Page 12 of Brood
She snickers. “What a way to describe it. How did you feel about it? Did it hurt or anything?”
“No, no. He…he made sure I was ready. He knows what he’s doing with intercourse, so it went fine. If we keep it up, there’s no reason we won’t be able to make a baby.”
I’m not sure why she’s searching my face the way she is, like she’s seeking signs of something. I look back at her evenly.
“Okay,” she says at last, relaxing her scrutiny. “I’m glad it went fine. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns about anything. Or if he starts doing it in a way that hurts.”
“He didn’t hurt me at all.”
“So you’re getting along pretty well, then?”
“Uh, no. I wouldn’t say that. He’s not mean. He’s just not…not friendly. It’s not like it would be with Danny. We like each other and can have a good time together. Will is…not like that.”
Bella frowns. “Well, give it some time. He might loosen up once he gets used to things.”
“Yeah. I hope so.”
“No time wasting!” The clipped voice from behind us is such a surprise we jerk and straighten up.
It’s Monica. Our new kitchen supervisor. Vanessa’s replacement, transferred over from housekeeping. She’s in her early thirties, and she has a sharp, pinched look I’m convinced has more to do with her personality than her physical appearance.
She’s no Vanessa. I don’t like her at all.
“We’re sorting through the vegetables so I can decide the recipe for lunch,” I explain, making sure to sound mild and not as defensive as I feel.
She always makes me feel like a naughty child.
“It takes two of you to do that?”
“Having another set of eyes is helpful,” I say calmly. “Bella in particular helps so I can balance out the nutrition from the beginning.”
This is only partially true, but it’s close enough to make me feel like I’m not telling my supervisor a lie.
“I see.” Monica’s narrow lips are still pursed in a disapproving expression. “Keep the socializing to a minimum. We’re here to work. Not boast about one’s new spouse.”
I blink. Then blink again. She ignores my obvious surprise and moves away from us to micromanage the packagers.
“What?” I turn toward Bella with wide eyes.
She’s spilling over with stifled amusement.
I make a hushing gesture, fighting laughter but not wanting us to get in trouble again. “She’s not… I mean, she can’t be…” I can’t even get the words out.
“Jealous,” Bella confirms in an almost-soundless murmur. “I think she was hoping to get paired with Will herself.”
Monica’s spouse died last year, and she hasn’t gotten another one yet. Although it’s hard for me to imagine anyone would want her, that’s not a factor in finding a spouse. She’s either not a genetic match for any available man, or she’s no longer fertile. Neither of those things is under her control. I’m sure that must be hard for her.
But still. The last thing I was doing was bragging about getting stuck with a much older man with the personality of a concrete wall.
* * *
After my morning shift, I eat lunch, exercise for an hour, and then return to our quarters so I can shower, re-dress, and rest before my afternoon shift starts at four.
I put on clean clothes. Then I pull on my socks but not my shoes. Often, I’ll go to the Meadow for the afternoon, but people always try to talk to me there, and I feel more like being by myself today.
I pull up the book I’ve been reading on my tablet and stretch out on one of the lounges in the living area.
The Refuge has a carefully cultivated catalog appropriate for common reading. Those books are freely available on our tablets. There is a large room that houses physical editions from before the War, but we’re required to get council approval to borrow and read those. Many of them have questionable content and dubious philosophical foundations, so I’ve never tried despite my curiosity.
