"So how did they take it?" asked Metha sympathetically as she methodically stirred her iced tea. Metha was an iced tea addict of long standing; ever since she had discovered its heady delights she had never looked back. Most people assumed it was because she was Indian, although she assured me she had never had iced tea until she came to the West, or east, or whatever. Since she flew in to California, she had come east, but most people wouldn’t see it that way.

"Oh, about how I expected," I replied. "My mother spent an hour trying to talk me out of it. My father hasn’t spoken to me since then."

"They don’t think it’s anything indecent do they?" asked Metha pointedly. I loved seeing her face turn red whenever she talked about sex.

"No, no, nothing like that," I assured her. "My mother even asked if I was planning to marry you like she was hopeful. You’ve met them; they like you. If I was living in sin with anyone, I’m sure they’d prefer it were you over anyone else."

"I wish you wouldn’t talk like that," Metha muttered shyly. "You know it makes me uncomfortable."

"Metha, we’ve known each other for long enough that you ought to know that I love you like my sister," I said, playfully punching her arm.

She laughed; Metha had a peculiar laugh, a little chuckle which sounded almost like she was a small child. "I wonder how Persephone feels about that?"

"Chuck’s fine with it," I said with a smirk. "She’s happy to get rid of me whenever, and however, she can."

"I can’t understand why," said Metha with another chuckle. "So, what’s next?"

I thought about this for a minute. Certainly I felt no real need to stay home just for my father’s bocce and my mother’s peace of mind. At the same time, I didn’t really want my parents to be unhappy. "I don’t really know," I said finally. "You know how much I want to move in, and I know how much you want me to move in, but my parents..."

Metha took a slow, calculated sip of tea and regarded me with eyes that bespoke just how much older than I she really was. "My father once told me something which I think applies here. He said to me, ‘My child, there will be many times in life when your head will compete with your heart for sovereignty of your soul. When those times come, you should leave your soul free, without ruler.’" She paused and stared at me.

"What in God’s name does that mean?"

"Beats me," she chuckled. "It just seemed like something you needed to hear."

"You’re as bad as my guru," I groaned.

"That fool? He couldn’t find Nirvana in an alphabetized record collection."

I couldn’t help laughing. "I know how you feel, but he’s teaching me so much..."

"So much about horse crap."

"You should give him a chance. He doesn’t ask for money or anything else sketchy, and he doesn’t pretend to be God or anything. He’s just... I don’t know."

"Well, maybe he can explain what my father meant." Metha drained her glass. "I’ve got work in half an hour. You can let yourself out." She turned and stared straight at me. "Keep your soul free." Then she laughed and left, but her eyes remained deadly serious.