woman.

“Why don’t you know?” Mr. Blue asks her.

She cries in Purgatory.

“Do you make it to Purgatory?” Mr. Blue asks her.

Waterbound by The Fretless plays.

“She can’t pick, Lem. Desmond understands that. Do you?” asks Michael.

“But she can move on.” says Lem.

“Yes.” says Lacey.

“Then as much as I hate it, I either have to end your passionate love affair with Michael or say goodbye myself.” says Lem to Lacey.

“Yes.” says Lacey, bracing herself.

“That is a lot to ask of a living human.” says a witch. “You really do love all four of them.”

“Does it feel like you could have been married to them all? Even if you weren’t?” asks The Charismatic.

“No, it’s more like what Scott said.” says Lacey.

“So it’s like choosing between two great marriages.” says Batgirl III. “And then wondering what could have been with Louis.”

“Why wasn’t Joe more worried about this all?” asks a witch.

“We need to grow-up.” says Jack. “We don’t analyze things like this.”

“Even now? Or when is this? 1966?” asks a Catholic priest.

“Or 1968?” asks Jack.

“Be careful Mr. Blue.” says the Catholic priest.

“Oh, I know I’m in over my head.” says Mr. Blue. “I’ve known that for years.”

Party by Clint Mansell plays.

It ends and Gnossiennes (6) For Piano by Erik Satie plays.

Later.

Lacey admits she has had a crush on Bill Gates.

“But who hasn’t?” she asks, staring at a Mondrian.

“Could you ever meet him?” asks the Native American woman.

“Like actually date him? In public.” says Lacey.

“Not just sleep together in the Illuminati.” says a Bill. He laughs. So does Lacey.

“I don’t know.” says Lacey. “Is it even important?”

Alien Blues plays.

“I’m hot too though.” says Putin.

Lacey laughs.

“Regardless, she’s over it.” says Louis.

“I am.” says Lacey.

“Your college friend almost slept with me.” says a U.S. President to Lacey.

“It wasn’t that…intense.” says Lacey.

“No. But I did slap her butt.” he says.

“I thought you grabbed it.” says Lacey. “Slapped it?” She thinks, sipping her iced latte. “Do you even remember that? It was years ago.”

“It was. You’re right. And actually…you’re right. I’m not as good at remembering everything as you are.” he says.

I Think I Like It When It Rains plays.

“But that’s kind and funny. The whole sexual six degrees of separation thing.” says Lacey.

“Lacey…if you’re illegitimate…I doubt you’re that separated from a lot of us.” says Wobbly.

“No, I know you don’t mean that like as a whorish thing. And you’re right. I wish I knew. I’m sorry. Sincerely.” says Lacey.

“You will someday.” says Mrs. Wobbly.

“You really aren’t a whore at all. You just tolerate it because you’re genuinely over the bullshit.” says The Charismatic.

“Yup. The thought that we can control evil at all is such bullshit.” says Lacey.

“If Bill Gates could openly date you…would you prefer him to me?” asks The Charismatic.

“Yes. Very much so.” says Lacey.

“He is your type. For real.” says a perfume hater. “What if he was a professor?”

“Could he be a professor? He’s actually quite wild.” says Lacey.

Louis laughs. He understands what she means completely.

“Isn’t that beautiful?” asks Lacey of Louis.

“You’re calling me beautiful too.” he demurs.

I Already Forgot Everything You Said plays.

Lem weeps. “I really did love her!” he says in horror.

“Lem, what do you mean?” asks the Native American woman.

“I told myself I was imagining her innocence. That she was…evil. But she’s actually that innocent. And I’ve distanced myself so far. And ruined so much.” he explains.

“Did God tell you she was well-intentioned?” asks Desmond of Lem.

“He might have.” says Lem.

“Right. And now…Michael has her. Forever. Unless you want to demand her. From God.” explains Desmond.

“Or I do. But…you’ll have to demand her. Not mope around like a buffoon.” says Louis.

“So…they literally possess you. Forever. As their one missing rib. Forever?!” asks a Catholic.

“Yup. No backsies.” says Louis.

“Oh wow.” he thinks. “Huh. So…you’re figuring this out now?”

A saint nods his head.

“It’s so blasé.” says Lacey. “Really. I’m just hurt that it’s taking so long.”

“Like…you just want to be with Lem or Louis or Michael for eternity now? Not even an hour from now?” asks an aging Silent Generation man.

Turtle Island plays.

“Yes. That’s love. At its best. It’s terrifying. But how grand and how wonderful that God in His mercy allows us to be a part of something so profound.” says Lacey.

“Is that how Elizabeth felt about Philip?” asks a witch.

“Possibly. Some people see it. Some don’t.” says Lacey.

“As in, she understood love.” says a man.

Lem looks sick.

“Yes. She possibly did.” says Lacey.

A few minutes later.

“I can handle her. I just feel nauseous from all her home repairs.” he jokes.

Later.

“I wasn’t happy either way, but you know I was probably straight. Actually straight.” says Lem in the parking lot of Target.

Lacey has to admit that that’s true.

“But I don’t know so many other things. And you haven’t told me that you love me.” says Lacey.

“No. Not really.” he says. “Here, ask Michael to tell you that he loves her.”

Let Me Love You Love Like A Woman plays. It’s all wrong. But Lana Del Rey’s art is beautiful. And it’s the right vibe.

Michael struggles but he can do it. And when he does it’s almost like he’s drawing her out of her body to get her to hear it.

“Why can’t you say it?” she asks, fascinated and disturbed both.

“Ask me if I do.” Lem says.

“Yes.” he barely manages to say over the darkness.

“A lot or a little?” she asks.

He struggles a lot to get out, “A lot.”

“Enough?” she asks.

“Yes.” she hears clearly.

Michael refuses to leave. He’s cerulean. He’s lightness. It grieves her.

9 Crimes plays. Scott empathizes immensely with Lacey.

“I don’t know what to do.” she says to Scott.

Later. A gay man in the Illuminati tells her to separate Michael and Lem. As in, she has to analyze them separately. It’s useful.

She listens to 9 Crimes again and hears Joe Jr. singing this time. It’s so true.

“You loved Joe in a way that’s…almost…like what?” asks a witch.

“If he’d died I would have refused to cry. Almost ever. I would have found it repulsive. He demanded perfection and so do I.” says Lacey. “We were en league together to create perfection.”

“Where?” asks a Bill Gates.

“I don’t know. But he haunted me. He permeated everything. Always.” says Lacey.

“Did he ever misunderstand you in the past?” asks a the gay man in the Illuminati.

“No. He understood me better than anyone I’ve ever met.” says Lacey. “It feels like half of my brain is his. …I mean he’s dominated my entire life subconsciously.”

“So he instantly understood you.” says the gay man.

“They were best friends!” says a dead Harriet sarcastically. She rolls her eyes.

Lacey wishes she told Harriet more about God. She grimaces.

“I watched Billy Graham.” says Harriet in irritation.

“He was strong enough to truly love you.” says a woman.

“She’s easy for me to love. I just understand her.” says Joe Jr..

Michael looks unaffected. Unflustered. Unflinching.

Lem is not okay.

“I keep measuring myself up to their bond. And I’m not Joe.” says Lem. “I’m a better man in many ways. But he’s-He would never have allowed such evil with kids to happen. …I wasn’t a pedophile. But…I was a vile man. And he wouldn’t have allowed it.”

“Neither would I.” says Lacey.

“Welp. Lacey wasn’t born yet. And Joe and Bobby were dead.” a singer says to Lem.

“I think she’s moved beyond him though.” a Catholic priest says Lem.

“I’m not falling for it, Lem.” Michael says Lem.

A Bill laughs.

“Why?” Lutin asks Michael.

“Because she’s not okay!!” yells Michael at Lem. “Look at her pain.”

“But their love was real.” Lem says to Michael.

“She loved me more.” Scott says.

“Actually, I loved Joe more. …But it didn’t matter.” says Lacey.

“Why not?” asks the gay man.

“The bottom line mattered more, so to speak.” says Lacey.

Later.

“Am I the bottom line?” asks Lem.

“Yes.” says Lacey. “But I don’t decide.”

“Did you choose Joe?” Lem asks.

“No. I never did. Maybe that’s what went wrong.” suggests Lacey.

She imagines them separately. She realizes it’s he very difficult to manage without Lem because she loves him so much. But…she can’t choose him.

“No. And I fully understand that.” says Michael.

“Why can’t you choose?” asks a perfume hater.

“Because they never choose me. And I can’t care anymore.” Lacey says.

“So they’ve literally pushed you completely off the cliff.” says a hater in shock.

“I don’t give a damn anymore, Lem. I have no fucking cares left to waste on any man’s bullshit.” says Lacey.

“You’re not Jesus, Lacey.” says Louis. “I understand.”

Bad Things plays again.

“I’m sorry I swore. I’m just trying to get my point across.” says Lacey calmly.

“Who pushed you?” asks a German hater.

“My ex.” says Lacey.

“So your fathers started it, Joe got it off the ground, living men pushed it forward. And your ex finished it and there you went. Right off the cliff.” says the gay man. “And all your saying is…you demand total stability, respect and love.” He thinks. “Or you lose interest. Quickly.” He thinks a bit more. “Do you even care if Joe loves you if he actually exists, loved you and slept with someone else?”

“No. I worry for him. But he cheated. Heartlessly.” says Lacey. “He had no great reason.” She thinks. “So I’m giving him a beautiful reason.”

Lem laughs.

“What’s the reason?” asks Michael.

“Oh, just that we were horrible together. That it was even wrong. That our love was absolute worthless shit.” says Lacey.

An Irishwoman laughs. “Oh no, you believe it.” she says to Lacey. “You think it was a bizarre mistake. On your part, of course. And you almost want to apologize to him.”

“I’d apologize to his entire family, but I think that’s wrong. He has heard an apology in my heart, though.” says Lacey.

“An apology for what?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“For ever knowing he exists.” says Lacey. Without irony.

“You can’t disown his entire family.” says Wobbly.

“It’s not that I’m trying to be hurtful necessarily. I just don’t know how to process it. I’m sorry.” says Lacey.

Schubert plays.

“I’m sorry.” says Lem.

“Why are you sorry? You’re innocent in regard to this.” says Lacey.

“Your mind. You don’t understand. And no one bothers to explain because they’re too self-righteous and idiotic.” says Lem.

“I think they need to tell you who you belong to. Or I will.” says Scott.

“What if you’re actually perfect for Joe?” asks an angel.

“Do I have to care?” asks Lacey calmly and sincerely.

God ponders what to do?

“No.” says God?

“How bad is it?” asks a dead nun of God?

“Not that bad.” Louis tells Lacey after overhearing God’s response. “You have tried to live a moral life in accordance with your faith. And that’s helpful.”

“What’s the trouble?” Lacey asks.

“God might have been planning it. And He’s not happy. You haven’t ruined it though. You just refuse to be beaten to death.” says the dead nun.

“He loved you. A lot. More than he loved anyone.” says Lem.

“But he still cheated.” says Lacey. “And Pat used him to hurt me for petty reasons.” She thinks. “Right?”

“What if I cheated?” asks Lem.

“I’d move on.” says Lacey.

“I would too.” says Lou.

“I’ll be alone if I have to be. I refuse to spend eternity eating shit.” says Lacey.

“You belong to-“ starts Scott.

“Me.” says Lem.

“Can you mess up?” asks Lacey.

“No.” he says.

“And if he does I get to love you forever.” says Michael.

“Or I do.” says Louis.

“I just felt so guilty taking you from Joe. Forever.” says Lem.

“And that and his other stuff…is why you love me. And Louis. And Harold. …And yet…God will still redeem it.” says Michael.

Earrings

Last night Desmond Guinness started talking to Lacey. He told her to go shopping at her Irish jeweler. She feels obligated to buy earrings from them now… He seems concerned about her.

“Do you even like Guinness?” asks a reader.

“No. But he seems very nice.” says Lacey.

“So he’s concerned about you?” a perfume hater asks Lacey.

“Yes. And then today I was admonished by an English actress to be more careful who I talk to.” says Lacey.

“Actually we both were.” says Lem Billings.

Silence.

“No, Lacey isn’t in an open relationship with Lem. …She couldn’t have stood to be in one with me either.” says Michael.

“Do you and Desmond feel a sort of…kinship?” a perfume hater asks.

“Yes.” says Desmond. “Look, if her father is Tommy Banks…we certainly have shared connections. It’s like we came from the same farming community. Long ago.” he says.

A worker from an Irish distillery in the early 1900’s nods his head. He finds their friendship uplifting in Purgatory.

Silence.

“It’s funny. You don’t get it. But it just makes sense to me. A little drink is comforting. Not too much. Just a little. …And they shouldn’t have stolen that right. It was wrong.” he says.

“Oh, Prohibition!” says a perfume hater. “Mmm. I agree. I can’t imagine what it would be like if they took away my vintage perfumes.” she says.

“Interesting that you see it as a right.” observes a woman reading the blog to the distillery worker.

But how did Lacey start talking to Desmond?

“You should collect earrings.” says Harold Loeb to Lacey.

“I need to buy Après L’Ondee and Jicky this year. But…I’m certainly winding down on collecting perfume. Perhaps you’re right.” says Lacey.

“It’s a lot safer.” says Scott.

Harold looks at her and smiles.

“Are Desmond and Scott friends?” asks the English actress of Lacey.

Lem smiles at Lacey. Michael looks worried.

“Yes!” says Lacey to the English actress.

“You wouldn’t have expected that?!” asks a Satanist of Lacey.

“It’s just so…storybook-like. I love the thought. But…it’s so pretty it shocks me.” says Lacey.

“I know what you mean.” says Tommy Banks to Lacey, reassuringly.

“We know who hates you and why.” says the distillery worker to Lacey.

“It isn’t me or my family. Or anyone I’d love or know.” says Desmond to Lacey. He cries.

“And if it’s me…I can’t imagine we have any problems. Or should.” says a dead Queen to Lacey.

“I love you and your family.” says Lacey.

*shocked 21st Century looks*

“No, it’s not her supposed open relationship with Michael again. Lacey is straight. Remember? She truly loves them.” says Desmond.

“Why did your Banks family ever leave England?!” asks a perfume hater.

“I don’t know. I’ve seen images of them in powdered wigs in Massachusetts. …Selling things? Maybe they thought they could make a lot of money in the mercantile business? …But I wonder if they were actually very loyal to the crown.” says Lacey.

“We’re wondering how elite they were.” says a perfume hater.

“Fairly elite. I’d bet they were friends with George and Martha Washington? Or could have been. They might have been the business elite of England?” asks Lacey. “Like…not titled but very established and reasonably wealthy.”

“And old Dutch New York.” says Louis. “In a way Lacey and I are a lot alike, should this be true.”

“And it’s not like genetics matter. Right?!??” says a Bill Gates mockingly of idiocy.

“They sound upper class but grounded and defiant of evil.” says a perfume hater in the recesses of their mind.

“If I’m illegitimate I feel very much like I belong to them.” says Lacey.

Desmond nods his head in understanding.

“Lacey, what if you really are illegitimate?” asks the Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Like, it’s not just a story?” asks Lacey.

“Yes.” says another perfume hater.

“Hmm. Then that’s wonderful. And cosy.” says Lacey.

“Yes!” says Desmond. “It’s a great ending to her story. In one regard.”

“Why did Joe let you wander off?” asks an Englishwoman humorously.

“What do you mean? Like…she’s…an elderly woman with Alzheimer’s? And he just let her wander off into the Illuminati? Metaphorically speaking.” says a perfume hater.

“Yes. In a sense.” says a Satanist.

“It’s not as if she’s really got actual Alzheimer’s. Do you understand?” asks a Bill Gates.

“So he let Lacey wander around spiritually? And people were jealous and quickly jumped to self-soothing assumptions her whole life. And in the perfume community they thought men were in love with her and hoped against hope that she was stupider than seemed logically possible.” says a perfume hater.

“Were men in love with you?!” asks a perfume hater.

“The Loudest Perfume Hater was obsessed with me.” Lacey laughs after Desmond laughs. “I had one unmarried bisexual man with a crush on me. And of course there were scores of random male possible scam artists. And men who were looking for prostitutes. That last one was an entirely unwarranted insult, obviously. …Maybe one of two men I didn’t know about found me appealing as more than a friend? But they never said anything to that end and neither did I. …It was just fun to post things.” says Lacey.

“Why were you so quiet?” asks a perfume hater.

“I was so friendly.” says Lacey. “What do you mean?”

“But like, not in a nice way. In a cheerful and polite way.” says the female perfume hater.

“That’s just my personality. And maybe if I’m illegitimate it’s genetic. I’m really a very loving person. But I’m not loud or aggressive or informal.” says Lacey.

“And that’s who she actually is. Do you all understand that?!” asks Desmond, growing angry.

“I thought you were paranoid.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater, snobbishly.

“I think you are often paranoid?” asks Lacey. “I doubt I was paranoid.”

“We were paranoid too.” say a few other perfume haters.

“And you weren’t intimidated by my wealth?” asks another perfume hater of Lacey.

“Why were you all so paranoid? And…golly…what-I grew-up around wealthy, upper-middle class people. I don’t think you understand the Midwest. …And…you seemed likely to snub me. And judge me. Very harshly. I didn’t trust you. At all. But I wished you well. In a way you could say I was intimidated, but not…fundamentally.” says Lacey. “I actually snubbed you accidentally probably. I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware of my tendency to do that back then.”

“Okay, how did you snub her?” asks another perfume hater.

“It’s not pretty.” says Audrey Hepburn.

“What clothes did you wear? What makeup did you wear? What perfume did you wear? Where did you live? What’s your net worth? Where are your kids going to school? What church do you go to? Why? What do you read? What do you eat? Why? And most importantly: Who were your parents?” asks a German reading her blog. “That’s why.” He laughs. “You have to be very careful with people like Lacey.”

“Is that me?!” asks Lord Thirsten Snotgrass.

Scott laughs.

“No.” says Lacey.

“I’m not a snob.” says Lord Snotgrass.

“Not even slightly?” Lacey asks him kindly.

I did go to a very elite school. And I’m very educated and smart. But…I reference your family for clout. Like you wear Louis Vuitton. I reference your family. I don’t own Louis Vuitton.” he says.

“Are you questioning her father’s empire?” asks an Englishwoman of Lord Snotgrass.

“Did they own the bootlegging trade?” he asks.

“He was worth over a $100 million net in today’s terms, so to speak.” says Al Capone lighting a cigarette. “And he came from old money. But no, he did not have billions or own Louis Vuitton. He did have an enormous amount of power though.”

“We had billions, in today’s terms. In material things that mattered.” says Louis. He rolls his eyes.

“And we were the Rockefeller’s.” says Michael.

“And she’s extremely straight, beautiful, kind and smart.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater rolling her eyes. “It’s not so mysterious.”

“Geez. $100 million isn’t very much.” says Lord Snotgrass.

“Well…he was old money. Really old, possibly. And…he likely valued power and privacy more than money.” says Lacey.

“Yeah, I don’t know. $100 million is a lot.” says a Bill Gates.

“It’s not billions. But it’s certainly…somewhat substantial.” says a Greta.

“It’s a nice, cosy amount of money.” says Lacey.

“How much would you have inherited?” asks a dead man from Boston.

“$2 or $3 million in the 1930’s or 40’s. To start.” says another dead man.

“To live off of?” asks Lacey.

“Yes. And you’d have inherited more later. Things would have had to be much more stable. And they would have been.” says a dead man.

A dead woman nods in agreement.

“Why did you snub me?” asks the pencil skirt wearing perfume hater.

“I’m sorry. It’s just how I was raised.” says Lacey.

Michael laughs.

“Do you understand why? Or does she need to punch you in your nose?” asks Michael.

“No! I don’t understand why.” says the pencil skirt wearing perfume hater.

“Here’s the thing: How much are you worth net? After putting all your kids through good private schools from preschool to undergrad?” asks Lacey. “How much of your house do you actually own?” She thinks. “Has Anthropologie been glamorous to you? …Do you swoon over Goyer? …Those are disdainful things in my family I was raised in. …And…yet…you were very lordly in how you approached me.” Lacey thinks. “You were so condescending? Right?” Lacey thinks. “Or did I just imagine that?” She thinks. “That’s what I got tired of. You and others like you being so lordly. In ten years I’ll likely be worth more than you. And…I actually wasn’t even thinking about that sort of thing, so to speak. But…the patronizing attitude towards me got old.” Lacey thinks even more. “It’s just…live by the sword, die by the sword.” Lacey thinks. “And…after being attacked too much I just got tired of it. But…maybe I also didn’t realize how much I judged you initially.”

“And how much we sensed that?” asks another perfume hater.

“Yes.” says Lacey.

“What did you all sense?!” asks Desmond.

“Her disdain.” says a woman in the perfume community. “She’s not a hateful person. But she obviously is hiding her real opinions to be polite.”

“I’m not insulting your family’s meager millions.” laughs Lord Thirsten Snotgrass out of the blue. “I just am defiant by nature myself.”

“You know there is a difference between two and a hundred though.” says a Bill Gates. “Especially if it could have been a hundred legally and a gubernatorial win in the family as well.”

“That’s true.” says Lacey.

Lem smiles reassuringly at Lacey.

“You’re not a hateful person. Right?” asks a perfume hater of Lacey.

“No! No!” says Lacey. “I’m a Christian. But I’m not hateful.” She thinks. “I might offend you but I certainly don’t mean anyone in harm. Quite the opposite.”

“What did I do to snub you?” asks the pencil skirt wearing perfume hater. “Actually though, it was my attitude. Wasn’t it? It was everyone’s tone.”

“I can still sense your…feeling of innate superiority.” says Lacey.

Louis laughs.

“What do you think we’re worth net?” she asks Lacey.

“After paying for your services?” asks Lacey.

She looks at Lacey. “Why does that have to count with you?” she asks incredulously.

“Because you are alive.” says Lacey.

“$200,000.00.” says a man.

“Then if that’s true why are you so…patronizing?” asks Lacey. “Because you seem to have some genuine sense that you’re better than a lot of people.”

“A lot of people do nowadays.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“You’re right. And it’s so confusing. Especially when they demand money they don’t have in any way for themselves and not their kids. As adults.” says Lacey. “What right do they think they have to my money?” She thinks. “Seriously. Who the hell do these pedophilic, asinine, hateful people think they are?!”

Mr. Lutin laughs.

“You see them as coddled, drug addicted, bourgeois, violent peasants? With no real sense of almost anything? Who just want to sit around, get high, get fat, use people and then think about nothing and produce nothing of any use or value to anyone. Including themselves.” says a perfume hater to Lacey.

“That’s what they tragically come across as.” says Lacey.

“They’re not Hyacinth Bucket’s family anymore. They’re the true lizards.” says the perfume hater. “The snakes biting children and killing them in their sleep. Totally not worth a damn to society.”

“That’s what they come across as. And I worry for their souls. Truly.” says Lacey.

“Do I seem just mere steps from them socially?” asks the pencil skirt wearing perfume hater.

“Yes. You do. But due to Americanism you don’t know that. And that’s what used to be hopeful and beautiful about our country. But…it’s almost toxic now.” says Lacey.

Joe Kennedy Sr. nods in agreement. “She’s right. My life attested to that mercy.” He thinks.

“Except she didn’t go to Boston Latin or Harvard. And she isn’t as smart or hood looking or sexually gifted as you.” says another perfume hater to Joe Sr..

He looks slightly scandalized in response.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” she responds in a familiar tone.

He grows more irritated.

“Do you know Joe?” Desmond asks the perfume community.

“We don’t know him either.” says Batgirl III.

Joe Sr. laughs.

“I’m not a snob. Please.” says Joe Sr.. “But I see where I think you’re going with that?”

“So we should now give out stupid-subsidies?” says Lacey. “That’s not necessarily helpful.”

“But then what?” asks a perfume hater.

“What does Vladimir Putin think?” asks The Charismatic.

“He thinks we’re all fools.” says Lord Thirsten Snotgrass.

“Right.” says a black man sarcastically.

“Well, what do you think he thinks then?” asks Thirsten.

The black man laughs. “I think he’s having a jolly good time.”

“Doing what?” asks the pencil skirt perfume hater.

The black man laughs. “I dunno. Getting laid. Being powerful. Being loved. Being strong. You don’t see it? …He’s not a normal person.” He thinks. “And yet, in a way he is.”

“How much was your family worth in the 1400’s in Africa?” Lord Thirsten Snotgrass asks the black man.

“You wanna know how much my family was worth?” asks the pencil skirt perfume hater.

“I don’t know. Maybe…$4 million. In today’s money.” he says.

Lord Thirsten Snotgrass almost hyperventilates.

“Umm…my family…was worth $200,000.00 or so?” asks the pencil skirt perfume hater.

Lord Thirsten Snotgrass considers the implications.

“I get the sense you had a lot of kids. Why did you have so many kids?!” he asks the pencil skirt perfume hater.

“I think that’s wonderful though.” says Lacey.

The Loudest Perfume Hater laughs.

“Why is that funny?” asks Thirsten.

“Because she’s trying to get Lacey’s approval whether she acknowledges it or not. We all were. So are you? How do you not get that?!” The Loudest Perfume Hater responds.

“Do you think I want that black man’s approval?” he asks.

She thinks. She grows quiet. “That’s intriguing. So you’re suggesting that racism came from class anxieties that were what? Genetic?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Yes. What do you think?” he asks.

She laughs. “I’m like Joe. I’m good at impersonating people too. …Yeah. I mean, I don’t know. Sure. Why would that be such a big deal today though?”

“Because she’s listening to the Illuminati. And Mr. Blue is massively insecure. And so are his friends.” says Desmond.

“And I’m not and neither is Lacey.” says Louis. “And we just don’t get it.”

Ray Craft nods his head humbly in comprehension.

Feeling threatened Mr. Blue grows restless.

“You’re not me.” says J. P. Kennedy to Mr. Blue. He’s being very serious.

JFK looks squeamish.

“I have a tendency to think that people like Mr. Blue are my friends. My very, very best friends forever.” he says.

His daughter-in-law laughs.

“Not Lem?” asks a perfume hater.

“Lem was my friend. But I wanted comfort and security. And those men provided an intellectual safety blanket. …I felt they liked me.” he says.

“And that boosted your ego?” asks Lacey.

“Yes! My ego.” he says.

“Well…now what?!” asks Louis.

“Evil isn’t the same thing as stupidity.” says a perfume hater.

“But doing evil is stupid.” says Desmond to clarify.

“Correct.” says the perfume hater.

“So it was just my seeming arrogance that triggered your snub. But would you have snubbed me otherwise?” asks the pencil skirt perfume hater.

“Yup. Yup.” says Jack on Lacey’s behalf. “But I’m sure she’ll analyze it. To be sure. Isn’t she nice?” he asks. “Are you that kind? No? Then why so much hate for this? My brother should have warned her. But he didn’t. And like me she admires those who can write. …Not out of lack on her part, but out of studiousness. Or maybe maturity. What about you?”

“What do you read?!” Jackie Kennedy Onassis asks the pencil skirt perfume hater.

“Time magazine.” says the pencil skirt perfume hater’s friend.

“You do very well keeping up with everything considering that that’s what you read?” says Lacey to the pencil skirt perfume hater.

“True!” says Sir Winston Churchill in agreement with Lacey. He laughs.

“Time isn’t that bad.” says the pencil skirt perfume hater.

“Oh but it is. Every once and a while it’s good. But it’s often so crude. If you want a real sense of things The Economist used to be good. Or honestly, The New York Times? Sometimes the Washington Post, or the Wall Street Journal. It’s important to get a variety of sources and hope you find the line of truth in the lies sometimes.” says Lacey.

“You’re not who Mr. Blue thought you were.” says the pencil skirt perfume hater to Lacey.

“No. It’s hurtful. And it’s been hurtful since his misunderstanding happened years ago.” says Lacey.

Silence.

“Joe…is Lacey secretly more elite than Pat Wilson?” asks a woman. “Your insecurities aren’t helpful.”

“Yes.” he says.

“Is that why you decided to abandon me?” Lacey asks him.

“If I did, then yes.” says Joe. “And don’t listen to the 21st Century elite posers who don’t know a breathing shit about your family, and barely understand English to begin with.”

“So…my new money and what? My mother’s crass background makes me weak?” asks the poser suddenly determined to prove Pat Wilson’s superiority over the entire lineage of Lacey.

“They need to feel superior to Lacey. If they don’t they will be toast. And the truth is…that’s not necessarily bad if they’re not headed to Heaven. A warning might be good. Right?” asks Lem.

“We are Bernie Madoff. In a way. True.” says one of them. “But…it’s a lot to process. Isn’t it?”

“Yes! But her mind isn’t your mind. And you can’t expect her to react the way you want. She’s not the comforting stereotype you need her to be. You’ll have to be scared for a while. Sorry.” says Lem. “The Queen terrified you all too. So did Philip. And it’s not very becoming.”

“Oh well.” says Lacey.

Desmond laughs. “Welp, sorry. We’re all off. Prayers be with you. Truly.”

“When did pencil skirts go out of style for the the true bourgeois elite?” asks the pencil skirt perfume hater.

“That’s not Desmond!!! He didn’t sound like that!” says someone. “He was a man of the people.”

“Like Marty Crane on Fraiser?” asks Lacey. “Oh well.”

Lacey thinks. “2013 or so?” She thinks more. “I don’t care. But I’m also not necessarily trying to be cool.” She thinks more. “They’re sort of a classic but they were also popular due to J. Crew and Mad Men. Right?”

“What do you wear?” asks the pencil skirt perfume hater.

“Nonsense. Just a bunch of nonsense.” says Lacey. “Other than my coat, my bags and my jewelry.”

She laughs derisively. “What coat?”

“It’s an American made coat made by a company started by family friends.” says Lacey.

“And her mink!” says Louis.

A group of perfume haters laugh derisively until they realize it’s not a joke.

“Did you really pay just $500 for that coat?!” asks a perfume hater of Lacey.

“What the fuck is she supposed to say to that?! Yes! And I bet most of her coats cost that much.” says an elite poser. “Is that an insult or a form of hatred?”

“It’s like a $10,000.00 mink coat new. Why can’t she buy a new coat worth that much?” asks the perfume hater.

“Why can’t you?” asks the elite poser.

“Oh come on.” she says as if they’re old pals. “You know what I mean.”

He thinks. “I wonder though. Can you buy one $500 mink coat you’ll barely ever wear?”

“This is bullshit! And bullying! You don’t like Lacey! And I can afford to buy 30 of those things!” says Mr. Blue.

“Like the $40,000.00 she threw in the ocean.” says the elite poser. “I dare you to buy a Rolex, throw it in the ocean and then truly not care.”

“Can you imagine throwing that much in the ocean?” asks the perfume hater, still trying to be pals.

“No. I can’t. Maybe my kids or grandkids might. What about you?” they ask.

“I’m too rational. Ask Louis. Or Harold Loeb. Or Michael. It’s not about old money.” she insists.

“I could easily have done worse!” says Michael.

“Me too.” says Harold.

“Me too!” says Scott.

“Me too.” says Louis. “You don’t understand.”

“I did it.” says Zelda.

“But you didn’t own The Vanderbilt fortune!” protests Lacey.

“No. We weren’t very wealthy. And we certainly weren’t old money. We were farmers like our old pal Mike. A regular gun-slinging, tough, oil man. A cowboy. Worth ten cents.” says Zelda.

Ray laughs.

“I could be a poor cowboy. If that’s romantic.” says Lem to Lacey.

“Like a kind hired hand.” says Lacey thoughtfully. Lem laughs.