Turnabout

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  After two days stuck in that cave, I was ravenous. We had eaten the last of the bread and cheese the day before, and there hadn’t been that much of it.

  “I’ll do my best.” Marjani gathered up her collection of snares, the bow, and the quiver of metal-tipped arrows, and put them into the canvas bag. “See that you do yours.”

  She embraced Esi, gave me a stern look, and headed down the trail.

  Esi and I sat near the mouth of the cave, her on the padded boulder and me on a blanket on the ground, and watched Marjani climb down the hillside. Off in the distance I could see the silvery glints of the stream as it meandered through the countryside, and the white and gray train tracks making a much straighter line toward the city. A train whizzed along, a freight train this time, with several dozen cars, at least. It was coming from Egume and headed north.

  “That one must be going to Dodomah.” Esi let out a sigh. “I wish Marjani had thought to bring some books.”

  I would have loved to have a book to read over the last two days. Instead I had spent interminable hours listening to Esi and Marjani going back and forth between telling each other how wonderful it would be if Esi were pregnant and reassuring each other that even if she wasn’t pregnant, they still had each other. Every time they had mentioned the possibility of a pregnancy, I flinched.

  I really didn’t want to be a father, even without child support coming into it. The idea that a child of mine could grow up without my ever seeing her creeped me out. She would probably wonder about me—about who I was, and why I wasn’t around for her—and I wouldn’t be there to tell her my side of things. And what if, against the odds, it was a boy? What kind of life could he possibly lead on Makoro?

  It came to me that making a decision under the combined influence of Valium and Viagra was a bad idea.

  Esi still had some of that happy glow, but the pain in her ankle had dimmed it noticeably. She let out a sigh. “Tell me about your world, Jayzoon.”

  I was bored enough to comply. I rambled on about my family, about school, about Ryan, and even about Sancho. By the time I had filled Esi in on the details, I had made myself thoroughly homesick.

  “Your family sounds so small.” Esi wrinkled her nose. “Only the three of you. Did someone steal your father?”

  I snorted. “No. He left my mother when I was seven.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “Your mother let him go out?”

  I laughed at the idea. What little I could remember of my dad was that he hated being told what to do. “No one locks guys up where I live—not unless they’re criminals. My parents split up—got their marriage dissolved—and then Dad decided life was simpler without kids, and we never saw him again.”

  Esi let out a strange sigh, half regret and half apprehension. “It sounds very strange.”

  I couldn’t let that one pass. “Not nearly as strange as listening to a woman old enough to be my mother announce that she and nine other women were married to me.”

  Esi frowned. “Do you mean Dorscha performed the ceremony herself?”

  I nodded. “Isn’t that normal?”

  Her mouth twisted in a disapproving grimace. “Oh, no. I doubt it’s even legal. A Kabarega elder should have performed the ceremony, and I know Dorscha’s not an elder.”

  I figured elder meant something specific, not just an old woman. “So I’m not really married, then?”

  She shook her head and then gave me an appraising glance. “Not yet. They might have gotten away with your being so young since there’s no actual proof of your age, but a marriage is only legal if it’s recognized by the women’s clan.”

  “And they all have to be in the same clan?”

  She waved a hand as if the matter were obvious. “Of course.” She shifted on her padded seat and looked genuinely interested. “Can men and women in different clans marry on your world?”

  I started to say there were no clans and then remembered that there were. “Well, they don’t have clans at all where I live, and I don’t know what the rules are in the parts of the world that do have them.”

  She frowned and stared off into the distance. “What’s that?”

  I looked out at the expanse of hills, grassland, and clumps of trees, the distant suburbs, and the towers of downtown Egume. “What’s what?”

  She lifted one hand and pointed at a faint black line against the blue sky. “That.”

  I looked again, and the line blossomed to a plume. “Smoke!”

  “It’s coming from our place.” Esi sounded desolate.

  I recalled the scraps of wood stacked to make shelves, the battered wooden table, the patched-together door. It didn’t seem like that much to lose, until I remembered it was all Esi and Marjani had. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not your fault. It must be Dorscha and the others, taking revenge.”

  The thought made me shiver. How angry could the Kabarega women be to still want vengeance after two days? The smoke billowed out now, in a thick black pillar. They must have set fire to all the contents of the squat.

  Esi let her head droop; her chin rested on her chest. “It doesn’t matter. We’d have to find a new place anyway. We couldn’t stay near the camp.”

  I suppressed an urge to pat her shoulder like Mom always did when I felt bad. “Maybe you’ll find somewhere better.”

  “Maybe.”

  She didn’t sound like she thought it was likely. I decided to change the subject. “So, how many wives did your father have?”

  She turned her head and looked at me skeptically, like she suspected my motives. “Eight.”

  “And that’s not a big family?”

  She shook her head. “Not especially. How many Omdur women were there in the household you left?”

  “Seven.”

  Esi tilted her head as if she were appraising me. “Why did you leave? Were they unkind to you?”

  I recalled the time I had spent with Teleza, especially our afternoon in bed. If she had been the eldest and not Zuwina I might still be there. “No, not unkind, but they clearly had plans for my future that I didn’t have any say in.”

  “Hmph.” She sounded a lot like Mom when I confessed to breaking a school rule. “Is it that important to you to be able to decide which household you marry into?”

  “Fuck, yes!” I slammed one fist into the other hand. “I don’t want to marry into a household at all.”

  She flinched like I had offended her, so I tried for a softer tone.

  “Look, you wouldn’t want to be told you had to leave Marjani, would you?”

  “Fuck, no.” She grinned after she said it.

  I grinned back. “Well, it’s the same for me. I want to be the one to decide who I spend my life with—if I spend it with anyone.”

  She shifted on her padding again.

  “Are you in pain?” I asked.

  She had a decent tan, but it looked to me like she flushed just a bit. “No, I just need to—that is, I have to pee.”

  Esi hadn’t seemed to mind when Marjani had helped her to pee, but then I had always made it a point to duck outside for a minute. I had a weird sense of deja vu when I got the can, and I realized it came from having been the one who needed assistance in this situation.

  We got through it without too much trouble, and then I brought her soap and water to wash with.

  “We’re out of water,” I said, emptying the jug over her hands. “I’ll have to run down to the creek.”

  She nodded but gave me an anxious look as she waved her hands in the air to dry them. “Be careful.”

  “I will.” I started for the entrance.

  “Jayzoon!” Esi called before I had gone two steps.

  I turned. “Yes?”

  She smiled at me. “I’m sorry we forced you to come with us.”

  I shrugged. “It could have been worse. Dorscha could have been walking in that street.”

  Esi laughed, and I headed out of the cave.

  I picked my way
down the hill carefully and walked to the stream. The cave was a good ways downstream from the place where we had crossed on our way from the squat, and the water was deeper here. I walked a ways looking for a place where the bank sloped, so I could reach the water without falling in. I had just rounded a bend in the stream when I heard voices raised and realized two women were shouting at each other. Their voices got louder and louder, like they were coming closer.

  I dove into the nearest shrubbery and waited, trying not to breathe too loud or make any noise, even when the branches scratched me.

  A second later, Dorscha and Oni came down the path toward the stream. Oni strode along at a rapid pace, shouting, while Dorscha hung back like she was reluctant to move in the same direction as Oni.

  “How jochir long do we have to keep this up?” Oni said. She stopped and turned, hands on her hips, to face Dorscha. “It’s foolish! The boy is gone.”

  Dorscha lifted her chin. I half expected steam to come out of her ears, she looked so mad. “He can’t have got far. We could still find him—if we keep looking.”

  “Maybe,” Oni said. “But if Marjani and Esi have him, they could be holed up in the hills or they could have headed out onto the plains. They might even have taken him into the city to sell.”

  Dorscha cast a glance around the area like she expected to find me sitting on a rock waiting for her. “I don’t think they could take him into the city. Too many people are looking for him there.”

  Oni threw up her hands. “It doesn’t matter! If I don’t go back to work soon I’ll lose my job, and so will you.”

  I inched backwards out of the shrubbery, trying to keep the two women in sight and get farther away at the same time. I froze when a twig cracked under my foot, but they didn’t seem to notice.

  And then a hand came from behind me and closed over my mouth.

  Fourteen

  I grabbed the hand, and tried to wrench it away, but then a voice whispered in my ear.

  “Quiet, Jason.”

  Except for Hobart, only Marjani had ever gotten my name right. I stopped struggling.

  We waited, frozen, while Dorscha and Oni moved away, arguing the whole time.

  “You nearly gave me heart failure,” I whispered as soon as the other two women were across the stream and out of earshot. It occurred to me that if I’d managed to get aroused by listening to Dorscha and Oni’s argument, I probably would have Turned when Marjani grabbed me. It seemed a waste of a good scare.

  “You were about to step into one of my snares.” She knelt down and brushed the leaves and dirt off of a loop of twine, then unhooked the gizmo from the fallen log next to it. “I came to collect it.”

  I noticed a bulge in the canvas bag. “Did you kill something?”

  She looked up and grinned at me. “I got two rabbits, and I picked some berries.”

  I thought about the furry bunny my grandma had given me for Easter when I was five. We had had to give him away when we moved out of the house after Dad left us. Mr. Wiggles had been cute, but I was damn hungry. “Great.”

  She looked at the water jug in my hand. “Did you come out for water?”

  I recalled my errand with a start. “Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

  She handed me the bag, and then reached for the jug. “Here, you take this back to the cave while I get the water. You shouldn’t be out any more than necessary.”

  Especially not if Dorscha was on the prowl. “Fine.”

  I scrambled up the hill as fast as I could, keeping low to the ground, and crawling when there was no cover. I looked back for any sign of Dorscha or Oni, but I didn’t see them.

  Esi smiled at me as I came tumbling into the cave, but the smile slipped into a puzzled look. “Where’s the jug?” She got it in a second when I tossed the canvas bag onto the ground. “You met Marjani?”

  “In a way.” I recalled the situation, my panic when Marjani had grabbed me. “I almost tripped over Dorscha and Oni, too. They were out looking for me.”

  Esi nodded. “Dorscha won’t give up easily. She’s wanted a child for years.”

  “So have you, and you never tried to rape me.”

  She clicked her tongue at the same time she let out a sigh, producing a sound that was disapproving and regretful at the same time. “Don’t judge her too harshly. She’s had to fight for what she’s got.”

  I remembered Dorscha standing over me in the lantern-lit tent. I didn’t say anything, but I wasn’t prepared to forgive what she had tried to do to me just because she wanted a kid so badly.

  “Where is Marjani now?” Esi asked.

  “Getting water.” I pointed at the bag. “She got two rabbits.”

  Esi’s face brightened, but I could see dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she was in pain.

  “You should go to a doctor.” I crouched down next to her and inspected her ankle. It looked puffier than ever. “That still looks bad.”

  She set her jaw. “We don’t have money for a doctor.”

  “Don’t they have charity hospitals in Egume?”

  A muffled snort escaped her. “They do, but no one goes there if they can help it.”

  “All too true,” Marjani’s voice said from behind me. “They would probably amputate to fix a broken ankle.” She moved into the cave, cast a swift glance at Esi, and handed me the water jug. “Here, put this away.”

  I put the jug on the stone shelf.

  When I turned, Marjani had opened the canvas bag and taken out two dead rabbits, and a bundle of blackberries tied up in a piece of cloth. She handed Esi the berries. “Eat some of these while I clean the rabbits. We’ll start the fire as soon as it’s too dark for the smoke to show.”

  Esi ate a couple of berries but she didn’t seem all that hungry.

  I was ravenous. Unfortunately, wolfing down all the blackberries Marjani gave me only made me hungrier. After I had built a low wall of rocks as a shield, I laid a fire just like they had taught me in scouts, and then watched Marjani skin and gut the rabbits. The grisly sight didn’t make me any less eager to devour them.

  “Once the fire is lit, we’ll need to wait for it to go to coals if we want to cook the rabbits without burning them,” Marjani said, skewering a carcass on a long, sharpened stick. She propped it up against the wall and repeated the trick on the other carcass.

  I walked to the cave entrance and looked outside. In the west the sun was dipping toward the horizon, lighting the landscape with dramatic shadows. Glints of light hit the white strip of maglev track, making it look like a trail of pixie dust. Off in the distance I could see a forest of janullos at the city’s edge, their clan flags all taken in for the night, their red signal lights already blinking. Beyond that, a few lights sparkled amid the tall towers of the center of Egume.

  I turned back toward the cave. “We can’t light the fire yet. It’s not entirely dark.”

  Marjani came up and handed me the two skewers. “Hold them while I take all the jaruk outside and bury it.”

  When she gathered up all the rabbit guts and skin, I figured that jaruk meant either garbage or offal. I held the two carcasses until she got back; I had never in my life been so tempted by raw meat.

  After Marjani came back, I went outside again, so I wouldn’t have to smell the raw meat. The sky went from dark azure to charcoal. The faint clouds became smudges on the sky. I could barely see the train track now.

  I went back in and saw that Marjani had lit the fire. It burned brightly, so I sat down and watched it, making sure none of the flames went higher than my wall of stones. I watched the blue flickers and thought about how hungry I was. After a while the flames died down considerably.

  “The coals should be ready in a few minutes,” Marjani said.

  She must have been hungry, too because after she put the rabbits over the coals, she sat across from me and watched them cook.

  Once the meat had roasted for a while, the smell drove me wild. To distract myself, I asked Marjani a question. “How is it you
can pronounce my name properly when no one else here can?”

  She looked up and grinned at me. “My father was keesai. He taught me some words of his own language.”

  I had never considered that there were adults walking around whose fathers were from my world, not just girls like Hobart’s daughters. “What’s his name, and where is he from?”

  “His name was Edward Rufaro Kowalski, and he said he was from Baltimore.” She said the city name as clearly as she said mine and her father’s.

  “Can you speak English?” I asked in that language.

  She shook her head and spoke a few halting words in English. “I not know many words. Forget much.” She shrugged and switched to Neluan. “But Father wanted someone to talk to in his language. He taught us all, but my brothers learned best.”

  “You have brothers?” Somehow I was surprised. I had assumed her story mirrored Esi’s—no brother meant no dowry to marry into a household.

  “I have three brothers and six sisters.” She said the words with a reluctant pride in her voice, like she didn’t like the fact that having brothers was sure to be seen as an accomplishment.

  My jaw dropped. “Doesn’t that make your family rich, in a way?”

  Marjani didn’t answer right away. She poked the coals with a stick and watched the embers spark, and then finally she spoke. “It did make us well off, once my brothers came of age. With three boys and only seven girls, we could even borrow against their future dowries.”

  “But still you didn’t get married?”

  Marjani glanced over at Esi, and lowered her voice. “I did, actually. My family wanted me to marry into a household with my sisters. My sisters said they wouldn’t mind that I didn’t want to share their husband’s bed or have children, so when my youngest sister was old enough, we found a husband and we all married him.”

  I stared. “I thought—from what Esi said, I thought you couldn’t get out of a marriage once you were in it.”

  She nodded and dropped the stick. “You can’t. I’m still legally married.”