‘‘If this is about Natalie’s husband,’’ Sandy whispered to me, ‘‘why are you so angry?’’
Before I could answer, Katie said, ‘‘You stop right there, Tiffany. There’s more at stake here than just what you want. There are four kids who love their dad, who miss him. A woman who loves her husband . . .’’
‘‘And I don’t care.’’ Tiffany tossed her glossy hair. ‘‘If she didn’t want him straying, she should have been a better wife. She should have paid attention to his needs, instead of spending his money on fancy houses and bringing all those brats he didn’t want into the world.’’
The Subaru door slammed. We sensibly got out of the way as Natalie marched up to Tiffany, landed an open-handed slap on her ear, ran a foot down her shin, stomped on her foot and then, sweeping her feet out, dumped her onto the pavement. Tiffany’s purse landed with such a thud it might have held bowling balls.
She wore the surprised look of a baby who has suddenly fallen onto a diapered bottom. ‘‘You hurt me,’’ she said. ‘‘You had no right.’’
‘‘Having my husband leave hurt, too,’’ Natalie said. ‘‘And you had no right.’’
The girl pulled her bag toward her protectively. ‘‘You leave me alone,’’ she said. ‘‘What goes on between me and Sterlie is not your business.’’
‘‘Sterlie? Sterlie? Oh man . . . I cannot believe you. Since when is my husband not my business?’’ Natalie stood, hands on her hips, breathing like a runner in recovery. Then she straightened. ‘‘All right, I’ll go. Before I do, though, let’s be clear. . . .’’
Tiffany had wrapped her arms around her purse, waiting for us to leave. Little white iPod wires ran from her ears and she tilted her head to unheard music. Natalie jerked on the wire, unplugging her in a gesture we all understood.
‘‘If you take my husband, you keep him,’’ she said. ‘‘There’s no sending him back when you realize what a big baby he is. And even if he says he didn’t want them, Sterling is the father of four because he insisted we have four. They need time with their dad, so you get the kids . . . all the kids . . . every other weekend, school vacations, and half the summer. No last-minute cancellations. No weaseling out. And the dog comes with the kids, so I hope you like dogs.’’
‘‘I hate dogs. I hate kids,’’ Tiffany said. ‘‘Sterlie and me are not into any of that.’’ She scrambled to her feet and was edging away.
‘‘Tough shit,’’ Natalie said. ‘‘Hey, wait a minute. Is that my tennis racket?’’ Natalie snatched at the bag, pulling out the racket. She pointed at the name engraved on the handle. ‘‘You steal my racket and it’s none of my business? My property isn’t my business?’’
She swung the racket, catching Tiffany neatly on her cute little ass, remembering to follow through, which I never did. Upending the bag, she dumped out a pink iPod, pink visor and wristbands, and a pair of pink and white tennis shoes.
‘‘Sterlie gave me those,’’ Tiffany said.
‘‘My iPod, my clothes, my shoes, my racket. All the stuff from my tennis bag.’’ Natalie drove her backward with vicious swings of the racket. ‘‘Goddammit, what were you thinking? It wasn’t enough to steal my husband and leave my kids without a father, you had to steal my things, too? You had to know they weren’t his.’’
Tiffany, looking stricken, pressed a knuckle against her trembling lip. This was what I talked to teenagers about all the time—had they considered the consequences of their choices and were they willing to accept those consequences?
Natalie swung the racket past the pert little nose with admirable control. ‘‘I said, ‘What were you thinking?’ ’’
‘‘He wanted me to have them.’’ Tiffany sounded like she was about to cry. ‘‘He was so embarrassed that his own children wouldn’t let him in when he just wanted to get some papers. It was really unpleasant. He knew I felt uncomfortable, so he gave me this stuff to make me feel better.’’
‘‘I’ll show you uncomfortable.’’ Natalie swung toward Tiffany’s head as I stepped between them.
‘‘You’re crazy, you know.’’ Tiffany scrabbled for a cell phone. ‘‘I’m calling the police. You belong in jail.’’
‘‘I’m not sure you want to do that,’’ I said.
Worried that we’d helped Natalie commit an assault, I looked to Katie, who shook her head. ‘‘We’re all witnesses that Natalie found Tiffany in possession of over a thousand dollars’ worth of her property,’’ she said. ‘‘Tiffany’s a thief and that’s a felony. Even if Mr. Burke gave it to her, he stole it and she was there. That makes her an accessory and a receiver of stolen property.’’
Katie turned toward me, as though I was the leader of this group. ‘‘Anything else?’’
My mind was a jumble of thoughts about relationships, the common decency we owed each other, and sorrow that someone so young could be so selfish and could wreak so much havoc without any thought. I also knew why I was so angry and who I was angry at. Guys who defaulted on their marriage contracts and the women who, actively or passively, aided and abetted them. Including myself. My words rolled out.
‘‘Tiffany, what you want is not all that matters. You and Sterling aren’t alone in this relationship. The choices you make have consequences for five other people. You’re not an innocent party, you’re an active player in your own life. You have to take responsibility for the choices you make. Don’t assume you can hurt people terribly and walk away untouched.’’
Natalie and Sandy and Katie flanked me like we were a real team, their approving glances saying I was making real sense. This wasn’t just about Tiffany and Sterling and Natalie. It was about making considered choices and taking action when things weren’t right. I might still be jumbled but some of the right things had been shaken loose.
Tiffany looked down at the open cell phone in her hand.
‘‘Felony,’’ Katie said.
Tiffany snapped the phone shut, shoved it in her purse, and went inside.
‘‘Wow. Thank you all,’’ Natalie said. ‘‘I never thought I’d get all this from a self-defense course.’’
Neither had I. ‘‘Ninjettes rock,’’ I said.
We high-fived and walked back to the Subaru.
The People’s Way
by Eve K. Sandstrom
The worst part was that Rogar was trying to be kind.
‘‘You must see that there is no other way,’’ he said. ‘‘The baby has to die.’’
Amaya pulled her legs up against her chest and laid her head on her knees, shaping her body into a coconut. She had no more words. If she spoke again, the tears inside would spill onto the hut’s sandy floor, and the hard coconut husk she was using to conceal herself would crack. All her fears and her griefs and longings would be revealed to this man she did not understand and to the strange people of his clan.
She turned her face away from Rogar. She stroked the back of the tiny girl sleeping on the grass mat.
Rogar spoke again. ‘‘It’s not just my people who do this. It was the same on your island.’’
Amaya didn’t move, but she felt the air pass over her, and she knew Rogar had gestured angrily.
‘‘Elosa says there is not enough for my clan to eat,’’ he said. ‘‘If we had plenty, we could keep your sister’s child. But we don’t have food for her.’’
‘‘She can share my food,’’ Amaya said softly.
‘‘No! You would become weak. You should bear our own child. And we need you to work. You must remain strong.’’ Rogar put his hand on her arm. Amaya did not pull away. She barely felt his touch on her coconut shell arm. Did the arm feel rough and hard to him?
‘‘Is it kind to keep the little one if we cannot feed her?’’ Rogar said. ‘‘Is it kind to keep the little one if the other women here hate her? If she will be an outcast in this clan? No! It’s better to put her in the water now. Better for her. Better for you. Better for all of us.’’
He paused, but Amaya still hid behind her hard outer husk. The si
lence grew between them.
Rogar sounded despairing when he finally spoke. ‘‘We cannot oppose Elosa. She is the one who decides.’’
Amaya spoke then. ‘‘And Elosa hates me.’’
‘‘Don’t be foolish!’’
Amaya did not answer. What purpose was there in arguing with this man whom she knew so little, yet who had power over her, over the little one? She had thought she loved him. But he would not listen.
After another long silence Rogar stood up. ‘‘I’m sorry, Amaya. It’s decided. I’ll take the baby into the water as soon as it’s light.’’
He walked softly from the hut, into the darkness.
Amaya sat motionless. If she moved, her husk would crack. She kept her hand on the sleeping baby. Little Tani, all Amaya had left of her sister, of her own clan, of her own home on the westward island. If only, if only she had not left there!
Amaya had liked Rogar’s looks as soon as he and his friends had come to her island, bringing dried fish and cloth to trade. He was strong and well-made, with broad shoulders. He had smiled at her. She had been flattered that such a handsome man had liked her. And he had come from afar. If she went with Rogar, she could see other islands, meet new clans.
She had been pleased when he offered her uncle a bride-price. Her uncle hesitated, but Amaya made it clear that she wanted him to accept Rogar as her husband. Her uncle had said yes, and she had willingly gone with Rogar to his own island.
Then she had met Elosa. Elosa had hated Amaya from the moment she stepped on the shore of the lagoon. And as shaman, Elosa was one of the most important members of Rogar’s clan. Her hate was serious. It had meant Amaya was shunned by all but Rogar’s close family.
Rogar’s mother had welcomed her as a mother-in-law should. Amaya had even thought she saw a slight feeling of exultation in her greetings. But most of the other women had been unfriendly—or perhaps fearful. They had spoken to her, but only sometimes. If they met alone in the forest, they would stop and talk. But if she met the women in a group, they would lower their eyes and pass by.
Amaya had asked her mother-in-law about it. ‘‘Why? What have I done?’’
‘‘You’ve done nothing, Amaya. They are afraid of Elosa.’’
‘‘But she is the shaman. She is responsible for the clan’s welfare.’’
‘‘But the clan has had problems since Elosa became shaman. Our harvest has failed. The fish have been few. The tribe has become divided.’’
‘‘But I have done nothing to cause the division.’’
Rogar’s mother looked away. ‘‘Elosa wanted Rogar for her own daughter. When he took a bride from far away, it made Elosa fear that the people would think her foolish.’’
She put her arm around Amaya’s shoulder. ‘‘Don’t worry! Rogar wanted you! He is smart, that son of mine. Elosa will become interested in something else. Already she is looking for another husband for her daughter. The trouble will go away.’’
But the trouble did not go away. It grew, and it grew until it was not only between Amaya and the other women of the clan, but until it was also between Rogar and Amaya. They had not known each other well, Amaya realized. They’d only had a few days together without the interference of Elosa. Now Rogar grew impatient, hard to please. Their lovemaking grew more awkward, instead of more comforting. Amaya felt she had ceased to please Rogar. And she had wanted to please Rogar. She wanted to love Rogar.
Amaya had hoped the ritual trip back to her own clan would help. But there they found greater disaster. Disease had come, and her uncle had died, and her sister and her sister’s husband. The only one left was Tani.
The baby had grown since Amaya had left with Rogar. Now she was walking. She was staying with the great-grandmother, but the great-grandmother could not run after her. Tani would hide. When the great-grandmother called, she would laugh. But she would not come. Amaya saw that the great-grandmother could not take care of her.
Rogar had hesitated when she asked if she could bring Tani back to his clan’s island. ‘‘She is a fine, strong baby,’’ he said. ‘‘But she is just a girl. And our clan’s crop was small this year.’’
Amaya had not pleaded. But Rogar had also seen that the great-grandmother could not care for Tani. And perhaps Tani had won him over herself, with her baby smiles and games. He had grown fond of playing with her, taking her into the lagoon to splash.
‘‘We will take her back,’’ he had said finally. ‘‘She is a brave little girl. She laughs when water splashes her. She will be adopted by my tribe.’’
But that did not happen. Elosa had hated the baby, just as she hated Amaya. She had refused to take Tani into the clan. Then she had decreed that the clan did not have enough food, and she said that the child must die.
‘‘It is not right for this stranger child to take food from the mouths of our clan,’’ she said. ‘‘Rogar must put her in the water.’’
Amaya’s heart broke, but her hard outer shell remained solid. She had hidden behind it all afternoon.
Rogar had argued with Elosa, tried to convince her that the clan’s resources were not so few that one tiny girl would cause others to starve. But Elosa was firm.
‘‘You must put the girl in the sea tomorrow—as soon as the sun rises,’’ she said.
Amaya could not argue. Rogar had spoken truly. Her own clan followed that custom, too. If food was scarce, the oldest and the youngest among them must die. It was best for the weakest to die, to allow the strongest to live.
But Amaya did not want Tani to die. She was her sister’s child. She was the final link with her own clan, her own island. If Tani died, Amaya would be left among a strange people, subject to a strange husband, with no one to care about and no one to care for her. And Tani was a strong child. She would grow into a strong woman who would help her clan.
But what could Amaya do?
Amaya nestled behind her hard coconut shell and thought.
Wildly she thought of killing Elosa. She could take the club she used for breaking coconut shells. She could creep up upon Elosa’s house. She could hit the witch in the head. The shaman would die.
A feeling of pleasure swept over Amaya at the thought, but it was closely followed by a shudder that shook her whole body and rattled her teeth.
No, she could not kill Elosa. Even if she managed to creep into Elosa’s hut undetected, Rogar’s people would guess who had done it. She would be killed. Tani would still die. Killing Elosa would accomplish nothing, except that Amaya would herself die and her spirit would be condemned to roam the sea forever, never finding rest on the heavenly island.
Could she run away? Could she steal a canoe and go back to her own clan?
Amaya could paddle a canoe, of course. Everyone could do that. But only men, men like Rogar who had been taught to read the stars and the currents, could go so far as her native island and be sure of finding it.
Could she run away to the forest? She could take Tani and hide. She could find food for them there.
But Amaya knew that would give her only a few days. Rogar’s island was not her native place. She knew only parts of it. She might be able to hide from a stranger, but she could never hide from Rogar and the men who had hunted all over that island and from the women who had gathered food all over it. She would have to sleep. Rogar’s people knew where the water was, and she would have to have water. If food was scarce, the women would be looking for it everywhere. They would soon find her.
A sob bubbled up from Amaya’s soul, like water bubbling from a spring. It almost cracked her coconut shell coating. She choked it back, and she did not move. But she saw no way to save Tani.
Was Rogar right? Was obeying the shaman the right thing to do? Did she have to let him take Tani into the water?
Oh, she knew it was the law, the way of the people. As Rogar had said, it was the way of her own island. Her mother’s mother had become ill in the year the crop had been so bad. When she had become too sick to work, she had stopped ea
ting. The family had grieved, but the old woman had turned away from food. She had refused water. ‘‘It is time,’’ the old woman said. Her tongue grew thick. Her daughters keened. And in three days she had died. Everyone had admired her action.
And when the wife of the headman’s son gave birth to a child with a crippled foot, the mother had wept, but she had not argued. The headman himself had taken his grandson and put him in the sea to die.
Life on the islands was hard. The strong must not be held back by the weak. That was the ancient law. Amaya knew that. If the law was not obeyed, the islandclans would not be strong and clever. They would not conquer their enemies—the other tribes who wanted their territory, the fierce beasts who lived in the sea and in the forests, the very hardness of life.
But Tani was not weak! Elosa had not said she must die because she was weak. That year’s crop had been poor, but there was enough. Rogar said so. His father said so. But Elosa had not listened. She said Tani must die.
Tani was to be killed because she was a strange child.
No, Amaya thought, that was not true. Tani was to be killed not because the baby was strange, but because she—Amaya—was strange. Elosa hated Amaya, not Tani. But Amaya was married to one of the clan’s young warriors. Elosa did not dare attack Amaya directly. She had decreed Tani’s death because that was the cruelest thing she could do to Amaya. And this would not be the last thing she did to Amaya. Elosa might not dare condemn her openly, but she would find ways. Amaya’s own fate would be like Tani’s.
Already Elosa had threatened Rogar because he argued with her over the baby. Amaya’s presence here on Rogar’s island was all wrong. She was unhappy, and she was hurting Rogar by being there. She loved Rogar, and she did not want him to be hurt because of her.
Amaya, hidden inside her coconut shell, finally knew what she had to do.
She stirred, lifting the sleeping baby and holding her close, murmuring softly. ‘‘Little pet. Sweet one. I love you. We will always be together.’’ Standing up, she went outside, into the dark. She took the path to the beach, where the waves were high, not to the friendly lagoon.
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