Left on Paradise
Page 43
“I’d like to volunteer,” Deidra shouted as she glared at her former husband.
“I’ll need to make plans,” Dr. Morales said, “before we can finalize arrangements. Tomorrow I sail for Roanoke Island to speak with the chief. Who knows ...”
“Eeeehhh.”
The anthropologist’s sentence was cut short by a commotion as a middle-aged woman—who stood near the open door of the longhouse—turned red-faced from embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” the middle-aged woman explained. “A couple of teenagers in there are ...”
Everyone laughed as word circulated through the assembly what had occurred. Every neck stretched to see who was involved and an awkward silence fell over the crowd as a blond-haired and blue-eyed boy of fifteen (with narrow shoulders and skinny arms) emerged from the building grinning—soon followed by a girl his age who also had blond hair and blue eyes. The girl’s face was flush and she held a torn shirt across her smooth chest and narrow shoulders. Both teenagers showed the same big-toothed smile.
“Oh lord,” a woman’s voice cried out, “it’s the Epstein twins.”
The crowd hushed and the girl blushed as the boy pulled her close with an arm held around her back—his fingers cradled beneath her breast.
“C’mon sis,” the youth said, “forget her. She’s a bigot.”
Another voice bellowed through the crowds, this one a deep and fierce one belonging to an older man. “Get your hands off your sister!”
“It’s a free country, pops,” the boy said. “We can do as we please.”
Now the youth leaned into the girl and kissed her lips as the older man pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the skinny-armed boy and pulled him away from the girl.
“You’re as free,” the man shouted, “as your father lets you be and I told you to keep your paws off your sister.”
The boy squirmed free. “She may be your daughter,” he declared, speaking with a loud, clear voice, “but she’s going to be my wife.”
“You can’t marry your own sister,” the father screamed, fury in his face and rage in his voice.
“It’s not against the rules,” the boy yelled back, now turning his face toward the assembly, “and we love each other. So in the presence of these witnesses, I declare my sister is my wife.”
“And I declare before these people,” the girl vowed, “my brother is my husband.”
“To hell with both of you,” their father stammered, “take her and be damned. You’re almost adults and I can’t stop you from doing what you please, but not under my roof. Never under my roof. Your mother and I have suffered enough from your shenanigans.”
Then the man turned to his fellow islanders.
“Their mother and I,” the man declared with an exasperated tone, “have tried to keep them from each other since we came here, but we can’t do anything about this mess since the law on marriage was passed. They insist they have rights. I want you to transfer them to another neighborhood since I’m not about to watch my own children make out. Not without wringing their scrawny necks like chickens. How the hell did I become father-in-law to my own son and daughter?”
The crowd was stunned and no one spoke—though several young people giggled before being stared down by their elders. After a long pause, Heidi climbed back to the podium and assessed the situation.
“Uhhh ... we can arrange a transfer,” Heidi said as she looked around until her eyes fixed on those of Ryan. “Would the west neighborhood work?”
Before Ryan could answer, Linh and Tiffany jumped to their feet shouting—with Kit following their lead.
“Not with us,” Linh yelled.
“No way,” Tiffany said.
“It’s wicked,” Kit shouted.
When someone from the east village shouted that the western women were bigots, Kit turned toward the voice.
“Not one of you,” Kit declared, “can accuse me of being a bigot. Hollywood’s leading gays were among my friends and I never held it against a man the number of women he slept with. Consenting adults was my mantra even when my own personal choices seemed a bit more straight-laced. Nevertheless, there has to be a line drawn somewhere, even if it’s only in the sand. These children—and I mean children—are brother and sister. If we won’t stop them from marrying, then we won’t stop anyone or anything at anytime. No civilization has ever allowed incest. It’s the one universal taboo and we are in danger of scandalizing the entire world and becoming the absolute relativists the religious right accused us of being. We’ll disgrace our cause forever.”
“Actually,” Dr. Morales declared as he beckoned for the assembly to listen, “it’s not perfectly clear that incest is a universal taboo—only that nineteenth-century scholars thought it so. However, we now know that earlier thinkers were merely attempting to defend cultural relativism against charges it would invite moral anarchy stemming from the dismantlement of religious mores. For that reason, they posited that human society has its own internal logic which regulates relationships far more effectively than legal codes or natural law or transcendent ideals.”
“So,” Kit said with an angry frown, “we shouldn’t have rules against perversion?”
“Exactly,” Dr. Morales said, “we all know that Nancy Reagan’s ‘Just Say No’ approach to drugs and sex is a waste of time.”
“Every culture forbids incest,” Kit said.
“In fact,” Dr. Morales continued, “the taboo against incest isn’t universal: Egyptian pharaohs married their sisters and were considered all the more godlike for doing so.”
“So,” Kit asked, with noticeable sarcasm to her voice, “we should practice incest as religious piety?”
“It is ironic.”
“And,” Kit continued, “this marriage represents some kind of great spiritual awakening?”
“I didn’t say I accept the legitimacy of pious incest. Only it occurs.”
“I don’t understand. Is incest acceptable or not?”
“Look at it this way,” the anthropologist replied. “Human animals have a biological imperative to mate. So do birds and bees and bats and bears. Now, dogs and cats sometimes mate with siblings or parents. Nature doesn’t stop them.”
A collective groan came from the islanders.
“That’s probably,” Kit said, “because they don’t know what a mother or a father is.”
“That’s not true. Even a kitten knows whose teat to suck.”
“Exactly,” Kit said, “it goes to its own mother. Not to a father or a sister or a brother. Nature understands right relationships.”
“A chimpanzee,” Dr. Morales explained, “mates with any fertile female in its troop—mother or sister or daughter.”
“So parents should mate with their children?”
“Not before sexual maturity.”
“What if a father really desired his teenaged daughter? What should he do? What should we do?”
“That’s not likely to happen.”
“But if it did? What then?”
“Well,” Dr. Morales said after a short pause, “I guess he’d need to deny those particular urges.”
“You mean he should just say no?”
The anthropologist blushed.
“On what grounds,” Kit said, “should a man—or woman, for that matter—just say no to incest?”
“On social grounds.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning,” Dr. Morales said, “anti-social behavior that is contrary to progressive mores.”
“It sounds like you want us just to keep from openly scandalous behavior?” Kit said.
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“What if there was no scandal in incest?”
“In that case,” the anthropologist said, “there’d be no reason to deny the expression of natural biological impulses.”
“So,” Kit paused to think through her words, “you’re saying that biology is destiny? That every sexual desire is acceptable?”
“Are you,” Kit asked, “saying every perverse itch ought to be scratched?”
“What I’m saying,” the anthropologist said, his tone clearly exasperated, “is there are no divine laws or transcendent ethics that restrict human behavior. No rules of any sort exist and we have no right to tell others what to do. That’s the path of public stockades and private suffering. It’s the way of the Puritans and pilgrims and ...”
“Everyone who hates indecency.”
“You still don’t understand. Each person must make his or her own values. That’s what it means to be human. What’s inhuman is to force one person’s preference on others—unless it can be objectively verified as true or real or natural. And the prohibition against incest fails on all three grounds: there’s no final truth that condemns it; it certainly exists among real people; and nature doesn’t stop it.”
“Nature doesn’t stop a lot of gross, disgusting things,” Kit said. “That doesn’t mean we should sit in our own ... excrement.”
“I don’t consider gross a precise term of the social sciences.”
“And I don’t consider incest a good custom. It’s both wrong and unhealthy.”
“There’s no real difference between right and wrong,” Dr. Morales explained, “and there’s nothing unhealthy about sleeping with an aunt or sister or mother.”
“Wait a minute,” Dr. Graves said as he joined the discussion. “This is where you and I part company since there are real genetic consequences to the pairing of close relatives. We’re all educated and I need not belabor the point. On eugenic grounds, I’d request that this marriage be forbidden.”
A round of light applause broke out and the anthropologist thought about the problem before answering.
“I agree with you,” Dr. Morales said, “regarding the genetic risks; but what if the boy will accept a vasectomy? Would there be any health risks to the couple themselves?”
“That’s,” the doctor said as he shook his head, “a rather permanent solution for such a young man.”
“So is celibacy.”
“It’s not quite so permanent.”
“I don’t care to stand here all night,” a woman shouted, “while you people debate ethical niceties. It’s getting late. Give us something to vote upon so we can leave.”
“I agree,” Heidi said. “The issues are clear and we need to make some decisions. First, we need to determine whether or not brothers and sisters will be allowed to marry and then we can decide what to do with this particular problem. The stakes are the following: if we outlaw sibling marriages we’ll need to dissolve this marriage and force this couple apart. That means they live in different villages and we’ll need to punish them if they defy our vote by sneaking into the forest to engage in carnal relations. On the other hand, if we permit sibling marriages, these teenagers must be absolutely allowed to live as husband and wife—as legitimate as any other. I move we vote on the legality of sibling marriage. All those in favor say yea.”
A loud yea came from the crowd.
“All those against say nay.”
An equally loud nay was muttered.
Heidi lost no time in moving to the next stage. “We’ll vote by hands,” she announced. “Those in favor of permitting sibling marriages raise your right hand.”
Hands went up and a count was made. Thirty residents cast votes for sibling marriage, mostly from the east and north neighborhoods.
“All those for outlawing sibling marriages raise your right hand.”
This time only twenty-six hands were raised, mostly westerners and southerners. Many residents didn’t vote.
“Sibling marriage is legalized.”
Groans of dismay came from the west neighborhood while cheering rang from the east. The northerners showed little reaction and the southerners were divided.
“Since sibling marriage,” Heidi declared, “will be permitted, I suggest we require genetic counseling for relatives who wish to marry.”
Heidi’s proposal was adopted and the assembly decided the young newlyweds should live with the northerners—though they were told that their marriage would be legally recognized only after they had received birth control guidance and genetic counseling from Dr. Graves. The assembly awarded them a supply of condoms for a wedding gift.
Following the vote, the father to both bride and groom alike walked home in dismay while his distraught wife scavenged a bottle of scotch and drank herself into a few hours of anguished bliss.
Later in the evening, several women of the west neighborhood sat around the campfire as they drank rum and pineapple juice. Only Ursula abstained from alcohol.
“It’s a scandal,” Kit said. “Can’t we stand for anything?”
“Only,” Heather said with a shrug, “when we’re not against something else.”
“Like a child who can’t be told no.”
“It’s all politics,” Linh said. “The east villagers were afraid a moral stand would turn against their lifestyle and the northerners feared we someday might outlaw their dope.”
“If word leaks out,” Kit said, “we’ll be shamed before the entire world.”
“I’m ashamed already,” Heather whispered.
“Brent and I are leaving,” Tiffany said, “our boys aren’t going to be exposed to open incest.”
“Viet says the same,” Linh added, “he said we’re taking the next boat home.”
“I just hope I’m not carrying twins,” Ursula joked.
“With my parents,” Heather said, “it makes me glad to be an only child.”
“At least,” Kit said, “you’ve kept your sense of humor.”
“We foundlings are scrappers and survivors.”
Now the other women laughed.
“Speaking of losing and finding,” Heather said, “do you realize I’ve managed utterly to lose my innocence without finding a man? Some tropical paradise this has proved to be.”
“You’ve done well,” Ursula said, “much better than I have.”
“If you leave,” Heather said as she looked to Tiffany and Linh, “so will I. This is the nicest neighborhood on the island. I can’t bear the thought of living with any of the others.”
“We have our own problems,” Kit said.
“But most of you are nice.”
“So are many of the others,” Kit added. “The quiet ones.”
“A toast to nice neighbors,” Linh said as the women raised their drinks.
“Speaking of neighbors,” Heather said, “did I tell you Dr. Morales invited me to visit the natives?”
“I’ll bet,” Kit said with a bitter sneer to her voice, “they don’t marry brothers and sisters.”
Everyone laughed.
“Of course not,” Tiffany said, “they have children and no parent would ever permit such an indecency. It’s the childless who have such harebrained ideas.”
Kit looked away.
“I’m sorry,” Tiffany apologized. “You spoke well today. For all of us.”
Kit said nothing.
“I’m serious,” Tiffany blushed. “Brent and I would want you to raise our children if anything happened to us.”
“Ryan wouldn’t want children.”
“That’s his loss,” Tiffany said, “you’d make a great mom. You’re sweet and strong—and kids love you. If anything happened to us on this island, we hope you’d be the one to raise our children. To get them back home.”
Kit looked into her drink. “That’s kind of you to say.”
“Viet and I feel the same,” Linh added, “and sometimes I think my kids like you better than me. They even ask me to dress more like you.”
“Mine,” Tiffany said, “ask me to pretend to be her. They call me Aunt Kit.”
“I like those kids,” Kit whispered.
“I just hope they don’t abandon us for you,” Tiffany said.
“In Paradise,” Heather quipped, “such things have been known to happen.”
“I feel the same way,” Ursula joined in, “when my baby takes his first look at Kit’s chest, I’m afraid he’ll prefer hill country over flat lands.”
All five women roared with laughter.
“It’s all show,” Kit said. “I’d give anything to nurse a baby just once.”
“When’s Ryan going to marry you?” Ursula asked after a time.
“I’m not sure he will. We’ve drifted apart.”
“Don’t you want him to?”
“I suppose,” Kit said, “but I’m tired of waiting for a proposal from my own husband.”
“If I were you,” Tiffany said, “I’d just ask him.”
“If you were her,” Ursula said, “you’d just tell him.”
“Don’t ask,” Kit said, “don’t tell. That’s my motto.”
The banter continued several minutes more as the women finished their drinks and the fire burned down. Linh and Tiffany were the first to retire, followed by Ursula and Heather. Kit remained at the fire another hour and only after its coals were covered with gray ash and the night air had chilled did she stumble through the dark toward her tent. Though she retired late, she was restless and easily distracted by the noises of the forest.
It was still dark when the fly unzipped on Ryan’s tent and Maria crawled in. Ryan opened his eyes and smiled—love was coming before the first glint of dawn. It would be a good day.
“It’s nice to see you so early,” Ryan whispered.
Maria put a finger to her lips and told Ryan to be still while she lit a candle. She pointed to her grass skirt. “You like it?”
“The same one?”
“I sewed this one myself. For you.”
“I like it.”
“This is my best shirt,” Maria said.
Ryan looked at the shirt. Even through the flickering candlelight he saw the round lift of her breasts and the glow of golden skin through thin cotton.
“I like that even better.”
“I’m glad,” Maria said. “It’s my wedding ensemble.”