The Daughters of Freya (free sample)

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COPYRIGHT
The Daughters of Freya by Michael Betcherman and David Diamond. Copyright 2004 by Michael Betcherman and David Diamond.
All Rights Reserved. Sharing not permitted.

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THE DAUGHTERS OF FREYA

Michael Betcherman and David Diamond


WEDNESDAY, MARCH 3

Subject: Need Your Help
From: Don Jackson
To: Samantha Dempsey

Dear Samantha:

Karen and I need your help. Six months ago Lisa dropped out of Berkeley and joined a cult in Marin County north of San Francisco. This isn't like the moonies or hari krishna or any other cult you've ever heard of. I wish it was. Believe it or not, Lisa is running around having sex with strangers out of some crackpot belief that this is going to lead to world peace.

We just returned from California an hour ago. We went there in the futile hope that we'd be able to persuade Lisa to leave the cult. We weren't sure if we'd be able to see her but the cult leader, excuse me - the "spiritual guide" - a bizarre woman named Simone couldn't have been friendlier. She knew damn well that Lisa wasn't coming back home with us.

Simone invited us to sit in on one of their workshops. It was called Freeing Sexual Energy. The girls took turns talking about the sexual attitudes in their homes when they were growing up. When it was Lisa's turn she told everyone how Karen and I raised her to believe that sex was dirty. When I denied that we had ever said anything like that, she said she was referring to the subliminal messages we sent out. It was very clever - how could we deny doing something we weren't aware of? Then she told us that she forgave us. Everybody applauded. It was the most humiliating day of our lives.

As you can imagine, we're both heartbroken about this. We haven't told anybody except Danny. Frankly we were too ashamed. I'm only telling you because we have nowhere else to turn. Karen has taken it especially hard. Of course it's not her fault, but she blames herself anyway. She's had to go on disability leave from the school board; it's all she can do to drag herself out of bed in the morning.

When I saw you at the boys' graduation, you said you wanted to get back into investigative journalism. Believe me, there is a great story here - I've only given you the tip of the iceberg - so if you're interested, please call me as soon as possible. Maybe if you reveal the truth, Lisa will come to her senses.

Hope you, Peter and Max are well. Please call me.

Don
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Subject: Greetings-and a pitch!
From: Samantha Dempsey
To: Jane Sperry

Hi Jane,

It's hard to believe that it's been more than thirty-five years since we used to perch on the Wall on College Avenue, smoking a joint after one of Dr. B's lectures on Law and Ethics and giggling at the parade of absurdity that was Penn State circa 1972. Remember those all-nighters at the Collegian when you, Tom and I would be trying to put the paper to bed, arguing over every word as if a misplaced comma would prolong the war?

Last time we spoke was at Dr. B's retirement ceremony--you were with a charming Englishman and Peter and I were newlyweds--but I've been following your career in The Penn Stater and am really proud of what you've achieved. A bookstore here in Toronto started carrying Left Coast a couple of years ago and I haven't missed an issue. The piece you guys did on the Reno murder was spellbinding, particularly the way the writer worked backwards from the murder. Definitely deserved the National Magazine Award.

Peter's well. He's a partner in an international construction company that specializes in resort development. The business is booming but his travel schedule is brutal. He spent the last few years commuting to Bangkok--his firm was building a resort in Phuket--and now he's in Moscow bidding on a development in the Caucasus. I'm not sure we'd ever see each other if he wasn't committed to the neighborhood dry cleaner.

We have a son, Max, who is now a freshman in college. He goes to Wilfrid Laurier University, which is about an hour west of here, where he's majoring in his girlfriend, a Chinese girl named Amy. I have to confess I'm not thrilled about this--Amy's very sweet, and she's absolutely gorgeous--but she's 25 years old, and this is my baby we're talking about. Peter pretends to sympathize but he's secretly proud, as if this somehow confirms the outstanding genetic legacy he's bequeathed to Max.

After Max was born, I started working freelance for a few trade publications, mainly filing reports about the latest information technology developments. It wasn't exactly stimulating but the flexibility of working from home was great while Max was growing up. Now that I don't have to sit around cold, drafty hockey arenas at six in the morning--a prerequisite for obtaining Canadian citizenship--or help Max with his homework, I've got time to take on more ambitious journalistic projects, which is my second reason for sending you this e-mail. I want to pitch a story that I think is perfect for Left Coast.

I just met with the father of one of Max's old hockey teammates. He was in a panic because his daughter has dropped out of school and joined a cult in Marin County called The Daughters of Freya. It's an all-female cult and is run by a woman, which to me sounds newsworthy in itself. But what really intrigued me was his description of the cult's philosophy. Apparently--and this sort of thing would never fly in Toronto--these women have decided to devote themselves to bringing sexual fulfillment to the world.

According to their 'spiritual guide', a woman named Simone Jorgensen, our deep-rooted feelings of inadequacy manifest themselves in the destructive behavior that leads to war, hunger, crime etc. In order to heal our damaged psyches and bring about heaven on earth, Simone has persuaded her acolytes to have sex with strangers. I'm not making this up!

I did a Google search and there is plenty of material about Freya--she's the Norse goddess of sexuality--but nothing on this group. There were a few Simone Jorgensens--a retired high school teacher from Minnesota, a high-tech exec from Silicon Valley and the 11 year-old winner of a spelling bee in Seattle--but no cult leader.

Are you interested in an article about this cult? Thought I'd offer it to you first before going elsewhere with it. Let me know if you think there's something here for you. And what you're up to.

Did you ever hear any news about Tom? And what happened to the Englishman?

Sam
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From: Jane Sperry
To: Samantha Dempsey

Hi Sam,

Fantastic to hear from you although it's more than a little disturbing to realize that Max is the same age that we were when we first met. Where did the years go? And why do I keep asking myself this question? The only good thing about it is that my mother has stopped asking me when I'm going to make her a grandmother.

I ended up moving to London and marrying the Englishman, only to discover that beneath the plummy accent and diffident British charm lay the soul of a crushing bore. We eventually divorced in '89 after years of bitter wrangling that enriched only my lawyers and the forensics accountants I hired to trace Jeremy's offshore assets. I stayed on with the Guardian for a few more years but without Thatcher to mock, the gray skies and endless drizzle eventually got to me and in '93 I moved back here where it's much easier for my mother to harass me.

I freelanced for a while before I succumbed to the allure of a regular paycheck and took a PR job with a Silicon Valley startup. I quit a couple of years later when the line between fiction and reality got so blurred it no longer existed. In '03 we launched the magazine - thanks for the kind words - and even though it's been a struggle, I'm proud we've been able to stay afloat without resorting to puff pieces about Hollywood's favorite spas.

This is the part where I should tell you about my personal life but I don't have one. No lover, no kids, not even a cat. I'm still waiting for Joe Paterno to call. Hell, I can't remember the last time I ate at home. I'm not complaining, I made my choices but reading about your domestic tranquility did elicit a pang of envy - or was it heartburn from the dim sum I had at lunch?

The good old days really were the good old days weren't they? Although given the current political climate I'm not going to admit to smoking dope - and if I did I didn't inhale. And no, I haven't heard a word about Tom. Not since the day he came into the office and told us he wasn't going to hide behind a student deferment while poor kids were dying. I'll never forget the look on your face.

I ran your idea past our story committee. Everybody loves it! A cult devoted to getting laid! That covers two of our readers' favorite subjects. The cult must be fairly new on the scene because we ran a LexisNexis search and nothing came up. So it looks like it's a go. One more thing. Our June cover story fell through and we'll need a first draft by March 20. So we're going to have to get moving right away. I'll call you later to go over the nitty gritty.

Go Lions!

Jane

Jane Sperry
Editor-in-Chief
Left Coast Monthly
595 Harrison Street, Suite 3240
San Francisco,CA 94113
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