Unfit

by Karma Chesnut

  “What do you want?” she asked, her gruff voice crackling as she spoke.

  She was a tiny thing, probably no taller than Morgan’s shoulders when standing up straight, so she looked impossibly small hunched in the doorway. The old woman inspected Katherine through thick-rimmed glasses that amplified her eyes to at least three times their normal size.

  “Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Katherine said, “but I need your help.”

  The old woman opened the door another inch and looked down at Katherine’s growing belly. “Yes, I can see you do,” she said, then, looking wildly from Charles to Morgan as if seeing them for the first time, announced, “Loughlin pups,” rather loudly.

  “Uh, yes,” Charles replied. “I’m Charles Loughlin and this is my sister—”

  “Morgan, yes I know,” the old lady interrupted. “And are you here for help too, Morgan?”

  “She’s a friend of mine,” Katherine said. “She’s here for moral support.”

  “I see,” the old woman said, still eying Morgan suspiciously. “All right then, come in.” They filed inside, Katherine first, followed by Morgan. But as Charles approached the threshold, the medicine woman stopped him. “Are you the father?”

  “No. Just a friend,” he replied.

  “Then you wait out here.” She slammed the door in his face.

  The shack seemed even smaller from the inside, if such a thing was even possible. The entire space was cramped and dark inside and the stench made Morgan feel like vomiting again. Strange objects lined every wall—small dolls made of straw, hundreds of crystals, woven nets the size of Morgan’s hand. One of the four walls was dedicated to endless rows of cloudy jars filled with pinkish, brownish globs floating in yellowing liquid. What Morgan hoped were dried herbs lined every single rafter of the ceiling, making the whole place smell bitter and dead.

  “Sit down,” the medicine woman instructed as she pointed to a wooden table in the middle of the room, the only piece of furniture in the entire space. Katherine sat, folding her hands awkwardly in her lap as she and Morgan watched the old woman mutter to herself as she wandered aimlessly around the room as if she had forgotten what she was looking for. Finally grabbing a small bottle of clear white liquid—and knocking at least four other bottles onto the dirt floor in the process—the medicine woman scurried back to where Katherine waited.

  “Lie back and lift your shirt,” she said, to which Katherine obliged. The medicine woman poured the liquid into her hands, rubbed them together, and began to feel around Katherine’s stomach. “Your baby is growing nicely. Very strong,” she said. “What sort of trouble are you in, anyways?” the old woman asked, her gaze shifting from Katherine’s stomach up to Morgan.

  “What makes you think she’s in trouble?” Morgan asked.

  “Powerful friends are the most useful kind to have when things turn ugly. And Loughlins make very powerful friends.”

  “It’s nothing we can’t handle,” Morgan said.

  “Babies often mean trouble these days,” the old woman mused, her ear now on the stomach of a visibly uncomfortable Katherine. “Especially in these parts. I see all sorts of women here. Sell all sorts of potions. Most of them need the same thing. Something to get rid of the evidence. Destroy the shame growing in their bellies.”

  Morgan looked again at the jars on the wall with the floating pink globs and felt her stomach turn as she considered what they might be.

  “It is not my place to judge,” the old woman continued, as if reading Morgan’s thoughts. “The ones that break my heart are the ones who had no say. They stumble in here, their stomachs deflated and their eyes empty. A mother should never have her child taken from her. By the way, tell Henry I said hello.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” Katherine asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

  “Henry Bell. He is your husband, yes?”

  “You know my husband?” Katherine gasped.

  “Oh yes, dear,” the medicine woman said. “He came to me not long ago to purchase one of my potions.”

  “What kind of potion?” Morgan asked.

  The medicine woman smiled widely, her face a mess of wrinkles. “The kind that destroys the shame.”

  Morgan saw the same confused look on Katherine’s face that surely must have been on hers. What was Henry Bell doing visiting the Southend medicine woman?

  He was trying to take matters into his own hands.

  Suddenly, the medicine woman clapped her hands together, seemingly oblivious to the change her words had made to the mood in the room.

  “Would you like to know the sex of the baby?” she asked.

  “You can do that?” Katherine replied.

  “Oh yes,” the medicine woman said and, pulling a long string out of her pocket, slipped the gold ring off her finger and the string through the center of it. Pinching the two ends of the string together with her fingertips, she held the ring high above Katherine’s belly, letting it spin and twist wildly in the air.

  “The movement of the ring will tell us if the baby is a boy or a girl,” the old woman explained. “Each child has a different energy, moves the world around them in a distinctive way. And if you listen very closely, they will tell you who they are.”

  The ring’s movement began to slow, changing from erratic swings to a soft, circular sway.

  “And there he is,” the medicine woman smiled.

  “He?” Katherine asked. “It’s a boy?”

  “It is a boy,” she said, and Katherine smiled with delight. Unexpectedly, the medicine woman turned to Morgan. “I can do you next if you would like.”

  “Oh, no,” Morgan quickly replied. “I’m not pregnant.”

  The old woman’s eyes narrowed, inspecting Morgan closely. She studied Morgan’s face, never breaking eye contact even as she brought her nose within inches of Morgan’s and began sniffing around Morgan’s neck.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” she said, her hands suddenly at Morgan’s stomach, feeling and groping her belly as she had done to Katherine moments before. “I can always tell. Expectant mothers have a certain glow, emit a certain energy.”

  “Well, you’re wrong,” Morgan said, pushing the old woman’s hands away. “There’s no way I’m pregnant.”

  “Why? Are you a virgin, my dear?” the medicine woman asked, chuckling to herself as if she thought the question was absurd.

  “ I—I—” Morgan stuttered. Katherine was staring at her now, her eyes wide. “I just—I can’t be. It’s not possible.”

  “You’re not far along,” the medicine woman continued. “Four, maybe six weeks at the most. You’re probably just barely starting to feel the symptoms. The exhaustion, dizziness, nausea.”

  Morgan felt the blood drain out of her face as she stood there, unable to find the words for the millions of thoughts racing in her head. It had just been the stress, she told herself again. That was it. Just stress.

  The old woman smiled a wide, toothless smile. “I can always tell,” she whispered.

  Morgan ran outside, passing Charles as she covered her mouth, sure she was going to be sick at any moment. Bracing herself against the cold, stone wall of the medicine woman’s shack, she began to retch uncontrollably.

  She had just begun to accept the idea that she and John would never have children together. It all seemed like a cruel joke for her to find out she was pregnant just days before John’s procedure, days before the Council would order the baby to be terminated—her baby.

  Charles and Katherine were both at Morgan’s side now. Unable to stand any longer, Morgan sank to her knees, kneeling in the dirt as she wrapped her arms around her stomach and began to cry.

  Katherine sat next to her, placing a hand on Morgan’s trembling shoulders.

  “Please, don’t,” Morgan said to Katherine, her voice shaking. “I know what you’re going to say, but please don’t. I don’t think I could stand to hear another person tell me what a mess I’ve made of everything.”

  �
�That’s not at all what I was going to say,” Katherine replied. “Are you all right?”

  “I just stood there,” Morgan sobbed. “I was right next to him when they took him away and I just stood there. He needed me, and I didn’t help him. I wasn’t there for him like he’s been there for me over and over again.”

  Tentatively, Katherine wrapped her arm around Morgan’s shoulders as she continued to weep.

  “It’s going to be all right, Morgan,” Katherine reassured her. “If anyone can get through this, it’s you. You are the bravest person I know.”

  “I don’t feel brave. I feel crippled,” she cried.

  Charles was kneeling beside Morgan now too, unsure of what to say or do to comfort his little sister.

  “I married him,” Morgan said, realizing this was the first time she had ever said it out loud. “We were supposed to have a family and a future together. But everything is a mess now.”

  “It doesn’t have to be, Morgan,” Charles said, his voice soft and consoling. “You and John, you can still be a family.”

  “No, we can’t. They won’t let us. They’re taking away everything,” Morgan cried, feeling as if every dark thought she had kept locked inside was now spilling out uncontrollably.

  Charles looked to Katherine, obviously confused and hoping for some explanation. Tears ran down Katherine’s face as she gazed sympathetically at Morgan, and Morgan could almost hear an audible click as Charles put the pieces together.

  “We’re going to get through this, Morgan. I promise, I’m going to help you in whatever way I can,” Charles said, pulling her closer.

  “Me too,” said Katherine.

  Morgan rested her head on her knees and the three of them sat there for a minute, the weight of Morgan’s choices bearing down on her.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Morgan said.

  “Yes, you do,” Katherine replied. “You cry. You cry, and you scream until you can’t even breathe anymore. Then we pick ourselves up and we keep fighting.”

  Standing, Katherine brushed herself off. “Now come on,” she said, extending her hand to Morgan. “It’s time to go fight.”

  Taking her hand, Morgan pulled herself up.

  As Morgan wiped her eyes on her sleeve in a very unladylike manner that would have made her mothers cringe, she said, “So what are we going to do about Henry?”

  “What about Henry?” asked Charles.

  “Waiting for the Council’s verdict like everyone else isn’t good enough for him. He bought something from the medicine woman that causes miscarriages,” Morgan explained.

  “I don’t care about that,” Katherine said, waving her hand. “He isn’t exactly in a position to be slipping anything into my morning tea. And if he shows up at my door and offers me a drink, I promise I won’t take it. We have more important things to worry about. John’s procedure is coming up. What are you going to do about the baby?”

  “What can we do? There isn’t exactly a loophole that lets unfits keep their babies,” Morgan said, her sorrow already hardening.

  “So that’s it? We’re just giving up?” said Katherine.

  “Are you going to tell him before…” Charles asked, his voice trailing off.

  Morgan sighed. “I think I have to,” she said. “He deserves that much.”

  Unfits must not be allowed to continue their kind. And yet, some feel they are exempt from our laws that demand they surrender their right to procreate. So, let us be clear, from this day forward, any citizen declared unfit will, upon sterilization, forfeit any right to any pregnancies, future or existing, in which they are the parent. Any illegal pregnancies will be terminated.

  -Council Address, reign of the Council, Year 44

  John had only taken a few bites of his dinner when two keepers showed up in the mess hall. Flanking him on both sides, they informed John he had a visitor. He was relieved by the announcement at first, even if it meant missing a meal, until the knifer’s words about how visitors would draw unnecessary and dangerous attention to himself echoed in his head. Still, the thought of seeing Morgan was far more appetizing than food, despite the sense of dread building in his gut.

  The keepers escorted John to the visiting room where they cuffed him, a practice that was becoming routine now, where Morgan waited for him at a table in the corner of the room.

  “What are you doing here?” John asked without even saying hello. “I thought the knifer told you not to visit me anymore.”

  “You look good,” Morgan said as John sat down. It was a lie. John knew he didn’t look good. He was filthy and hungry, already several pounds lighter than the last time she had seen him. But if she had noticed his deteriorating condition, she didn’t comment on it, which John found as a relief. He didn’t want to spend the precious time he had with her crying over his circumstances. Besides, it would all be over soon. He had been counting down the days until he could leave.

  “What’s going on? There aren’t any complications with my surgery, are there?” John asked, his voice low in an attempt to create some sense of privacy.

  “No, that’s not it,” Morgan said, shaking her head. “John, I have to tell you something.”

  The hesitancy in her voice was off-putting. In John’s experience, Morgan wasn’t usually at a loss for words. And it was scaring him.

  “I’ve been feeling off for a few weeks now. At first, I just assumed it was stress or a minor bug or something. I don’t know. But I went with Katherine—”

  “Katherine?” John asked. “As in Charles’s Katherine?”

  “Yes, I’m helping her with this case and, anyway, we went to see this medicine woman, and, she did this thing with a string and normally I don’t believe in that kind of nonsense, but the symptoms all fit, and—ugg,” she said and buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not making any sense.”

  “You’re fine,” John said, desperately trying to make sense of Morgan’s ramblings. “Just start at the beginning. You said you’re helping Katherine with a case. What kind of case?”

  John waited while Morgan collected herself. He tried to keep his mind in the moment, but it wandered dangerously to every terrible scenario he could imagine. He wished she would just come out and say whatever she was thinking. Rip the bandage off quickly because peeling it off slowly was unbearably painful.

  “I’m pregnant,” she finally said. She paused, probably waiting for John to jump in, but he was too shocked to say anything. “Anyway, I thought you should at least know it existed before it’s gone.”

  “But…” He tripped over his words. “How?” Stupid question. Of course he knew how. “But we…” he started again but stopped himself. Everything coming out of his mouth sounded completely idiotic.

  Finally, he found his composure. “Have you told anyone else?”

  Shaking her head, Morgan whispered, “Charles and Katherine know. They were there when I found out. But I haven’t reported it yet if that’s what you mean. I wanted you to know first.” The words felt heavy as she said them.

  “When are you going to report it?” John asked.

  “I don’t know. I technically don’t have to until after your procedure. Part of me just wanted to know what it felt like to be pregnant if that makes any sense. Even if it’s only for a few weeks.”

  John nodded. He hated to see Morgan upset. He was upset too. But he had no idea how to comfort her. “Perhaps it’s for the best that you found out early,” he said. “This way we can take care of it before anyone gets too attached.”

  “Too attached?” Morgan scoffed. “It’s our child, John. I’m already attached.”

  “Of course you are. I’m just saying… Hell, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  “I know the law, John. I know what has to be done, but please don’t try to talk me out of being heartbroken. The last thing I want from you is a pep talk on how getting rid of our baby is the right thing to do because it doesn’t feel like the right thing to do. Everything about this f
eels wrong.” Morgan’s eyes began to water. “I’m just so tired of doing the responsible thing. For once, I want to be selfish.”

  If anyone had earned the right to be selfish, it was her. The way she had taken control of this whole situation, taken care of the knifer, it was all nothing short of amazing. But now, this force of nature sitting in front of John looked defeated.

  “If you think about it, you getting pregnant is kind of a miracle. We only had a small window.”

  “Lucky us,” Morgan said bitterly.

  John’s anger began to build, starting in his stomach and moving up into his throat. Finding out he and his wife were going to have a baby should have been the happiest day of his life. Instead, they were mourning the life they would never have and the child they would never get to raise.

  “There’s an obstacle at every turn,” she continued. “Finish your Genetic Fitness Evaluation before you get married, have kids before you go to school, wait until your kids are grown before you start your career. Everything has a condition and I’m sick of it. No matter what, every single choice I make feels like the wrong one, like I’m letting someone down.”

  Maybe it was for the best. He had asked too much of Morgan already. Perhaps now they could cancel the whole deal with the knifer. Morgan could get her money back and John would go back to the end of the line and get sterilized when he was originally supposed to.

  “Any choice is the wrong one if you’re basing it purely on what you think other people want,” John said. “What do you want?”

  Morgan sighed. “I want a thousand different contradicting things.”

  “I don’t think you do. Just, for a moment, forget about what everyone else expects of you or what everyone thinks you can or cannot do. Morgan,” he said, leaning in as far as he dared to assure she was the only one who would hear him. “Do you want this baby?”

  Morgan scoffed. “What does that matter?”