Sundry Days (23 page)

Chapter 43

Rebekah

Life Goes On

I play with my nipples, waiting for sleep to come—squeezing, stretching. I work on both the left and right at the same time. I remember what Susannah told me a long time ago, about toughening up nipples so that breastfeeding doesn’t hurt.  But this time, my manipulations result in drops of colostrum leaking out. I’ve made wet spots on my nightgown.

I nudge David, who’s sleeping soundly, of course. I nuzzle him. And when that fails to wake him, an elbow to the rib finally gets results.

“Ow. What? What’s the matter?” It’s the middle of the night. He’s groggy, and just wants to go back to sleep.

“David,” I whisper.  I don’t know why I’m whispering. “David, I can’t sleep. I need you.”

“Why? Is the baby coming?” He’s fully awake now.

“No. The baby won’t be coming for another two months. I just can’t sleep. And I need you.”

“Okay. What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to put your mouth on my nipple.”

“Huh?”

“Put your mouth on my nipple.”

“Which one?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I’ve already pulled off my nightgown. We haven’t had sex lately. Not for several days. I think he thinks he might hurt the baby.

David leans over me and kisses my left nipple very lightly.

“Why is it wet?”

“It’s colostrum. It’s the thin yellow milk that comes in before the regular breast milk.”

“But why do you have milk now if the baby isn’t coming for two months?”

“I’ve been toughening my nipples, and it came out.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that.”

“No. It’s fine. It just means I’ll have milk for the baby when the time comes. But I want you to taste it. I want you to put your mouth all the way over the nipple.”

I know he thinks this is a strange request. Not that he’s a stranger to my nipples. We’ve always both enjoyed what he does with my nipples during sex. But this is the first time I’ve ever elbowed him out of a sound sleep and asked him to taste my colostrum.

The thing is, I desperately need to have his warm, wet mouth on my breast—not because a baby will be suckling there soon enough, but because my entire body is demanding to have sex with him right now. Maybe it’s hormonal.

“How does it taste?” I ask him.

“Sweet.”

He licks my nipple, all around the areola, but doesn’t suck. I think he’s afraid of getting a mouthful of milk. And I reach for his penis.

“What if I poke the baby?”

“You won’t poke the baby. It’s not anatomically possible.”

“You’re sure?”

I mount him backwards, I’m very wet, and I ease myself over him, my legs akimbo over his hips, my hands on his ankles.

He strokes my back and bottom as I come, very quickly—then again. And once more with him.

I dismount, wipe us both off, try to get comfortable on my back, and snuggle against him. He rolls on his side toward me, kisses me, rests one hand on my belly and immediately closes his eyes.

“Do you think The Designer, the Holy One, is really a she, David?” I ask him.

“Are we not sleeping tonight?”

“Please. Just tell me what you think.”

“I don’t know. Everyone here says She. But when I pray, I don’t envision any kind of shape or substance. For me, The Designer is just kind of there—everywhere.  Sort of a presence, a comforting presence, that can be accessed anytime.”

“Oh.”

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too.”

He yawns, and in an instant his even, deep, breathing tells me he’s asleep.

I let him sleep. He works hard. He needs to be well-rested, but probably won’t be tomorrow.

New Eden isn’t perfect. People here are like people everywhere, I suppose. Zora sometimes reminds me of Keira, who saved me in Kitchener. They’re both old women—wise women—who are very kind to others, though the lives they’ve lived are very different.

Zora has never had sex with anyone but Abraham. Keira has had sex with countless men. But I think they would like and understand each other.

I don’t much care for Lily, Miriam and Edward’s nubile young daughter. She’s one of those people who knows exactly how beautiful she is. She flirts with David sometimes. I’ve seen her do it.

He says it’s just my imagination. But David is an extremely good-looking man.  And I’m pretty sure Lily wishes he were single.  She asked him specifically to fix some of the play equipment for the little children she and Shayla care for during the day, while their parents work. She should have asked his team leader to assign someone to the task.

It’s very warm now. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Lily goes around all day without a top on. Not just when she’s in the pond.

Why am I being so jealous? I know David would never be unfaithful to me. Still, I don’t like Lily very much. And when our baby is a toddler. I sincerely hope there will be someone other than Lily to care for him while I’m working at the infirmary.

Maybe Lily will get married soon. Why am I obsessing about Lily?

The other day, a young man I know only slightly was sent to another monogamist settlement to live because he hadn’t found anyone here to love. Or, more likely, no one found him.

That happens sometimes, I’m told.

There are other places in the northwest like New Eden. Good places, not like Eden Falls.

“Are they having girls in those places?” I ask Zora.

“Yes,” she says. “I think the Holy One smiles on Her creation wherever she sees fit.”

“Do they make wine like ours in those places, too?”

“No. Not all of them.”

So maybe it’s not the grapes that are responsible for girls getting born in sustainable numbers.

Zora says she’s been to a few of the monogamist settlements that have ties with New Eden. But she wouldn’t ever want to live anywhere but here.  Here is home.

I ask her if she thinks I’m carrying a boy or a girl.

“Now how am I supposed to have an opinion about that?” she laughs. “Do you think these tired old eyes can see inside of you?”

It doesn’t matter here what sex our baby happens to be.  I think our baby is a boy. I don’t know why. David and I have been thinking of names, but haven’t settled on any yet.

Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in the world beyond New Eden. The last time Miriam, Edward, Zora and Abraham went to Winnipeg with the wine, a few months ago, there were no letters waiting from Seneca Falls, but they brought me back a letter from Dora.

I think some part of me has forgiven her.  I think maybe she does love me. So I’m going to write back to her and tell her about the baby. It will be her grandchild, after all.  She won’t get the letter until after he’s born, when it’s time to trade wine again.  And she’ll probably never see him. But I’d like her to know.

I’d also like my fathers to know—and Susannah. David and I will send them letters, too. And maybe Captain Blinn will be able to deliver them before the baby is all grown up.  They haven’t responded to the first packet of letters we wrote before we left Winnipeg.

Dora writes that Captain Blinn and The Lady May crew haven’t been back lately. But she’s heard from other traders that there have been big changes in the Coalition—changes that are very bad for women.

I hope Susannah is alright, and my half-sister in Rochester.

I wonder why all the women in the Coalition are being ignored by the Holy One.  Aren’t they Her creation, too?  Why is She just favoring New Eden and a few other remote settlements hidden away from the rest of the world?

I guess it’s not for me to know—or anyone. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to say a prayer or two.

Chapter 44

David

A Dry Spell

Everything is good.  I watched our baby come into the world. I cried tears of joy when Alex, the chief tender and mender, pulled him from Rebekah, cut the cord, and then put him, still wet from birth, in my arms.

We named him Michael.

Rebekah figured he would be a boy. I don’t know how.

A boy would be a big disappointment in the Coalition.  Here, it doesn’t matter. And Rebekah is crazy over him.  Me too.

It was amazing to see him being born. And I admit there is nothing so beautiful as the woman you love nursing a tiny, brand new person that you’ve helped to create.

“Hey, I’ve been there, little one,” I said to my son, when he first  latched on to Rebekah’s nipple. “It’s a wonderful place to be. Enjoy.”

He does.

Me, not so much, anymore. Okay, not at all.

I’m not stupid or insensitive. I knew it would be a while before Rebekah and I could have sex. Being pregnant and then pushing out a baby from an opening that’s only supposed to be big enough to accommodate a penis is really quite a feat, if you think about it. Not to mention extremely painful.

Rebekah was in agony for eight hours. I was, too, though in a different way, worrying about her, wanting to make the pain stop.

Alex says it was an easy delivery.  Easy for him to say. Michael came out naturally, without ripping Rebekah apart. I guess that’s what easy means.

Still, it takes time to recover, to get back to normal.  I understand that. Except it’s been five months now.

When Rebekah was pregnant she wanted to have sex all the time. Sometimes she’d wake me up in the middle of the night all wet and ready, and climb on top of me. It didn’t matter how big her belly was.

Now, she’s like a different Rebekah when it comes to sex.

Oh, she tries sometimes to pretend she still likes it, still wants me. But it’s not the same.

It’s not as if she got depressed the way that her mother did after giving birth.  Rebekah told me what happened to Dora, and I think maybe some part of her was worried that it would happen to her.

Rebekah, though, seems to be in her glory being a mother. She’s tired all the time because the baby wakes up during the night, and she says she feels like a mess. But Michael makes her happy.

The Holy One knows I love our baby, too. How can I not?  The greedy little eating and pooping machine is my son.

I was the first one to make him smile. It’s impossible not to be insanely joyful when your baby smiles at you. I take care of him too. I change his diapers sometimes. I carry him around, and we have some lengthy discussions.  I’m pretty sure his first word will be da-da.

But I want my Rebekah back. The old Rebekah who can’t get enough of me.  And I’m worried she’s gone for good.

It also bothers me that she’s so unreasonably jealous. She thinks I’m attracted to Lily.

Which is crazy.  Yes, Lily is a pretty girl. Yes, she goes around topless sometimes. Yes, I’ve looked at her breasts. But after a while, you get used to the sight of bare breasts that don’t belong to you. I have no interest whatsoever in Lily or anyone else. Only Rebekah.  Only Rebekah forever.

And I don’t mind sharing her with Michael.  I really don’t.

Gordon, our neighbor, comes over with wine after dinner. It’s a new vintage he says he wants us try.

Rebekah is feeding the baby in our bed, trying to get him to go to sleep for the night. And Abraham and Zora have gone to a meeting. So it’s just Gordon and me drinking the wine.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

“Good,” I say.

“Yeah? You’re not going through a dry spell? I sure did after our girls were born. In more ways than one, if you know what. I mean.”

So this is why he’s here. I still can’t get over the fact that people in New Eden are inordinately interested in what other people are doing—or not doing, in my case—in bed.

But maybe being so open about sex is necessary here, since monogamy is the basis for the whole social structure.

I look at him with what must be an obviously uncomfortable expression on my face.

He smiles, pats me on the back, and pours more wine.

“It’s okay, David. Most of us go through it.”

“Did someone ask you to come over and talk to me about dry spells?”

“Zora did. She thinks it would be better coming from someone who actually remembers what it was like to be a new father. Abraham is still in good form sexually, but it’s been more than half a century since their last child was born. He claims he can’t remember a time when Zora was ever dry. I think he’s just bragging.”

Gordon assures me that everything will get better once the baby’s weaned.

“I have to wait that long?”

“Right now Rebekah probably doesn’t feel very sexual. It’s the hormones, from giving birth and breastfeeding and everything else.  It doesn’t have anything to do with you. Except you’re the one who got her pregnant. So I guess it is your fault.”

He thinks that’s funny.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t act too needy if I were you. I used to give Helena massages after our kids were born, with no expectation that the massages would lead to anything else. But sometimes they did. Gradually things get better, and then they get back to normal. Someday you and I will be like Abraham, and we won’t be able to remember any dry spells either.”

In places like Eden Falls—maybe even in Seneca Falls, who knows?—men probably don’t care how women feel about sex. It doesn’t matter if they enjoy it. They’re just receptacles. I would hate to live that way.

“How come you didn’t tell me about the hormones that are making you uninterested in sex?” I ask Rebekah when I join her in bed.  Michael is sound asleep in his crib, and with any luck will stay that way until morning.

“Who says I’m uninterested? We can have sex if you want.”

“Rebekah,” I sigh. “I always want sex.  I want you to want sex.”

“It’s just that I’m tired. And I don’t feel pretty anymore. And I smell like milk and spit-up all the time. I love you.”

“I love you, too. And you’re beautiful. So beautiful. Don’t cry. It’ll be okay. You should have told me about the hormones. You know about that stuff. Gordon says it will be better after the baby is weaned.”

“Everyone is such a know-it-all around here. Zora, even Gordon. But your know-it-all mother never told me.”

“Let’s not talk about my mother. Would you like a massage?”

She laughs.

“Okay. Just a massage.”

And for now, that’s enough.