Marie's Journey (Ginecean Chronicles) (19 page)

She had the good grace to lower her eyes, but it stung. “So I heard.” She felt his gaze on her and like the time at Redfarm when he had confronted her, she knew she had appeared petty.

“What did she do to you?”

She kept her eyes glued on the point of her sandals, wiggling her toes to have something to do. Had he already asked her that question? He might have. “I barely knew her.”

“So it’s because she was with me?” His voice raised one or two octaves too many to be safe, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He had startled her with the question, but when she finally looked up, she saw he hadn’t meant what she had thought. Her honest answer would have been, “Yes,” but he would have thought Marie simply disliked a man-lover. The answer he heard coming out from her mouth was, “No. I wouldn’t dislike her because she was with a man.” Which it would have been a lie only a few months ago.

“Then why?” Grant sounded puzzled.

Because she was with a particular man. You.
“Because I just don’t like her. Do I need a reason?” Had she just stomped her feet, she wouldn’t have felt any less childish. And again, she thought the scene was a replay of some act she had already gone through.

“I guess not.” He seemed to think about it. “Still, I don’t like it when you’re mean.” His intense gaze kept her under scrutiny. “Because you aren’t.”

His words made her blush. She had liked that more than any other compliment she had ever received. And that scared her. “I can’t be here.” Memories of hugs she hadn’t shared with him flashed before her eyes and she desperately longed to let everything go and forget who they were and why it wasn’t possible for her to feel what she felt. Crutching the small jar to her chest like a shield, she left before he could reply. His call reached her ears and he sounded hurt. At the very last moment, she turned, and he was still staring at her, his green eyes emanating a cold light. She walked a step toward him, but at the same time said, “I can’t—”

He raised one hand to stop her. “Don’t bother. I thought you were a different person.” Then he was gone and she felt as if her heart left with him.

The afternoon was unseasonably warm and Marie and Nora fanned their faces with two pieces of cardboard Nora had shaped into fans. Not very effective, but nothing short of a fall wind would have brought them solace from the torrid heat.

“It’s not even spring.” Marie had been complaining the whole day about the weather. At this time of the year, she had expected Trin’s pleasant warmth, not this unbearable heat. She complained about the weather every time Rane or Zena had asked what was wrong with her. When Nora came to pick her up for the afternoon break, she had wanted to confide in her about her confrontation with Grant. After all, if not open-minded Nora, who else could understand what was happening to her? But then, apparently by mistake, Nora had given her a peck on the lips and Marie had thought better of it.

“Look who’s there.” Nora pointed her chin toward the end of the little alley where they had hidden for their break. They had found the solitary corner by turning right instead of left at the crossway between the infirmary and the cafeteria. The relative isolation from the busiest parts of the central hub was a plus in their eyes and they had decided the afternoon snack could be skipped altogether. It was too hot to eat anyway.

Marie liked the idea of having a special place all for themselves. First at the Institute and then at Redfarm, occasions to be truly alone were rare. But Vasura was the size of a city, probably a big one, and one could get lost and never found again. Lost in her thoughts, it took her a moment to realize she was looking at Grant. Semi-hidden by the shadow cast by the building to his left, only his eyes were visible, and she was immediately lost in them. After a moment, he gave her a smile but didn’t come any closer. He seemed to think about it, his expression showing conflict, but eventually, he walked away without a word, barely a nod. Disappointment ruined her good mood.

She’d had a glimpse of him in the morning just as she exited the cafeteria with Nora. Grant had walked by and their eyes had locked. Among the morning crowd, a sea of people sprinting in every direction at once, they had looked at each other, unable to say a word, the memories from yesterday still too raw. So they had walked from the corner of the cafeteria to the infirmary’s steps, sharing the same stretch of street, but not together. She had fought her nerves, wanting to say something, but Nora’s presence and several others’ prevented her. Once on the stoop, she had turned to talk to him, but he had gone, swallowed by the crowd, his dark-blond head bobbing in the distance. And now, he left again without a word. He didn’t want to talk to her.
I shouldn’t have insulted his precious Carnia.
But deep inside, she knew that wasn’t the problem. She had insulted him and he thought she was like any other man-hater.

“He’s probably on some errands.” Nora patted Marie’s knee. “He’s not avoiding you.”

The oppressive heat was nothing to the burning in her cheeks. “And why should I care?”

Nora opened her mouth to say something, but Marie stopped her. “And why on Ginecea would you think I’m concerned with anything he is or isn’t doing?” She knew she should lower her voice. “He’s a man.”

Nora, who hadn’t closed her mouth yet, gave her one long look and flashed an appeasing smile. “No reason. I just thought that this morning—”

“This morning nothing happened.” Which was why she had been upset the whole day. She couldn’t stop thinking about him and how to make things right between them. She had been so close to being in his arms and was terrified by the magnitude of her longing. It wasn’t right. At Redfarm, she had thought he was in her thoughts because of the things she had witnessed. Nothing more than a strange fascination. But now?

“If you say so.”

Marie was desperate to change the subject. “What do you do when summer comes?” She wiped a trickle of sweat running down her front shirt. The temperature had grown several degrees in the last few minutes.

Nora gently raised Marie’s hair and blew on her neck. “If no supervisor comes around, normally, we open the pool.”

She allowed Nora the intimacy but felt the urge to stop her. She couldn’t understand why it upset her so, but it did. Verena had braided her head and caressed her, and even kissed her head from time to time, but she had never felt so uncomfortable. The sensation was pleasant, but it left her confused on where they stood. Undeniably, there was something, but her heart hadn’t beaten faster this morning when she had spotted Nora waiting for her on the cafeteria’s steps. Nor had she stopped breathing now when Nora’s fingers had brushed her neck. “Is there a pool here?”

“Not officially. Not on the layout registered in Ginecea anyway.” She nodded with her head a yes, which was at odds with what she said next. “So we don’t have a pool.”

“I don’t understand.” It wasn’t the first time Nora made a similar comment about Vasura’s apparent whimsical layout. Marie had discovered soon enough that the big billboard hanging at the main entry, the one with the detailed map of the waste plant, was a hoax. Apart from the name of the plant and the color-coded legend on the side, there wasn’t a single landmark that appeared to have ever been there.

“Once in a while, there’s this big gun from Ginecea who’s supposed to come and check we’re subdued enough.” Nora talked with the repetitive quality of someone who had listened to adults’ conversations and was now reporting verbatim. “Ginecea barely acknowledges our existence. We’re the pure breed’s most embarrassing third-removed cousins. We’re the women they would’ve preferred were born as men. Waste plants are left alone, practically forgotten until they decide to take a brief interest in us and destroy with a single visit the peace it has taken us so long to build. The work of years gone in one day.”

Marie let her finish, wondering which one of her parents had spoken the incendiary words. “What happens when the pure breeds come?”

Nora absentmindedly caressed her back. “They don’t tell us when a supervisor comes, so when she arrives, we tidy up the place so she’ll give us a clean bill.”

“How do you tidy up the place?” Vasura was huge. It seemed almost impossible to clean up a place so dispersed.

Nora shrugged. “Well, the usual. Women and men separate and we fake that we hate them like we’re supposed to, like the pure breeds and fathered women do. Bribes are also common.”

“Bribes?” Marie raised an eyebrow. “What bribes can you pay them if you don’t have any money here?”

“We don’t need money to live here, but we do receive payments for certain services—”

“What kind of services?” Marie’s tone must have been slightly panicked, because Nora exploded in a big laugh.

“You should look at yourself.” She wiped her eyes, sighed, and then patted Marie’s leg. “Don’t worry. You won’t be asked to do anything untoward to save Vasura. There are a few pharmaceutical companies who seek us to make waste disappear. I’m told it’s a lucrative business.” She smiled. “Vasura keeps the money for those special, rainy day occasions.”

Marie felt better. “And do the bribes work?”

“It did the last time a supervisor was here. It was three years ago. She was out of the way the same night she arrived.” Despite the reassuring words, a sad note tinged Nora’s voice and expression.

“And what happens if the pure breed is honest?”

“
When
it did happen, women and men paid with their lives.” Nora stopped caressing her and brought both hands on her lap. “My dad’s father was tortured and then killed just because a supervisor saw him talking to two girls. They were family friends.”

Marie wasn’t sure if Nora wanted to keep talking about it and silently took her hand in hers.

Nora squeezed her hand. “I was only five years old, so I don’t remember a lot. Just a few things and how scared my mom and dad were and how he had to hide somewhere else away from us the whole time the pure breed stayed here. A few days after she arrived, an army followed to help her.”

“It must’ve been terrible…” She couldn’t imagine what they had gone through. She had never had a mother. Most likely a young donor who didn’t want to deal with a screaming baby had dumped her at the Institute at birth. Not that fathered families were common anyway. But she could understand the heartache of having someone you loved ripped from you.

“Sometimes, I dream of those days. The image of the pulsating lights warning about a pure breed’s presence still haunts me. Now, every time I see a flickering light, my whole body shakes. When you arrived and the sentinels activated the alarm, I didn’t sleep that night. I kept thinking of my baby sister…”

Marie remembered how peppy Nora had looked the first day they had met and realized how it must have cost her to act that way to make her feel welcome. “I’m so sorry…”

“People still talk of that period as the Massacre.” She shuddered. “Mom says having those nightmares is my way of healing. But it was so long ago. I should’ve been healed already, don’t you think?” Nora turned to face her, as if waiting for an answer.

She shook her head slowly. She didn’t know of such things, but if a person had lived through something called a massacre and lost a sister because of it, probably a whole lifetime wasn’t enough to heal from its memory. “You need more time. Everybody’s different.”

“Lately, the dreams come more often.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re worried it’s going to happen again?” Marie saw how affected Nora was by the talk and felt the urge to hug her, but resisted.

She nodded. “Yes. Everybody says a visit from Ginecea is due soon.” Nora started playing with the hem of her right sleeve, undoing the thread at the seam.

“Who says so?”

“I heard my mom talking to a friend. And I saw they’re opening some of the barracks at the northern ends of the fields. They’re for the men.” She pulled at the thread until the sleeve was open up to her elbow, but she didn’t notice. “I’m worried.”

Marie closed her hand around Nora’s nervous fingers and smiled to reassure her.

***

A few weeks passed. Marie started noticing small changes in the Vasurians’ demeanor. At first, it was just a subtle segregation of the genders. Women and men were taking different routes and keeping different hours. One morning, she realized how much she had come to anticipate those five minutes when Grant’s schedule and hers coincided. From that first morning, it had been happening every day. It’s not that they ever talked—a bustling crowd always surrounded them—but like planets briefly orbiting each other, they walked for all of those five minutes along the same path. From the right corner of the cafeteria where she and Nora ate their breakfast to the left corner of the infirmary where she spent all her day. Every single day. But not today.

“You seem more distracted than usual.” Rane smiled at Marie. She was teaching her a new stitch, but it wasn’t working.

“I’m always focused when I’m here.” She had never liked to be reprimanded, even when the words were as soft-spoken as now.

The doctor sighed, then took the needle from her hands. “We’re done.” Rane returned it back to the tray laden with all the surgical instruments they were using on a chicken. “You try very hard, yes, but sometimes, like now, you’re not really here.”

One look at the carcass and she had to agree. She wasn’t at her best. “I did bleed this poor fellow to death, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you gave it a long, terrible death. Thankfully, it was ready for the soup.” She cleaned the instruments with a strong disinfectant. “What is it?”

Marie was looking outside, and not a man was to be seen anywhere. How funny that she had been so shocked at the beginning to see them and so disappointed now
not
to see them. “Is it true that a supervisor is coming?”

Rane looked outside too and she nodded. “I’ve been told it’s been several years already since last visit.”

“Yes, three years.”

The doctor looked at her with a puzzled expression. “How do you know? Nora?”

“Yes, she’s terrified for her parents.”

Rane pointed a finger at the window. “I know things are being put in order. I’m sure everything will be fine this time.” The door rattled behind them and their heads turned at the same time. Zena had come back from her monthly visit to the fields. They didn’t know what she did or whom she met there. Nora and she had speculated about those leaves the nurse took.

 “Why the gloom?” Zena asked them.

Rane summarized their conversation and Marie noticed how the nurse imperceptibly blanched and then masked it with a neutral expression when the massacre was mentioned.

“Were you here when it happened?” the doctor asked Zena.

The dark flicker on Zena’s face came back and stayed longer this time. She didn’t hesitate to answer though. “Yes, I was here.” She took one chair by the armrest and went to sit close to the window. “I was in my twenties when the Massacre happened.”

“Did you lose anybody?” Marie asked, immediately regretting her question.

But Zena surprised her once more by answering. “I did. We were in love and we were planning on adopting a kid. She was at the wrong place at the wrong time and took a bullet not meant for her.”

Rane, who had been warming some water at the little portable stove, came back carrying three steaming cups by the handles. “The soldiers shot on the crowd?”

The nurse’s mouth thinned and her eyes went dark. “Yes, they did, but the bullet that killed Bianca was mine.”

The nurse’s words left both Rane and Marie speechless.

Zena raised her cup to the ceiling. “Cheers to Ginecea’s fall. If I’m lucky, I’ll still be alive when it happens.”

A few minutes of silence passed, no one in the room able to say anything. The nurse finally broke the spell. “At least she’s sleeping in her favorite spot…” Her eyes went outside the window, focusing on the direction where the fields were. “I had it easy. You can’t imagine what they did to the heterosexual couples.”

Marie’s mind was already reeling and she was grateful for Zena’s decision to keep the details for herself. She didn’t want to know. Her stomach had relocated into her throat already. She decided to stir the conversation to a safer ground.

“Why now? Why is everybody convinced the supervisor is coming now? Do they follow a schedule of some sort? Every three to four years or so?”