Left on Paradise (16 page)

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.”

“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.

“Don’t be too excited,” Linh said. “Things can go wrong and nine months is a long wait. We may be in Paradise, but we don’t exactly have modern medical facilities.”

“I suppose you’re right about that.”

Linh tore a piece of bread from a hard loaf even as Kit handed her a slice of coconut meat and a glass of milk.

“Does she need milk?” Kit asked.

“All she can keep down is crackers, but a sip of coconut juice wouldn’t hurt. And prenatal vitamins.”

“We don’t have any in the village. They’re kept at the base infirmary.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe I’ll walk to camp tomorrow to fetch a bottle.”

“That’d be helpful,” Linh answered. “You’re so nice.”

Kit dropped her eyes and spoke only after a long pause. “I wanted five children when I was a girl.”

Linh looked surprised. “Really?”

“When I grew up,” Kit said, “and became an actress, I realized I’d been dreaming—as if the world was no more than a little house on the prairie.”

Linh laughed.

“The trouble is,” Kit continued, “I’m no longer sure which is less real: old books or the glitterati. What I once lived seems like a performance compared to this place. Everything feels so different now. Nature rains on my head and earth oozes between my toes. Motherhood seems so ... so natural. So real.”

“Someday,” Linh said as she brushed her friend’s arm, “your time will come.”

“No, it won’t. Ryan and I made our choice and it’s virtually irreversible. We’re not having children.”

Linh looked toward the shadows of the trees. Though dawn streamed over the canopy of the forest, the jungle remained indistinct in the morning haze. After a moment she smiled.

“Did you know I was adopted?” the Vietnamese woman asked.

“No, I didn’t.”

“I was raised in Michigan,” Linh said, “but I’m told that my parents were killed in Saigon after the war ended. My birth father was an army officer and after he was arrested one of his soldiers—my adoptive father—took me into his home. We fled to a refugee camp in Thailand and eventually relocated to Grand Rapids.”

Kit remained silent.

“You still can be a mother,” Linh said, “if you really want to.”

“Where would I find a baby?”

“Life brings them.”

“Death,” Kit whispered, “brings them.”

“That’s not how I see it,” Linh objected with a quiet tone. “Death took my original parents, but life brought me new ones.”

“I’m sorry,” Kit said, “about your birth parents.”

“I don’t remember them,” Linh said with a hushed voice, “only my adoptive ones. My real ones.”

Kit let the conversation die and the two women returned to breakfast without further talk. A moment later, they were joined by Lisa and talk shifted to Alan’s complaints and the day’s work.

It was midmorning when Lisa approached Alan as he worked alone in a half-cleared field close to the main path leading to the bridge. Alan’s eyes passed over the young woman’s gentle-sloped chest without interest, fixing on her face. When Lisa asked where his work partner was, Alan scowled.

“We need to talk,” Alan said.

Lisa asked what he wanted.

“Ursula’s sick again,” Alan complained.

“I can’t heal her.”

“Then get me some help with these trees.”

“Have you made quota?”

“Not by a long shot.”

Lisa turned her eyes from the sun, arched her back, and slipped from her backpack—letting it drop before she reached into a side pocket and felt for a pair of sunglasses. Putting the shades on, she looked at Alan.

“Why not?” Lisa asked.

“Because Ursula’s a deadbeat.”

“That’s slander.”

“If it’s untrue.”

“Did she put in all her hours?”

“If you can call it that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She was here,” Alan said, “but she didn’t finish a single tree. We were told to clear a strip near the trail. We counted out trees and divided sixteen between us. I’ve busted my ass all week and I’m down to my last tree. Mind you, the trees are cut and stacked. Ursula managed to cut one tree down, but it’s not even stripped, let alone cut or stacked. She moves as slow as sap.”

“I see.”

“I gave her,” Alan continued, “the choice on which side of the lot to clear but she didn’t do anything.”

“I’ll find you some help for today.”

“I’m not staying late.” Alan now sounded angry.

Lisa stood straight, pulling her shoulders back and sucking in her stomach. “You owe the camp a full forty hours.”

“And it’s up by noon,” Alan said, “then I’m done. The rest of her quota isn’t my responsibility.”

“All for one and one for all.”

“And one isn’t doing anything at all,” Alan said. “Whether or not you find someone to do her work, I don’t care. Just don’t expect to see me after lunch. I have plans.”

“Then go,” Lisa snapped, “and stop complaining about it.”

“Tell her work before play or we’re going to starve.”

“From each according to his ability and to each according to her need,” Lisa replied.

Alan scowled as he walked away while muttering curses under his breath and Lisa returned to the village to summon help, finding Steve just as he finished lunch. When she brought Steve to the clearing, Alan was stacking wood—his saw lying in tall grass and ax driven into a large stump.

“What’s that saw,” Lisa pointed at the tools, “doing on the ground?”

“Taking a break,” Alan said, “like Ursula.”

“The grass will rust the blades.”

“It hasn’t rained all day.”

“We can’t afford to take the chance. Tools can’t be replaced.”

Lisa asked Alan to pick it up, but it was Steve who retrieved and wiped the blade before setting it atop a stump as he explained that he’d volunteered to help out.

“This isn’t going to work at all,” Alan objected. “We had plans.”

“It was Steve’s choice,” Lisa said.

Alan turned to his husband and asked why he’d changed plans without asking.

“Let’s chop some trees,” Steve said, “then we can leave. These palms go fast.”

“Not me. I’m at quota for the week,” Alan growled as he dropped his tools and stomped off toward the village.

“Don’t mind him,” Steve said. “He’s just tired.”

“I’m not married to him,” Lisa said, “he doesn’t bother me.”

Steve helped Lisa until dusk, by which time only one tree remained uncut. Several others had been trimmed—and one palm even stripped of its bark. After the two shared a quick supper, Lisa retired to her tent to read a book while Steve searched for Alan.

Four women set out for New Plymouth after eating breakfast. Hilary and Deidra walked to the front while Joan and Linh lagged behind, their legs short and steps slow as they ascended Mount Zion. By midmorning, all four western women arrived at base camp and moved bricks to the beach with a wheelbarrow. After loading the bricks into a rowboat, the women carried treated limber to the beach—with Hilary refusing several offers of male help, though she did allow Janine Erikson to take a turn pushing a half-filled wheelbarrow. After a quick lunch drawn from stored rations, the women collected an iron grate, a box of nails, and cement mix. An hour later, these too were secured in the rowboat and the return trip begun.