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It was good that I'd not slept, I told myself. It was easier for Mrs. Fairfacs to wake me up if I didn't need waking in the first place.
“Miss Jane, dear, Mr. Thorne asked me to tell you that the ceremony will be in one hour.”
“Thank you. That will be all, Mrs. Fairfacs.”
I washed and dressed in Kirti's bathroom. The sky in the PLED windows turned from navy to cobalt.
“Miss Jane, dear, Mr. Thorne asked me to tell you that the ceremony will be in thirty minutes.”
My unbound hair, unmade face, and bland PVC perks ring were stark contrasts to the flowing, beaded, embroidered gown I wore, bringing me to whisper to the mirror, “Who are you?”
I received no answer.
“Miss Jane, dear, Mr. Thorne asked me to tell you that the minister is here, and that you are to meet Mr. Thorne at the main door to process outside together.”
He wanted the ceremony on our rock. I blinked back the tears. I thought of going outside in this dress. The satin was genuine silk, not treated with soil repellant. The red desert dust would mar it.
I donned the matching veil, a silk chiffon that Bhenji Nealingson would have admired. Another contrast came to mind: I compared my current solitude to Bhenji Nealingson's boisterous, week-long wedding, surrounded by friends, colleagues and students. I had no one to attend me in this early hour as I had attended Bhenji Nealingson the night the braat procession arrived for her. I slid the elbow length gloves over my hands awkwardly for lack of assistance. I gave sleeping Kirti one last farewell glance, and then I left.
I felt dwarfed by the arching hall vaulting over my head. The next time I passed this way, in this direction, I would be Jane Thorne, on my way to my honeymoon with my new husband. My pace slowed as this thought thrilled the edges of my composure, but I did not stop completely. As I walked, I did not even once ponder, as many brides do, whether or not the groom would be there at the end of this journey. I knew he would. I'd never felt such confidence, such faith before Thorne became my life. A high of emotions blended with my lack of sleep, and my every step felt cushioned with a cloud of unreality.
“Jane!” Thorne called from the front of the house. “Jane! It's almost dawn!”
I quickened my steps, my heart booming like cannon volleys. The chiffon of my veil caressed my cheeks with each step. This was real.
I reached the foyer and found Thorne there, pacing, glowering with impatience, eyes darting. When he saw me, he stopped. An inward rush of breath filled his chest, straining the shoulders of his black jacket. I could not speak or move.
“My God,” he said.
Thorne came and took my arm, staring at me with wonder easing the age-etching of his features. His open mouth pulled with a smile so slight only I could have seen it, but his eyes seemed strangely out of place, glittering. I let out a sigh, half-giggle, half-shudder.
“You—” He began. Choked off. He closed his eyes, lowered his head, then lifted his face once more. “My first, my last. My best. My only.”
He pulled me closer to him so that our noses almost brushed, my veil our only barrier.
“Remember that,” he whispered, “no matter what.”
Tears leapt to my eyes. Only. I was to be his only, as he was already mine. I was too moved to smile. And were those tears I saw reflecting against his lower lids? He turned from me, held me at his side, so I had no second look.
“Let's go,” he said.
We went. He looped his arm behind me and lifted my left hand in his as if we were partners in a side-by-side dance. I heard a mutter of resignation puff through his nose as he grasped the band of plain perks ring I wore on my forefinger. He pressed its ring top to the door lock, and it opened for us. Mrs. Fairfacs did not appear. Together we ascended the steps into the dawn.
At first his grip on me was a desperate clinging, but with each step, I felt the tension in his body change, become more malleable, more confident—or more arrogant? My own motion and tension were changing as well. My steps became plodding, as if I were being compelled by some force outside of myself. But that wasn't true! I couldn't have wanted to do this more! This was the love I'd always wanted, wasn't it? Growing lightheaded, I exhaled so hard that my veil billowed.
We mounted the final step and turned toward our rock. The sunlight was at our backs, illuminating the two people come to perform the ceremony.
Wait. Two? Thorne had mentioned only the minister.
I looked to Thorne to check that nothing here was a surprise to him. However, I had taken the next step, while Thorne had not. This made my forward-moving arm pull on his, the separation between us bridged only by his clinging. I studied his face, but it had gone blanker than a PLED screen error message.
I looked back at the two strangers standing on our rock. The one I guessed to be the minister was a red-haired man perhaps about Thorne's age, dressed in a robe made of a brightly striped woolen blanket. Standing next to him at a conferring angle was a taller, stouter, older woman in a floor-length suit, matching hat and no-nonsense, monochromatic veil. Her dress and stance conveyed solid professionalism.
As did her manner when she brusqued her way over to us, gloved hand stretched towards Thorne, walking as quickly as her mouth moved. “Parker Thorne? Pleasure to meet you. Keti Ruoff. Beckins, Bhutt and Waite. New York-based law firm.”
Bewildered, I watched Thorne drop my arm to take her hand. She shook his hand vigorously, but for all he shook back it looked like she was trying and failing to shake loose a fallen tree.
She smiled tightly, nonplussed. “We received word of your sealing ceremony today.”
Sealing. She made it sound like we were having foam insulation applied.
“I came to help secure the appropriate documentation so you and your new bride could proceed with your plans.”
Thorne whipped his hand back from Ruoff and clamped it like a vise around my shoulder. “And what documentation is that?”
She blinked a few too many times. “You'll just need consent from your present wife for you to take a second.”
Since these words did not make sense to me, my brain went into translation mode. Language? English, or at least some form of it. Words in question? Present wife. “Present” as in “gift” or as “here and now?” Second. As in “one-one-thousand?” Or as in after “first”—as in not the only?
“Yes,” Minister Young boomed with relieved cheer. “It's a good thing Ruoff arrived, otherwise I would have performed the wrong ceremony.” Then he made a soft gesture of good-natured dismissal. “Not that it would matter much.”
Scowling, Thorne addressed Ruoff, “Who gave you the idea that this would be anything other than a singular marriage?”
She repeated her smile. “Funny story, really. Our firm received a text message from one of our clients. You, I believe,” she said, pointing at me. “Well, it was dated a month ago, but it got bounced around, and I didn't get it until rather late last night.”
Thorne looked from Ruoff to me, the word Why? forming on his lips, while the woman finished addressing me. “I recognized your fiancé's name from a will I had recently certified.”
“Whose will?” Thorne demanded, narrowed eyes going from me to the woman, back to me again.
“His,” Ruoff said, gesturing behind us.
I turned. Facing us, backlit by the sunrise, a figure stood at some distance, cowering behind the slope of the mound that marked Emhain Macha's location.
“I—I,” the familiar voice stammered. “I'd named you as my secondary beneficiary, Gadhra, since Daddy's getting older...”
The man was not coming any closer. I squinted against the light, let my eyes adjust. Thorne's grip on my arm increased until it hurt.
“Rule.” Thorne pronounced the name like a curse.
“When he called me this morning on business,” Ruoff added, “I congratulated him on gaining another sister-in-law and asked why he wasn't at the wedding. We're out on the east coast, so, the time difference was in our favor.”
With an inane grin, Rule nodded. “I was surprised—but happy for you, Gadhra. God knows it's time you had someone who could make you happy. I don't blame you—”
“You don't blame me,” Thorne muttered, laughing bitterly under his breath. Then he threw my arm down, fists stretched at his sides and exploded, “YOU DON'T BLAME ME?”
His outburst shook me, and I gasped. Bereft of Thorne's grasp, I fought to still the tremor of disbelief now running through me. I was growing cold with a physical shock. I was his first, last, best, only. No matter what. He'd said so. This couldn't be happening.
“I was trying to help,” Rule said, stepping backwards, arms up in self-defense. “I figured that if we couldn't find you, I could let the lawyer in and get my sister's consent—”
“Oh,” Ruoff replied, “I'm just a paralegal.”
Thorne tensed, holding himself back from throttling Rule. I stood alone.
“Hey, now.” Minister Young, seeing this, held up his hands, palms out. “There's no reason to get upset. Just a few minor adjustments and we can go on as planned.”
In a crisp voice meant to reassure, Ruoff said, “Your right to plural marriage is protected under The Freedom of Lifestyles Act. The only thing we need to do is get the required consent of all parties involved.”
“And I'm sure that won't be too hard,” Young said, his palms upraised. Minister Young turned to Rule, asking, “You did say that she's here now, right?”
Rule did not seem able to answer. Instead, he cringed behind his upraised forearms.
“If you're worried she won't give the required consent,” Ruoff supplied cheerfully, “perhaps I could help?”
Thorne's jaw froze. His eyes narrowed to vicious slits. Nodding with obvious irony, he said, “I'd like to see you try.”
Thorne reached for my arm again and began dragging me back into the house. I was too numb to resist. The others followed, Rule last.
As Thorne hurried us through the maze inside, I heard Rule call out, “I tried contacting you as soon as I heard, Gadhra. I guess you didn't get any of my messages?”
The tapping of many feet punctuated Thorne's silence.
We approached Kirti's room, where she stood in her doorway. Advancing on us, she cried, “That was fast!”
Thorne was closest to her. He pushed her aside. Dumbfounded, she watched us leave but did not follow. I was grateful. I knew where we were going.
Thorne led us to the absolute center of gravity, the linen closet that hid an anteroom. Still clutching my arm like a shield in a swordfight, Thorne jabbed his free hand toward the biometric pad just beneath the door's perks receptor.
“Go ahead, Rule,” Thorne challenged. “Try to help me.”
Rule hesitated, eyes fixed on Thorne, but then he did as bidden. He pressed his perks ring to the receptor, and then leaned his hand against the pad. Then he waited.
“It's not opening,” Rule said.
“Of course it's not opening,” Thorne snapped. “During your last visit, she changed your palm print, remember? The database doesn't have the new one.”
“I—I—was only trying to help—” Rule repeated.
Ignoring Rule, still clinging to me, Thorne gave his perks then his palm to the door. It opened. Into the linen closet we went—all except Rule, who hung back in the hall, wide eyed and quivering. Thorne pushed aside a pile of accurately folded napkins, beneath which was another perks receptor and a keypad about fifteen years old in design. Thorne used both of these devices to unlock the hidden door. He led us through that threshold as well, into the dim blue light I'd seen before from the safety of the antechamber.
Two walls were lined with humming server cabinets. Pin-sized blue lights on each let us know that they were working. Thin cables led from one of the servers into the floor.
In the center of the floor on a waist-height stand was an at-home capsule.
Thorne dropped my arm and approached the living coffin. He leaned his hands on it. “Go ahead,” he said. “Try to get consent. You won't get far—not in one piece anyway.”
Ruoff's smile was starting to wear. “I don't understand.”
Over his shoulder, Thorne replied, “The first divorce lawyer who came here lost an arm. The next was carted away in a body bag. Just make one move to sever her from her drugs and you'll pay the price. I know I have.”
Minister Young swallowed roughly in disbelief. “She's—your wife is in there?”
Thorne nodded. “There's nowhere else she can go. Lara Rozbeh Bedros-Thorne, firstborn princess of the drug empire.”
Rozbeh Bedros. The name was familiar. So was the design of the at-home capsule before me. Then I remembered: Rozbeh-Bedros Pharmaceuticals. The company that had donated both Aidann's antivibac and the capsule where she had died.
“Bedros!” Ruoff called back to Rule. “Your last name!”
Rule shrugged, his pale face going pink.
“Is she dying?” the minister asked.
“I should be so lucky,” Thorne said with a bitterness that made my blood run cold. “No, she knows how to use her neural electricity to manipulate electrical currents. To control her, I have to seal her in here and keep changing the signal patterns the house system uses. Still, sometimes she breaks free.”
Lights dimming. Doors locking for no reason.
Minister Young stammered, “But—she is your wife?”
“Legally.” Thorne would not look at me. “Like I said. I did try to find lawyers who could keep this quiet. But any threat to take her off her drugs—even something that looks like a threat, somebody gets hurt. Always.”
The fire in Thorne's room. Rule's hands. My ring.
Then, Thorne's anger was displaced by a despair so visible, I saw it course through his body. “In fact,” he said, reaching for the lock at the capsule's side, opening it, “watch.”
“Gadhra, no!” Rule shouted, hand outstretched to stop him, but feet anchored to the floor.
Then there was that eerie, sharp zap of silence. Thorne's whole body froze for a nanosecond, fingers glued to the open lips of the capsule. I sucked in a breath, a sharp pain shooting through my chest as if the shock had hit me instead.
The silence let up. Thorne cried out, his biceps bulging as he pushed against the capsule, straining as it tried with a vengeance to shut itself on him. He pulled himself away just in time to escape the lid's slamming-to. He stood there shuddering, sweat beading his brow.
Both Young and Ruoff were stunned silent. But what was I feeling? Through my shock I felt my feet move. Compelled, I walked over to the now closed capsule. Thorne looked up to me as I approached his side. I could not look at him, though. I looked inside. His wife wore a thin cotton gown similar to the last thing Aidann had worn in this life. Her legs and arms looked like styluses wrapped in flaccid tissue. Her mouth had rigor mortised into an addict's hungry grin. Her hair, laced with dull gray, was long, perhaps as long as mine. Her thin chest rose and fell, her eyes closed.
Soon my breathing took on the same rhythm as hers. All sound in the room disappeared as I felt the walls begin to press in upon us—not just these walls with their server cabinets, but all the walls of all the halls here in this pit in the desert. The smell of antivibac and nutritional supplements and aerosolized medication packets tightened around me until I was taking only the smallest gasps, then was not breathing at all. Sweat iced my neck and back. Each squeeze of my heart crushed me smaller and smaller. I was trapped. Trapped...
“Jane E?”
I startled half-out of this claustrophobic attack.
Ruoff. “I take it this is news to you?”
I could not even speak to acknowledge this truth. By the same force that had brought me closer to the capsule, I found myself backing away from it, still not looking at Thorne. A detached part of my consciousness noted that I passed the minister, passed Rule, heard Ruoff following me down the hall, calling my name, such as it was. I did not stop until I realized that she would keep following me, calling me in her nut-crisp voice until I halted and heard her.
“Well,” she began on a sigh of shocked satisfaction, “I wanted to tell you that I must report this or else lose my board certification for ethics violations.”
Ethics. I felt like she was talking to me from another end of a very long tunnel. I think I nodded back.
“And I wanted to offer you my additional services.”
“Services?” My voice came out high, dry.
“After all, it was you I came to see in the first place. There's money waiting for you at our office. You have to come in person to meet all the DNA verification screenings, of course, but you could take that settlement, leave that lying sack, and start a new life. You could even sue for damages.” When I stared at her past her comfort zone, she explained, “You know. Pain and suffering. That sort of thing.”
Her voice reminded me of Bhenji Fleuvbleu's when she was talking down to us like we were incompetent babies.
When I still failed to give her any encouragement, she merely sighed. “Well. Why don't I just text you with my information, and you can contact me when you're ready.”
I did not watch her leave. Dazed, I studied the stucco wall across from me until I heard other footsteps approaching.
“If you like,” the minister was saying, “I can stay. Perhaps you could work something out with Jane, make her understand. I can probably just write that we're not getting consent due to the first wife's mental incapacity or something like that. Nobody ever looks into these matters anyway.”
I was going to be sick. I first walked then ran towards my room. The door let me in. I locked myself behind it. I wanted out of this dress. I went to the wardrobe, and it wasn't until then that I realized I was still wearing my veil. I removed it, hung it up, changed from that frothy white gown into a bland salawar kameez. Gravity pulled my eyes downward. On the bottom of my wardrobe I saw my nylon blue scar-bag, my colorblindness glasses, and Aidann's Memorare scroll.
Even fixable mistakes still leave their scars.
I heard the footsteps of Rule, Minister Young, and Thorne pass outside. The PLED window showed the sun shining just over the horizon. So little time had passed, and so much had changed. No, all that was supposed to have changed had not. I was still Jane E. Thorne was as he always had been since I'd known him—only I hadn't known him at all. Without my message to Second Chance, all of this would have remained buried.
This was my fault. Thorne would see it so. How could he forgive me? I was just another in a long line of women whose resources he'd found, found attractive, used, used up. And I'd taken it all for real love. I'd let myself be duped. I suddenly understood the desire to self-euthanize in a whole new way. I more than understood it. I had it myself.
I grasped for a mental hold. Water. Nothing can hurt water, I thought to myself, but I could no longer believe that. Water pollution was the blight of human existence. Consider the unseen power of the wind. What did wind ever do but flee?
Inspired with this confidence, I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins my Mother.
I reached for Aidann's scroll for the first time in a very long time.
... never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help or sought your intercession, was left unaided.
An hour ago, had I thought of fleeing to protection, I would have thought of Thorne. That option was gone, leaving a dark, scorched spot inside of me. My love for him was still there. Had it been a small thing, the slightest breeze would have blown it out. Instead, the tornado of this morning's truth had stoked it, consuming me from the inside, obliterating my soul's armor. Raw with agony only the crushed heart knows, I collapsed on the bed, the Memorare scroll wound about my fingers, fingers searching for comfort that would not come.
Dedication:
To Deetdee-Bean,
Quiet and Strong
