“Vasura is a world apart.” And with that, she released her arm and bounced away. “Aren’t you hungry?”
11
They had just finished eating their breakfast, a simple fare of oatmeal and sweetened milk, when Zena entered the cafeteria. Eyes on the crowd, she scanned the big hall until she spotted them. She wasn’t alone. A tired-looking Rane was with her.
“Doctor!” Marie felt relieved at seeing Rane’s familiar face and waved for them to come sit at their table.
The woman smiled when she saw her and made a beeline toward them. “Ready to start your training again?” Something was wrong. Although she looked genuinely happy to see Marie, her movements were stiff and her voice restrained.
“When can I start?” She stood, tray in hand, ready to go.
“Now?” Rane tried to laugh, but her face didn’t respond. Deep lines made her look older and bitter.
“I guess you worked it out with Valery.” Nora’s shoulders lowered in defeat.
Marie put a hand on Nora’s. “I’ll come visit you at your place.”
“Are you sure?” The girl’s eyes shot up.
She touched her heart. “Promise.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” Marie surprised herself by meaning it. In the short time she had spent with Nora, she had come to regard her as a possible friend. Another of the girl’s uncomfortable, intimate hugs followed, and then she left with the nurse and the doctor.
“Are you okay?” she asked Rane as soon as they were out of the cafeteria, walking toward her new job. Zena was in a hurry and had them at a brisk pace.
Rane paused to catch her breath. “The branding got infected and I’m feeling weak, but nothing that can’t be solved.”
Zena realized they weren’t behind her and walked back to meet them halfway. “Can you work?” She gave the doctor a thorough look.
“That woman needs my help. I’ll rest later and now Marie’s here to give me a hand. We make a good team, don’t we?” She turned to Marie, who nodded.
“Good thing I was assigned to infirmary duties for the next trimester then. I can give the two of you a hand. You don’t look well, either of you. And our patient is ready to give birth as we speak.” Zena sped up and they followed, trying to keep up with her brisk pace.
Marie wanted to ask what woman they were talking about, but her curiosity was satisfied a few minutes later when they reached the infirmary. At the center of the main hub and not far from the Goddess of Vasura’s Fields—even thinking of the name made her feel she had just cursed—there was one of the fields’ infirmaries that took care of all the people working there. She soon discovered that women and men had separated infirmaries, which somehow struck her odd, given what she had seen so far of the place. Or maybe, despite what everybody wanted her to believe, things at the waste plant did follow Ginecean society rules after all. Either way, Marie surprised herself again because she was slightly disappointed. As soon as they entered the room, the wailing from a woman in pain assailed her ears. At the same time, Rane and Zena ran to the bed tucked in the corner to attend to the patient.
Soon, the woman’s crying became feeble and the doctor started talking to her, even yelling at her. “It’s too soon. Don’t push! The baby isn’t ready yet. Listen to me and breathe.”
Marie heard the frantic tone in Rane’s encouragements and tried to peek at the woman. She was still crying, semi-hidden by the doctor and the nurse both leaning over her. And then she saw her. “She’s pregnant!” Both hands over her mouth, she gasped and recoiled several steps back. She had known of course. But it still shocked her.
“She’s giving birth.” The nurse didn’t turn but went to the other side of the bed to stand at the woman’s head.
Marie could feel her face on fire. She had never seen a pregnant woman before. Being in the presence of one giving birth was wrong and she couldn’t think beyond that. Not even when the nurse called her to come closer and help massaging the woman’s back. Her legs refused to move. She hadn’t felt sick at the sight of blood, she hadn’t fainted during her branding, but this was too much. She was already at the door when Rane raised her head from her patient and turned to look at her.
“You wanted to be a nurse once.” Her voice was low, but her words and their meaning carried to the end of the room where they reached Marie like a slap on her face.
She stepped farther back until she could feel the sunlight kissing her hair. “I can’t…”
“We help everybody.” The doctor’s eyes conveyed her silent judgment.
She felt the full weight of it. “What’s happening to her?” Shame and several different other sentiments suffocated her, but she did walk back into the room.
“The baby’s in the wrong position and her hips are too narrow,” Zena answered instead of the doctor, who was now crouching before the woman’s open legs.
Marie wanted to faint right there and then, but felt she had to keep walking toward the bed. It made her feel petty to be judgmental of a donor. It’s not that the woman had any say in the process. She should have pitied her instead. Then another thought popped in her mind and she wondered why fathered women were forced to be donors at Vasura. Why would they have them there at all? It’s not that they needed to populate the place with fathered women and workers. Probably they received more people than they could afford on regular basis. Then she thought of Nora and what she had said about having a mother and a father. Nothing made sense here.
“Relax and breathe. Follow my voice.” Rane had one hand over the woman’s outstretched belly and the other had disappeared under her skirts.
Marie couldn’t believe how big and round the pregnant stomach looked. She wanted to ask if it was heavy or painful to walk with that weight. But even the simple act of asking was inappropriate. Fighting years of Madame Carla’s teachings, she walked back to the bed, every step heavier and slower than the previous. What happened next was so unexpected that everything else seemed trivial.
Rane crouched lower and told the woman to breathe one more time and stay still. “I’ll try to move the baby into position. Now.”
Her words were followed by the most terrifying cry Marie had ever heard. She saw the doctor pushing the belly with one hand. After the cry came the screams, one after the other, loud. Finally, Rane murmured something and breathed in relief. “I can see the head.” She moved out of the way for a moment and Marie was at the right angle to see exactly what she was looking at.
The sight was so alien to her that for several seconds she couldn’t put together the dots. She tilted her head and then finally understood. “Oh my Goddess…” She felt suddenly queasy and almost ran away again.
Zena raised one brow. “Stay where you are. We may need you.”
Marie froze on the spot, the urge of losing her breakfast stronger than before. Meanwhile, Rane had given the woman permission to push, whatever it meant, and another frantic scream seared the air inside the infirmary. Then, silence. Something small and wet landed into the doctor’s hands, and for a moment, nothing happened. She saw the way the two women looked at each other and understood something was terribly wrong. A soft sound, like a kitten’s meow, came from the doctor’s cradling arms.
Rane turned, looking for Marie. “Mind her.” She’d already returned to the mother’s side when Marie realized she had entrusted her with the mewing being. Her left arm useless, she found herself one-handedly carrying what looked like a baby. She was the tiniest thing Marie had ever seen and it was covered in blood and completely wrinkled. The small head moved against her chest and she snuggled the baby closer to her, immediately worried she was cold. “What’s happening?” Apart from the small noises coming from the baby, nobody uttered a word. The moment stretched and no answer was given. Without realizing, Marie had started rocking the baby ever so slowly.
“Somebody tell me what’s happening.” If the screaming and the crying had been terrifying, the silence was oppressive. Rane and Zena
were working around the woman, one securing an IV to her limp arm, the other checking her pulse.
“They won’t let anything happen to your mom. Don’t worry.” She said this and other nonsense while cradling the baby, not sure why she felt the need to do so. Her eyes remained glued to the scene unfolding before her, hoping somebody would clue her in.
Finally, a hoarse voice asked, “Where’s my baby?”
Marie couldn’t help but weep at the question.
Rane turned and beckoned her closer. “It’s a girl.” She took the baby from Marie’s awkward embrace and gently deposited her in her mother’s trembling hands.
The woman’s eyes lit the moment she saw her baby. “She’s so beautiful.”
A few hours later, when both mother and baby were officially out of danger and Rane found her way to a stretcher, Marie and Zena walked outside to take a break.
Sitting on the first step, the nurse looked up at Marie, who was leaning against the wall by the door. “What was all that?”
“All that what?” Marie looked down at the woman, bracing for the lesson she knew would come.
“Rane told me you worked with her and tended to men back at Redfarm.” Zena let the statement dangle.
“It’s true.” She sat on the stoop, chin on her knees.
“Which is why I went and asked for your transfer.” The nurse kept her head high to meet her gaze. “So what was that? You can save men’s lives, but not women’s?”
“Yes… no!” Marie opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “She was pregnant.”
“And? She didn’t deserve to be taken care of?” Zena’s tone contained a bitterness that warned Marie to be careful with her next words.
She struggled with it. “Of course she did—”
“But?”
Marie regretted to have come outside. “I was taught that a fathered woman—”
Zena raised one finger to stop her and then slowly looked in every direction. Finally, she locked her gaze with Marie again and shook her head, her mouth stretched in a thin line. “There are no fathered women here.”
Marie was momentarily shocked by the harshness of the delivery. Several comebacks played in her mind, but none of them strong enough or smart enough. “She’s a donor.” The moment she uttered the words, she was ashamed she had even thought about it. She didn’t think the woman’s eyes could get any colder or her face show more disappointment.
“Donors are forced to get pregnant,” Zena explained the obvious and Marie felt even worse. “And that woman is no donor.”
“She’s not a donor?” She straightened and blinked against the sun’s glare.
“Vasura is no semen factory.”
Of course. Zena’s having some fun at my expense. “But how would she get pregnant?” It’s not that it hadn’t passed through her mind. “How was the baby conceived if the mother wasn’t…?” She couldn’t talk about that.
Zena raised one eyebrow, gave her one long, scrutinizing look, and then finally sighed. “I must remember it’s not your fault.”
She was relieved not to be the recipient of the woman’s disgust anymore, but she still felt uncomfortable. “What isn’t my fault?”
The nurse’s eyes were now focused on some faraway point. “Pure breeds keep us and themselves in such blissful ignorance it’s scary.” She stood and cleaned some imaginary dust from her pants. “Fathered women don’t need the aid of a specialist to get with child. It’s easier than you were led to believe.” She patted Marie’s head and went inside the infirmary.
“How?” The woman was already out of sight, but Marie didn’t follow her right away. The sudden memory of Carnia and Grant united in an intimate embrace came back to her. She didn’t want to think such thoughts. They made her feel sullied and something else that started in the pit of her stomach and left her angry. She fought against the onslaught of unwanted memories. But there could be only one answer to her question. That mother who had almost lost her life giving birth wasn’t a donor. She hadn’t been chosen. She had chosen to become pregnant.
Marie was overwhelmed by the truth. She was also confused. She should have been shocked. And she was, wasn’t she? She must be too dazed by everything that had happened in the last few days. Too many changes in her life. Too much physical pain. Too much heartbreak. Her mind could only take so much and her arm was throbbing again. She did the only thing she could do to keep her from going insane: she started walking away from the infirmary to distance herself from what had happened there. At first, she dragged her feet on the unpaved road, kicking pebbles right and left. Then she broke into a run. Warm wind blazing over her sweat, eyes blinded by the internal turmoil, she ran until her lungs begged her to stop. And a split second before she could see where she had run to, Nora called her.
“Hey! Missing me already?” The petite brunette struggled with the weight of two big sacks of soil she clutched to her chest.
Marie saluted her. “Do you need any help with those?”
The girl smiled and shrugged. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want any dirt to end up on your arm. But he can help me.” She pointed at someone behind Marie.
She knew who was approaching before she turned, and her heart gave a little treacherous summersault that told her why she had run to the fields. And that, realization troubled her. Only because he has the answers I’m looking for, she lied to herself. Was that the reason why she wanted Nora out of the way? Was she going to ask how kids were born outside of a semen factory? She blushed and she felt her skin flashing to a deep red, but thankfully Nora wasn’t looking at her.
The girl’s smile had deepened. “Would you, please?”
Grant, his orange suit already dirty and stuck to his body in places, appeared beside them. “Sure…” He must have been surprised by the girl’s request. She hadn’t commanded him, but requested his help with gentle words. He looked as confused as he had been earlier in the morning.
“Hi, Marie.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the palm of his hand and then the hand on his shirt. He leaned and took both sacks from Nora. “Where to?”
“To the storage shack.” She led the way, and now hands-free, she took Marie by the elbow, as if they were going for a leisurely stroll.
Why not? Marie wasn’t in any hurry to get back to the infirmary and the unpleasantness of having to confront Zena again. She adjusted her gait alongside Nora’s and they started chatting. The girl started chatting, that is. She mostly listened and Marie nodded once or twice, her senses attuned to Grant silently walking behind them. She would have turned and talked to him instead, but that wasn’t done. And he couldn’t walk with them, either. Five steps behind as customary, seen—as it was impossible to avoid noticing him, given his size and colors—but not heard. A good worker knew that. And a good fathered woman should’ve known that too. Maybe the nurse was right. What’s wrong with me? I go all judgmental on somebody I don’t even know and then here I am, wishing I could openly talk to a man. Because it was one thing stealing glimpses of him secretly and by chance but another to desire it could happen at will. It’s wrong. But was it her fault if her heart and her body were betraying her? I’m strong. I’ll fight this.
“So how do you like your new job?” Nora was asking.
She had a sense of déjà vu. It hadn’t been so long ago she had a similar conversation. She had been shocked, too, that first time. She found it funny how history was repeating itself. “Eventful. I assisted to a girl’s birth.”
Nora squeezed her elbow in excitement. “Oh, how was it?”
She was surprised, once more, by the girl’s attitude and demeanor. No fathered girl would ever ask such question or be remotely interested in knowing how birthing worked. It was improper. But then again, it took only a sideways glance to be reminded of where she was now. “Not what I would’ve thought.” If I ever thought of something like that. Which she hadn’t once in her life until she had been catapulted in the middle of a birthing. The intake of breath that cam
e from behind them consoled her. He was fazed too by Nora’s questions.
The girl continued, “Is the baby cute?”
“Cute isn’t the right word.” She flinched at the gory memory of the baby landing into Rena’s hands.
Nora’s eyes went distant, her face showing a smaller version of the smile she often threw around. “My sister was so cute when she was born. She looked like a little doll. I could’ve hugged her forever.”
Marie stopped in her tracks. “You have a sister?” She thought the list of surprises was never going to end. Nobody had sisters. For sure not fathered women. Not even pure breeds. They needed a special dispensation from the Priestess.
The girl’s small smile dwindled to nothing. “Had a sister. Rosette died when she was two. A fever and she was gone. Something happened… and medicines were scarce for a period of time. Lots of kids and elders didn’t make it. Lots of families lost their loved ones.”
Whatever was the next question Marie had for her, it died in her throat. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It was almost ten years ago.” Nora released her hold on Marie’s healthy arm and indicated a squat building in front of them. “Let me open it for you.” She had turned around to talk to Grant.
At loss for what was expected from him, he nodded and lowered the two sacks on the floor between his open legs. A big tree shaded his face from the harshness of the sun, but she could still see his green eyes broadcasting his questions. He locked gaze with Marie and a flicker of understanding passed between them. They were both strangers in a strange land where nothing made sense. But life would be so much easier for him at Vasura. She wasn’t sure about herself.
The shack’s door was opened with a big clank and both she and Grant were startled by the sound. “Here,” Nora called and they both stepped forward at the same time, only for Grant to stop to ensure the five-feet space between them.
“You’ll soon forget about all that silliness.” Nora was looking at them, still uncharacteristically serious.
Grant accepted her prediction in proper silence, but Marie couldn’t help but comment. “It’s a new world, right?” It didn’t come out as funny as it had sounded in her head, and it solicited a sideways glance from Nora.
Marie's Journey (Ginecean Chronicles) Page 17