Page 40 of Brood
After a minute, the emotion fades, and he continues in his normal tone, “Anyway, that’s when he said you were always an overachiever in school. You didn’t always get the highest marks in math and writing, but for basic life skills and for anything that took hard work, common sense, and logical reasoning, you were never satisfied unless you were the top of your class.”
I smile. “I’m not naturally gifted with numbers and words, so other kids could beat me in those. But I was good at all the other subjects. I’m used to…achieving.”
“You do achieve. Every single person I know talks about how much better our meals taste since you’ve become head taster. You’re a great community member and friend and spouse. You can’t control whether you get pregnant. You shouldn’t group that in with your achievements.”
“I know that in theory. But it’s hard to feel it.”
He sighs. Shifts behind me to get more comfortable. “Yeah. I understand.”
“We have sex every single day, and both of us are healthy and fertile. I don’t understand why it’s not happening.”
“Do you remember Dr. Madison?”
I have no idea why he’s asking me that. “Yes. She was so nice. She died when I was fourteen.”
“She told me once when Vanessa wasn’t getting pregnant that the longer we’ve been here in the Refuge, the fewer pregnancies and healthy births there have been. And the only reason she could come up with is that our bodies recognize we’re not supposed to be here. We’re not supposed to be living underground. We’re supposed to be on the surface. We’re supposed to feel the sun and breathe the fresh air and walk through meadows and climb mountains. That’s what she said. Our bodies recognize we’re not supposed to be down here and are reluctant to make more babies.”
It’s the first I’ve ever heard of this idea, and it takes me a minute to process it. Think it through. Finally I say, “Do you think she was right?”
“Yes. A lot of the time, I do. I think that’s why people go feral too. We shouldn’t have to live every day of our lives in this underground prison. It’s not…natural.”
“But we can’t go outside. Not if it’s so dangerous and primitive up there.”
He doesn’t answer immediately.
I turn to look at him. “You don’t think we can go outside, do you?”
“I…have no idea.”
It’s not an answer that comforts me. It makes me jittery. But he has made me feel better about my failure to get pregnant.
Maybe it’s not really my fault.
Maybe it’s my body trying to do what’s best for me. For our future baby. For humankind.
We lie together, him holding me close, for several more minutes. Then I finally say, “Your break is almost over. You need to get back to work.”
“I’ll go back in a minute.” He lets out a sigh that ruffles my hair. “I need more of this right now.”
ChapterSix
Four days later, I stretch out on one of the lounges in the living area and plan to listen to music for the remainder of my afternoon break.
I thought Will might stop by today the way he often does, but he didn’t. Maybe he exercised and showered earlier. His schedule isn’t as regimented as mine, so he’ll often shape his days around whatever he has going on with his work.
It’s fine.
When I came out of the bathroom first thing this morning, Will was still in bed but awake. He asked about my period, and I told him it was pretty much done. I was hopeful, but I shouldn’t have been.
Just because I’m ridiculously excited about having sex with him again after five days without doesn’t mean he is too. After all, he’s not a young man. He’s mature and experienced. He’s got a lot of responsibilities. He’s not going to prioritize sex when there’s little chance of my getting pregnant.
He’s not sitting around fantasizing about it like me.
So I give myself a sensible, healthy lecture and find my favorite music on my tablet, setting it to play through the room’s speakers.
Like books, music is carefully regulated, and the only pieces that are freely available for members of the Refuge are instrumental. Pre-War songs with lyrics too often expressed inflated views of romantic attachments or archaic religious faith, and those in our archive can only be accessed with permission. But instrumental music is allowed, and my favorite is apparently about the planets, although I’ve never been able to understand how.
It doesn’t matter. I still love the songs. They make mefeel.
