I wake before him and I drag myself into the shower to expel my tainted milk and wash away last night. I’m confused about what happened. I think I enjoyed it. I’m not sure because I was drunk. I wouldn’t do it now that I’m not. Did he get me drunk so he could be with us at the same time? Isn’t that trickery? It feels wrong. I ignore my headache and go in search of my son. The third wife has breakfast waiting. She’s disappointed to see me alone. I look down at her growing stomach. How could he do this to me? I push the pain aside and bid her good morning as I sit at the table. Last night has me all messed up in the head. Why did he do that?
“Good morning, Goodwife. Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thank you. I’ll have a glass of the sweet tea you made yesterday.”
“Right away. I made eggs and fry cakes. There won’t be any bread until the dough rises, sorry.”
“No food for me, just the tea.”
My baby is laying on the counter in his basket where she can see him. She will have her own baby soon.
“Are you excited about becoming a mother?”
With the man I love, you bitch. I want to ask her why she had to come along and be so tempting? I want to ask her what is so wonderful about her that he didn’t wait for me? My head is splitting from drinking last night and these poisonous thoughts.
“Our husband isn’t very happy about the child.” She admits sadly.
“He’ll come around.” I lie. I know I won’t.
“Do you think so? I want to please him more than anything.”
“He’s fond of you, Francesca.” That much is true.
“I hope so. I love him very much. One day, maybe he will love me the way that he loves you and Jennifer.”
She says she loves him. Not like I do. I love him so much that I am here with them and I laid with his second wife. I kissed her and I enjoyed the things that she did to me. Still, a part of me wonders what happens five years down the line when I am old and they are still young and pretty? What happens when he starts to compare my droopy body to the second wife’s the way I did last night? She is stunning naked and I saw the way he watched her when he was kissing me. He loves her. Judea will start to resent me for rejecting them and it will put a wedge between us. I don’t want that. This is what Jude wants and I want what he wants. Don’t I? He gets what he wants. I need to revert to my Godly ways and accept his wives. I need to be the daughter Father wants me to be and useful to my husband. This will put him in good standing with the church. How can I harbor this common jealousy and selfishness?
I am one of two dozen children. This is what I was raised to be. I am struggling with wanting to be good and wanting him all for myself. I think about the way his black eyes melt when he’s looking down at me like I am everything. It’s special to my heart. How special can it be if he looks at other women the same way? I should consider myself lucky that he looks at me at all, right? He told me not to think like this. He told me that he loves me and we will never change. But, we have already changed. It’s not for the better either. If it is better now, why do I want to go back to the old ways? If they are useful and kind, why do I hate them? The third wife rubs her little bump subconsciously. Judea’s bump.
“I’m going out to get some air.” I have to get out of here.
“Should I wake Mr. Hamilton?”
“No, I won’t go far. I’ll be back before he wakes.”
I walk up instead of down where the men are camped in the woods. My heart is so heavy right now. I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop thinking about them together. I can’t stop thinking about my mother. I walk farther than I mean to as I think about Jude and his wives. Last night, he kissed the second wife with passion. He touched her intimately and knew how to make her cum. They looked at each other like newlyweds. The cowardly traitor said our men reminded him of old slave owners. I asked him how he would know how slave masters behaved being a young white man like himself. He ignored my question and called me a machine. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I had a lot of time in that hole. I read a lot of books. Any book I wanted and no one cared. If the church gave me ten lashes for every book, I’d die. I figured out what he meant. Machines are mechanical like robots. They do what humans command them to do. They are not human themselves. He compared me to a robot. A cold, brainless, heartless, toy. He was saying that I am not human. I am a machine.
Why am I thinking about it? What does it matter what a traitor thinks about me? The traitor fed me books about grand adventure and love. He gave me dark material like “Donald Goines and the Captive Virgin.” I couldn’t look him the eye for days after I read the last one. The traitor would come in and tell me about his work every few days. He is obsessed with his work. He told me it’s the reason he has no outside relationships. His work comes first before everything. I never asked him any questions or commented on the things he told me. The traitor would talk to himself like we were having a conversation. He knew I was listening even if I ignored him. It got to the point where I felt melancholy when he was in his lab for days on end and didn’t come to see me. I am supposed to hate my abductor but I don’t. I feel the same way for him that I would a church brother. He’s a very sad and lonely person. He needs a woman who can give him the attention he needs and leave him alone at the same time. Judea’s wives would be perfect for him. Imagine me suggesting something like that.
I come to a rock face that goes straight up. My eyes have already picked out hand and foot holds that will take me halfway. I wasn’t fat when we learned rock climbing, I was second best. I bet the view is amazing from the top. It’s hot out here. It has to be ninety-five degrees already. I think about Titus’ fall last year and I pause to tuck my dress into my belt before taking the first jump. I ran when I was in the hole and used the weight room to keep myself active. I tried to eat clean but I accepted junk on occasion. I’ll climb up and down and go back down to the house. My bad arm goes out on me. I forgot about that and I feel something pull. I was shot through the skin, not the muscle. That excess skin came in handy for once. It is still an ugly tear. I need to be careful. Maybe no climbing yet. I sit down and I pray for guidance and understanding. I pray for modesty and acceptance and for the bad energy to leave me. This bad energy is what tears down households. Caroline’s energy is bad and she too is the favored wife. I pray for peace and the humility I need to be a good wife to the man I love. I am not a machine. I am not a machine. I am not a machine. I wipe my hot tears with dirty hands. I am not a machine. Machine’s don’t cry.
“Dumani!”
I jump ten feet in the air. Judea lowers his pistol.
“I’ve been looking all over for you. Why did you leave on your own like that? Do you want to be taken? The church can make you disappear out here and the commoners want you back. Once again, you told my wife not to wake me when you were sneaking out of the house. Luckily, she learned from the last time. Why would you do that?”
Jude looks like he just rolled out of bed and threw on whatever was on the floor. The same sinful white pajama pants and his boots. He is shaking me and hugging me simultaneously.
“Honey, what’s wrong? What are you doing up here?”
His anger changes to concern. I am trying so hard to keep it together. I don’t want to turn into a sniveling common woman. I don’t want to be the one to mess everything up.
“I was praying.”
“Praying? You came all the way up here to pray? Pray for what?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters. If something is bothering you, I want you to come to me first. I can take care of it now and save God the trouble and save myself a fucking heart attack.”
“I didn’t mean to lead your innocent wife astray.”
“That isn’t what this is about. I was worried. I don’t want to lose you. Your arm, you’re bleeding.”
He scolds me like a child as he bustles me down to the house and into the bathroom where he cuts the sleeve from my dress. I didn’t realize it wa
s this bad. He opens the medicine cabinet.
“Damn it. I have to sew this back up. My stitches won’t be as neat as the others but I’ll do my best.”
“I must have torn them somehow.”
“Were you fighting?”
“Fighting who?” I ask him.
“How did you do this?”
“I fell.”
“You aren’t dusty.”
“I dusted myself off.”
“Are you a liar now?”
“I was rock climbing.” I say shamefully.
“Rock climbing? Were you trying to break your neck or escape again?”
I blush. I wasn’t running. I wasn’t doing anything. I took a walk. He scrubs his hands to his elbows before slathering on rubbing alcohol.
“I didn’t know I was a prisoner.”
“That isn’t what I meant. I’m upset and I’m taking it out on the person who made me this way. You are my partner, not my prisoner. This is going to hurt because we are out of local.”
He raises my arm over my head and starts cleaning the wound.
“I feel sick to my stomach when I see you bleeding. I feel physical pain looking at this right now. You didn’t go far but out of my sight is too far. I want you to stay close to me, do you understand?”
I nod my head. I don’t flinch when he begins to sew me up. This is nothing like the lash. This is nothing like childbirth. It needs to be done and the sooner we get it over with, the better. The worst part is when the needle pierces my skin it is still stinging and burning from the initial stab when the string is pulled through.
“I am going as fast as I can. You are doing great.”
“I forgot about my arm.”
“We are so used to working through our pain that when we are sick it doesn’t bother us like other people. I don’t want you doing any climbing until this has healed.”
“Another scar to add to the rest.”
“I like playing connect the dots on your scars with my tongue.”
“You are very bad.”
“After all these years, you still remind me.” He says smiling.
“Why not? I am already in disfavor with the church and going to hell. I am corrupted.”
“Because I corrupted you. I love you corrupted.”
“Are your wives corrupted?”
“They are thoroughly corrupted. They’ll follow me anywhere.”
“Like robots?”
“What?” He’s surprised. “What do you mean, robots? They aren’t robots. Who said that? You didn’t think of this on your own.”
“Why not? Because I can’t think for myself? Because I follow orders and I have no mind of my own? Because I am a breeder and a maid? Because I am a machine?”
“Dumani! That isn’t true. I’m going to kill the bastard who spoke those words to you.”
“The traitor.” I admit brokenly. “He said I have no spirit or sense of self and I’m brainwashed by the church. He said I have no depth. What is depth? He called me a machine.”
“That motherfucker is lucky I didn’t shoot him in the face. He doesn’t know you the way I do. He’s jealous because he fell in love with someone that he can’t have. The bastard probably told you how bad I am for you and that I don’t love you.”
“How do you know he said those things?”
“Those are go to lines when you want to fuck someone else’s woman.”
“I would never.”
“He had to learn the hard way. You will never be with another man. They missed the opportunity when they took you and they will not get another. You are a modern woman now with depth and you can’t help being rebellious. I don’t want you to feel like I am controlling you like a machine so I will ask you, please don’t leave the house without telling me.”
“Do you really think I have depth?”
“Duma, you are deeper than the sea. I’m finished sewing and hung over from last night. Come back to bed with me.”
He wraps a clean bandage around my arm before kissing it.
“You can lay down with your second wife if you want to. Or, your third wife. She wants you to love her the way you love the other one.”
“Is this what you talk about when I’m not around?”
“I am the one they are supposed to come to with their problems. It’s my duty to help them the best I can.”
“You aren’t their mother.”
“I am old enough to be.”
“You’re exaggerating. You are not old. You are four years older than me and still young.”
“The second wife wants a child.”
“We have enough children. Come here, I was worried about you. You don’t look well, is it from drinking last night?”
Partly, so I nod yes. I am queasy from drinking, tired from walking across the desert, and trying to adjust to this new way of things. He hugs me and I hug him back mindful of my arm. The second wife walks in looking fresh and in good spirits.
“Good morning, husband.”
“Good morning, wife. How did you sleep?” He asks her smiling.
“Alone.” She says surprising us both.
“Jenni, we discussed this.”
“I apologize, husband. Is there anything that I can do for you?”
“Yes, bring me my son and close the door on your way out.”
It’s cool and dark in here. We are undressing when she brings the baby back. I watch her openly admire Jude’s body as she hands him the baby. Her fingers reach out and touch his bare chest. He kisses her on the lips and shoves her on her way. I keep a straight face and pretend I don’t see them as I climb between the sheets wearing my slip. We sleep the day away until the third wife comes in and wakes Jude. There are people at the door. He rolls out of bed and I can’t move because the baby is asleep in the cradle of my body.
“Stay here, Duma. I’ll be right back.”
He is sliding back into bed minutes later holding me from behind.
“It’s your brother and his new girlfriend. They’re moving into the last bedroom. He killed a man for watching her bathe today. The men think it’s best if she stays here.”
“Did they say anything about me?”
“I’ll worry about them and I will worry about you. Don’t ever ask me about other men again. And don’t tell me you’re sorry.”
“I love you, Judea.”
“Not the way that I love you, Dumani. No one can love anyone the way I love you.” He says lying on top of me.
Jude looks down into my eyes with his love, his lust, and his vulnerability on display for me. I have always been his weakness and I didn’t even realize it. If I was bold enough to look him in the eye back then the way I do now, I would have seen he’s loved me all along. He loves me. He loves me and it means everything to me. I walked through the sands of hell for him. I will gladly return if I know he’s on the other side.
“No one will ever take your place.”
Those are his last words for a while. Jude touches my soft body like I am not soft. They worship it like I am a Goddess. His lips kiss my stretch marks and his tongue traces them like lines. I lay here with my son sleeping in his basket five feet away. His father’s dark head is between my legs. I bite my lip and hold onto his hair. Jude takes his nose out of my tight hair to look up at me.
“You turn me on so much. I could cum right now from tasting you.”
“Judea.”
An unknown number of fingers slide into me when my walls begin to spasm. They are not gentle and neither is his mouth on my clit. His fingers slide out of me and he crawls up my body. I push his shameless white pants down over his bare ass. I am losing what little modesty I had left. My hand is so small and he is so big when I wrap my fingers around him and guide him into me. I dig my fingers into the flexing muscles of his back when he begins to move. I whisper his name like a plea. Please, Judea. Please never stop loving me. I hold him close and I don’t let go. I don’t want to ever let go.
“This is mine, Duma. You are mine.
Those other women were forced on me by the church. I fell in love with you. I chose you myself. You will always belong to me and I will always belong to you. Only you.”
“Do you promise?” I ask desperately.
“Duma, it was in the vows we made to each other. This is forever.”
This feels like forever. When I doze in his arms afterward, it feels like a dream. There were times when I wondered if I’d ever see him again. I wondered if he’d want me back. It’s dark outside when I wake again. My husband and son are both gone and I hear voices raised in friendly conversation out in the living room. I shower and put my dress back on. I straighten up before leaving the shelter of the room. Titus is sitting on the love seat with Belle. He smiles, waving my baby’s hand at me. I don’t care what anyone says. He is my brother.
“Sleeping beauty awakens.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
My husband is lounging between his smiling wives. All five of them are bright eyed like I interrupted the best time ever. They’re drinking. Jude’s arms are around their shoulders and the third wife has her head on his chest and her hand on her belly. I can’t look him in the eyes. I can’t look at him at all. I kiss my son and excuse myself. I walk outside closing the door behind me. I stand in the shadows and wish I was drinking too. I can use a little courage and an escape right now. The door opens and closes. I don’t want to answer questions or explain anything to him. I want to be left alone for a while to think. If I am alone, I don’t have to see any of them.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I need some air, Titus.” I take my baby from his arms and breeze back into the house.
“Come and sit with us, Duma.”
I don’t have to look to know Judea cleared a place beside him. Probably between the third wife. I keep my eyes on my son and shake my head.
“No, thank you. It looks awfully crowded.”
They all go still as I walk into the bedroom and lock the door.
The knob turns seconds later. I lay on the bed with my son and I nurse him with a tortured spirit. I liked it better before he made me care about such things. I liked it better when I was living above the barn alone. Locking him out is a sin. He has a key.
The Doomsday Papers Page 28
