Page 6 of Brood
For completely blowing up the rest of my life.
* * *
For the next two days, I go about my normal schedule and hide my distress. Everyone acts like I’ve scored a huge victory. Marrying a council chief is nearly unheard of. If they’re breeders, people marry in their early twenties, and if they’re not, they don’t marry at all. Thirty-five is the youngest anyone can be chosen for the council.
All my friends and acquaintances assume I should be awed and gratified. I really do try to appreciate the decision and the sudden rise in status it will afford me. But Will is sixteen years older than me and a stranger. Danny is crushed and angry—I try to calm him down so he doesn’t do something stupid and get in trouble—and I can’t help but resent the fact that my long-expected future has been ripped away from me.
Due to nothing more than an ill-timed heart attack.
Three more days, and I would have been safely married to Danny.
On Friday, I work my morning shift, dreading the spousal ceremony scheduled for after lunch. I haven’t spoken a word to Chief Will since the council called me in. I haven’t even seen him except for a few brief glimpses across the room at dinner.
It would have been nice if he’d made an effort to ease the strangeness of the situation by getting to know me, but he doesn’t. And because he makes no attempts to communicate, I’m not comfortable initiating it myself.
After I finish my morning shift, I complete my scheduled hour in the workout room and then go back to my quarters to shower and put on clean clothes. I always change after exercising, and this morning I spilled tomato sauce on my pants, so it’s more necessary than normal.
I brush out my hair and pull it back in the same loose braid I always wear.
There’s nothing else I can do to improve my appearance. Loose hair isn’t approved of, since it gets in the way and can be a safety hazard. Everyone—regardless of gender—wears the same soft, loose white trousers and button-up tops. It’s been that way from the beginning in the Refuge. These uniform clothes promote cleanliness and equality and help prevent focus on the superficial. Except in pre-War photos or films, I’ve never seen anyone wear any clothes other than these.
I don’t know why I’m concerned about looking my best anyway. It’s not like Chief Will chose me for his spouse. The only reason his finding me attractive will matter is to expedite arousal, which will aid intercourse so I can get pregnant as soon as possible.
He’s waiting in the council room when I arrive. He doesn’t smile and doesn’t speak, so I don’t either.
The ceremony itself takes no more than five minutes. He and I stand in front of the council. We are asked four questions.
Will you commit to a lifelong partnership?
Will you be physically intimate only with each other?
Will you prioritize having children over all other obligations?
Will you work together for the common good?
We both say yes to all four, and then we sign the official marriage document. And that’s it. The deed is done.
Chief Will acts calm and natural—not nearly as nervous and jittery as me—but he doesn’t look me in the eyes the entire time.
It doesn’t bode well for what’s to come.
* * *
We finish the ceremony with plenty of time for me to make it back to the kitchen at four for my late-afternoon shift. Everyone congratulates me. Acts like I should be thrilled.
I’m afraid I might vomit.
I skip dinner because the sight of any more food will push me over the edge. Instead, I return to my quarters and pack my meager belongings into a small crate. I sit on the edge of the bed that’s been mine since I was thirteen and left the school bunk room. Breathe for several minutes to dispel the nausea.
It will be fine.
Fine.
Life in the Refuge passes in stages. Babies live in the communal nursery, cared for by trained staff. Children live in the bunk room while they’re in school. Workers, starting at age thirteen, get their own small rooms unless they’re chosen for a spousal ceremony. This is simply the next stage for me.
It won’t be the same as marrying Danny, but it doesn’t have to be terrible. If Chief Will and I are a better genetic match, then there’s a higher probably of having healthy offspring. That’s what I’ve always wanted, and that life is still available to me.
Surely Chief Will won’t always be as silent and intimidating as he’s been this week.
