Nine months later: January 2080
I laugh as Ceres braids my hair. It is early afternoon, a special day for Shale and me. It is the day of our “union ceremony.” The ceremony was Ceres’s idea. To my surprise, Shale seems to be excited about it, too.
Marriages are a long-lost custom, of course, one that neither of us had any visions of reenacting. But when Ceres said Shale and I should do something to symbolize our love for—and commitment to—each other, it seemed like it would at least be something for her to focus her energy on, something for us all to be distracted by.
Behind us, Zephyr squawks on the bed that belongs to Ceres. I turn, smiling. He grins at me, his gums shiny with drool where a small tooth has popped out. He is a happy baby, strong and solid. He is utterly loved, and he knows it.
I am so grateful that he already seems to know his place in the world, to know that he is worth the attention and praise we heap on him. He looks exactly like Shale, as if my genes have played no part in his appearance at all. Shale says he has my smile, but I don’t see it. Zephyr’s smile is 100% authentic, belonging to no one but him.
Ceres hands him a baby rattle fashioned out of wood. “There you g-go, little love,” she says. I marvel—again—at how much her speech has improved, at how she seems to be blossoming in spite of our precarious surroundings.
I look around at the peeling paint on the walls of this room. We’ve been living in this abandoned farmhouse, well outside of the city limits, for the past seven months. We haven’t been found out yet, which to me is an amazing thing. We barely found the farm ourselves, overgrown as it was in the summer with vegetation that clung to it on all sides. But slowly, surely, we hacked away and made the place our own. We swept and cleaned and patched until it was livable.
Just as Elara warned me, China is boiling with civil unrest. It began when New Amanian immigrants started a guerilla war shortly after Zephyr was born. But the good news is that with the fires and bombings that have erupted, it isn’t unusual for people—both Chinese and New Amanian—to seek refuge in abandoned homes when their place of residence is decimated. We don’t stand out in a sea of other refugees.
Perhaps one day we’ll venture out, when we feel safer. But for now, I keep waiting for Monitors to burst through the door and arrest all of us for treason. I can see Monitor Ng’s frosty smile as I am taken away as my family watches helplessly. It hasn’t happened, except in the nightmares that sometimes keep me awake at night. They are eased by the warm weight of the baby, curled into my side like a tender sapling. And by Shale’s arms, strong and sure, that encircle me and hold me so close until I can hear nothing but his heartbeat.
Ceres clasps her hands together, surveying me. “You look beautiful.”
I smile. “Thank you.” I survey myself in the cracked mirror on the wall. I’m not bad-looking. Maybe just a tad too skeletal, from our stop-and-start rations from the black market. Shale and I both ensure that the baby and Ceres eat first, before we do, and as a consequence have lost more weight than we can strictly afford to.
I’m wearing a long, billowing cream dress that Shale and I managed to procure from the black market, on Ceres’s insistence that I should wear something other than the wool tunic and pants that are so much easier to get. I haven’t yet seen what Shale got; she was insistent that we not see each other until the actual ceremony.
No one I know has ever done anything like this. I wonder what it will feel like to stand with him as Ceres and Zephyr look on. Will it add any additional weight to our relationship? Will it give it more of a sense of permanence, of solidity? I cannot imagine how it would.
Shale and I have seen betrayal, desperation, greed, and death from up close. If those aren’t solidifying factors, how could simple words make a difference? I glance at Ceres in the mirror. She stands behind me, golden eyes shining. This is for her, I remind myself. In her mind, what Shale and I share is a fairytale, a romantic story to think about and turn over in her hands, to fantasize that perhaps one day she will share the same with someone. And so I will pretend for her that all of this is true. That it is a fairytale without any of the nightmarish parts.
“I should feed Zeph.” I get up and Ceres hands him to me, after planting a quick kiss on his head. “Do you want to show me the dress you picked out for yourself?” In spite of my warnings, Ceres insisted on going with Shale and me to the black market. She insisted on speaking to the man there, to describe the exact dress she was looking for. I’m not sure the man knows what to make of her, but he now regularly asks about my fēng sister, so I suppose she made an impression.
As I breastfeed Zephyr, Ceres pulls out the dress and puts it on. It’s knee-length, a soft mauve color, with puffy sleeves that are gathered tight at her wrists. It looks like it was made for someone shorter than Ceres, but still, she seems to glow from within. “You’re stunning.” I smile. “When did you grow up?”
She blushes.
◊ ◊ ◊
After I feed Zephyr, we head to the front room of the farmhouse. We are dressed so formally—even Zephyr, who wears a small tie Ceres found on the black market.
As we walk through the house, the day has somehow faded into the deep colors of a winter dusk. The roof fell in before we arrived, and we’ve never repaired it because it would be too much work. Instead, when the weather is cold as it is now, we confine ourselves to the back parts of the house. But since the front room is so open and the sky is visible, Ceres was insistent that we should have the ceremony there.
I glance at her as we wind our way downstairs. “Won’t you be cold in that dress? Your legs are uncovered.”
“I-It’s worth it,” she says. “Besides, it’s only for the ce-ceremony. Then we’ll move indoors.”
I shake my head. I don’t know what she’s planned. She insisted that Shale and I be surprised all of today. All we were asked to do was be present.
We walk into the front room, and I gasp. Zephyr looks up at me and reaches for my mouth, his fingers splayed out. I kiss his soft flesh, my eyes glittering with tears so the dozens of lanterns that have been lit around the room turn into hundreds. In the dusk, the light is magical. Ceres has brought in branches and winter berries, so the ruined room looks like a theatrical set, a stage, as if we tore the roof out on purpose.
She smiles. “L-like it?”
I put my hand on her cheek. “I love it. Thank you.”
She grins and grabs my hand. “Come. Stand here.” Ceres and I pick our way through bits of rubble. She deposits me by a cluster of lanterns at the front of the room. Then she takes Zephyr from me. He coos happily—he adores Ceres—and she kisses his cheek.
“What am I doing here?” I ask.
But she turns and looks at the doorway instead. I follow her gaze. Shale steps through.
I stare at him. He is dressed in a black coat, a white shirt with pearl-like buttons, and black pants, just like he used to wear to the yez a whole lifetime ago. There is a deep crimson tie at his throat. He grins at me, one side of his mouth higher than the other, a lopsided, crooked smile. I have never seen anything more beautiful. He walks up to me and takes my hand. His is warm and strong, so sure. As he looks down at me, his eyes are brilliant in the fading light of the sun and the burnished orange from the lanterns. “Hi.”
I smile. I can barely see him through the haze of tears. Why am I crying? Why do I feel such a lightness inside? I’ve seen pictures of weddings; I’ve read about them in the books Marisa gave me. But this—this feels like so much more than what I thought. This feels like me and Shale, together, against the world. This feels like...it feels like family. Forever. Concrete and unbreakable.
Ceres comes to stand before us. She smiles at Shale as if they share a secret. “Now, Shale w-will s-say a few words.”
I see his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. Then he takes my other hand as well, enveloping both of mine in his. “Vika, I remember a poem my father once told me when I was a young boy. It was about love, written by a pre-War poet. I didn’t know anything about love back then, but still, one line stuck with me: ‘Where I does not exist, nor you; so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.’
“When I heard that, I thought, I hope I can love someone that way some day. I hope I find someone who inspires that depth of feeling. What must it feel like to cease to exist, to cease to fully live, without another person? What sense of completeness must you feel when you’re together?” He smiles, pauses to gently caress my cheek, wipe a tear. “I don’t have to wonder that anymore. From the moment you promised to teach me to read back in New Amana, I knew I was lost. There was no hope of going back to things the way they were—blissfully ignorant of the power of caring for another person so completely, the way I do for you. And so today, I am happy, but more than that, I am honored to be standing here with you. I pledge my love, my soul, to you. For now and forever.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Ceres wipe her eyes. I swallow so I can speak coherently. “Shale...you’ve saved my life so many times in so many different ways. You’ve made me a mother. You’ve kept our family safe. But today, I want to thank you for making me whole. Before you came along, I lived a half life. I was half a person, a scared, cornered rat in a dismal existence I didn’t even want. Now, happiness is the first taste on my tongue every morning. I don’t know what the future holds. None of us can know that. But while my body is whole and as long as my soul exists somewhere in this universe, I will love you. For now and forever.”
Shale’s eyes gleam, and I realize that he has tears in them. Ceres comes forward with one fist out in front of her, fingers closed. She unfurls them, and on her palm are two metal rings.
“I got them from the black market,” she explains. “They’re wedding bands. From before.”
Shale takes the smaller one and I reach for the bigger one. The inside of the one he will wear is engraved with a small symbol I have never seen before—a sideways 8. He slips the one he holds on my finger, and I slip the one meant for him on his. We kiss.
I am complete.
For now and forever.
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