“Let’s go, Dumani. We can visit later when the room isn’t so crowded.” He says icily. I stand and bid my brother a good morning as Jude practically drags me out of the room.
“I don’t want you around her. I don’t like her and I don’t trust her. The only people that I trust are you and Titus. Something isn’t right about these people. I want you to wear your gun and keep your knife strapped to your thigh. Stay alert and be on guard. Whatever you do, never tell anyone that you didn’t get sick.”
“I won’t. I’m scared, Judea. What if the government takes me?”
“The government isn’t taking you. Don’t think about it. I’m going hunting for us. If I bag a deer or another boar, we’ll have meat. We need to get a garden started since we are going to be here for a while and I saw a pond. With any luck, there will be fish in it.”
“I should come with you to help you track the deer.”
“I am not your father. I don’t need you to hunt for me. But, I do want to keep an eye on you. Are you okay to ride?”
I shrug. I’m fine. Better than fine. He speaks with Father who has the men outside tilling a garden big enough to sustain us all. The women are set to work scrubbing and carrying in wood. The children are given baskets and sent to pick the raspberries growing wild in the back yard. Jude climbs on before pulling me up in front of him side-saddle. I adjust my bow on my back. We are both bow hunting to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. A gunshot will carry for miles in this quiet world. You don’t realize how noisy life is until the vehicles are dead and the people are dying. It is too quiet. Eerily quiet. I haven’t seen or heard an airplane flying over during the duration of our journey. Not even military.
We ditch the horse and walk into woods so we don’t spook our dinner. We don’t speak. Our feet tread lightly through the unfamiliar landscape. Jude watches the front and I keep an eye behind us. It is the two legged animals that we are on alert for. I take out a wild turkey in the first ten minutes. The sun is shining its rays of light down on us. My family will eat. I can’t be responsible for everyone. I find a patch of greens. I clear the entire plot in a few minutes. I am a farmer’s daughter. Knowing how to feed yourself can mean the difference between starving and survival. The plague is bad, very bad, but it didn’t have to be that way. People are too comfortable with their grocery stores and municipal water sources. They are too comfortable in their rental houses and crowded neighborhoods. What will you do if the lights go out forever? What would you do if your taps run dry? If the banks crash with your money inside and grocery stores close, what would you eat? When your landlord tells you to get out, where will you live? People were brainwashed into believing it could never happen until it did. Their jobs locked their doors and church turned into the place where people went to die. If people had planned better, they would still be here. They were helpless and starved in the streets crying and begging for food and water.
Judea raises his hand to still me. There is something up ahead. He kneels on one knee and aims his bow at a big buck nibbling on green plant sprouts. The big animal raises his head too late. Jude’s arrow is true and takes down the animal cleanly. It is important to us that our kills are clean and we don’t take more than we need. This meat will stave off hunger for a long time. I’m jumping up and down. I remember who and where I am and I stop. Judea smiles.
“You should express your joy like this more often. I like it.” He says pulling out his big buck knife and going to work removing the head and full rack of antlers. I help him throw the corpse over the horse and we walk along side of it.
“I can’t wait until this is all over and we are back in our own home. I want to start a family but not on the road. I can’t get you pregnant. It’s one of the worst things that can happen right now. The ride is hard enough with the two of us. We can’t bring a child into the world in the middle of all of this.”
Hearing him speak of babies and putting one inside of me makes me blush. Women do not speak of such things with their husbands. Judea isn’t like church husbands. He is more like the husbands in town. The ones I see carrying their children and holding their women’s hands. I wondered why they held hands until Judea held mine.
“We need a plan in case of an emergency, Duma. If we are ever separated, you forget about Texas and you go north. You walk through the snow if you must. I will meet you there no matter how long it takes me. I will wait for you no matter how long it takes you.”
“Titus told me the same thing. Why would we get separated? Do you think they’ll come for me? I don’t want to be experimented on. I want to be with you.”
“No one is taking you away from me. Stay close to me and trust no one, Beloved. That’s how we are going to make it.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Because you are. You mean everything to me, Dumani.”
He stops the horse and reaches for me. I go into his arms without hesitation. I don’t care if we are in the middle of the woods or how high the sun is in the sky. I don’t protest when his fingers go to the buttons on the back of my dress. I want him to want me because I want him. I want him all the time. Jude lays on his back and eases me down on him. His hands guide my hips and encourage me to move. My insides quake when I shift my hips. Doing it like this is a sin. He is so deep inside of me that I feel like an extension of him. He’s never been this deep before. It’s wonderful. I should take it easy. I rock my hips against him faster and faster. The more I move the better it feels. His fingers dig into my hips and he raises his pelvis to meet me. He’s so big. It’s stretching me open so wide that it stings. It doesn’t sting bad enough to make me stop.
“Judea.” I whisper. “Are you sure this is okay?”
I want to be good. I really do. But, I enjoy doing this too much. I want to do this more than I want to be good. Judea sits up and I think it goes in even deeper. He puts his hands in my hair and kisses me gently.
“We are married, Dumani. It’s supposed to be good for you. I want it to be good for you every time. Move your hips, yes, like this. Take as much as you want. You feel so good. I can’t keep my hands off you.”
I moan his name again as I move up and down on his thickness. He squeezes my bottom in his calloused hands pulling my hips forward with each dip into me. In and out. In and out. In and out. Stretching, filling, pleasing.
“You feel so good.” He murmurs.
I like it when he tells me how good I make him feel. I bite my lip and I ride him like we are in a race to see who comes first. Judea is deep inside my body and I love it. He rolls me over onto my back and takes me from above staring at me with his dark eyes. No wonder the wives are always pregnant. This is glorious. This is magical. This is raw lust. This is love. I climax underneath him crying his name. Jude pulls himself out of me and spills his seed on my belly with a groan. That part of him that I should not mention, or enjoy so much, is harder than steel as it leaps and pulses between us with every warm gush. It pleases me to feel him spill his seed because of the pleasure I give him. I don’t know if it’s supposed to give me pleasure but it does. The sticky wetness between our skin gives me pleasure.
“Did I hurt you?” He asks moving to my side. It smears across my belly mixing with sweat.
“No.” I answer shyly. Yes. But, it was wonderful.
“As much as I would love to stay here with you, we have to get back. I’m going to be all day dressing this thing.”
“I can do it.” I offer quickly. It’s women’s work.
“No, you can watch me do it. Butchering animals isn’t your job anymore. I told you that things were going to change after we got married. I meant it.”
“The men won’t like it.”
“The men can kiss my ass.”
Jude wipes my belly with a hand towel from his bag before wiping himself. I smile as his fingers fasten the tiny buttons down my back. He kisses my cheek when he’s finished.
“Do you like it when I make love to you, Dumani?” Jude asks as we walk bac
k to the strange house that will be our home indefinitely. I nod my head. More than he can imagine.
“Say it aloud.”
“I like it.” I say blushing profusely.
“You like what? I want to hear you say it. Tell me you like it when I’m inside you.”
“Judea, I can’t say that. Please, don’t make me.”
“That’s exactly what I am doing.”
“Why? To shame me?”
“Shame you? I want you to feel comfortable telling me anything, no matter how embarrassing or personal it is. I want to know how you feel.”
“I like it when you are inside me.” I whisper red faced. I wait for lightening to strike me down for saying such a thing. It doesn’t happen.
“I enjoyed making love to you, Duma. It’s important to me that you enjoy it. Don’t do it because I want to. Do it because you are so hot that you have to.”
“I want to.”
“Do you love me?” He asks next.
“Yes.” He knows I do. More than anything.
“Say it from time to time. I don’t care what the church says. I’m your husband and I want to hear my wife tell me how much she loves me. I want you to talk about anything at all. I’m not going to think for you the way your father did. You are going to have to start thinking for yourself.”
Judea’s words stay with me for the rest of the day. I have to start thinking for myself. He wants me to tell him that I love him more often. Even though I’m not supposed to speak to him about feelings and what we do in bed, he demands it. I am here to please him and see to his needs. I’m here to warm his bed and give him sons. The church says, I’m supposed to do these things as quietly as possible. My husband is telling me to do the opposite. He wants me to go against the church and think for myself. That night, I take a long, cold, bath in an old cast iron tub that we had to fill ourselves. After my bath, Jude makes love to me until I am weak and sleepy. I will never get used to being with him like this.
“I love you, Judea.” I whisper shyly. “I love you more than the church.”
My soul is surely going to burn in hell with the devil. I can’t help myself when it comes to Jude. I can’t be responsible for making moral decisions when it comes to him. I am condemning the both of us to purgatory every time I orgasm. I am not a good wife.
“My sweet girl, I love you more than God.” He mumbles pulling me closer. “Now, cross yourself for my soul and go to sleep.”
I lay awake thinking about what he said for a long time. He loves me more than God? Is that even possible? I am not sure if I can say the same right now. Maybe in time but I’m not sure if then either. Have I really enchanted him so deeply that I have stolen him away from our most high and the church? The more I consider my feelings for Jude and his feelings for me, I think it’s very possible. I know that he has enchanted me. I cross myself for his soul before I close my eyes. Just in case.
Chapter Thirteen
A week later, Jude and I are poking around in the dusty attic looking for things that can be useful. I’m sitting on the floor fingering through old photo albums full of black and white portraits of people who aren’t here anymore. Some are those morbid memorial photos of corpses dressed up and posed like they are still living. The ones of children are especially creepy. There are old postcards of lynching’s and pictures of unsmiling slaves standing in front of shacks. Jude searches through old trunks.
“I think we have something.” He announces.
The trunk is overflowing with colorful women’s clothing. He pulls out one slinky sundress after another and shorts and tops that most likely belonged to a younger woman.
“These are summer clothes.” He says holding up a bathing suit.
This is what commoners wear. Could I walk around with my arms and legs exposed? Would people laugh at me for trying to be pretty for my husband? Would he laugh? He slams the trunk closed and shoves it away.
“You are never dressing like that.”
Is he reading my mind? The next trunk probably belonged to the grandmother. The dresses are longer with sleeves and lace collars. They aren’t as severe as my dresses and not nearly as revealing as the others.
“These are perfect.” He announces. “I’m going to burn that dress when you take it off.”
I go back to the photo albums and he goes back to his searching. Jude finds a stash of gold hidden in an old coffee can. It will come in handy. He also finds an old opal ring that he slides onto my finger. It fits perfectly.
“This is only for now.” He promises. “To show you are mine.”
I can’t stop staring at it. It’s my first piece of jewelry. Jewelry caters to vanity and greed. I love it.
“Thank you.” I whisper in awe. Judea takes my face in his dusty hands. It won’t kill me.
“Thank you for being my wife.”
His lips are soft against mine. I put my fingers in his hair I don’t care if he found it in an attic. He gave it to me and that’s what matters. We kiss for a while and Jude carries down a trunk full of things we scavenged. We bump into the girl from the farmhouse. Rena.
“What did you find up there?”
“Not your virginity.” Jude says bumping her out of the way so I can pass. We changed rooms to one with a fireplace to warm water. The walls are down to the original shiplap and the floorboards are so rough that you can get splinters in your bare feet. It’s ours for now. I put away the clothing feeling a sense of accomplishment for taking care of my husband. I hide his gold in my tampon box.
“You are such a good wife, Dumani. I knew you would be perfect.”
I smile shyly. That is the highest compliment I can hope to achieve. I’m glowing inside. He is a good husband and a wonderful man. I think about what he said last week. He wants to hear me say it sometimes. Can I say it? I want to.
“You are a wonderful husband, Judea. I enjoy doing these things for you. I enjoy making your life easier.”
He is surprised and pleased. I have rendered him momentarily speechless.
“That means a lot to me, Beloved. I’ll feel better when you are doing these things in your own home. I’ll feel better when we are sleeping in my bed. Every day I’m tempted to take you and run home where we can talk and I can spill my seed inside you as much as I want to.”
“Judea.” I blush all over. He should not speak such things aloud.
“What? I want a child with my wife and I’m not ashamed to say it. I’ll rest easier at night when you are safe.”
“I—”
I start to say something but I stop. Jude isn’t having it.
“What were you going to say, Dumani?”
“I never knew you had these kinds of feelings for me. I mean, I used to make up stories in my head about us and I prayed. I prayed a lot. I prayed so much. Did God tell you to marry me?”
“No, it was God who put us together. It was my heart that told me to marry you. Tell me about these stories you made up about us.”
“I can’t.” I look away in embarrassment.
“Why not?”
“Because, they are silly.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“You will think I’m childish and simple-minded.”
“I could never think that way about you. Go ahead, I want to hear the stories.”
“I would sometimes imagine we were one of the couples at the parties you took me to. You would sit with me and hold my hand.”
“Like this?” He takes my hand in his. I nod my head yes.
“I would pretend I was like the girls you danced with.” I say shyly. He pulls me close and sways from side to side.
“Like this?” Judea’s smile goes right to my heart. I nod my head. “What else, Wife?”
“I pretended I was the girl you were kissing.”
His eyes twinkle before his lips cover mine and he kisses me the way I wanted him to.
“Like this?”
“Yes, just like this.”
“Is that all you pretended?” He ask
s suggestively. I look away so that I don’t lie.
“You’re blushing, Dumani. Tell me what is making you blush so prettily.”
“I used to pretend I was the girls you took behind the bushes.” I feel wrong for saying it. It’s hard to go against everything you know.
“I took those girls behind the bushes so I wouldn’t take you instead. You were going to be my wife one day and I wanted you to be a virgin. I came close to taking you anyway at least a hundred times.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I didn’t fuck you back then because I love you. You were too naïve to see it. You have all the faith in the world in the church, Duma. You have zero faith in yourself. I always liked you best of all of the girls.”
“I was too old for you. I am still too old for you.”
“Isn’t that for me to decide? You are twenty-three and I am nineteen.”
“I’ll be twenty-four before you are twenty.”
“Let it go. You are not too old for me. Not anymore. I imagine it was hard for you wanting me when other girls your age were getting married.”
“They were mean to me.” I look up again. “I knew it was wrong. I couldn’t help myself.”
“You never did anything inappropriate. I’ll be twenty before you are twenty-five. It doesn’t matter anyway because I’m keeping you.”
“The women say you can do better. They laugh behind my back.”
“Don’t listen to those heathens. What do they matter? They don’t know us. Look at them. They’re lazy and worthless. They don’t compare to you in any way, Dumani. Stop walking with your head down. I don’t care who is in the fucking room. You look up and if you don’t know where to look after that, you look to me. You are my wife. Those bitches are sunburned and bitter. They’re jealous of you.”
“Why would they be jealous of me?”
My hand reaches up and brushes my scar. Jude shakes his head sadly.
“You are everything a man needs in a woman.”
He holds my hands down at my sides and kisses me. There is a knock on the door before it opens and Father strolls in. I can tell he brings news from the way he’s wringing his good hat in his hands.
The Doomsday Papers Page 13