And the zoetrope light like that -- winter brightness, and then dark -- over and over again. You're in a cave and the light that keeps changing, because you're in the places where you keep your stuff. It doesn't come up very often, in the day-to-day, so it's in the cave usually. We have a bad habit of thinking those things are in the cave because they're dirty, or dirty as a consequence of being in the cave; we forget we are not dirty, and the cave's just there to make us good neighbors. There's nothing bad down there, just things we've said no to. And the questions.
Are you disgusting? Are you so far-flung into the future that you are a messiah? Are you joining a cult, are you under the influence of a strong and charismatic figure (two of them!) or are you being your best self today? Are you so enlightened that you're beyond reproach, or so convinced by your own sickness that you'll never dig out?
If you think about her, that woman today, Jane Doe Jane, you get a little bit of an erection. Not a rager, just a maybe/maybe-not. Is that perfectly fine, is that science? Or is that your body being smarter than you, telling you something you need to hear?
Winter sun, and then the muggy dark. Over and over again, until nightfall.
Arrives, in his little tux, while they're waiting. Tonight was the NICU benefit, and to Ethan it is the most important thing because he doesn't know how deep they've gone, or what rides on the phone call that never comes.
If she told him all about it, she'd lose them both. He would go haywire, and Bill would feel betrayed. They would both be fine, but she'd be out in the cold: Everything depends on her, because she's the only one that gives either of them any concrete validation. Without her presence, in different ways, they don't exist. Without Virginia, Masters knows now he'd be a rapist. Without Virginia, Ethan would drop off the edge of the earth, unloved by the only woman he can see in color.
So it's her responsibility, to carry this burden on her back, and it starts now: With Ethan angry that she takes the NICU benefit for granted, when he showered and put on his best suit and showed up with flowers.
It's the only time her shoulders slump.
Masters, tone-deaf: "For God's sake, Ethan. Go! Ginny can come with me and Libby, a bit later."
Virginia: "Actually, Libby's already had me over twice this week. I'm not a third wheel."