Chapter Sixteen
“HOW DO YOU even know what honeymoons are? Did people go on honeymoons up in Port Alberni?”
Sid leans against a pallet jack, waiting as I examine a table full of rugs, towels, dish cloths and a host of other household linens.
Every single one of them is beautiful: a fuzzy bathmat shaped like a fish with only one hole near the tail; an embroidered tablecloth that would be perfect, if not for a wine stain over one of the delicate roses.
The prices aren’t bad—a dollar for the bathmat, two for the tablecloth.
Or to be more accurate: I am now learning how expensive April’s insulin is.
Pig pancreases don’t come easy, I guess.
I put the tablecloth back, deciding I can do better, and hand a loonie over for the bathmat. “You’re going to give this to April.” I press it into Sid’s arms. “Tell her it’s for her washhouse.”
“Oh, you’ve finally come around on that?” He looks ridiculous, clutching a teal striped fish to his chest, bits of fluff sticking to the hair on his forearms. That alone pleases me.
“Well, it’s my house too, now.” I stroll down the tables, relishing being on the buying end of the exchange.
Sid already paid for a bed, plus a few more blankets and pillows, but I’ve got a small amount of spending money of my own.
We agreed that the only thing that makes sense is if I move into his place.
It will look suspicious otherwise, and Tom will still have to visit the acreage on occasion to oversee my sanctuary case.
It’s better if he finds us living together.
Luckily, Sid says his spare room is devoid of gardening tools.
We talked about maybe getting two beds, but that could tip someone off, too.
Plus, April and I are used to sharing, so it’s no big deal.
I currently have thirteen dollars to my name left over from when I bought April’s first round of insulin. I know what my mother would say about it. Buy something that keeps me alive or makes me happy. Nothing else matters.
Besides, if I stop shopping, there’s no excuse to avoid going home. And once we do that, I’ll have to tell April.
“You’re really in a mood.” Behind me, there’s a crunch as Sid pushes the pallet forward, following me over to a display of earthenware.
“Am I? You probably should have gotten to know me better before marrying me.” Honestly, I’m surprised by the lightness in my voice.
Not because I’m a morose, depressive person, but because I wasn’t able to leave survival mode until now.
The weight that has drifted off my shoulders is tremendous. It’s done. The hard part is over.
Now some part of me is curious if it’s possible to enjoy this situation.
The rows of tables at the exchange are a perfect place to start.
I’ve lived in two separate colonies, raided countless pre-Quake buildings, and I’ve still never seen this much stuff in one place.
Anything I could want is here. Bicycles, wool socks, bits of irrigation hose, even solar cells.
A big sign sits next to them with the words good as new emblazoned on it.
“That is a scam,” Sid says, annoyed. “Council repossesses all high-quality electrical equipment. You’d be lucky to charge a night light with those things.”
“You should report them to Tom.”
“He doesn’t manage the exchange. It should be Leah Perry. She’s Minister of Economics. Though, I think the exchange is a joint venture with the Ministry of Agriculture, so that would involve Adam Tilney.”
My attention wanders as he rattles off names and offices of people on the island council, until I realize this might be the sort of thing I’m supposed to know as his politically-minded wife. Shit, does this position come with homework? Maybe April isn’t the only one who needs to study up.
A table at the far end of the hall catches my eye and I gasp. Books. Hundreds of books.
“Sid!” I run to the booth. He follows at a leisurely pace. “Look at all of these!”
Many of the covers are damaged, the spines cracked, but there are books.
It always broke my heart when I found a stash of books.
In a kinder world, I would have filled my whole pack with them.
April and I would read through the picture books at least and—I’m ashamed to say it—sometimes rip out our favourite pages to take with us.
All the usual suspects are here. Leatherbound classics that held up better against mould in unattended houses.
Worn-out paperbacks for the voracious readers of romance, thrillers, and mysteries.
Most exciting is a collection of comics, sleeved in plastic, that have barely faded.
I would buy every one of them in a heartbeat if not for the price—five dollars an issue.
“Damn.” Maybe I can afford one? April loves comics. Even though the stories are usually disjointed due to missing issues, the pictures are lively and exciting. I’m admiring an issue of Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane when Sid reaches me.
“You should check out the library before you commit to any of those.”
My hands go limp, dropping the comic. “You have a library? A real, current, working library?”
“Yeah, it’s…” He startles when he notices that I’m on the verge of tears. “You really like books, huh?”
Like books? For years, they were the only access I had to people other than myself or April. The only part of the world that was ever new or changing. There’s no way to express it, but I try all the same. “It’s where I learned about honeymoons.”
Sid’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Well, then we have to go visit.”
He probably only wants me to stop wasting time shopping for junk, but I don’t care. Last night he spent so much time going on about all the ways Salt Spring was better than the rest of the world, but this is the first time I believe it could be true. This is the first real proof of paradise.
Even now, I expect it to be a joke. The books won’t be free.
My demerit will mean I’m not allowed to get a card.
But when we arrive, Sid walks me to the desk and helps me talk through the process with the librarian.
We’ve got my sanctuary papers with us because of the wedding, so the librarian has my address recorded in her ledger within a few minutes.
I can take ten, for three weeks at a time, before they start asking for the books back, and it’s so wonderful, I actually do start crying.
I’ve been holding in a mountain of emotions today, and this is one too many, bringing the whole rockslide rushing down. At least it’s a positive feeling.
The book limit turns out to be the only terrible thing about the library.
There are so many more than ten books that I want to read.
I try to think of authors I’ve enjoyed and skim the shelves for their titles.
I fill my arms with Lucy Maud Montgomery, Jane Austen, and—because I’m feeling brave—Agatha Christie.
That’s more for April than me, though I do plan on reading everything I’ve picked up.
I heft my pile onto the counter. If this doesn’t make up for having to live here, nothing will. As the librarian stamps each book, I turn to Sid. “You going to get anything?”
He shrugs. “Nah, I don’t think so.”
“Really?” Apparently, I should have gotten to know my husband better before marrying him, too. “Why not?”
“I can carry those for you.” He picks up the stack, ignoring my question.
“Those are due back on November third.” The librarian hands me a slip of paper with both today’s date and the one I have to return the books by.
I stare at it for a beat. October thirteenth.
I guess that’s my wedding anniversary. I stuff the paper into my pocket and hurry to catch up with Sid, who is already outside with everything we purchased from the exchange.
“Do you like books?” I ask him.
“Sure.”
“Why don’t you like books? I thought—”
“I literally just said I do like them.”
Nice try, Sid.
“I thought,” I drag the word out. “That you would be into, like… non-fiction or something. I mean, you’re really smart.”
The compliment only draws a surly, “Oh yeah?”
“Yes. Obviously. You’ve got the whole bloody Council memorized. You read court cases for fun, so of course you’re—”
“You don’t have to do this.” He shoves the pallet to the bus stop, his movements brusque.
“Do what?” Are we having a fight? I’m not opposed to yelling at him when necessary, but I don’t understand what’s set him off.
“This. Whatever it is you’re trying to do right now.” He grabs the bed frame and dumps it next to me. “Connecting! Trying to make this special or mean something. You don’t have to. Like that kiss back in the court office—”
“Woah, is that what this is about? I’m sorry if I crossed a line, but it was our wedding and the judge was staring at us. We’re supposed to be in love, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. It was barely a kiss. I’m just saying, you don’t have to do it.” He flails his arms like a willow in a windstorm. “This isn’t real. You don’t have to pretend like it is. It’ll be over in three years and—”
“Wait, three years?”
“It’s okay, it will probably be less.”
“Less? What are you talking about?” None of this is making a lick of sense.
“April’s medication. She’s fifteen, right? So she’ll be legally an adult in three years. But you’ll both be citizens before then, so I’m guessing it will be more like two.”
“But we’re married.”
“Yeah, but that’s when we would get divorced. Because what’s in it for you after that?”
“I…” Divorced. I’ve read the word before. I know what it means, or should mean, but I’ve never seen it in practice. The Grand Astrologue sure as hell didn’t allow divorce to wreck his perfect community. “I don’t know.”
“Right, exactly.”
He keeps talking as if we’re agreeing on everything. I’m not sure Sid has looked me in the eye once during this conversation. If he did, he would notice how stunned I am.
“But what about you?” I say. “Are you going to want to get divorced in two years?”
He shrugs. “Hopefully, by then I’ll be on Council. The election is scheduled for March.”
“Oh.”
Finally, it twigs. His eyes fly wide. “Holy shit! Did you think this was forever? Shit! I am so sorry, Kayla.”
“No, no. It’s okay.” It’s great news, right? The husband I don’t want also wants to divorce me. We’re just waiting for a convenient time. “I didn’t know divorce was legal here.”
“Yeah, totally legal. And you don’t need my consent. You can leave whenever we’re done with this. Shit! No wonder you were so freaked out this morning!”
I don’t know what to say. I should be relieved, but something about this smacks of rejection. How stupid is that? Of course he doesn’t want to stay married to me. Why should he give up the possibility of a life with someone he loves?
“All I’m saying is that this is temporary, right?” he says.
“Right.”
“So…” He looks over his shoulder, as if to make sure none of the people who could get us in trouble for cheating the law are listening.
But the city is filled with strangers who are all distracted with their own lives.
Still, he leans closer so that he can whisper, the intimacy of his voice at odds with his words.
“We shouldn’t have to perform for each other.
When it’s just us, you don’t have to kiss me or pretend you like me or anything like that. Okay?”
Pretend I like him? This time, I know why the words cut. He is the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in years, but apparently, he thinks I’m even faking that. Now I do want to yell at him. Except, we’re out in public and I would rather the masses stay uninterested in us.
I reach for a safer objection, where I know logic is indisputably on my side. “It was our wedding. Did you want that judge to report us to Tom?”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. Forget about it, okay? I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“It’s gonna be weird for a while,” I say, hoping this will make him stop freaking out. “We’ve just… gotta get used to each other.”
“Sure. I need to return the pallet and the jack to the exchange. If the bus comes by, hold them for me, okay? Then I’ll help load everything.”
“Okay.”
When he leaves, I perch on the edge of the mattress, like a bird ready to take flight. There isn’t any sign of the bus so I reach into my pocket in search of something to fiddle with. My hands close around the library receipt.
Due date.
I guess other things expire here, too.