Marie's Journey (Ginecean Chronicles) (7 page)

“Keep him down, would you?” Rane muttered something else Marie didn’t understand.

Rane shoved Marie out of the way as the doctor calmed Grant and finished dressing his wounds by herself. “What’s the problem with you? Didn’t you want to be a nurse? What do you think it means? Redecorating the patients’ rooms?” The woman was furious and her eyes shone dark and bright.

Marie felt small and useless as Rane towered over her and pushed her toward the wall by poking at her chest with a finger. “Change your attitude or get out of here and nev—” Grant moved on the bed and emitted a haunting sound that stopped Rane midsentence. Both Rane and Marie ran back to him.

“Why is he screaming?” Marie couldn’t bear to hear the piercing laments. “Can’t we do something?”
Please make it stop.

“He turned on his back. That’s why he’s screaming. And yes, we can do something to help him. It’s called a strong opiate.” Rane showed her how to keep Grant on his side and then went to a cabinet where there several small bottles stood behind glass. The brunette fished a key out of one of the pockets on her vest and opened the cabinet. “Here, take one. You’ll feel better.” She placed a small blue pill between Grant’s lips and gave him some water from a plastic cup. Grant gulped down the pill the first try.

Marie waited, her breath caught somewhere in her throat. “How long does it take for the medicine to work?”

Rane shrugged. “It must dissolve in the stomach. Not soon enough.”

“Isn’t there something faster?” Marie didn’t want to look at Grant, but she couldn’t resist the urge. His face was covered in sweat and his already fair complexion had paled to a ghostly white. “There must be something.”

 “Of course there is.” Rane gave her a look as if she had asked a stupid question.

“Then why didn’t you give it to him?”

“Because.”

Marie was going to ask what she had meant with that answer, but Rane made a face and then exclaimed, “You really are naïve, aren’t you?”

Marie was offended by her remark. “I’m fifteen—”

“The better, faster, safer medicines aren’t to be wasted on workers,” Rane recited. “I work with expired antibiotics and barely enough painkillers to keep them alive.” She started to caress Grant’s shoulders. “Do the same to his arms.”

“Do you want me to touch
him
?” Marie choked at the end.

“Yes, I want you to touch him.”

Marie mustered some courage, timidly took one of Grant’s arms in her hand, and slowly stroked it. All the while, she couldn’t stop shivering.

“The touch calms sick patients.” The woman gestured to use both hands to give the massage. “Don’t you feel better when you’re caressed?”

Marie blushed.
Of course I feel better when someone caresses me! What a silly question.

“Well, you’d be surprised, but men feel better too when treated like human beings.” Rane gave her a pointed look.

Maybe she’s testing me.
Marie redoubled her effort, and trying her best to ignore the way she reacted to his proximity, starting with Grant’s right hand, she massaged it with an upward motion. “Is this good?”

“Yes, it feels good,” Grant replied, surprising her. The result was that Marie dropped his arm as if it weighted a ton and jumped back at the same time. Rane rebuked her. To add insult to the injury, Grant gave her an amused look, despite the fact he was ridden with pain. “Thank you,” he said, keeping his focus on Marie.

“Try to relax now,” Rane said to Grant, and after passing a hand through his hair in a tender gesture, she moved away from his bed to check on a man two beds on the right who had just called her.

“Hi, Marie.” Grant hadn’t lowered his eyes. He was still looking at her.

Marie felt a strange tingle at his words. She hadn’t seen him since Carnia had left Redfarm, and her thoughts were scattered several directions at once. “What happened to you?”

“I got whipped.” He turned slightly on his side and grimaced in pain.

She closed the distance between them in a second, her hands reaching for him by their own volition. “Don’t move. Let me help you.”

“I can’t stay in this position for long. I think I’ve a broken rib or something.” His voice was a rattle now.

At closer scrutiny, his eyes looked red and feverish and dark circles sat under them. “Don’t talk.” She could see every word he spoke forced him to expand his thorax, pushing on the broken rib. She brought a wheeled stool closer and sat by him. “I’ll massage your shoulders. Is that okay?”

He nodded and let his head slip farther down the pillow. “Tell me something about yourself.” He sounded sleepy already.

“Me?” The question took Marie by surprise. A worker asking about a woman’s life. She saw the sickly sheen on his skin and how much it hurt him to keep talking. “I don’t like the color yellow,” she blathered, not knowing what else to say.

“You don’t like the color yellow?” His eyes, on the verge of closing a moment ago, now flashed wide open and focused on her mouth.

Or so it seemed to Marie. “I hate the color yellow.”

“But, why?” He moved his head on the pillow to better look at her.

She moved accordingly to help him avoid unnecessary movements. “My hair is yellow and I truly wish it was darker.”

“I like it.” His hand reached for one of her long locks before she understood what he intended. “It’s silky.” His fingers slid through her hair in long strokes before she had the wits to stop him.

She shivered, then realized his hand was still under hers and she wanted to let it go, but couldn’t move. “What are you doing?”

“Wanted to touch your hair.” His voice was blurred, but the hurt was unmistakable.

She was shocked, and at the same time, she felt bad for him. “You shouldn’t take these kinds of liberties with a woman,” she murmured under her breath. As if she wanted to explain her words, she added, “I could report you.” But deep inside, she knew she wouldn’t have. As she hadn’t reported him when she had seen him for the first time stealing food from the cellars.

He surprised Marie by throwing another compliment at her. “You have pretty eyes.” His owns eyes were closing and he was trying his best to keep them open, but it was a lost battle. “You’re nice.” And with that, he finally went to sleep, leaving her angry and flustered.

Angry because she was flustered by his words. She shouldn’t have been flustered by a man’s words.

“Under opiates, they say the darnedest things. Don’t mind the boy. He’s been having the worst luck lately. In and out of this place three times already in the last two weeks.” Rane was back at Grant’s side and Marie hadn’t heard her coming. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t.” Marie lied through her teeth because she needed to feel in control again. “What happened to him?”

Rane let her have her small victory and answered her question. “He got caught, not once, but three different times, trying to escape.”

“Escaping?” Marie left the stool for Rane, who thanked her and went to check Grant’s vitals. “But to go where?” Where would a worker go once outside the farm’s walls?

“Somewhere nicer for him.” Rane was holding his right wrist between thumb and index. “Do you know how to take the pulse?”

Marie shook her head. She had seen Madame Carla check one of the girls who had fainted once, but she didn’t know what to do.

“Come here and take his other wrist.” Rane waited for Marie to take position by her and reach for Grant’s left wrist. “Yes, like that, good.” She helped Marie to find his pulse. “Gently press your finger on the bigger vein and count his heartbeats.”

Marie didn’t feel anything at first, but then she registered a soft thump under her fingertip and her heart thumped in unison with his. It felt too intimate, but she didn’t move. Rane was looking at her and she didn’t want to disappoint the woman.

“He’s okay for now. Let’s hope he doesn’t wake up soon.” Rane let down the wrist she was holding tenderly.

“Where would he go?” Marie mimed her and gently laid Grant’s hand on the sheet. The skin on the back of his hand was splashed with dark freckles and amidst them, there were old scars. She caressed his marred knuckles without realizing she was doing it and blushed when Rane gave her a pointed look. “If he were to escape, where could he possibly go?”

“How would I know?” Rane’s eyes were inscrutable. “This isn’t suitable conversation for a fathered woman.”

“But you started—” Marie regretted having opened her big mouth the moment she said the first word. “I apologize.” Still, she wanted to tell Rane what she thought of her choice of suitable conversations.
Do as I say, not as I do
.
Fine by me
.

“Help me with the patient on bed four. Bad concussion.” Rane was already past the lecture.

“How did he hit his head?” Marie followed the brunette to the fourth bed and took a look at the man’s head. A big bump was visible under plastered hair.

“Do you want to know?” Rane raised an eyebrow.

Marie couldn’t fathom the woman. Was she playing with her? Was she testing her somehow? Was she just emotionally unstable? “I don’t need details.”

“His head collided with a piece of wood.” The brunette waited for her to ask more, the corner of her lips slightly turned up.

“I see.” Several images ran through Marie’s mind and her face must’ve shown her inner turmoil.

Rane’s expression sweetened. “We must keep him awake and check if his pupils are dilating.”

Did I pass the test?
Marie followed instructions as Rane doled them out and she didn’t give the woman any reason to complain for the rest of the day. She was asked to check on Grant twice, but didn’t approach his bed if not asked to, although her eyes wandered several times toward it. He didn’t stir from the long sleep the opiate had induced.

“He needs to reenergize his batteries,” Rane commented when she caught Marie looking at Grant’s unmoving shape under the white sheets.

Marie nodded, not knowing what to say. Soon after, Rane declared she could retire for the day.

“You’ve done better than I expected.” And with those words, she looked at the exit and then went back to her patient.

Marie left the men’s infirmary without looking back, although she wanted to go see Grant one last time. But she had the feeling Rane hadn’t stopped watching her and felt the doctor’s dark eyes on her as she opened the door and closed it behind her. Once in the dark hallway, she leaned against the damp brick walls and let her heart slow for a moment before facing the upper floors’ population. She was worried her face showed how upside-down she felt and wasn’t in a mood to give explanations. After several long minutes, she decided to start the ascension back to the women’s world. She would’ve lingered in the hallway, but the certainty that Rane could leave at any moment made her move. And sure enough, Marie’s feet had touched the last flight of steps around the corner when the unmistakable sound of a door swinging on its hinges reached her ears. The door closed immediately and nobody followed her.

“So, how was it?” Verena was filling her plate with everything in sight.

Marie had found her in the kitchen and waited for Verena’s shift to end so they could eat together. The cafeteria was blissfully empty this early in the evening and they could talk without worries; the ladies behind the counter weren’t paying attention to them and there were only a handful of girls sitting at the tables. Marie steered Verena toward the most isolated table, the one in the darker corner not reached by the windows’ light. Nobody wanted it for that reason and it was perfect if you didn’t want to share your space with anybody else. Marie had found out about it soon enough. As one of the last arrivals to Redfarm, she’d been forced to sit at the unwanted table several times when her turn hadn’t coincided with her new friends. She didn’t mind though.

“So?” Verena reluctantly followed her to the dark corner, made an eloquent face as her eyes darted toward better-illuminated spots, and finally sat on the proffered chair.

“Dreadful.” Marie wasn’t sure she wanted to share what she had felt while working under Rane, but she needed to talk to someone. “I was sent to tend to the men.” She had lowered her voice, even though the closest person was several tables away and engaging in a conversation with the lunch ladies.

“Hmm…” Verena dropped the spoon with the soup on the plate, splashing vegetables and little chunks of meat on the tablecloth. “So you worked at the men’s infirmary, ah?”

“Not that I had a choice.” She felt her cheeks redden. “Madame Lana sent me there. I didn’t go because I wanted to.”

“Of course not.” Verena gave her a puzzled look, and Marie realized her vehement comments had been unnecessary. “What did you do the whole day?”

“Mostly I dressed wounds.” She fought for a moment with the idea of not saying anything else, but then she always felt safe in Verena’s presence and she added, “Grant was there.”

“Grant?” Verena scooped up the pieces of soup from the table and put them on the edge of her tray.

“Carnia’s… Grant.” Marie couldn’t help but lower her voice even more.

“I know who you were talking about. What about him?” Verena was eating her soup with great pleasure.

Watching her friend enjoying her dinner, Marie realized her stomach didn’t seem to be open for business. Actually, the idea of eating made her feel queasy. “He’d been whipped. Badly.”

Verena shrugged. “It happens.” Done with the soup, she was already attacking the heap of mashed potatoes.

“It does.” Marie didn’t want to appear unsophisticated and didn’t confess how much seeing Grant’s marred flesh had affected her.

“It’s the way things go…” Verena waved her fork in the air.

“I know—” Marie bit her tongue.

“But?” Verena had lowered her voice and looked behind Marie.

Apprentices and elders were slowly filling the cafeteria and voices echoed around the big room. Verena composed her face in a smile and saluted someone. Marie turned to face Cina and Laila. “Hi, girls.” She followed Verena’s example and plastered a smile on her face.

The two girls took two chairs from a nearby empty table and joined them. “I heard you lucked out on peeling duty.” Cina deposited her tray on the table.

“Not the way I see it.” Marie mindlessly moved pieces of broccoli and chicken all around her plate. A swirly pattern took shape and she erased it with her fork.

“She got the men’s infirmary,” Verena supplied, licking the sticky sweetness of a small pastry cake from her fingers.

“I see.” Laila didn’t seem surprised.

“Well, why do you think they can’t find a substitute for Carnia? There aren’t enough girls willing to pass the first part of the training under Rane.” Cina looked at Marie as if she were an idiot.

She felt like one at the moment. “Everyone knows about this except me, huh?” She gave Verena a piercing look; her friend had the decency to lower her eyes to her empty plate. “Well, I had no idea when I left the Institute that training to be a nurse meant working with men.” She sounded childish even to herself, but couldn’t stop from adding, “And I’m pretty sure Madame Carla would be furious to know I’ve been forced to do just that.”

“You weren’t forced.” Verena looked at her from over the cup of steaming tea she was drinking.

“Feels the same to me.” Marie grabbed her own cup of tea to have something to do with her hands instead of punching the trio in front of her.

“She didn’t know about the training-on-the-workers-first deal.” Laila was playing with the metallic beads on her bracelet, letting them clink against each other.

The gesture reminded Marie of the bracelet she had once given Idra, now lying under her pillow. Instantaneous guilt trip. She had thought of the girl she had professed undying love to not once in several days. Maybe weeks.

“Marie?” Cina waved one hand before Marie’s face to make her come back to Ginecea.

They had kept talking while guilt ripped through her about not having thought of Idra. “Sorry—”

“It’s okay. I’d be out of it too if I had to touch a man.” Laila shivered.

“Did you?” Cina looked particularly interested in what Marie had to say on the topic.

“Did I what?” She knew what she had been asked, but wanted to play coy.

“Did you touch Grant?” Verena surprised everybody with the question.

“You mean Carnia’s…?” Laila’s eyes became big as saucers.

“I didn’t,” Marie lied without thinking. “Rane didn’t let me do anything.” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Sounds strange. Doctor Rane’s famous for her hands-on teaching.” Verena looked Marie in the eyes and didn’t lower her gaze for several unblinking moments. “And… didn’t you just say you dressed wounds?” She had lowered her voice to a whisper to be heard only by Marie.

A plate fell on the floor not far from they were sitting and the whole table jumped. Laila and Cina started laughing and Verena and Marie followed a moment later. The rest of the dinner was pleasantly spent in recanting old and new gossip. The questions about the infirmary seemingly forgotten by everybody.

Once back in their room though, Verena asked, “Are we friends?”

Marie spun around, surprised by her question. She took a moment to collect herself by methodically closing the door behind her, then sat on her bed and removed her shoes. Once she started slowly massaging her feet, she thought she was ready to talk. “Why would you ask that?”

“Are you going to tell me the truth about Grant?” Verena hadn’t moved. She finally turned and gave her back to Marie when she hesitated to answer. “Fine.”

“Why do you want to know?” Marie wanted to come clean about the mixed feelings she had regarding the day spent at the infirmary, but she felt ashamed of not having clear thoughts about the whole situation.

“I need to know where you stand.” Verena had resumed her earlier position, a wall towering over Marie, her arms crossed under her breasts.

“I don’t understand.” Marie gulped down the knot that had formed in her throat.

“Are you attracted to men?” Apart from the lips, not a single muscle moved on Verena’s stony face.

Marie chocked on air and sputtered, “How…? What…?” She felt hot and wiped sweat from her forehead. “Someone could hear you asking me… that. Are you crazy?” She was angry at her friend and couldn’t repress the shaking in her hands.

“You wouldn’t be so mad at me if my question didn’t make
you
mad.” Verena’s voice was now sympathetic, which enraged Marie even more. “You wouldn’t be the first one to like men—”

“I’d never like a man. I could never, ever like a man. How dare you say anything like that?” But the more she said it, the more it sounded hollow to her own ears. Unwanted memories of her fingers caressing Grant’s hand came back to her. “I’d never…” Tears stung her eyes and she angrily wiped them away. She was at the mercy of feelings she didn’t have a use for and a friend who could read her mind. “Never say anything like that again.”

“I won’t. Promise.” Verena reached her and sat on the bed. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” She drew a sobbing Marie closer and hugged her. “But remember, if you ever need a friend to confide in, I’ll be here for you. Understand?”

Marie sniffed, grateful for Verena’s warmth, but uncertain about her words.

“Sometimes, I forget how young you are,” Verena murmured, and for once, Marie didn’t rebuke her.

She had no strength left to feel angry at the slight to her age and felt even less at the moment. The maturity she always claimed to have temporarily took a leave of absence. “I’m no men lover.”

“You shouldn’t use that phrasing.” It was Verena instead who rebuked her. “It isn’t nice.”

Marie didn’t know what to think anymore. The whole day had been one shock after another and she was mentally and physically exhausted. Her eyes felt heavy, but she was too unnerved to relax. “I’ll go take a shower.” Marie left the room with the unsettling certainty that she and Verena had reached a new level in their friendship, but she wasn’t sure she liked it. It felt too intimate.

In the shower stall, under a stream of hot water, she released all her encaged rage and screamed. She didn’t say anything, only a guttural sound that would’ve scared her any other time.

Someone asked her if she was okay. “I’m fine,” she grunted toward the glass door. The shadow outside lingered a moment. “Don’t need anything,” Marie said, and the girl walked away. Alone again, she started laughing.

“Marie?” Verena was outside the shower stall.

“Yes?” She wondered how long she had been under the water. The shower wasn’t as hot as before, but she couldn’t see past the fog covering everything from her body to the glass door.

“Are you okay?” Verena unsuccessfully tried to clear the glass by wiping it with her hand. “Why don’t you come out?”

“Was just about to.” Marie turned off the water and let the showerhead sprinkle her with the last lukewarm drops. Then she opened the door and grabbed the oversized bath towel hanging from a hook. “Brrr.” The temperature outside was cold and drafty. She doubled the towel over her chest and ran to the drying station where hairdryers were aligned in neat rows.

Verena handed her a comb and said, “You forgot it in your hurry to escape.”

Her tone was teasing, but Marie knew her friend was telling the truth and thanked her.

“Also, someone told me you were acting weird in here.” Verena gently took one of Marie’s limp, wet tresses and disentangled it with her fingers. “You’ve the prettiest hair when dry, but it’s a mess to take care of when it’s not.”

Marie smiled, but Verena’s statement evoked another compliment paid to her mane just the same day. Her smile was immediately replaced by an expression that prompted Verena to apologize. “I was trying to lighten the mood.” She raised her hands in the air in mock surrender.

“I know… My hair’s so fine it’s impossible to comb after I wash it. Once, when I was little, Madame Carla had to cut this much because it got so tangled after a bath that it hurt too much to brush.” Marie accompanied the tale by raising her palm to show Verena the length of the cut and then layered her hand on top of the other. “At least ten fingers, if not more. I cried for days.”

“I would’ve cried too.” Verena resumed the untangling. “You could use an oil mask.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She dried her hair so it wasn’t dripping anymore, combed it with hurried strokes, then decided it was enough. She was even more restless than before the shower. “Have you ever felt as if your thoughts don’t belong to you?” She turned to look straight at Verena’s eyes, as if her image reflected in the mirror wasn’t good enough to talk to.

Verena took a moment before answering, but when she did her lips were curved in an enigmatic smile. “Lately? Always.”

“What happens when you can’t follow rules?” Marie couldn’t be more precise; she thought she had already said enough to incriminate her.

“Sometimes, nothing happens. Sometimes, life happens.” Verena leaned to take Marie in her arms. “Don’t worry about nothing. The confusion you’re feeling will clear soon enough.”

Marie relaxed in her friend’s warmth. Verena made her feel better even when she forced her to confront unwanted thoughts. “Don’t leave me,” she murmured in her friend’s shirt.

“Not planning on it.” Verena’s soft laugh reverberated through the fabric. “Unless they make me.”

The ghost of the next Donor Day was always present at the farm. Nobody wanted to talk about that day, but it was the foremost thought in everybody’s mind. Unless they had something even more disconcerting to think about.
Maybe, that’s why workers are kept close to fathered women’s places. To let them become familiarized with them
, she thought but didn’t dare voice her ideas.
And when they’re chosen to be donors, it doesn’t seem as terrible.
But it sounded so farfetched that she shook her head.

“What is it?” Verena asked from over her head.

“Silly thoughts.”
Maybe they are right. I’m still too young.

“They’re good for you.” Verena laid a soft kiss on her head.

“If you say so.” Marie burrowed farther in her friend’s embrace, breathing her calming scent. “You make me feel good.”

“Anytime.” Verena playfully ruffled her still wet mane. “You didn’t do a great job with your hay straws.”

“But I thought you said my hair was pretty.” Marie disentangled her limbs from the bear hug she kept Verena locked in and stuck her tongue out.

“You’re even prettier when you smile.” Verena smiled one of her all-white-teeth smiles and Marie reciprocated but couldn’t help a yawn. “Time to go nighty night, sleepy head.”

Marie woke the next morning, energized and with the hope she could survive another shift in the men’s infirmary if Verena was there at the end of the day to patch her wounds. After a good breakfast, she hopped down to face what Rane had in mind for her today.

“Good morning,” she greeted the doctor as soon as she entered the men’s infirmary.

“It must be for you.” Rane was hands-deep in what looked like a bucket of blood resting over a table; she was standing by a bed occupied by a man who didn’t seem to be breathing.