the shower!'
She gave me a smile and said 'I think so, too. But I'm too damn worn out to clean up before we shower, so you're just going to have to live with the sight of me cleaning the rest of your stuff out of me.'
'Actually, I think that would be pretty fun to watch – but I'm too damn tired to do anything about it, either, so we'll just have to save it for next time, okay?'
Laughing, she answered 'You're disgusting, is what you are – but I agree. Next time. Now let's get in there before I lose what little energy I do have!'
Holding on to – and supporting – each other, we managed to get into the bathroom and get the shower started. Once inside and with the hot water stimulating us, we managed to find enough energy to help clean each other up. When Candice wasn't looking, I reached around her and turned off the hot water, leaving her standing between me and the showerhead. When the cold water hit her, she shrieked and tried to climb over me to get away from it – but I had a firm hold on her and held her under the spray. After she'd gotten over the shock of it, I steeled myself, and swapped places with her.
Once my heart started beating again, the cold water was actually kind of invigorating – much the same way that having someone in a monster mask jump out at you from a dark alley can be called 'stimulating'.
Cleaned up again, we shut the shower off and got out. As we dried each other off, she let me know what she thought of what I'd done. I was surprised to learn that she knew those words, and doubt that my ancestry is as diverse and convoluted as she described. And truth be told, I've never done even half the things she accused me of. Still, once she was done, she admitted that it did have the effect of making sure she was fully awake for a little while.
Back in the bedroom, we teamed up to replace the sheets before lying down again. With her spooning against my back, the two of us didn't have any trouble falling asleep.
The next day, it was patently obvious to anybody that I wasn't in any condition to be doing much of anything – other than, say, going to the bathroom by myself. That night, Kelly joined Candice and me when we went to bed early. Its possible the two of them may have made love, but I wouldn't know. I think I was out of it before my head hit the pillow.
When the girls showed up that Saturday, it was the twin's dad that brought all of them. Candice had come to the door with me, and I introduced her to all of them. The twins father told her 'I'm quite a fan of yours, Ms. Towers. I make it a point to read your stories whenever they appear.'
Candice smiled at him and answered 'Thank you, Mister Rigney – but please, call me Candice.'
Smiling, he said 'I don't always appreciate your stories about politicians, since some of them are of the same party as I am, but I never have reason to believe that you're telling anything but the truth.'
'I'm glad you appreciate the distinction between the message, and the messenger. Not everyone does – partly because so many of my fellow journalists aren't able to separate themselves from their stories', she answered.
'That's entirely too true', he said. 'How is it that you are able to maintain your objectivity, then?'
'Why don't you come in and hear for yourself?' she invited.
He voiced his agreement, and let Candice and I lead him into the den where the girls were already arranged to face Kelly and the spot where Candice would be sitting. Mister Rigney and I took seats where we would be out of the way; tonight was going to be Candice's show, with as little input from me and Kelly as could be managed.
All five of the girls were visibly somewhat in awe of Candice – not just because they knew she was a 'famous' newspaper reporter, but because of her obvious beauty and poise.
She started out by telling them how she'd been going to the same school they were – along with some of her friends, whom they'd heard about. From there, it was on to how she'd met me – in general terms, out of deference for the twin's father being there – and how I had helped her by explaining to her about some things that she had wondered about, but not understood. She also told them that I had done a lot to answer many of the questions she'd had, and taught her how to find ways to get the answers to the rest. They also heard her explain that she'd been pretty indifferent to the idea of going to college – until she'd met me; once she understood the things that I'd taught her, she knew that she wanted to take her passion for writing and use it to help other people by becoming a reporter. When asked, she admitted that she'd been at the top of her class of journalism students, and sixth in the entire school. She'd been hired by a major newspaper right out of college, but hadn't been foolish enough to think that she was really a Reporter – with the capital 'R'. Initially, she'd been sent out on trivial assignments – 'fluff' pieces, she called them. But she'd done the best she could on every one of them, and tried to learn something from each experience. As she learned the ins and outs of being a newspaper person, the importance of her assignments increased until she'd finally gotten the chance to show them what she was capable of on one particular story. Her bosses had been impressed with the work she'd done, and the response she'd gotten from the readers, and moved her into the job she currently had. With each story, they became more confident in her, and began giving her more and more freedom to pursue stories on her own, with little or no oversight until she actually submitted her work.
As she was talking to them, all of the girls asked her questions at different times, and all of them listened to the answers she gave. Her talk to them took up nearly all of the time for our meetings, and the twin's dad finally interrupted things to ask her again how she was able to avoid biasing her stories with her own opinions.
She looked at him, first, but addressed her answer to the girls when she said 'One of the things that Dan helped me learn was that a fact is neither good, nor bad.' She took one of the small pillows on the couch and held it out – then let go of it so that it fell to the floor. Looking at each of them, she asked 'The cushion fell to the floor because of gravity. If I wanted to make that a story, should I say that it was good, or bad? Or should I just report that it happened, and let people decide for themselves which it is?'
Even Mister Rigney nodded his head in understanding before she went on 'If I tell people that a politician is accepting money from some people, and that he does special favors for those same people, it isn't up to me to say what they should think about it. He is supposed to represent them, so it's up to them to decide if those two facts add up to something good or bad, not me. Dan helped me understand that its up to me to think about what I'm doing, and why – and to be absolutely honest about my reasons. What I learned from Dan is that each of us has to make our own choices, for our own reasons, and then live with the consequences of those choices. As a reporter, I've written stories about people that were doing things that weren't fair and honest, and politicians that weren't doing the things that they said they were or would do. But I've also written stories about people that were being honest and truthful, and helping other people – and the people that read my stories decided that those good people deserved to have good things happen to them, just as they decided that the bad people deserved to be punished. And when I say 'good' and 'bad' and 'honest' and all of that, yes, those are my opinions; but what I reported were the facts – so that the people reading my stories could make up their own minds without me influencing them, even by accident. There are too many people out there that will try to make you believe what they do by the way they tell you something. People like that aren't being honest, with themselves, or with you – and more, they aren't showing you the respect that you deserve, because if they respected you, they wouldn't have to try and make you believe something. An honest person will show you something, tell you why they think it is true, and then let you decide for yourself. A dishonest person thinks that you have to be told what to think, or tricked into believing something. And since I want to respect myself, I have to be honest with myself, too – and if I am honest with myself, then I have to be honest with other people, and to be honest with them, I have to show them respect. So in my stories I show people what the facts are, tell them why I think those facts are true, and then show them the respect of letting them decide for themselves what those facts mean. And I do things that way for each and every one of my stories, no matter who or what I'm writing about – because the people that read my stories are the ones paying my salary; and they deserve the best, and most honest, work I can do.'
When she was done, all of them sat there, as though she was still talking and they were still listening. But what they were doing was actually thinking about what she'd said – Kelly and I could both see it on all of their faces.
After a bit, they all got up, and Kelly and the girls headed for the door. When they were gone, the twin's dad approached Candice and said 'That was really something to listen to, Candice. Where on earth did you learn all of that?'
She looked him squarely in the eyes – it didn't escape her that she'd already given all of them the answer to the question he'd just asked – and replied 'When I was their age, I only kinda-sorta knew the things I was just talking about – until I met Dan. Then I started talking to him, and asking him questions, and listening to the answers he
