by Kirk Adams
“So,” the gray-haired delegate said, “you’re saying marriage is an individual contract?”
“Exactly,” Karla answered. “Nothing more. And there’s no general obligation to marry, to procreate, or even to love.”
“Or divorce,” Charles added.
“Or anything,” Karla said. “There are no obligations whatsoever regarding marriage. No natural roles of the sexes. No innate morality. No fundamental responsibilities beyond the will of two people made together. Do we agree on that?”
Everyone did.
“Traditional monogamy,” Karla continued, “assumed marriage was an institution ordained—by God, man, nature, or whatever—for exclusive sexual gratification, protective child custody, and obligatory assistance. Isn’t that true?”
The councilpersons agreed it was.
“But,” Karla said, sitting up straighter in her chair and leaning forward ever so slight as she spoke with a studied voice, “such purposes have no place among us. Not one of us restricts sexual activity to marriage; we all believe children should be communally raised; and every one of us lives by a social egalitarianism that condemns the stockpiling of provisions in the capitalist household. To be frank, marriage—that is, the real marriage of the past—is a type of bondage as historically obsolete as indentured servitude. So why continue the hypocrisy?”
The northern blonde raised her hand. “What about love?” she asked.
“Are you proposing marriage and love are inseparable?” Charles asked.
“No,” the woman said, “only that love leads to marriage as kisses lead to sexual intercourse.”
“I agree with the latter,” Charles said, “but not the former. Is love less real for remaining free? Don’t couples fall in love before they speak of marrying and don’t they part ways when they fall out of love?”
“Doesn’t love crave marriage like sex demands climax?” the blond northerner asked.
“Ask your typical housewife about either one of those propositions,” the gray-haired delegate from the south village said with a laugh, “and you’d be surprised at her answer.”
Everyone laughed.
“Love,” Karla said, “does desire completion. You’re right to say sex started needs to be finished or it leads to frustration. But do you mean to say couples should never break up? Do you mean to restrict divorce? Do you think that love without marriage is romantic frustration?”
“No,” the blonde said, “I mean only that the desire for marriage is as real as the desire for sex.”
“I’ve never wanted to marry and I’m no virgin,” the gray-haired woman said, “and I haven’t been since I turned fourteen.”
“Even if your point is granted,” Karla said, ignoring the interruption, “I don’t know what good marriage does. Isn’t love the goal of the relationship?”
The blonde pushed her chair from the table. “Doesn’t marriage prove love?”
“What kind of love can be proved by marriage?” Charles objected.
“A love that gives itself totally,” the blonde said. “That surrenders itself for the other. That promises loyalty in sickness and health, good and bad, thick and thin.”
“But now,” Karla said, a more insistent tone to her voice, “you’re making marriage obligatory.”
“And pretentious,” Charles said, “since marriage is a promise, not a power. A man can pretend to swear fidelity or loyalty or even to lasso the moon, but he can’t really do it. Love lives only as long as a couple chooses to love. If they change their minds, old oaths become irrelevant.”
“I understand,” the blonde persisted, “that a lifetime isn’t lived in a day. Children know that. What I’m saying is that it’s worth promising to try.”
“To try what?” Karla asked.
“To try to love.”
“But what exactly is love?”
“Kindness and goodness and loyalty.”
“No,” the gray-haired delegate now said. “This takes us back to character. Back to morality and obligation. It’s unconstitutional.”
For the first time, Dr. Graves entered the conversation. “I’m not sure I understand the unconstitutionality of love as a self-chosen obligation.”
“Article II of the charter,” the gray-haired councilor said, “mandates the exercising of individual free choices and Article IV guarantees the right to free association and sexual preference.”
“Yes,” the doctor said, “but ...”
“But,” the gray-hair cut him short, “you want to deny our constitutional rights?”
“No,” the doctor now said, his voice now a little louder, “but the freedom of association includes the right to marry.”
“As long as it’s freely made,” the gray hair continued, “and doesn’t restrict other freedoms such as sexual preference and conscience.”
“Granted.”
“Which marriage does if it becomes a legal obligation. Authority is transferred from the wishes and desires of the individual man or woman to a so-called covenant made between two people that brings sanctions if broken.”
“But what if they freely made their promises?” the doctor asked.
“And what if they promise to eat their children?” the southern woman said. “Or what if a black woman willingly sells herself as a slave?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“As is every illegal promise.”
“Enough! Stop it!” Karla now stood. “Everyone take a breath and settle down. We’re not so far apart. No one wants to impose Christian monogamy and no one wants to prohibit couples from calling themselves married if they so choose. Agreed?”
Most of the councilpersons nodded—though the gray-haired southern delegate sat stone-faced.
“In any case,” Karla said, “we’ll never get complete consensus here or anywhere else. Maggie, what’s the minimum we have to achieve?”
Karla turned to Maggie, the gray-haired woman, who thought about the matter for a minute before answering.
“Women,” Maggie said, “must not be enslaved by marriage. There must be freedom for every woman to decide whether to marry and how to be married. No social pressure, no moral restraints, no legal persecution. Marriage can’t be a type of living death in which a woman gives her life for the sake of someone else.”
Karla turned to the blonde. “Naomi?”
“Marriage,” the tall blonde from the north replied, “should be permitted if desired. Individuals must be free to choose. And although the law places no bonds upon them, they must be allowed to make their own rules—even to swear loyalty and fidelity till death do us part.”
Karla went around the room, asking each delegate the same question. Charles asked that the rules of marriage made by couples be respected even when unorthodox and the twice-divorced Dr. Graves demanded that ending a marriage be uncomplicated and inexpensive. The northern blonde also requested marriage be clearly defined by law and its rules be self-evident. For the next hour, everyone shared thoughts regarding which individual rights to safeguard and how to do so. There was little disagreement among them regarding fundamental principles—though discussion was more heated regarding implementation.
During afternoon recess, Karla and Charles worked out a new agenda and new proposals, reconvening Executive Council after dinner as Karla opened the late session with a word of thanks.
“I know,” Karla said, “tempers flared earlier today. They ought to. This is a tough issue that lays bare the human heart. Yet, Charles and I have drafted a law that we believe should withstand constitutional scrutiny, the public will, and your approval.”
Charles pushed several copies of a short memo to the middle of the table. Each councilperson took a copy and read it silently. Five minutes later, the gray-hair proposed the new law be sent to the neighborhoods as drafted and brought to a General Will of the People as soon as possible. The blonde seconded the proposal and the motion unanimously passed after another ten minutes of amplification and clarification. The text of t
he first proposed amendment to the charter read:
Proposed Amendment to The Flower of the First of May Compact
The Executive Council of the People proposes the following ordinances of marriage and sexual freedom: Inhabitants of this community will be permitted to marry as they so choose as long as marriage is freely made and be unrestricting of individual and social freedom. To that end, the following amendment to the charter is proposed:
(1) Marital and sexual relationships shall be permitted to all consenting adults of either sex. Only the public authority shall retain the right to set the age of sexual emancipation.
(2) The contract of marriage is strictly a private association made between two individuals for as long as both desire to continue in the relationship.
(3) Every citizen has a right to her or his own body, and shall not be obligated either to unite with or separate from another person, except by his or her own choice.
(4) No legal or social discrimination shall be attached to any person on the basis of marital status, gender self-construction, or sexual orientation.
(5) No individual may privately contract a marriage in such a fashion as to subvert the aforesaid public principles of marital and sexual union.
(6) Marriages made in the old world are hereby considered unbinding and undone following the fourteenth day after the ratification of this amendment—unless explicitly and publicly confirmed via remarriage ceremony, declaration, or vows. No person freed from a previous marriage shall suffer any penalty or restriction.
(7) Violators of this law of marriage will be brought before the Executive Council for appropriate action.
(8) This amendment shall be put into immediate and full legal effect upon ratification by the General Will of the People of the State of Paradise.
(9) Existing marriages annulled by this decree shall not be permitted renewal until another twenty-eight days have passed after dissolution.
(10) The General Will of the People is hereby called together the second Sunday following nomination of this proposal to vote whether or not to ratify this ordinance of marriage.
A round of applause went up for Karla and Charles after the final vote polled. Delegates were especially pleased that the proposed public nature of marriage completely preserved the private realm of choice without creating burdensome obligations such as the duty to maintain a spouse or uphold chastity. Dr. Graves expressed doubts about annulling previous marriages (pointing out that international law upheld the legality of marriages made in foreign lands), but other delegates soon convinced him that requiring couples to remarry was the most effective way to preserve existing marriages by placing them under the direct authority of the State of Paradise; the northern blonde even thought the renewing of vows seemed romantic. Charles clinched the debate by noting such laws were absolutely necessary since there were presently no courts to uphold or void previous contracts. That is, without the new law there could be neither marriage nor divorce on the island.
Karla made a few formatting corrections before printing copies of the proposed amendment for delegates to distribute in their home villages. Afterwards, pineapple sour whiskeys were served in coconut husks and all five delegates drank late into the night—soon joined by New Plymouth’s entire professional staff. The gray-haired woman retired to an empty storage tent and the northern blonde shared a sleeping bag with one of the staff. Dr. Graves passed out beneath a palm tree after becoming too drunk to walk home and Charles sat at the campfire with his arm around Karla’s shoulder, his hand nestled around her breast. After everyone else retired, Karla stood.
“I have something to show you,” Karla said as she led Charles to a hospital tent. “I need a doctor.”
“Will a Doctor of Sociology do?”
“You tell me.”
Charles smiled as soon as he stepped inside and saw the full-size mattress set square on a steel-framed bed. An hour later, both he and Karla finally fell asleep—smelling of whiskey and covered with a dirty blanket.
13
Morning and Sickness
Ursula woke at dawn, her stomach queasy and thoughts swimming. When she nudged Sean, he just pulled the sheet over his shoulders, so she tried to sit up—despite the fact that movement made her stomach churn. Turning in search of a bucket, she saw a plastic bag and reached over Sean to grab it just as her stomach exploded.
Most of the camp heard the shouting from the tent.
“Aaaaahhhhh,” Sean yelled. “Ursula, what the hell? Nasty.”
Warm vomit dripped from the back of Sean’s neck as he scampered outside. After a moment of shock, he flung a sticky handful of brown bile from his hair and turned toward the tent in noticeable anger—unhinged and undressed alike.
“Damn it, Ursula,” Sean yelled toward Ursula, who remained in the nylon tent. “This shit is disgusting. I’m going to shower.”
While Sean found a dried towel and damp shorts hanging from a tent guideline and jogged to the stream, Tiffany hurried to the tent—where she grabbed a torn rag strung from one of the tent’s guidelines and crawled inside to sop up the watery vomit. Though the stench of the morning’s sickness threatened to overwhelm her for a moment, she regained composure with a breath of fresh air and soon finished the task (it wasn’t her first experience cleaning vomit)—even pulling Sean’s sleeping roll from the tent and blotting up remaining bits of half-digested banana strewn across the nylon floor. Twenty minutes later, she filled an empty bucket with soapy water, scrubbed the last traces of Ursula’s morning sickness, and wiped Sean’s sleeping bag.
After a spray of perfume deodorized the tent, Tiffany sat beside Ursula—whose eyes were swollen from crying and cheeks were covered with tears and snot.
“I’m a pig. I’m so disgusting. I’m ...”
Tiffany finished the sentence. “Pregnant.”
“I am,” Ursula said as she again wailed—her lips curled and her cheeks dimpled as she sobbed. “Where’d Sean go?”
“To shower.”
“He hates me,” Ursula said.
“What he hates is the taste of vomit. I suppose ...”—Tiffany stopped in mid-sentence, putting her hand over her mouth and biting her cheeks—“I’m sorry, but you should’ve seen him. Brent and I were returning from the mess tent with glasses of goat milk for the boys when we heard this hideous shriek and saw Sean come flying from your tent with bile dripping down the side of his face. I suppose Brent’s still laughing.”
Ursula stopped crying.
“Serves him right,” the pregnant woman said. “He did this to me.”
“I’ve seen men,” Tiffany said, “suffer sleep deprivation and I’ve heard of them fainting during delivery—and there are plenty of stories of sympathetic labor pains—but I’ve never even imagined one getting his due for morning sickness. You’ve just scored a point for the women’s team.”
Ursula laughed and burst into tears at the same time. “Don’t make me laugh,” she groaned. “It makes me sick.”
Tiffany fluffed the pillow beneath Ursula’s head, then replaced the bucket of dirty water with clean and walked to the mess tent to stuff a few bits of food into her pockets and retrieve a fresh towel (and leave dirty sheets for Linh to clean). Soon, she returned to Ursula’s tent to comfort the young woman with a wet rag for the pregnant woman’s forehead and pulled a packet of American-made crackers from her pocket—placing the saltines in Ursula’s hand.
“Welcome,” Tiffany said, “to the wonderful world of pregnancy.”
Ursula nibbled a single cracker for fifteen minutes.
Soon after receiving vomit-stained linen from Tiffany, Linh washed them in the Pishon River just a short distance downstream of the bridge. After hanging sheets and towels to dry, she returned to the mess tent and explained to Kit and Alan that Ursula was too sick to work.
Alan asked why.
“She’s nauseous,” Linh said.
“If she’s hung over,” Alan said with a scowl, “she can drag her sorry ass out to pitch in.�
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“Chill,” Linh retorted, “she’s sick with female problems. She couldn’t look at beer, let alone drink it.”
“I’ll bet,” Alan said.
Linh didn’t respond and Kit remained quiet.
“Who’s going to take her place?” Alan asked after a moment.
“Ask Lisa,” Linh answered, “she’s in charge.”
“Where’s she at?”
Linh shrugged.
“She needs to fix this now,” Alan said.
“For goodness sake,” Linh shook her head, “find her yourself. My children wouldn’t whine so much.”
Alan steeled his eyes, but said nothing as he stomped toward the beach. Only when he was beyond earshot did Linh pick up a slice of bread and move closer to Kit as she lowered her voice.
“What a crybaby.”
Kit said nothing.
“Alan, I mean,” Linh explained.
“He’s nice enough to me.”
“Then you’re the only one.”
“What’s the problem?”
“He’s too hard with Ursula.”
“I haven’t noticed it,” Kit said.
“It’s just been since she’s become ill.”
“She’s been down a lot,” Kit said. “What’s wrong?”
“She can’t clear wood from the fields,” Linh replied. “She can’t even stand up.”
“Should we send for a doctor?”
“Maybe a gynecologist,” Linh said, “or an obstetrician.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Kit said with a smile. “Will she and Sean marry? I assume Sean ...”
“He is and I don’t know if they will,” Linh said. “In fact he doesn’t know his good fortune. Ursula needs to tell him. I guess I shouldn’t have said anything, so please don’t spread the news yet.”
“It’s good news in any case,” Kit said. “A baby to the village. I’m already excited.”
Linh looked at Kit—who was dressed in an oversized shirt and torn shorts. The material was worn thin, stretched from wear and loose from the loss of weight. It looked almost like a maternity blouse as it ballooned around Kit’s chest and waist.