The Book of the Unnamed Midwife

by Meg Elison

  I ran. I found the room where they had put my clothes and my pack, and I got as dressed as I could and ran for the back door. The whole back side of that building was like a maze of little rooms and hallways, and there was no light. Eventually I hit a door that burst open, and I couldn’t believe it was daytime.

  Out back there was a Dumpster overflowing with dead bodies. Some of them lay half out of it, like laundry hanging out of the hamper. More of them were piled on the ground. Live bodies were piled up inside and dead bodies were piled up outside.

  I threw up. The smell and the drugs and everything I had just been through was just too much. I ran away, still vomiting, just wanting to get out of there. I didn’t stop until I got to a little house and broke a window to get in.

  I prayed for Elder Langdon. I don’t know if he made the choice or the choice was made for him.

  I just know I can’t go back for him. Never ever could I go back.

  Dusty sat back from the book and stared at the candle. Her mouth was dry. It made sense that Honus had not wanted to share this. She was more than halfway through his diary.

  She slept in and woke up to the sound of Honus splitting wood outside. There was more than enough wood on the side of the house. It had become a signal between them that meant “come outside and talk to me.”

  Jodi was where she always was: in the kitchen. Dusty looked at her posture, the way she held the lordotic curve in the small of her back with her hands; the way she waddled. It would be soon.

  They had everything Dusty thought they might possibly need. She had taught both Jodi and Honus to time her contractions with a watch they had brought back from the mall. She approached Jodi and asked permission before palpating her belly.

  “He’s kicking all the time! He stopped doing somersaults, though.”

  Dusty’s hands found the baby’s head. The kid was turned and faced Jodi’s spine. He was ready.

  “I don’t think he has enough room to do that anymore. How are you feeling?”

  Jodi fidgeted. “Ok. Bored, mostly. And anxious. I want to have the baby already. Like, meet him and hold him. You know?”

  “I know.” They had brought home formula in case Jodi couldn’t breastfeed. The label said it would be expired, but they didn’t know what else to do. They had hidden it from her, in case things went wrong or she felt insulted by it. “No pain or weird feelings? Nightmares?”

  “Yeah, like, crazy nightmares! Like, I lost him or someone is trying to take him from me. All the time!”

  “That’s pretty common. If you get scared in the middle of the night, you should go wake up Honus. He can comfort you and help you get back to sleep.”

  Dusty had tried suggesting before that Jodi seek her husband’s comfort in the middle of the night. She had tried innocuous ways and explicit ways. She had tried to ask Jodi about sex. She had been met with suspicion and disgust. It was not a subject they could talk about.

  Jodi pulled back from her now and returned to the business of cooking. “Oatmeal soon. With raisins or Craisins. Your choice.”

  “We got any nuts?”

  “Yeah, I forgot you like them. Some walnuts.”

  “Good.” Dusty went outside.

  Honus swung the axe over his head and brought it down in a neat arc. He had shucked down to his overshirt, and Dusty could see the wing of muscles down his side flex and extend.

  Latissimus dorsi, whispered the part of her brain that was always preparing for exams in nursing school. She sat on the woodpile.

  “How’s Jodi?”

  “She’s fine. But I do think it will be soon.”

  Honus’s face lit up. “I can’t wait.”

  “I can wait forever. They’re both healthy right now. I wish I knew they would stay that way.”

  “Don’t worry so much. Have faith.”

  Dusty said nothing, hoping the moment would pass.

  “Don’t you have any faith at all? Weren’t you raised with any?”

  “My parents weren’t religious.”

  “Weren’t you ever curious what it was all about?”

  “I had a phase in college when I went to church with a bunch of my friends to see what they were so crazy about. I didn’t find anything I wanted.”

  “Did you ever have a feeling like the presence of God?”

  Dusty thought about storms gathering over the lake before she had had to kill to defend it. She remembered days at the beach and hikes in the woods. She thought about the raw wonder of birth, and swiftly her mind plunged into memories of orgasm. Her college girlfriend scream-spasming with Dusty’s whole fist inside her. Coming together with Jack at the best of times, like an electric circuit completing itself. The birth of the baby approached, and all Dusty could think about was sex. She was already out of batteries.

  “I’ve felt something,” she finally said.

  Honus put the axe down and started to stack wood against the house. “Do you know the Bible?”

  “Pretty well, yeah. I had to take a class in it as an undergrad.”

  “How well do you know the life of Jesus?”

  She sighed. They had had moments before when she had the distinct feeling he was working on her. She hated it, especially that he thought she couldn’t tell. She looked back in the window to see if breakfast was ready yet. It was not.

  “Pretty well. I could tell the whole story if I needed to.”

  “Did you know he was married?”

  “I know some people think so.” This was already tiresome.

  “Did you know he had two wives?” Honus looked at her mischievously.

  “What?”

  Honus put one leg up on the woodpile. He had her full attention. “So you know the story where Jesus is teaching in the home of two sisters, Mary and Martha. And Mary sits and listens to Jesus talking while Martha works in the kitchen. And Martha gets mad and comes out and complains to Jesus like, ‘Hey, Jesus! This isn’t fair! Make her come help me.’ And Jesus tells her that Mary made her own choice, and they’re both good ones.”

  Dusty nodded.

  “So some people think that it was his house, and they were his wives. That’s why they acted like he was in charge of them. Makes sense, right? So when my ancestors practiced plural marriage, they were following in the footsteps of the son of God.”

  Dusty nodded again. “So are you saying now that there are so many more men than women, you’d like Jodi to find another husband or two?”

  How does that sound? Try it on that way.

  “What? No! I was saying that if you—”

  Jodi opened the door. “Breakfast!”

  When she was gone again, Dusty turned back to Honus. “I’m not all torn up about polygamy. It doesn’t bother me at all as long as it’s what people choose. But don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous with the way things are now to suggest that one man should have a couple of wives? Really, it’s more likely that if they have a choice, women will collect multiple mates.” She wasn’t alluding to Amanda, but she could tell that’s what he was thinking.

  He straightened up and headed inside.

  It was only afterward that she realized he had been coming on to her the only way he knew how.

  A few more monotonous days and he got over it. They sat up late one night, talking after Jodi had gone to bed. Dusty had made them hot chocolate, and they sat on the sofa, staring into the fire.

  “So some women do enjoy sex, huh? It’s not just a myth made up by pornographers?” He smiled lopsidedly at her.

  Dusty snorted. “They really do. Jodi doesn’t mean to hurt your feelings. She really loves you. I can’t figure out why, but she’s just not interested.”

  “But you enjoy it. Or you used to, when you were with Jack. Right?”

  “Yeah, I really did. With Jack and with Cassie and with Dana and with Andrew . . .”

  He blushed. “You’ve had a lot of partners . . . and I know some of them were women . . .”

  “I come from somewhere very different t
han you two,” she said gently.

  He nodded, getting a hold of himself. “I know, I know. It’s just . . . it’s really different.” He slugged his cocoa as if it would give him courage. “You know, Jodi is grossed out that you were ever with a woman. She’s worried that you might look at her . . . that way.”

  Dusty drank, too. “Yeah, straight girls worry about that a lot. She’s got nothing to fear from me. I hope she doesn’t think I’m perving out on examining her.”

  “Nah, she’s really glad that you can take care of her and the baby. She kind of keeps it separate.”

  They sat in the crackling warmth.

  “Don’t you want to know if I think it’s gross?”

  “Not really.” Old anger flared up.

  What’s the point, what’s the point? Why fight about this now when it barely matters anymore?

  “Well, I don’t. I never bought the church line about marriage. I do think there’s something special about temple marriage, but legal marriage is something else. I don’t think it’s gross.” He looked at her expectantly.

  Pin a ribbon on me. I’m so progressive.

  “What if it’s two guys?” She was not in a ribbon-pinning mood.

  Honus sucked a breath in between his teeth. “That’s harder for me to understand because I think guys are gross and hairy and I’ve never wanted one. But it’s none of my business if another guy does. As long as it’s not me.” Once more, he tried for the ribbon.

  “Well then. How evolved of you. I expect a number of men will find themselves attracted to each other in this brave new world. What a surprise it will be.” She wanted to discuss his diaries with him, badly. She hinted all the time, but he never suspected.

  “Do you like guys better? Or girls?”

  Not that evolved.

  “It’s not like that. I like people. They come with the bodies they come with.”

  “I’ve never met anyone like you.” His fingers had crept across the cushion between them and came to rest on hers.

  She was somewhere between laughing in his face at the cheesiness of his line and climbing into his lap and fucking him right then. It was a strange place. She leaned a little toward him, not feeling like it was a conscious decision, but only the drawing of one magnet to the other.

  “Yeah, you’re new for me, too.”

  His fingers slid over hers and then laced between them. She burned.

  “Honus?”

  It was Jodi. Her voice was muffled by the closed door, but it made him jump anyway.

  “What’s wrong?” He ran down the hall and stood beside her door.

  “Nothing’s wrong, but can you bring me some water?”

  “Of course, honey. Of course. Be right there.”

  He did not look at Dusty as he crossed into the kitchen. She got up without a word and went to bed. She knelt facing her headboard and stroked her clit between two fingers maybe four times before she came. Afterward, she touched her guns and lay down and fell asleep.

  The Book of Honus Obermeyer

  As Scribed by the Unnamed Midwife

  Day 64

  I’ve been without a companion for more than ten days now. I have decided to push onward and serve my mission fully before returning.

  I thought I was lonely when Langdon was distant, but this is much worse. I’ve never felt so alone in my life. I’m praying to meet some people in Denver, but I also fear meeting anyone. Please, Heavenly Father, please help me find the people I’ve been called to. Let the spirit guide them if you would have them seek me. I’m not even asking for a golden contact. Just nice normal people who I can talk to. Maybe even someone to bring back with me.

  The terrain is becoming mountainous and the nights are very cold. The road into Denver is not in good shape. There are car wrecks on the other side and dead people in cars on the shoulder heading in. I saw animals a few days ago. A herd of antelope first, followed by a couple of moose. I’ve never seen an animal that big outside of a zoo. It was a little scary, but I am glad to see them. It means there is something we can hunt for fresh meat. I’ve never learned to do that, but I bet there are other elders who know how.

  Day 70

  I’ve gotten terrible about keeping my missionary journal, but there’s so little to tell. I eat alone, whatever I can find. I read scriptures alone. I pray alone. I sleep alone. I wake up alone. I walk toward Denver. I am really hoping to find a bicycle.

  Day 75

  I found a bicycle. It’s so much faster. I can’t believe how much ground I have covered. By the map, I am very close to Denver. Thank you, Heavenly Father. I know you laid my path for me and there is a reason for every part of it. Please see me safely to the temple so that I may find my people.

  Day 81

  (This page is just the lyrics to “You Fill Up My Senses” written out with some hymn after it.)

  Day 89

  What a day.

  I reached the street that the temple was on and saw that most of the area had burned down. The street was clear, though, so I pedaled as fast as I could. I couldn’t see it. The houses around it are all on twisty streets, so I turned and turned again trying to get to it. When it finally came into view, I hit the brakes and got off. I walked toward the back fence. There was something behind it that looked like it used to be a gazebo. I walked around the fences to the front entrance.

  I could tell it used to be a beautiful temple. It had burned almost completely. Everything that used to be white had gone black. The garden in front was torched, and the fountain and pools were empty and dry. The structure still stood, even the steeple was still up. I decided to go in.

  I went through the baptismal room. It was empty, but the water had gone sour and cloudy. The whole building reeked. Aside from the fire, I couldn’t tell if anything bad had happened. I went upstairs through the different rooms. I could tell it used to be a splendid, restful place. It broke my heart to see it burned and abandoned like this. I thought there would be signs here that someone had taken care of it.

  All the way up in the sealing room, there were people. They had all been burned. There was nothing left to tell who they were. Maybe ten of them lay around the altar, black and twisted. May Heavenly Father give them peace. At least they died near to Him.

  I had to find something to bring back with me, to show that I had been here and there was no reason to return. I found the cover of the white visitor’s book, badly burned but the embossed letters still visible. It crumbled in my hand but I got a big piece of it. I wrapped it in one of my garments and put it in my bag.

  There’s nothing here. There’s nothing here or anywhere.

  Day 95

  I sat with the map and planned my route back. I don’t want to go back the way I came. There’s a northern route through Wyoming that will get me back to Huntsville. I’ll head that way.

  Day 115

  Wyoming is desolate country. I still have my bicycle. There’s nothing to tell.

  Day 124

  I am reflecting much of the time. I search, ponder, and pray. If I can even desire to believe, and let this desire work on me, I can still have room in me for the word. Alma 32:27. I have only myself to think about. The stars are brighter than I’ve ever seen. I can see the Milky Way. The night is immense and majestic, and I stare at the stars and I think.

  I think about my mission in Canada and how much I complained. How lucky I was then! I think about the ice cream cooler I found in that gas station, all moldy goo with papers and labels floating in it. That almost made me cry like a baby. But I’m a man, so I ate some pretzels and thought about my wife. What if she’s pregnant? We were together for a week, but one time is enough. I might come home to a baby on the way. My beautiful Jodi, carrying my child. What a blessing in these terrible times.

  I am not really on a mission anymore. I found what I was meant to find, even though it was an empty victory. There is no one to help or minister to. There is only me, on my bicycle, in the wilderness. I’m not in the wilderness like Nephi
was. I don’t have to eat locusts or cast out demons. I just have to deal with myself. But there are demons in my wilderness. The wilderness is in my heart. I guess my demons are my nightmares.

  I have decided to tell them Elder Langdon died on the road. I know it’s terrible to lie, but the truth is worse. Kurt Avery Langdon died serving his mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I didn’t know him well. He was from Eden, and I didn’t meet him until we refugeed in from Ogden. He was a man of few words. His parents had died, and he came in with a group, but I could tell he was alone. I hoped we would talk on the mission and get to know each other, but I think he had already given up. I wish I knew him better. I wish I could have dragged him out of that terrible place. For what it’s worth, I’ll tell people he ended better than he did.

  That’s my gift to you, companion.

  Oh, Honus. Only a little bit left. Will finish it tomorrow night. Understanding him better now.

  Honus had taken to raiding almost every day. Both Jodi and Dusty assumed that he was trying to avoid being around the house, and both of them took it personally.

  Dusty did not want to talk to Jodi. She was jealous and angry and anxious and guilty and annoyed with her. Jodi pouted at being left behind, at being bored, and grew testy and snappish.

  Dusty listened to Jodi washing another thing that did not need to be washed and heard her hitch her breath a few times. They had not spoken in hours.

  “Are you having contractions?”

  “No, I’m not having contractions, mother.”

  Another few hours of silence ensued.

  When Honus returned in the evening, Dusty watched with disgust as Jodi flung herself at him, demanding to know where he had gone. He came back from many of these all-day trips with little more than a few candles or a can of Crisco. His excuses were wearing thin, and he knew it.