“Indeed,” said Madame. “And after they are married, he abuses her, and what does she say?”
Mouche said, “She says, ‘He broke my arm, but he really loves me.’ “
“She wouldn’t!” said a voice from the back of the room. “Women aren’t crazy.”
“Quite true,” said Madame. “They aren’t crazy, but they are sometimes quite helpless in dealing with their biology. Our theoretical woman might say just what Mouche proposes. Or, she might say, ‘He’s under a strain, and he goes all to pieces, and it was my fault, I upset him.’ An interesting fact about such stories is that repeating them actually calms the mind and assuages the pain of abuse by eliciting the release of serotonins and endorphins. Such stories are a kind of self-hypnosis, a verbal veil over reality. In this example, the woman assigns the man the role of one helpless in his affliction and assigns herself the role of nurturing mother-martyr, using the verbal veil as her device for surviving in that role.”
“She wouldn’t do that here on Newholme,” said Fentrys. “My mother wouldn’t do that!”
“Women don’t need to do that on Newholme,” Madame agreed. “On this world, any woman who did do such a thing would be referred to the psych machines for rebalancing! Here, physical abuse of women took place only at the time of the women raids and the Hags put a stop to that! We do, however, hear women say things like, ‘My father really treasured me. He didn’t want to let me go … ‘ Or, ‘My married daughter would come visit me with the children if she could get away from home.’ What are these?”
Tyle said, “They’d be the same kind of veils. To hide her disappointment?”
“Exactly. Admitting the fiction would be destructive to the woman’s ego, so she uses a verbal veil to conceal disappointment. Why do we care? Why do we talk about it? Because as Consorts, you will hear these stories as symptoms of need! Your patroness should be without disappointments if you are doing your job correctly. When you hear your patroness lying to herself, your job is to eliminate her need to do so.”
“We tell her she’s being silly,” said the voice from the rear of the room.
“You will not,” snapped Madame. “That is a traditionally male response which is totally unhelpful! You won’t say she is silly or that the situation she describes is not true or that she should forget it. You will say, ‘Yes, I know what you mean. I understand. I know of a similar case,’ and you will go on to tell a parallel story, which will allow her to feel that her own disappointments are universally shared, that she is not exceptional in this regard, that she need not worry over them …
“Fentrys? You look confused.”
“I am confused, Madame. Our patronesses are supposed to be exceptional, so why … “
“Your patronesses are supposed to be exceptional in all favorable regards. You will let them know they are exceptionally witty, exceptionally beautiful, exceptionally charming, patient, and so forth, and you will tell them so at least hourly. But if your patroness is troubled, if she thinks ‘Why me?’ the ‘Why me?’ must be turned into ‘It’s not just me.’ It’s normal for husbands to be preoccupied with business, for children to be thoughtless, for familial relationships to be unfulfilling. That is exactly why you are there, to make up for such things. If such disappointments weren’t normal, Consorts wouldn’t be needed. You’ll know you have succeeded when your patroness does not lie to herself anymore, when, instead of coping with sadness, she turns to you for her entitlements.”
17—Mouche Becomes a Hunk
Though Mouche grew accustomed to his new suite and his new status, the pictures in the hallway continued to disturb him. It was only after some months had passed that he realized he was worrying about his own eventual patroness, something he hadn’t even thought about until the most recent Amatory Arts lectures. The time of graduation had seemed remote, and he had never once visualized himself as actually fulfilling the necessary role, but now he thought of Her, the Patroness, someone sad, maybe. Someone needing care. Or, he found himself thinking almost obsessively, someone like … someone in one of those pictures.