by Jessy Cruise
He stared into her brown eyes for a moment, trying to detect signs of mental illness or comedy. He saw neither. Paula was serious and sane. Or at least she thought that she was.
"Well?" she said. "What do you think?"
"I'm not sure what to think," he told her carefully. "Somehow, I just don't think that Christine would go for such a thing."
"Not at first," she said. "But give her a little time and she'll see that it's the only way. If you two are left to your own devices, eventually your affair is going to be discovered no Micker how secret you keep it. Like when she turns up pregnant for instance. Is that a distinct possibility at this point in time? I don't imagine that she was on the pill, was she? Nor do I imagine that you came hunting with a supply of condoms on you."
"It is possible," Skip admitted. "Probable even. We really didn't think that we were going to live long enough to have to worry about that."
"Understandable," Paula said. "And even if she is not knocked up now, she will be eventually. And even if that doesn't happen, you won't be able to hide your relationship forever. When these women find out about it, Jessica will rile them up into a lynch mob that will run you out of town before the next sunset. You saw how she reacted with Stacy and Jack, and he's a boy."
"And how does moving in with you prevent that?" he asked. "Are you saying that we should pretend that I'm with you and that Christine is just living with us? That doesn't help solve the pregnancy problem."
"No," she said. "I'm saying that we should be open about what we're doing together. If I am a part of the equation that will help dampen the reaction of the other women from Jessica's influence. I'm certainly not as powerful a presence as she is in this town, but I do carry some weight and I am listened to. Most of these women saw me as somewhat of a celebrity before the comet because I used to write articles in their magazines. If I tell them that Christine is a woman capable of making her own choices, then they will be much more inclined to see reason than if you tell them that."
"You really think that if you approve of it then they automatically will as well?"
"Approve may be too strong of a word," she said. "Especially with the polygamy issue thrown in. It will be a lot for them to get used to in a short period of time. But I think that they will accept it enough to keep from throwing you out of town. You have to remember one thing, most of these women, be they shallow or not, don't like Jessica. They'll jump on her bandwagon if she's the only one that has one because jumping on bandwagons is what they like to do. I will provide an alternate bandwagon for them to jump onto, a much more sane bandwagon."
"And what about the polygamy?" he asked. "What do you think they're going to do about that?"
"They're going to have to accept it eventually if they want to survive," she said. "Polygamy is the only way that we're going to get the sex issue under control here. Now of course the women that have an official partner are not going to like it very much at all, but the women who do not, the women who are constantly sneaking around and having promises made to them and being humiliated time and time again - those women will embrace it enthusiastically. I guarantee it. And those women are, of course, in the majority. Now we cannot officially command polygamy in this town, you know that as well as I do, but we can keep anyone from being exiled for it as long as Paul maintains his dissenting vote. And I think he will. He's a man after all and I seriously doubt that he'll vote to banish anyone for that. So you, Christine, and I will have to be the first polygamous grouping. I'm hoping that the underlying discussion about the morality of Christine and you will help draw some of the fire away from the main issue of the three of us being together in the first place."
"Wow," Skip said, rolling off of her and sitting up. His head was aching from the alcohol he had ingested and all of the information he was trying to ingest. "You certainly seem to have thought this all through pretty well."
"Like I said," she told him with a smile, "I've been wanting to put this into motion for quite some time but I've been afraid to bring it up to you. After killing that guy this evening and then drinking all of that tequila, I finally found the courage. It was time to act."
"So is all of this just a plan to help stabilize the town?" he asked her. "Because, quite frankly, I'm not too fond of being used as an example if that's the case. Nor do I think Christine would be terribly fond of it."
She shook her head vehemently, her hand caressing his hair. "No," she said, "I'm not doing this only for the town, although I'll admit that's a big part of my actions. We must bring order to this place if we're going to survive. I'm doing this with you because I've got very strong feelings for you. I'm not sure if its love just yet, but at the very least it's a powerful infatuation. I like you, Skip. I enjoy being with you, talking to you, having sex with you. Tonight was the happiest I've been since the comet hit, and not just here in front of the fire either. While you held me outside the wall, while we spent time together in the supply room, those are cherished moments for me and they always will be no Micker what happens."
He leaned back against the wall, the heat from the fire caressing his naked skin. "This is too much to think about right now," he said. "I'm drunk, stoned, feeling like shit because I slept with you, and I'm not capable of making a rational decision at the moment."
"You don't have to decide anything right now," she told him. "Sleep on it until tomorrow. But keep in mind that the wheels are in motion. No Micker what you decide to do, everyone will know that you've been over here tonight. And also keep in mind that we have to switch over to a system of polygamy if we're going to survive. If we don't, everyone will perpetually be obsessed with sex and we'll screw ourselves to death."
He took a long walk around the town after he left Paula's house, weaving in and out of the quiet residential streets, his way lit by the soft glow of firelight coming from the inhabited houses. It was very cold out, cold enough for him to see his breath. The rain pattered on the vinyl material of his rain slicker, some of it working its way to his face. He feet stomped through the perpetually flooded streets. The chill helped sober him completely up, clearing his head a little and allowing him to mull over all that had happened that day.
He encountered no one on the streets as he took his walk, although twice he saw the perimeter guards making their rounds along the wall. He did not approach them and they did not see him, occupied as they were in talking to each other. He wondered what they were talking about. Him and Paula? Stacy and Jack? Maybe a combination of both topics? That seemed entirely possible.
Finally, close to 10:00, he made his way to the small house where he lived. He put his key into the lock and entered. The soft glow of the fireplace logs blazing away in the family room greeted him. He ducked under the clotheslines and made his way there, seeing that Christine was sitting cross-legged on the couch. She was dressed in her typical pajamas - a long flannel shirt that went to her knees - and it looked like she was crying.
"Hi," he told her softly, making no move to approach her, very cognizant of the fact that he probably reeked of Paula's body.
She looked up at him but didn't say anything.
"Is Jack still out?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied. "I suppose you've heard about him and Stacy, haven't you?"
"I have," he agreed. "Does it bother you?"
"No," she said, seemingly disinterested in the whole subject. "Why should I care what he does?" She sniffed a little. "I'm happy for him."
"Me too."
Silence ruled for a moment; a very uncomfortable silence. Finally Christine broke it. "There are a lot of rumors going around tonight."
"Oh?" he asked, knowing what she was going to say, seeing no way to avoid it.
"Yes," she said, nodding sadly. "Stories about you and Paula getting drunk in the supply room."
"We did that," he said.
"And that you went back to her house afterward with... with... with your arms around each other."
He sighed, wanting more than anything to
postpone this conversation at least twelve more hours. But that was not in the cards it seemed. "Yes," he said. "We did that as well."
The tears began to flow again. "Did you... you..."
"Sleep with her?" he asked.
She nodded, unable to say the words.
"Yes," he said, barely audibly.
She began to tremble, her emotions flirting with a complete loss of control. Somehow she managed to maintain. "I guess that's it then," she said, wiping at a tear.
" Christine," he said.
"I'll move out as soon as they can find me my own house. Or are you going to move in with... with her?"
"That's an option," he said. "There are others."
"Just let me know when you figure it out," she said, a brief sob escaping from her.
" Christine," he said. "I don't want to lose you. I want you to stay with me."
"You sure have a funny way of showing it," she said, another sob exploding from her lips. "I'm not going to stay with you after what happened. How could you even say something like that?"
"I love you," he said. "You're very special to me. We've been through hell together and I enjoy your company very much. I love you and I don't want to be without you."
"Why are you saying this to me?" she yelled. "You go fuck some other woman and then you tell me that you love me?"
He walked over at last and sat in the recliner across from her. "I've tried to be strong, Christine," he said. "I really have. After Missy that first night, I haven't touched anyone else. Nearly every unattached woman in this town has offered me her body and I didn't do it because of the way I feel about you. Now that probably wouldn't sound like much if we were back in civilization and everything was normal, but everything is not normal here. There are five women for every man in this town and every last one of them is attractive and looking for sex. I'm not sure you realize just what kind of pressure that puts on a mortal man like me."
She was not impressed by this speech. "It looks like a little too much, doesn't it?" she said crossly. "Look, I don't know what you're trying to say here but it sounds a little like you want to keep fucking me while you fuck other women too. If that is what you're saying you can just forget it! I am not going to play that game. I will not live like that!"
" Christine, I'm not able to withstand the temptation. I've tried as hard as I can, but I can't do it."
"I'm not going to stay with you like that, Skip," she told him. "I won't!"
"There is another way," he said.
"Another way?"
"We come to some sort of accommodation with it," he said, echoing Paula's words from earlier.
"Accommodation?"
He took a deep breath and told her his suggestion. He explained about polygamy and how it was the only way to save the town from itself. He told how it would make their relationship a little more legitimate if Paula were suddenly involved in it. He told how they could be out in the open with their love if only they allowed Paula to be a part of it.
She listened to his words, slack jawed, without interruption. And then, for the first time in her life, she slapped a man across the face. Following that she retreated to her room, slamming the door behind her hard enough to send a picture crashing to the carpet.
Skip sat there after she left, his face stinging, his eye watering from the force of the blow. "Well," he said to himself. "That certainly went well."
Christine was assigned to guard position 1 the next morning, her shift to begin at 6:00 AM. She had been awake most of the night, alternately crying and fuming as she thought of what Skip had done to her and had suggested to her the night before. Of all the nerve! Had he really meant for her to take him seriously? Had he?
Finally, exhausted, she had dropped into a troubled slumber at about 4:00 AM. At 4:45 the wind-up alarm clock she used began to deliver its obnoxious ringing to the dark room. She smacked it with her hand, silencing it, and then just lay there for a few minutes, feeling fatigue trying to pull her back down into the land of sleep. Why should she drag herself out of bed and go man a post for that cheating bastard? What did it get her? What had it done for her? She very nearly just let herself drift back to sleep but eventually her strong work ethic, instilled in her by her mother and father, forced her to put her feet on the floor and get up. Skip might be an asshole but the security division that he commanded served a much-needed purpose.
The air was damp and chilly and she shivered as she put on a pair of jeans and a couple of heavy flannel shirts. She tied her blonde hair back in a loose ponytail and then strapped on the .45 pistol that she, like all of the other permanent members of the guard force, carried with her everywhere. She slipped on her boots and stepped out of her lonely bedroom, hearing the loud snores of Skip drifting through his own closed door. He was usually awake by now and he usually didn't snore when he was asleep. Looking down the hallway she saw that Jack's door was shut as well. So he had come back at some point during the night.
Dismissing her roommates from her mind and stifling a yawn, she walked to the living room and pulled on her rain slicker. She buttoned it tightly and then slipped out the door into the pre-dawn blackness, her feet leading her to the community center by feel.
Stacy gave her a plate of breakfast when she got there - corned beef hash and deep-fried potatoes - and a large cup of steaming coffee. Christine thanked her as politely as she could manage under the circumstances noting that the pregnant woman, though very tired looking, seemed to have a pleasant glow about her nonetheless. It was the glow of someone who had found a partner after a long time without one. Christine envied her. The two women did not talk to each other - Stacy nervous about what her new lover's sister might or might not think, Christine just too damn tired and upset.
As she sat down at one of the empty tables her eyes found Paula sitting three tables over, picking at her food more than eating it. Paula, like Christine herself, looked a little worse for wear this morning. Christine had no pity for her. When their eyes met for a moment she glared at her until the other woman's eyes dropped in shame. Had she really considered that bitch her friend the day before? Had she really confided in her the story of her previous life and of the nightmares she sometimes had about the shooting on the other side of the bridge? She had trusted her and her trust had been betrayed in the most awful way. According to Skip, Paula had known all along that the two of them were lovers. She had known that and still she had plotted to get Skip into bed with her. And now that she had had him she was offering to share him with her? To share? What kind of woman did she think Christine was? What kind of sicko was she? As far as Christine was concerned, that sick bitch could just have Skip. And good riddance!
She ate all of her food and drank down her entire cup of coffee, feeling the caffeine take a little of the edge off her fatigue. She gave one last glare at Paula, who refused to look back at her, and then carried her plate over to the cart.
"Do you want some more coffee, Christine?" Stacy asked her hesitantly. "You look like you could use it this morning."
Christine looked at her, knowing that Stacy was violating a rationing rule by offering a second cup. But she also knew that Jessica and Dale routinely helped themselves to as much coffee and other items from the kitchen as they pleased. "Sure," she said, grabbing her cup back off the cart and handing it to her. "Thanks."
"Just be sure to bring the cup back at dinner. And don't rat me out."
"I will and I won't," she promised, waiting as she waddled around the corner. A moment later she returned with a steaming cup of Starbucks house blend in her hand. She took it, thanked her, and then gave her a small smile of her own. "I heard about you and Jack," she said.
Stacy gave her a nervous look. "Word travels fast, doesn't it?"
"It certainly does," Christine said, knowing just by looking at her that Stacy knew about Paula and Skip as well. "Is it serious?"
"I think so," she said. "I asked him to move in with me. He told me that he would."
"Good for
both of you," she said, extending her hand and giving her a hug. "I guess that kind of makes you my sister-in-law now, doesn't it?"
"I guess it does," she said, returning the hug. "I'm glad you're not... you know... mad or anything. You know, with me being so much older than him."
"He's a big boy now," Christine said. "And I'm not his mom. What he does is none of my business."
She gave a sour look. "I only wish the rest of the town felt that way. I envision some serious shit hitting the fan this morning over this."
"I wouldn't worry too much," Christine said. "I mean, who gives a damn what people think?"
"Not me, that's for sure," she said bravely. "I just get a little bummed about how self-righteous they all are, you know? Why should they care about it? What possible difference does it make to them? So he's fourteen. He's a very mature fourteen and I like him a lot. And its not like the rest of the men were beating down my door anyway, were they? This is a bad place and time to be a girl. There isn't much for a pregnant twenty year-old from out of town around here. You need to take what love you're offered and Jack offered."
Christine looked at her carefully for a moment and then said her good-byes. As she left the community center and headed for her post, Stacy's words were echoing in her mind.
"This meeting is hereby called to order," Jessica said in her loud, nasal voice. She then rapped the gavel she insisted on utilizing in meetings upon her desk, sending sharp sound waves across the room.
It was 8:30 AM and Skip was hungover. His head ached dully, pulsating in sickening waves that came and went with the beating of his heart. Despite the two liters of water that he had swallowed down before leaving the house, his mouth was dry as a desert and craving more. His stomach was perhaps the worst. He had drunk all of that tequila the night before on an empty stomach and now his stomach was making him regret it. It rolled and rolled in a sea of nausea, constantly threatening to either rebel upward or downward but never quite following through. For perhaps the hundredth time in the twenty years that he had been drinking, he gave a solemn vow that he would never do it again.
