Teaser for upcoming book
Another chapter from my book, Blood Ready, which will be available on March 27. You will be able to obtain it from a link on this site.
Chapter 2
Renae clutched the bag that contained the only items they allowed women to carry inside the clinic. She made a mental inventory. In addition to the bottle of sticky red fluid, there was six pair of underwear and an airtight container in which she discarded all her menstrual napkins. It wasn’t the first time she ached with longing to roam free on the savannah, naked and free, not treated like a criminal because she lived in a woman’s body.
The white back of the nurse towered stiff and straight in front of her; in all the time she’d been coming here, no one ever unbent enough to show the slightest trace of human interest or compassion. The closest was the stupid comment about married life she’d been treated to every month for the past five years, and she suspected that was more to remind her it wasn’t normal for a woman to be married five years and still not be a mother. A pointed reminder of something wrong with her. Renae shoved aside the grim voice in her head that echoed the refrain, something wrong with her, and marched in silence behind the white soldier leading her through the labyrinth to the examination room.
They passed through halls with no doors or windows. They appeared to serve no function other than to ensure that the women were unable to navigate back down the hall easily enough to leave before they were dismissed. It seemed almost miraculous that the teenager managed to maneuver through the labyrinth. Renae chuckled at the image of the girl placing a trail of bread crumbs behind her to lead her out, then scolded herself for making light of another girl’s fear. It wasn’t fair to the girl who still lived in her memory, crouched in the bathroom stall with her bloodstained underpants in her hands.
The two silent women emerged into an open room - the nerve center of the clinic, it buzzed with activity. The claustrophobic hallway disappeared behind them as the nurse led her to exam room 3, the same room she always occupied for an hour or two each month. They were tied to habit here, Renae thought, putting her in the exact same room for 216 months in a row. She wondered if there were any differences in the other rooms. Almost certainly the same white walls, white exam table, white chair, and white floor. But maybe the magazines were different. Maybe the other women found a different selection of insipid magazines about babies, cooking, and clothes. Or maybe…for the first time it occurred to her to wonder…maybe the other women had the political and scientific magazines she preferred. Maybe that was why they always used the same room, because they designed each room to serve a particular type of woman…or rather, to make them as uncomfortable as possible, to remind them of the sin they committed by bleeding.
The nurse motioned her to the chair by the wall, the same motion she made every month, the same chair. Renae longed for the friendly banter of her family doctor’s office, the warm interest the nurse demonstrated as she took her blood pressure or drew blood. Even if the nurse didn’t remember her three minutes after she left, it was better than this grim, cold silence. The nurses here worked without speaking to the patients. Renae knew they could speak, because she sometimes heard them banter with each other when they thought no one could hear.
She handed her bag to the nurse and settled into the chair to wait. As the nurse came and went, opening and closing the door to the exam room, bustling about with no real purpose other than to be busy, the sounds waxed and waned. Renae caught glimpses of an angry voice in another exam room, followed by crying, then the door closed again and the rest of the world disappeared. Two minutes…tick tick tick…then the nurse opened the door and bustled in again, opened a couple of cabinets, and walked out without taking anything. Renae startled as she realized she was being watched, they were all being watched by nurses who were more spies than caregivers. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? She’d often noticed the habit of constant non-productive entrances and exits. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t doing anything to be ashamed of, and certainly nothing illegal.
The nurse left the door open during her next tsunami visit. Renae listened, trying not to appear like she was listening. She was sure the crying and the screaming were the same young girl that burst into the waiting room earlier. The drama continued, and Renae’s heart lurched in sympathy for the fear of someone not quite a woman. The world must seem very topsy-turvy right now. The only other consistent sound was the angry voice, shouting at someone, perhaps the girl. Renae tried to make out a few words, but filtered through the hum of the clinic noises, it was impossible. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. I’m not a snoop or a gossip. I should mind my own business.
She focused on minding her own business, something she was usually good at, but she couldn’t forget the look in the eyes, the wild, desperate look of a trapped animal. Something was scaring that girl, and Renae shuddered. She was haunted by all the faces in the waiting room, but mostly by the girl. It was difficult to imagine what terrified her to that extent. When she was younger, she was scared, but even with a mother who mocked her every month, and never explained what was going to happen, she had never been so terrified. This was more than normal fear.
Renae forced her mind back to examination room 3 as Dr. Calvin slid through the door, his emaciated body barely requiring a crack in the door to get in the room. Renae warmed briefly, even though there was nothing warm about Dr. Calvin. It struck her that he was the only one at the clinic to whom she could attach a name. Perhaps that’s why she always felt a sense of relief when he squeezed through the narrow slit which was the only opening he allowed himself, as though to open the door all the way would be to risk some sort of contamination from the femaleness of his patients.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Drexler.”
“Drexford” Renae corrected him, not bothering to explain again that she retained her maiden name upon marriage, and it wasn’t accurate to call her by her husband’s name. In this room, there was no such thing as an independent woman, and all women were property of someone. When she was younger, she was referred to only as her father’s daughter. There was a brief period of discomfiture in the clinic when she lived independently, working as a professional, and not “belonging” to anyone. It was a relief for everyone here when she announced her impending marriage; Dr. Calvin even told her how wonderful it was she was going to be a full person at last. She managed to get out of the clinic without hitting him, but it wasn’t easy.
“Ah, yes, Mrs. Drexford. Well, let’s see what we have here.”
Dr. Calvin made a big show of studying her chart, but she suspected he knew her history by heart. And he knew her name, too. It was all part of the same game, the same impersonal game they played every month. She could play the game as well as they, and learned never to reveal any emotional life. She was just a number to them, and she would act like they were just numbers to her until she escaped back into the sunshine…except it’s raining today, she mumbled.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. I was just remembering that it’s raining today.”
It was the closest they had come to a conversation in five years. The world outside faded when you walked in this door, and there was no rain, or sunshine. No windows looked out on the mud puddles collecting in the street, or the garish neon sign on the pharmacy across the vacant lot. This was a world apart. Nothing real happened here. Renae thought about the screaming girl, and reminded herself that something real did happen here. Just because nothing ever happened to her didn’t mean it never happened to anyone.
“I’m getting a bit concerned about you, Mrs. Drexford. Is anything wrong at home?”
Renae stared, too startled by the question to answer. She shook her head, her voice deserting her at a crucial moment.
“You’ve been married for about three years now, right?”
Renae cleared her throat. “Five.”
“Five years. And never pregnant?”
Renae nodded, then shook her head. Sometimes it was hard to know whether a question was a yes/no question, or a no/yes question. She wrinkled her brow, trying to figure out what she meant by that thought, but the doctor charged on, not concerned about her answer. He knew her entire reproductive history, and didn’t need her verification.
“I hope you aren’t taking any sort of…” Dr. Calvin leaned toward her confidentially, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “…birth control pills.”
Renae shook her head.
“Where would I even get birth control pills? It’s not like you can just walk into a pharmacy and buy them.”
Dr. Calvin frowned. “You’re a biologist, right?”
“Yes, but I work with snakes. The only thing I might create is anti-venom.”
Renae felt a small twinge as she pictured the home-made diaphragm and condoms at home, nestled in their secret hiding place, safe from prying eyes. She and Miles weren’t interested in having children, at least not now, and between them they had the skills and tools to create their own protection. Fortunately, he specifically asked about pills, so she didn’t have to lie.
“I understand it’s perfectly easy to get them on the black market. There have been several raids lately, and the police are cracking down, but it seems impossible to stop the evil.”
Evil. Renae frowned at the hyperbole of reproductive choices being referred to as evil. The birth control era ended before she was even born, but she read enough to know the emotional language used to persuade people to vote for candidates who illegalized all forms of family planning. She remembered the evenings with her father in the garage, where he let her read his stash of old, forbidden materials he kept even after most copies were destroyed. She remembered the whispers in the dark as he passed on forbidden information, helping her prepare herself for the role she would play as a woman. He was the one who told her to make sure she didn’t have children until she was ready, and provided her with the education to do just that. Her loving father, the only thing that stood between her and her mother, the man who taught her how to be a woman when her mother refused, was the furthest thing from evil she could imagine.
Dr. Calvin continued to speak. She pushed her father back to his warm home in her memory, and forced herself to listen.
“Your name came up at our monthly meeting.”
“My name?” Renae didn’t have to feign surprise. This was not expected.
“This is the third month in a row. The clinic staff is worried there might be something wrong. Are you fulfilling your wifely duty, Mrs. Drexford?”
Renae almost giggled at the phrase, but caught herself in time, and just nodded soberly.
“Then there can only be one thing keeping you from getting pregnant. Is your husband…” Once again, Dr. Calvin leaned toward her and whispered as though saying something filthy. “…impotent?”
Renae resisted the laugh that bubbled up in her, not only at the doctor’s manner, but also at the idea there could be only one possible reason she hadn’t gotten pregnant.
“No, Dr. Calvin. My husband has no difficulties…” She paused, hardly able to say the phrase. “….performing his duties as a husband.” She gagged, nauseated at having to say such a stupid phrase.
“In that case, I have no choice. I shall begin fertility testing at once.”
“Dr. Calvin, I’m not interested in fertility testing at this time. I’m fine with things as they are.”
The doctor didn’t listen. He was out the door before she finished her sentence. She sat back, waiting for the nurse to come escort her out…or take her off to forced fertility testing. Nothing happened. She stared at the closed door and began to count…one thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three…like she’d learned as a little girl. Three thousand four…three thousand five…three thousand six…the door opened, but it wasn’t the nurse. Dr. Calvin squeezed his tiny body through the even tinier opening, a smaller crack than he usually allowed himself. Renae toyed with the idea of suggesting he visit a psychiatrist about his fear of open doors, but decided it would be a bad idea.
“Mrs. Drexford, I’m afraid we have a problem.”
Renae could see from the look on his face that this was not the problem of her potential infertility. This was something serious. She steeled herself.
“Your blood…contains the remains of a fertilized egg. Mrs. Drexford, have you taken an abortion pill?”
Renae shook her head. She had not taken anything, but it didn’t surprise her there was a fertilized egg. After all, many eggs were fertilized but failed to implant. She knew taking an abortion pill was considered a serious offense, but they would find no trace of that in her bloodstream. It was just an ordinary occurrence, happened to women all the time.
“Dr. Calvin, I am not taking any sort of birth control pill, and I have not taken an abortion pill. It is just an ordinary fertilization that failed to implant, that’s all. You know how it is. That happens all the time. After all, something like 50 percent…”
Renae stopped at the look on the doctor’s face. If he knew anything of the kind, he wasn’t admitting it. The horror and disgust on his face told her one thing…he had her listed among the evil. A few minutes before, she imagined there was a trace of warmth, but any hint of humanity disappeared. By the doctor’s creed, he was staring at a murderer.