Sadie knew how to French braid. It was something her mother taught her, and she still had the brush her mother used. A bunch of the plastic bristles were missing, but it was much better than nothing. In their bedroom, Sadie often brushed her lover’s hair before tying it back in a tight braid, securing the end with a small bit of thread.
“Sure,” she said, not minding this particular chore at all.
“You’ll have to finish washing up on your own,” Amelia said. “I need to start boxing this stuff up.”
Sadie would have preferred that Amelia be the one to wash her most intimate places. But she knew they shouldn’t be fooling around in the kitchen, anyway, not when Christian could wander in at any moment. He certainly realized that his mother and his older sister was very close, but did he have any way of knowing the nature of their relationship? Could he understand? What did he think about it?
It was hard to know what Christian thought about anything. He was a lot like his older sister in that way, secretive. As Sadie took off her jeans (ones that used to belong to her mother) and her tank top and washed up with the hand towel, she wondered where her brother had gone off to. He had his own room now, taking over the other bedroom since their father died, but when he wasn’t helping out with chores or sitting down for a lesson with his mother, he was off doing who-knew-what. There weren’t many places he could disappear to on a 5-acre property, and Sadie didn’t worry about him much.
When Sadie finished scrubbing herself thoroughly and wiping herself down again with the sopping rag, she walked naked to the hall closet and grabbed a clean towel. The towels were certainly not new. They’d once belonged to Sadie’s grandparents, and even the best ones were nearly threadbare from years of use and harsh washing. Sadie tried to get her hands on more, even just one big, fluffy towel for Amelia, but that was one thing the Charles brothers hadn’t managed for her yet.
When Sadie finished getting dressed, she debated whether or not they should keep the water from her washing for further use. Maybe Christian or Amelia could use it later to scrub themselves, too. But when Sadie saw how dirty it had gotten from the oil, she shrugged and took it out into the yard and dumped it in the dry grass. She set the bucket next to the well and went back inside to help her lover pack and load the supplies.
After Sadie tied the tarp over the bed of the truck, now filled with the supplies her lover spent weeks preparing, she grabbed Amelia’s tiny waist and kissed her again. “Come on,” she said, taking Amelia’s hands. “Let’s rest up a bit before starting dinner.”
“Okay,” Amelia said, finally relenting. They went to their bedroom. Sadie shut the door and turned the flimsy old lock as Amelia took off her cardigan and tossed it aside. Underneath, she wore one of the many simple cotton dresses she’d made for herself. Most of her clothes were patched together from old items, but on a couple of occasions, Sadie was able to get yards of cheap fabric. The dress Amelia wore that early autumn afternoon was pink, with a pattern of little white poodles. It was Sadie’s favorite dress of Amelia’s. It made her think of something girls might have worn back in her old life.
Sadie put her hands on Amelia’s small, tan shoulders and kissed her again. Even though they’d been lovers for over a year now, she found that she couldn’t get enough of her. She could never touch Amelia enough, kiss her enough, taste her enough. The first time they made love, it was as if Sadie finally had what she’d been waiting for, without even knowing it, for such a long time.
Amelia ran her hands through Sadie’s hair, still a bit damp from her washing, and shoved her tongue down Sadie’s throat. It used to surprise Sadie, how aggressive of a lover Amelia could be. She liked it. She let her lover push her against the old dresser. Sadie struggled out of her flannel shirt without taking her lips from Amelia’s. As Amelia stroked Sadie’s tongue with her own, Sadie’s pussy clinched. She thought of how Amelia’s tongue felt between her legs, and instinctively, she pulled off her belt and wiggled out of her jeans.
Amelia only stopped kissing Sadie long enough to pull off her pink dress. Both women were naked, their breasts pushed together, as they made out. Amelia put her arms around Sadie’s neck, but Sadie’s hands were all over Amelia. She ran her hands down her back, feeling the roughness of her scar tissue. Amelia used to hate it when Sadie would touch her scars, would squirm away and ask her to stop. But the scars only reminded Sadie of why she admired her lover so much, how brave and strong she really was.
Sadie spread her legs, wrapped one around Amelia’s hips and pulled her in closer as she leaned back against the dresser. Sadie could feel the heat from Amelia’s crotch against her own as she kissed her lover’s neck. They made out some more as Amelia ran her hands up and down Sadie’s thighs, teasing her.
“Fuck me,” Sadie begged, and Amelia giggled as she finally touched Sadie in the right spot. Sadie threw her head back and moaned, spreading wider, inviting Amelia inside. But Amelia just kept stroking her, brushing against her throbbing clit. Sadie put her hands on the dresser and leaned back, bracing herself for when Amelia would finally start fingering her.
Sadie was soaking wet when Amelia shoved two fingers into her. At first she just held her fingers inside of her lover, and Sadie clamped down around her. She cried out as Amelia started to thrust. She was going slowly at first, but Sadie was in no mood for that. “Harder,” she moaned, and Amelia fucked her deep, shoving her fingers inside of her all the way to her knuckles, adding a third finger. Sadie pumped her hips, and Amelia leaned into her, their nipples rubbing against each other, the dresser slamming against the wall over and over as they fucked.
Sadie grabbed Amelia’s shoulders and cried out as she came, her whole body shuddering. She would have fallen to the floor if Amelia weren’t holding on to her. Sadie set her feet firmly on the wooden floor and laughed before kissing her lover again. “How do you want it?” she whispered in her ear.
Amelia pulled away and backed towards their small bed, beckoning to Sadie. Sadie followed, still trembling from her intense orgasm, but wanting to thank her lover, to give her the same treatment. They made out on top of their covers for a moment before Amelia asked Sadie to eat her out.
Sadie was more than happy to comply. She kissed her way down Amelia’s chest. Amelia’s tits were as tan as her shoulders, since she’d gotten into the habit of sunbathing in the nude that past season, something she never would have dreamed of doing if Glenn were still around. The tan made the white lines of scars on her tits stand out more than usual, but these marks from her time of torment weren’t nearly as bad as the ones on her back. Sadie kissed and licked them, and her hard little nipples, before making her way down Amelia’s stomach, toned from hours bending and crouching in the garden.
Sadie closed her eyes before running her tongue over Amelia’s slit. She knew Amelia’s pussy, like the other beautiful parts of her, by heart. She kissed her pussy like it was her mouth, hungry for her, plunging her tongue into Amelia’s depths, stopping only to nibble at her clit a little.
Amelia squirted when she came, and some of her sweet, tangy juices ran down Sadie’s chin as she sat up. She wiped her face with the back of her hand before she pushed her hair back. Amelia took her hand, and Sadie sprawled out beside her on top of the covers. They lay together, kissing just a little, both satisfied with their impromptu afternoon romp.
They were still lying there, enjoying the afterglow, when a knock came at the bedroom door. “Mommy?” Christian called.
“We’ll be out in a minute,” Amelia called. Sadie heard her brother head back down the hall. Amelia giggled. “I should start dinner.”
“I can throw together a salad,” Sadie offered. They always grew way more lettuce than they could ever use, and there was no way to preserve it. A lot of that was going to La Ronge with Sadie the next day.
Amelia nodded. “Could you boil up some eggs, too?”
“Sure.”
Amelia kissed her. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll make the shopping list.” So,
reluctantly, they got out of their small bed and got dressed. They were holding hands as they went out to the kitchen.
Even throwing together a simple salad of lettuce, onions, and hardboiled eggs was an ordeal, especially with gathering more water from the well and waiting for it to boil over the old stove. Amelia already had some lettuce, some of the last of the season, washed and waiting on the counter. Sadie started tearing it up and putting it into one of the big wooden bowls that she could vaguely remember her grandmother using as Amelia sat down at the table to draw up the shopping list.
As Sadie headed to the yard to draw another bucket of water, Christian came around the side of the house. “Chop up a couple of onions,” Sadie said, gesturing into the kitchen. Christian nodded and went inside. As Sadie retrieved the water, she thought about how Christian never said no to any of Sadie’s orders. He never questioned her, either, he just did as he was told. Of course, this would have been Glenn’s influence. Sadie never remembered her father being so strict when she was a kid back in Iowa, but that had changed, along with everything else, when they first came to the farm.
Sadie couldn’t help comparing herself as a kid to her much younger brother. She wasn’t a defiant child or anything, but she was never so eager to lend a hand as her brother was. There was so much to distract her as a child. The internet. Playing with her friends. Her favorite TV shows. All things of the past; all things that her brother had never experienced. Perhaps someday he’d have friends…but Sadie couldn’t think of a viable scenario where that would happen.
When Sadie went back into the house, Christian was at the counter, wiping his eyes as he completed his chore. “I’d prefer that he not use knives,” Amelia said without looking up from her shopping list.
“He’s okay. Right, Chris?”
“Yeah,” Christian agreed. “I can do it, Mommy.”
“Okay,” Amelia said. “Be careful.”
“You’re slicing them a little thick there,” Sadie observed as she put the bucket on the stove. “Make sure you chop them up into smaller bits, okay?” Even as she critiqued him, she kept her tone light.
“Okay, Sadie,” Christian said.
It took a half-hour to prepare a meal that, in another life, would have taken a fraction of the time. Sadie let the eggs cool in a small amount of water she hadn’t boiled. The water in the bowl looked perfectly clear, safe to drink, and Sadie even picked up the bowl and took a tentative sip. It tasted fine. But even if the extra boiling was an unnecessary precaution, Sadie figured it was better to err on the safe side. That was something else Glenn taught her.
While Sadie had Christian peel the eggs, putting aside the shells for the compost pile, she sat down with her lover at the table. Amelia was still going over her list. Sadie smiled. “Okay, let’s see,” she said, holding out her hand for the note pad. Amelia always stressed over the shopping list, certain she wasn’t thinking of something important. She seemed to forget every month that, one way or another, Sadie found a way to get them what they needed, and often more.
“Rice and beans should be no problem,” Sadie said as she looked over the list. “Pasta, though…”
Amelia sighed. “I miss that homemade pasta you used to get.”
“Yeah,” Sadie agreed. One of the Charles family’s neighbors would trade homemade pasta for goods, but that lady and her family were gone. The Charles family either didn’t know, or wouldn’t say, what happened to them.
“Even the stuff that comes in boxes would be okay,” Amelia said. “I still have a bunch of those canned tomatoes you got back in April.” Amelia seemed to have the entire contents of their pantry memorized. As a matter of fact, Sadie knew that her lover took inventory on almost a daily basis. Her biggest worry was one she’d never had to think about as a teenager from an upper-middle class family in California: making sure they had enough to eat.
“I’ll do what I can,” Sadie promised. She looked at the list again. “Candles? We have plenty of candles.”
“I mean, like, the little birthday candles,” Amelia said. She shrugged. “I know it’s a long shot. But it’d be nice to have real candles for Christian’s birthday cake, don’t you think?”
Sadie merely nodded. It used to annoy her, that Amelia would insist on celebrating her son’s birthday every year. Was there any real point to birthdays anymore? It was just one more way to mark how much time had passed since the world fell apart. But she understood now. It was nice to feel special, even in such a simple way.
When Christian came back in, he washed his hands in the boiled water Sadie hadn’t used while his sister chopped the eggs and tossed them into the salad. She added some of the vinaigrette that Amelia made and bottled herself. Their simple meal was completed with a can of peaches, split between the three of them.
Glenn used to insist that they pray at every meal. They’d prayed often in their previous life, of course, as Glenn was a former minister and a professor of theology. But since they’d come to the farm years ago, he’d have bouts of religious fanaticism, insisting that they were only alive, and in such a safe place, by the grace of God. One time, when Sadie was a teenager, she insisted that God didn’t care about them, that He was dead. Glenn slapped her, hard; it was the only time he ever hit her. When he later apologized, she refused to accept it. He only apologized because Amelia was upset.
Sadie’s anger at that time was more towards her father than God, to whom she’d grown indifferent. So they did not pray as they tucked into their meal. Sadie hadn’t really prayed, genuinely, since the night her father hit her. The food they shared was gotten through their own efforts alone. Fuck God.
“Mommy,” Christian said at one point, “Can I go to town with Sadie sometime this winter?”
Amelia nearly dropped her fork into her bowl. She looked horrified at the thought. “Uh…”
“It’s a lot safer then,” Sadie said. “I’ve never seen one in the cold months.” This wasn’t entirely true, but the few she’d seen in winter were frozen and harmless. The first time she saw one, since the night her mother died, it was lying face-down by the side of the road to La Ronge. Glenn pulled over and took his shovel from the bed of the truck. Sadie, only 11 years old, watched her father smash the creature’s head in. Now, it would be harmless when it thawed, too.
“We could all go,” Christian suggested cheerfully. Amelia merely shook her head at this idea. She hadn’t left the farm at all since coming there years ago.
“Sadie and I will…we’ll talk about it,” Amelia managed, and with that, the subject was closed. Sadie glanced at her little brother, and he gave her a confused look. She threw him a little wink, and he smiled and went back to his dinner.
Amelia was pretty quiet for the rest of the meal. Sadie offered to wash up, and she stuck the dishes in the bucket, the same one her brother washed up in. She soaped up a rag. “Christian, go out and mix up the compost, please,” Sadie heard Amelia say.
“I just did, Mommy,” Christian reminded her.
“Oh. Then…go find something to do, okay? Go outside for a bit before it gets dark.” In northern Saskatchewan, even in early autumn, the days ended early. Sadie heard the kitchen door shut as Christian obeyed his mother and went out to the yard.
“Don’t be upset,” Sadie called over from the sink. “He’s curious.”
“I’m not upset,” Amelia insisted. “It’s just…I don’t like the thought of him…”
“I know,” Sadie said. “I think I would like him to come along sometime, though. I think it’d be good for him.” Amelia said nothing in response to this, and Sadie let the subject drop. She had a few months to wear her lover down on this. She’d take her time. Sadie knew it wasn’t so much the dead monsters that Amelia worried about, but the ones who were still living. She had good reason to worry.
Sadie put the dishes in the rack to dry, and dumped the bucket in the yard again. She saw her brother bouncing the old basketball by the garage. The old hoop, there since before Sadie and Glenn came
to the farm, was only a rim, the net long gone. The basketball’s leather was coming loose in thin strips, and Sadie no longer bothered trying to fix it, as any kind of adhesive was impossible to come by. But the kid had a hoop and a ball, and it was much better than nothing. Sadie left him to his game and went back inside.
Amelia was still at the table, looking over the list again. “We must be doing okay on batteries,” Sadie observed as she joined her. “You didn’t add them this time.”
“I knew I forgot something!” Amelia cried, and she took out her pen and added batteries to the list. That was a hit-and-miss sort of item. The only thing they really used batteries for were the flashlights, and the old boom box. There weren’t many stations to listen to, but they could often pick up one out of Winnipeg on the AM frequency. They had a constantly rotating lineup of DJs, and Sadie hated to think what happened to the ones who’d come before them. In the cities, Sadie figured, it was easier to get supplies…and it was also easier to die.
They rationed their use of the radio, and they still had a couple of packs of AA-batteries from Sadie’s last trip to La Ronge. Still, if Sadie was able to get them, she would. They simply couldn’t do without batteries. They couldn’t do without their flashlights, of course. And when the radio station played the music of a former life…well, it was a nice relief. A chance to forget things for a while.
Sadie and Amelia went to the living room, and Sadie turned on the radio. The DJ this evening was a young man, probably close in age to Sadie and Amelia, and he wasn’t all that loquacious. He played music that Sadie remembered from her childhood, pop and rock songs, and as Amelia hummed along to the ones she knew, Sadie put her head on her lover’s shoulder and closed her eyes.
Chapter Two
Sadie was 11 when Amelia first came to the farm. She and her father had been on the farm for almost three years, and Sadie only left the walled-in property once with her father, on a trip to La Ronge that previous winter. He’d left that spring morning with a different intention, planning to drive out west for a bit, searching the small villages and hamlets for abandoned homes, planning to loot them and get whatever might be of use. Sadie never came along for these trips, and now that she’d become the provider of the family, she didn’t bother looking for supplies this way. By now, every abandoned house would have been searched long ago. It wasn’t worth the effort anymore.
In Another Life Page 2