Matronly Duties (4 page)

“Well, stay there. It shouldn’t take too long to run the numbers and figure out where you are.”

After everything I’ve been through, I find her lack of compassion infuriating. “Don’t you even care if I’m okay? I could need an ambulance for all you know.”

“Yes, you’re right. Sorry. It’s been such an ordeal with you missing.”

She’s been through an ordeal?

“Are you okay?” she finally asks.

“Yes, I am. I met a nice family. The Jameses. Their son actually rescued me.”

“I don’t care who you met or how nice you think they are. You are not to talk to anyone. We can’t have the next Matron of Oceania running around with common people.”

The way she snarls the last two words sends a shiver down my spine.
What’s wrong with common people?

I shake my head in disbelief. I look out the doorway to see Howard casually leaning against his bike. “Yes, well, it’s a little late for that. How long do I have before I’ll be picked up?”

I wait for her to chastise me, but when she speaks, her words astound and confuse me.

“Well, dear, it . . . looks like it might actually be a while. Is there anyone who can wait with you? Maybe the boy who rescued you? Or someone in his family?”

I stay silent a minute, trying to make sense of what just changed. Her tone is far too sweet to be genuine, but I play along. “Maybe. Why?”

“The government would like to extend their gratitude, of course. For your safe return.”

I blink. Surprised, but happy. “Okay, I could ask, I guess. But first, um . . . how is George?”

“He’s fine. A little banged up, but he’s already returned to work.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thanks. Bye.” I hang up the phone and make my way outside.

Howard is exactly where I left him, leaning against his bike.

“How did it go?”

“It was . . . weird, but they can’t come get me for a while. So I have some time to kill.”

“Oh, okay.” He glances over his shoulder. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, I was wondering if maybe I could come back to your family’s place?”

He stares at me for a second as if I’ve lost my mind, then nods. “That would be fine.”

“Thank you. I just have to be back here later to be collected.”

His shoulders, which were up around his ears, visibly drop. “We can do that. Are you ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Feeling brave, I ask, “Why don’t we ride back?”

Howard looks shocked once again but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he straddles the bike and offers me his hand.

Time to live a little
, I think as I climb up behind him.

What’s the worst that can happen?

Chapter 4

The return trip to the Jameses’ home takes less than half the time. Being on the back of his bike, practically wrapped around Howard, is the freest I can remember feeling in a very long time. He’s all power and grace, weaving the bike expertly through the people on the streets. Even when a little boy runs out in front of us, he manages to miss him. The sharp swerve, however, almost sends me flying and I wrap my arms tight around his waist.

“Are you okay?” he asks, stopping the bike and looking over his shoulder.

I take long, deep breaths. “Yeah I’m fine . . . I think.”

He places his hand over mine, which are clutching his shirt. He rubs gently and I release my grip a little.

“I’ll try to take it easy. I promise.” He’s barely finished speaking and suddenly we take off again. I squeal in surprise and can hear Howard chuckling.

“Not funny,” I gripe, poking him for good measure.

When we come to a stop in front of the residence, I am reluctant to let go. I don’t want to lose this sense of freedom mixed with excitement and happiness. This is something I never knew was missing from my life.

“We’re here,” Howard says. He places a hand over the back of mine and holds it there for a second before he pats them. “Come on, you need to let go so I can help you off.”

As Howard hops off the bike, I take a better look at the Jameses’ house. It appears to be a standard family domicile, though I do note it seems to be in much better condition than those we passed between here and the post office. Howard offers me his hand and I take it, swinging my leg over the seat and tumbling off the side.

“Whoa, there!” he says as I fall into his chest. He places a hand on my waist to steady me.

“I’m okay, thanks.” I straighten and step away, pulling my hand from his. I’m not sure, but for a second I swear he frowns. Then it’s gone, his features back to normal.

We head inside, where Rhonda greets us at the door, a giant grin on her face. “What happened? I didn’t expect to see you again.”

Howard responds before I have a chance. “She asked if she could come back here, and I said it was fine.”

Rhonda cocks an eyebrow at her son, and they stare at one another for a few seconds, seemingly having some sort of silent conversation. With a slight shake of his head and a heavy sigh, they both return their attention to me.

I thank him for taking me to the post office and then suggest he gets some rest. He looks dead on his feet and, although I wish to talk with him some more, I do not want to keep him from his routine.

“See you later,” he says as he walks out of the room.

I am unable to stop myself from watching him as he leaves. While we were riding, the temptation to trace the curves and dips of the muscles I’d seen last night was strong. But the knowledge that I hardly know him kept my hands from roaming.

“He’s a good man,” Rhonda says, startling me.

“Is he?” I wonder if it’s true, as well as why she would tell me that. I don’t have to wonder for long.

“He is. He’ll make an excellent husband.”

It sinks in—she is trying to pair me up with her son. That isn’t a possibility, though.

“A relationship with a man is not in the cards for me.”

“Whyever not?” She sounds genuinely confused.

I sigh. “It is frowned upon for Matrons to be in any kind of relationship. It would take our focus off our job.” As I say it, I realise how awful it sounds.

“It is not illegal, though, is it? If you were to be with a man, would you be breaking any rules?”

I think about it, trying to remember if I had ever seen any law barring Matrons from fornicating. “No, I don’t believe so.”

I am suddenly overcome with a feeling of regret. How is it I have spent half my life in isolation when maybe it didn’t have to be that way?

“So, if it’s not illegal, what harm would there be in exploring your options?”

I blush at her suggestion. Although I don’t think I would be opposed to such types of experimentation at this point, it would hardly be fair to Howard. In a month and a half, I will be our nation’s leader. I will not have the time, or inclination, to be with a man.

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” I say. “For one, I am not a traditionalist, and as interesting as your beliefs are, they are not my own. I would hate to lead Howard on and let him think a relationship would be possible, when it won’t be.”

She looks at me and shakes her head. “I think you are overthinking it a little but . . .” She stops midsentence and I hope she is not going to continue to push the matter. Thankfully, she changes the subject. “Would you like some tea?”

“Love some.”

She leads me into the kitchen and tells me to take a seat. She plugs the stove in, and then pops the kettle on one of the four burners.

In what seems like no time at all, she is seated across from me and we both have cups of piping hot tea in front of us. As we sit sipping our drinks, curiosity gets the best of me and I eventually blurt out, “How did you get pregnant without the doctors knowing?”

Rhonda sets her cup down and takes a deep breath. “What do you understand of the current accepted birthing process?”

“Um, from my lessons I learned that when you are ready to be a mother you go and see your doctor. They will give you a shot that will make you fertile. Then, when the time is right, they will harvest your eggs and mix it with the semen of your donor before implanting it in your womb. Nine months later, a baby is born.”

“Yes, that is how
they
do it. But that is not how our ancestors did it and, I am sure, it’s not how Mother Nature intended.”

I give her a look for her to continue.

“I was a little younger than you when I met Anthony. I was working in the office at the power production plant, and he was a mechanic there. Like you, I had been taught men were only good for working, breeding, and the occasional sexual encounter. He was the first man I ever saw who made me even consider the latter. Every time I saw him, this sensation—as if my whole body was tingling—would come over me. I would feel happy. I didn’t know what the feeling was, only that I felt it when I saw him.

“About a month later, after work one day, I was walking home when I rounded a corner and slammed into something solid, almost falling on my arse. I realised it was a person when a pair of arms grabbed me and stopped me from falling. I was mortified until the person let me go and I looked up and saw it was Anthony. I stood there mesmerised by his blue eyes, my hands gripping his shirt for far longer than was appropriate. When I stepped away, Anthony asked me if I would like to have a drink with him.”

Listening to her story, I can’t help but think of my interactions with Howard. They’re somewhat similar in nature.

“We spent the next few months getting to know one another and, eventually, we did have sex. It was at that point that I decided I wanted to be a mother, and I wanted him to be my donor. We conceived Howard in the modern method, and during my pregnancy, Anthony and I became very close. We both knew we were in love, but it felt somehow incomplete.”

I interrupt. “How did you know it was love?”

“I can’t speak for Anthony, but for me it was a combination of things. First, there was this constant yearning whenever I wasn’t in his presence. It felt like a piece of me was missing. Second, there was how happy I felt when I was around him and how my body felt alive.”

I nod at her explanation and she continues.

“We both felt like we wanted to tie ourselves together, but weren’t sure how to do it. After Howard was born, I wanted Anthony to be a proper father to him like we read about in books, not the kind we have so often now—the ones who are only about when the mother deems it necessary.”

Thoughts of my own father pop into my head. I realise he wasn’t like that at all. He lived with me and Mum.

“So we moved into a domicile together and started raising Howard as a couple. It wasn’t long after that we met a family called the Robinsons. It was a meeting that would change our lives. They were traditionalists, and the more they talked about love, relationships, and families, the more Anthony and I knew that was how we felt about one another.

“They introduced us to the Bible, and it opened our eyes to the possibilities. They also explained to us the government’s deceptions.”

“What do you mean ‘the government’s deceptions’?”

Rhonda takes a sip of her tea, looking at me over the lip of her cup. “You take your concoction of vitamins every morning.”

“Yes, of course.”

She leans in and whispers, “They are not what they tell you they are.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Some of them are vitamins, but one of the tablets is a hormone that stops women from getting pregnant. The injection the doctors give you when you ask about becoming a mum counteracts the pill and starts your natural reproductive system working again.”

I am shocked and slightly disbelieving at first, but when I think about it, it kind of makes sense.

“I have to say I am a little surprised, but I do kind of understand why.”

It is now her turn to be shocked. “But how can you say that? They are lying to us.”

“Yes, and that is not right, but I can understand why they do it. When the ancestors built these cities, they had no idea how long we would be stuck underground. Although they were designed with some room for expansion, there isn’t a lot. If all of the families in Oceania were allowed to have as many children as they wanted, we would be packed in to overflowing. There isn’t the room.”

The look on her face tells me she understands what I mean but still doesn’t agree.

“I have been told that before, but I don’t think anyone has ever explained it in quite such a pleasant manner. Makes me feel a tad guilty.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Please finish your story.”

“After I discovered what was really in some of the vitamins, I stopped taking them and let nature take its course.”

It takes a second for my brain to decipher what she is saying. “So you can conceive by fornicating? It doesn’t have to be through insemination?” I ask, confirming I understand what she is saying.

“If you don’t take your daily vitamins, then yes.”

Wow, that is definitely something they don’t teach in school.
“But why do you call it ‘making love’?”

“That’s a little harder to explain. When you’re in love with someone, fornication takes on a whole other meaning. It is the ultimate way to be one with your love. You’re baring your entire person to him—mind, body, and soul.”

“I wish I could say I understand, but I don’t.” I wonder whether it is my unique circumstances contributing to my confusion, or whether all non-traditionalist citizens would feel the same.

“When it happens, you’ll understand,” Rhonda says.

I doubt I will ever have a relationship with a man like the one she is describing, but, then again, if you had asked me yesterday what I would be doing today, sitting in the kitchen of a family of traditionalists would not have been my answer.

When our teacups are empty, Rhonda takes me for a tour of their compound. They have chickens and rabbits, and I’m astounded because I have never known anyone to have livestock outside of the government corporations. She also shows me her veggie patch and explains her portable hydroponic greenhouse. It occurs to me everything she has shown me was probably stolen from the government at some stage. I knew one thing for certain—the government did not let citizens have their own animals or grow their own food.

I am impressed at their setup nonetheless, and it dawns on me they are almost self-sufficient, relying on the city stores for very little. When she has finished showing me around, we head inside to make lunch.

I twist my hands behind my back when I see Howard sitting at the kitchen table. His hair is all scruffy again, and I blush when he looks up from the cup in his hands and smiles.

“You didn’t sleep very long,” I say.

“I never do,” he replies, his tone of voice telling me he wishes he did.

I stand and stare, watching him drink. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something, but nothing comes to me. He winks and immediately my ears catch on fire. I have to restrain myself from covering them to hide my embarrassment. As if that would make a difference.

I turn, and Rhonda is staring at both of us with a giant grin on her face.

“Do you need a hand with anything?” I ask, though that probably isn’t the wisest thing, seeing as I’ve never made my own food—ever.

“No, thank you, dear, you’re a guest here. I won’t have you doing any work.” Rhonda turns to her son. “Howard why don’t you take her and show her the reading room? I’ll call when lunch is ready.”

Howard nods, places his cup on the table, and stands.

“Come on,” he says, moving around the table. “It’s this way.”

He places his hand in the middle of my back and leads me down the hall. When we reach the room at the very end, he opens the door and I can immediately see why they call it the reading room. There are wall-to-wall bookshelves, and my natural curiosity has me scouring them in no time.