Sundry Days (19 page)

Chapter 36

David

Revenge is Sweet

I no longer hold it against Caleb for putting his grubby little hand on Rebekah’s breast and seeing her naked.  I don’t like it, of course. I don’t like to think about it. But I can’t blame him. And he’s always careful not to look at her, at least when I’m around.

He follows me now, like he used to in Eden Falls. But I don’t go far. Not even to the hardware shop or the garage. It’s important that I stay close by.

“Do you have a gun, David?” he asks me.

“No. Why would I have a gun? No one has a gun. I’ve never even seen a gun. There’s probably not a single gun in the whole Great Lakes Coalition. Probably not in Winnipeg, either. Guns are ancient history.”

“Yeah. But I thought maybe you might have one.”

The little idiot.  He reminds me a lot of Simon, though he doesn’t look anything like him. He’s not compliant like Simon, either. Simon would never rebel. It would never occur to him to take matters into his own hands.

Caleb’s goal is to literally kill Jacob if he shows up. I’d like to kill him, too, but not literally.

I may be a failure of the Coalition’s “make a better man” secret breeding plan. I’m jealous, impetuous, and totally incapable of sharing the woman I love. But I don’t think I have it in me to commit murder.

If that piece of shit Jacob shows up and tries to retrieve Willa, I’ll do all I can to stop him.  I’ll respond to violence with violence. As much violence as I can possibly muster.  I’m bigger and stronger than he is, after all. And I’d like nothing better than to punish him for all the hurt he’s caused. But I don’t think I have it in me to stick a knife in his gut.

Caleb is pretty sure Jacob will be coming after his sister—probably with some of his Eden Falls “brethren.” The boy did a good job of sabotaging their sun-cycles while the men were all down with food poisoning. But even if they can’t quickly figure out how to repair the damage, they still have horses and wagons.

We’re all a little uneasy. Even Dora.

I hardly ever see her. So I’m surprised when she comes to the Birch and Bay, and asks me to have a private conversation with her in the dining hall.

“There’s no one who enforces the law here in Winnipeg,” she tells me. “There’s really no law here, as such.  People tend to take care of their own problems in their own way. But if you and Rebekah intend to join the monogamist settlement that I think would be best for you, you need to know that they won’t accept anyone with a history of violence. They believe in peace above all else. They’re strange that way. They won’t take anyone who’s killed.”

Why does everyone think that just because I said out loud that I’m going to kill Jacob, I’m actually intending to kill him?

“We need to come up with a plan,” says Dora, after I assure her that I’d be a total failure at attempted murder.

She actually has a pretty interesting plan, if Jacob shows up. A diabolical plan, really. And she’d very much like to let Rebekah know about it.  Except Rebekah won’t talk to her.

“Your mother is really not so bad,” I tell her when she comes back from the house.  Willa is staying there with the women for now. Caleb is bunking with the teenage sons of the women at their school. He’s too old and horny to be in the house.

“Yes. I know. She’s a wonderful person,” says Rebekah, her voice full of sarcasm. “A shining light.  A mother to everyone.” But I think she may be softening a bit. It was terrible of Dora to leave her when she was so little. I can understand why Rebekah won’t forgive her. It’s hurting her, though, as much as Dora, that she feels so compelled to keep punishing her mother with her silence.

“So what’s her plan?”

I give her the details, and Rebekah smiles.  A sinister little smile.

But when almost a week goes by with no Jacob, we begin to think that maybe he won’t show up after all. 

It’s still winter.  Winter here is a lot colder and snowier than it was in Seneca Falls. Not like it was before The Great Flood, of course. But the temperature often dips to below freezing, and when the wind whips up and the snow starts falling, you don’t want to be outside. The old man with frostbitten toes who came to Rebekah’s clinic got them because he was too drunk one night to come in out of the cold.

Coming to Winnipeg in a horse-drawn wagon from Eden Falls would mean camping out for at least three nights. Jacob would really have to want to get his wife back to do that.

Evidently, he really wants his wife back.

Just before nightfall, he and three other men storm into the Birch and Bay lobby with snow on their hats and shoulders, and holding fat tree limbs in their hands, apparently ready to use them as clubs.

“Where’s Willa? I want Willa brought to me right now,” Jacob announces menacingly to the room. He sneers at me. I’m unarmed and no match, in any case, for him and his thugs.

Someone runs out back to the house to get Dora, and I do my best, to stare him down.

I recognize the men who are with him. They’re not Righteous Ones—not wheezing old men. They’re Righteous Ones in waiting.  Not the brightest of the bunch. But they are big and strong and will likely do whatever Jacob tells them to do with their clubs.

“We don’t intend to hurt anyone unless we have to,” says Jacob. “But I want my wife brought to me right now. And if she’s not, my men and I will begin bashing furniture and then heads.”

There are very few customers, and no lodgers, staying at the Birch and Bay. It’s winter, after all.  There’s no one to defend the place but the women and elderly men who work here. And me.  Jacob knows this. It’s why he feels confident that his threats will get him what he wants.

But I don’t think he counts on Dora.

She strides into the lobby with Rebekah behind her, and three of her most seductive employees behind Rebekah. But no Willa.

“What’s all this about?” asks Dora in a calm, reasonable sounding voice, confronting the intruders as if they were naughty boys instead of club-wielding men.

“You know very well what this is about,” shouts Jacob. “I want my wife. I want her now. She has no business being in this sinful place. She’s been infected with wickedness by that deviant girl-boy we mistakenly brought into our fold.”

He glares at Rebekah. She glares right back at him with venom in her eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

“I understand your concern,” says Dora. “But, please. It’s clear you’ve had a long, difficult journey here. You and your men are cold, tired and hungry, no doubt. Why don’t we all sit down like reasonable people and discuss this.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.  I’ve come for my wife. She belongs to me. Bring her to me, or we’ll start doing damage.”

“Fine,” says Dora. “But you can’t travel back to Eden Falls in the dark. Please.  Sit down, warm up, have something to eat while you wait. My women will see to your needs.”

Jacob is clearly no stranger to pleasure houses. But the men he’s with are young.  I don’t think any of them have been to Winnipeg before—or if they have, not to a high-class place like the Birch and Bay. They ogle the women, who don’t look at all fearful, as they rustle about, filling the air with perfume.

It doesn’t take long before the men have set down their clubs and are relaxing in the dining hall, eating hot food served by women who are warming them up in ways none of them are used to—except Jacob.  He’s not warming up. He just wants Willa, and he keeps glaring over at Dora, and Rebekah and me.  We’re standing off to the side. Jacob and his men probably think they’ve cowed us into submission—that we have no choice but to keep them placated for now, and eventually hand over Willa.

When Jacob gives Rebekah a scathing lecture about how The Designer hates wicked women and how it’s their natural duty to submit to men, she doesn’t say a word. It’s totally out of character for her. He must think he’s finally frightened her enough to keep her quiet.

I don’t respond, either, when he tells me how disappointed he is that I’ve turned my back on the opportunity to become righteous.

The faithful, though, seem totally oblivious to Jacob as they eat and ogle.

The food and drink aren’t drugged. That’s not part of the plan. But the pleasure women know their business.  And when Dora suggests hot baths and soft beds for all, Jacob’s men are helpless to resist. They don’t even look to him for permission before heading upstairs with the women.

Now Dora springs into action.

She sits at the table with Jacob, and tells him she’s a business woman and doesn’t want any trouble.

“I intend to leave with Willa in the morning,” he says.

“Of course. Just don’t damage my property or hurt anyone while you’re here.”

That seems to satisfy him. And when she offers him a drink, he accepts.

Dora has a drink from the same bottle. But there’s an extra something special in Jacob’s glass.

Before long, he’s woozy, but still able to walk. Dora takes him by the arm, and leads him to a room on the third floor. He doesn’t even notice that Rebekah and I are following.

I don’t completely understand how “full immersion” works. It’s more biological than mechanical, though wires and electricity are involved.

The boys on The Lady May certainly loved it. And Cal, the cook, told us it was something no one ever forgets, although he preferred actual sex with real women.

Dora is planning a truly unique “full immersion” experience for Jacob. She says he’ll never be the same.

Tina is already in the room setting things up, along with Vernon, the Birch and Bay worker who’s in charge of supervising all the regular “full immersions.” Usually a pleasure woman is on hand to help strip the customer and attach wires to his head, and other parts of his body, paying special attention to the penis and scrotum.

Dora and Tina, of course, are loathe to touch Jacob. Who can blame them?  So Vernon takes care of everything while we all watch. Jacob is only partly conscious. He doesn’t seem to notice anyone else is in the room, and looks groggily up at Dora as he gets hard.

She stares clinically at his erection.

“Enjoy,” she says smiling, confident it’s the last erection he’ll ever have.

Then Jacob is given two injections—one in his arm and one in his ass.

Drugs are a part of the usual “full immersion” routine, but not injections.

This is only the second time Dora has overseen this particular type of procedure. The first time, she says, was an experiment of sorts. A violent rapist had been roaming around Winnipeg, attacking women. When he was finally caught, Dora was part of the committee charged with coming up with a suitable punishment.

“Castration is too simplistic,” she says. “Plus it doesn’t always take care of the problem. Men without balls are still capable of doing some nasty things.”

She and one of the pharmaceutical company chemists came up with what turned out to be a more effective solution.  The rapist was completely cured—if you can call it that—after his special “full immersion” treatment.

Dora says Jacob won’t be physically harmed. Not permanently. But he will never again be capable of having any kind of sex whatsoever when he recovers. He’ll have a deep and abiding fear of women for the rest of his life.  And he’ll be unable to act on any violent urges.

I don’t know how she can be so sure of all this.  But she is.

Rebekah and I don’t stay to witness the battles Jacob has with his demons. It’s mostly in his head, anyway, although as soon as the drugs take hold, he begins writhing around on the bed and mumbling incoherently and crying out.

Dora and Tina don’t stay, either.

But we all watch the next morning when the other men load Jacob onto the wagon for the return trip to Eden Falls.

They’re completely baffled. Each of them has had a very nice time at the Birch and Bay. Dora tells them he’s had a surprisingly bad reaction to “full immersion.”  It happens sometimes. She says he’s decided he doesn’t need his wife back after all. They have no reason to argue with her.

Jacob doesn’t say a word about Willa. He doesn’t say a word about anything. He just lies in the back of the wagon in a fetal position, sucking his thumb.

I think he would rather have been castrated.

Chapter 37

Rebekah

What Next

It’s sort of odd, now that the threat of Jacob has passed and we’re all just waiting.

David and I are waiting for a new chapter in our lives to begin.  But that can’t happen until spring, which is a month or so from now. It’s when the monogamist from New Eden—never to be confused with Eden Falls—come to town to trade. A group of them, usually, according to Tina.

I’m still not talking to Dora. But ignoring her is becoming increasingly difficult for me.

Willa is waiting for a sign. She’s extremely grateful to Tina and Dora and the other women in the house for taking her in, and caring for her as if she were one of their own. But she doesn’t want to stay in Winnipeg. And she has no idea what else she can do.

“I can’t live this kind of life,” she tells me. “I just can’t. I don’t ever want to be touched by a man, not ever. Never again.”

“Well, then you won’t have to be,” I say. “But not all men are like Jacob.”

“I know. But I don’t think I’ll ever stop being afraid. And I hate that feeling. So what kind of a life am I supposed to have from now on?”

What can I tell her?  She thinks her only option here is to become a pleasure woman.  No one has suggested that. But that’s what she thinks. Maybe she’s right. She still only 14.  So young.  Much too young to have to worry about making a living. Yet it’s constantly on her mind.

I think Tina and Dora would let her live with them forever, without ever expecting her to work at the Birch and Bay.  But what kind of life is that?

The other women seem content enough doing what they do.

Being a pleasure woman is an honest and reasonable way to make a living in our world. When you think about it, it’s not that much different from being a wife to five or six husbands in Seneca Falls.

Men need sex. Women are in short supply. It’s infinitely better than being the sole property of a power-crazy old man in screwed up Eden Falls, that’s for sure.

David’s mother has carved out a pretty good life for herself, I suppose. Susannah was—still is, no doubt—the queen bee of her household, beloved by all her husbands. Plus she has her own life, her own career, outside the house, telling other people how happy they can be if they just do what she says. The know-it-all.

But really, what other ways can there be, if females are such a rare commodity? What other ways are there?

Why should we believe that the
good
monogamists, if that’s what they are, have somehow figured out a better way to live?  But that’s what we have to believe, what I have to believe.

David seems able to adjust to almost any situation.  As long as he has me in bed next to him at night, he says he’s happy.

I’m happy, too. And lucky. Very lucky. I know that.

David is not perfect. Who is? But I love every single part of him. I love him fiercely and completely.  I don’t think I could live without him.

Yet neither of us has any idea of what’s in store for us.  We just kind of stupidly stumble from one situation to another.

I like to think I have control over my own life. But I don’t. Leaving everything and everyone we knew was a heady, extremely exciting thing to do. But David and I didn’t really have any control over what happened. Not much, anyway. We were just lucky and then not so lucky. And then lucky enough to escape.  But now what?

“What’s going to happen to us?” I ask David after we make love. I ask him that a lot lately.

“I have no idea,” he says. “But as long as we’re together, we’ll be okay.”

I take Willa with me when I go to the clinic. Marjorie is not thrilled. But of all the people she doesn’t like, she probably doesn’t like Willa the least.  Willa is impossible not to like. And she’s still a child, really.

Marjorie grumbles through the day. I have no idea what her story is. She doesn’t talk about herself. She doesn’t talk much period. But she’s a very good doctor. I’m learning a lot from her.

Today, Dora comes to the clinic while I’m there. She needs to talk to Marjorie about her anti-depression pills. She’s thinking of tapering off.  She doesn’t seem to care that I’m there and can hear.

“I’ve been taking them most of my adult life.”

“Yep,” says Marjorie.

“But maybe I don’t really need them anymore. Maybe I’m better. What do you think?”

“I can’t see into your brain, Dora. It probably doesn’t do you any harm to keep taking them. Doesn’t do you any good, either, if you don’t need them.”

“So what should I do?”

Grumpy Marjorie is somewhat less grumpy with Dora than she is with her other patients.  She tells Dora how to go about reducing the dosage, and makes sure she knows the signs to look for that would indicate she shouldn’t stop taking the pills.

Afterwards, Dora looks at me and asks me if I’ll please go for a walk with her.

I nod.  I don’t know why, but I walk with her. It’s a nice day. The weather is pleasant. Spring is coming.

“Thank you, Rebekah,” she says as we start out. Then she doesn’t say anything for a long time. Neither of us do.

“I’ve talked recently to some of the business people who trade with the New Eden monogamists,” she says finally. “No one really knows a lot about them, except that they seem friendly, and the women have as much to say as the men when they negotiate.  They’re never here for very long. I’ve never met any of them.”

“You think it’s a good sign, though, that the women come with them to Winnipeg and they don’t seem to be intimidated by the men?” I ask. It’s the first time I’ve said this many words to my mother.

“Yes. That’s what I think. And they’re evidently a very peaceable people. A few years ago, two women from a not-so-reputable pleasure house around here approached the New Eden monogamists when they were trading at the Ready to Wear Emporium.  The women said they were tired of being pleasure women and wanted to become monogamists.  Then the two of them got into a fight about who would be the better fit in New Eden. They started shoving each other, saying nasty things.

“The monogamists told them in no uncertain terms that they don’t tolerate violence of any kind. That’s what I heard. So that’s probably a good sign, too.”

We walk some more, not saying anything.

“I want you to be safe, Rebekah,” she tells me after a while. “I want you and David to be safe and happy. I know how you feel about me. I understand why you don’t want to think of me as your mother, why you don’t even want to talk to me. I can’t blame you. But having you here has been one of the best things to ever happen to me. Just seeing you has been wonderful.”

I nod. She sees me nod. That’s about all I can do right now.

“I think Susannah must have been a very good substitute mother for you. She’s quite a capable person. A good person. Always has been.”

“I gave her a lot of trouble. I was never very nice to her. And now she must hate me for stealing away her son, putting him in danger.”

Dora smiles at me.

“It was all your idea to run away from Seneca Falls? You twisted David’s arm and forced him to go with you?”

“No.”

“You’re a strong-willed young woman, Rebekah. Brave. Daring enough to pose convincingly as a boy for a long time. Passionate enough to do what you want, to be with the one you love, even if it’s forbidden. I like that about you. I like the way you’ve turned out.”

“You did what you wanted to do, too.”

“I never wanted to desert my baby, Rebekah. But I had to. You’re my daughter. I love you. I’ll always love you. But it wouldn’t have been good for you to have me as your mother. Not then. Not the way I was. I know that I was right to do what I did. You were better off without me. It doesn’t matter that you hate me now. What matters is that you’ve become what you were meant to be.”

“I don’t hate you.”

I can’t believe I’ve said those words, but somehow saying them makes them true. I don’t hate Dora. I don’t hate my mother.  She’s not so different from me. I’m not so different from her.

We walk back to the clinic.

Marjorie is showing Willa how to bandage a wound.  A boy from the school nearby is sitting on the examination table, looking very pale and probably in some pain after having a big gash in his arm stitched up by Marjorie.

“Didn’t flinch at all,” Marjorie says of Willa, not the injured boy. “Good job assisting.”

It’s the most praise I’ve ever heard the crotchety doctor give to anyone.

Willa smiles widely—so wide I can see the gap where Jacob knocked out two of her bottom teeth.

In bed, I tell David about the walk I took with Dora.

“It’s a good thing,” he says. “Hating takes up a lot of energy—energy that can be better spent pleasuring me.” He grabs my bottom, nuzzles my neck, then rolls me on top of him.

“Oh, it’s a pleasure woman you want?” I tease. “I think that maybe you should be a pleasure man.  I think maybe I need to be pleasured  first.”

“Hmm. That can be arranged. In fact, it’s my pleasure.”

Sex is a silly business, when you think about it.  Putting body parts together every which way. Touching, kissing, groaning, coming. But very necessary. If I had to, I could give up a lot of things and still be happy. But not sex.

The worst thing about Eden Falls was being separated from David. The best thing about not-so-great situations—like having to pretend to be his husband in Kitchener—was still being able to have lots of sex. But there are more things in life than just sex. Things we have to consider.

“What’s next for us, David?” I ask, after we’re both sated and he’s already nodding off.

“Next is sleep,” he mumbles.

“No. Talk to me.”

“I love you,” he says, and rolls over. He’s hoping that’s enough talking.

“I love you, too, but I’m not going to let you sleep. Not yet.”

“Okay,” he sighs. “Talk.”

“I’m thinking maybe we’re foolish to try to become part of another monogamist settlement.  Maybe we should just stay here. We’d be accepted. We have been so far. But then I wonder what kind of a life we would have here. What kind of future.”

“It might not be so bad. I like Winnipeg well enough,” he says. “I guess I can stay in this room forever. I can be your pleasure man forever. And do other things in my spare time. This is a place where people make things, provide services, sell things. There aren’t lots of rules and ordinances like in the Coalition. Which is good. But I don’t think we fit here. Mostly people just pass through here or else stay put because they have nowhere else to go.”

“We have someplace else to go,” I say. “Maybe.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I think we ought to at least give someplace else a try.”

“Dora says the New Eden people are obsessively peaceful. Well, she didn’t say obsessively. Being peaceful is good. But what if they’re odd in other ways? What if they’re not like us at all?”

“No one is like us,” says David. “No one’s like you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“We left home because we wanted to be together,” he says, yawning. “We’re together.”

“But we can’t be the only two people in the world who want to live in pairs. Equal pairs. Not with one dominant and the other just a body like in Eden Falls.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Equal pairs.”

“Most people don’t think it’s natural to live in pairs,” I point out. “It’s not practical, either.  Not the way things are. It’s not a natural or practical way to be. But maybe the monogamists in New Eden have figured out how to do it.”

“Maybe” he says.

“I don’t think Winnipeg is the right place for us. We need to do what we set out to do and find a monogamist settlement where we can belong.”

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s what we need to do. That’s what I’ve been saying.”

We just lie there for a few seconds thinking our own thoughts.

“Is that enough talking for now?” he asks, and then pretends to start snoring.”

I elbow him in the ribs, we laugh, and then we both fall asleep.