Chapter 5 #2
“Yeah. We’re like … a collective family. All these loose parts who came together. Our mom took us all in, we were her boys, and… Pffft… She was a saint, man.” His eyes roll with a reminiscent smile.
I had heard of this happening in the Wilds.
As the phenomenon devastated the economy, having children was like playing the lottery, and a daughter was a golden ticket to Eden—free accommodations, schooling, healthcare, and abundant opportunities.
Some women were happy to take the risk, only to abandon sons when they were born.
The war didn’t help matters, while broken women struggled to raise children without their partners.
Some would leave their sons to labouring jobs and donate themselves to the R it just needed a push.
In a moment of calm, I stand by Joey, looking down at my boots.
“Hey, Joey… I wanted to say thank you. You’ve been so patient and kind since I got here, and …
I appreciate your help. You don’t have to at all, but you have … and with maximum energy as well.”
“No problem, Lee. We’re comrades, right?” he says, offering me bubblegum.
There’s something about him that is incredibly comfortable.
He brings out the best in people, and I can feel my fortified self deconstructing around him.
I don’t worry about flirting or wanton glances from him.
He’s just a guy making the most of the life he’s got, and I can’t help but admire him.
His offer of gum still stands, and I spot the threads of inked words trickling down his forearm.
Other micro-tattoos sit on the plain stretch of skin to his wrist, like tiny stamps.
A small pair of sunglasses. A sketch of a dragonfly. The basic single line of an anchor.
I take the offer of gum with a subtle smile, and thank my stars I’ve got someone so easy to work with.
The strawberry blast blooms along my tongue, inflaming my smile into my eyes, while Joey grins before blowing a bubble teasingly in my face.
I pop it with my finger, and we both giggle, turning and proudly watching our bar.
“I swear … to … God. If I have to read about another guy’s perfect Sunday…!”
Sasha tosses through the pages of her binder while I prepare our hot drinks.
We’ve turned a corner, as she’s spent the last week working her way through the Unity Index.
It’s been tough, but it’s brought us closer together while we’ve devised a system: the “Boss” or “Toss” piles, making a daunting process light-hearted as we joke about the Toss pile recipients.
The thing with the Unity Index is, it isn’t every willing bachelor.
The fundamental requirement for inclusion is money, money, money.
They have to earn over a certain amount to prove security, medical care, and support for their wife and children.
It is not a fair system, especially for the regular hardworking men.
For them, having a wife is an unattainable dream.
For the women, if he isn’t in the binder, then he isn’t for you.
Each page bears a single profile, including a photo, name, age, city, occupation, and personal details.
I shuffle through the thin “Boss” pile, noting that they have casual pictures of themselves rather than professional headshots.
“Any clear winners yet?”
She takes them from me, flicks through, and pulls some out, placing them on the table.
“These three. I’m thinking about requesting them for interviews.”
They’ve got visual appeal, but that’s not everything. At any point, she can request a phone interview, and if that goes well, the next phase is a face-to-face meeting.
“Shut up! This guy’s got a dog! Oh, Sasha, he gets bonus points, surely?”
“Yeah, but he’s in Eden. I was hoping to go to a smaller city. Look, this guy’s from Brooklyn, and he’s in Albuquerque. I bet it’s warm down there, instead of this frozen hell. Has it finished snowing yet?”
I shake my head, having looked through my barred window before leaving my room.
The weather has dropped even colder as we reach the midst of winter, and I have rarely dealt with snow, and never of this magnitude.
It began last night while Smith silently escorted me back from the bar, and by morning, the snow blanketed the streets, leaving the once-grey city bleached white and bright.
My disdain for the cold is no secret, but I’m keen to walk through it, hoping it’s as bouncy as it looks.
I check the clock on the wall, tip back my tea, and stand from the table.
Sasha says, “Hey, where are you hurrying off to?”
“It’s my two-week review of the deal, and I’ll be dropping by Seth’s first. Need anything?”
“Oh, shit. I completely forgot. Sorry. I’ve been all about me, huh? You okay?”
“I think my review with Krick is a little less important than you picking your husband… But only a little less, because Krick is a pig, and I have to stay here with him, while you move in with this guy and his dog.” I jokingly pout while passing her back the profile of the dog man.
“Hey! I’ve served my time with that pig. It’s your turn. At least you’ve got Joey. I had to go through it with Killjoy Caleb. You at least sound like you’re having fun.” She exaggerates her last word, dancing her brows with a cheeky grin.
“Pfft, Sasha, you need to get a life if you think my working with Joey is the pinnacle of fun,” I say while fastening my coat by the door.
“Mmmmm. Well, that’s true, because I’m the pinnacle of fun. Joey’s got nothing on me.” She lifts her long twists as she fastens them into an almighty bundle atop her head.
“You are so right, Sasha. You’re the highlight of everyone’s day! As I know I am to you.”
“You’re in the top three,” she says, laughing loudly. “Good luck, Lee.”
I flash my middle finger at her and slide out the door.
I’m glad she’s getting her sass back, but she’s not wrong; I do have fun at work.
In fact, despite the pressure of hitting this profit target for Krick, I have been growing comfortable here.
When I come to a new place, I have to decide if suffering in solitude is better than inevitably separating from people I grow to care about, but it has happened without me trying.
Between my morning catch-ups with Sasha, my visits to Seth’s, and my shifts spent with Joey, time is flying.
They have become this trio, supporting me as I find my footing.
With Sasha set to leave and my inevitable binder of my own bachelors bound to turn up soon, the anticipation could be enough for me to spiral into despair.
My fathers would remind me that worry is a distraction, and to stay focused on my goal.
So, that’s what I do: set goals, work towards them, and compete with myself.
My endgame is still far away, but I’ve got to get there sane if I want to make it at all.
The snowfall mutes the rolling tyres and stepping feet as the blistering cold iron railing burns my palms. I carefully step down the stairs with the creaking of undisturbed snow beneath my boots, offering a soul-soothing satisfaction.
However, the joy is short-lived, as the well-trodden paths have turned to a slippery slush, forcing my hands from my pockets—from my alarm—as I balance my way through the streets.
The men walk with ease, the definitive beats of their tired bones continuing as they always do, while I occasionally wobble upon hidden patches of ice.
My paranoia peaks as every man becomes a suspect; I assume I’ll be easily spotted in this state.
One gentleman across the road slips, throwing his newspaper into the air as he lands on his back, and as painful as it is to watch, a teasing smile creeps onto my face as I see someone else struggling.
A sigh of relief escapes me when I make it to Seth’s unscathed, welcoming the flash of heat on my face as I step into his store.
“Seth, how do you live in this cold?!” I say, shaking my bare hands to life. “It’s Baltic out there! Ughhh.”
“Ohhh, it’s only November,” he says. “You need to layer up. It helps.”
“Well, I’m going to need more clothes. I’m not cut out for this weather.” I gather up the bags of food Seth has prepared for me.
“Why don’t you wait for Finch to help you this morning? I saw you slipping out there,” Seth says, handing me the last bag.
I pull them onto my shoulders, but my jaw clenches at the suggestion, despite his well-meaning intentions. “No, I’ll get a head start before Krick gets in. It’s fine. I’ve got it.”
“Well, it’s okay to let people help you. You don’t have to do it all by yourself,” he says with a twinkle of concern on his face.
“Seth, it’s okay. I’m okay. Please don’t worry,” I assure him, pulling up my smile, but his words stick with me as I leave the store.
I know I’m refusing help, but it’s a habit.
I pride myself on independence—at least while I still have control—and as much as I appreciate Joey, his helpfulness can be irritating.
Goddamn! It is so slippery! My fingertips throb as I clasp the bag straps over my shoulders, exposing them to the bitter air.
I’m close to The Riverside, reaching into my pocket, fumbling for my keys, when one of the bag straps falls from my shoulder.
It shifts my weight, throwing off my balance, and stopping my breath as I waver. I save myself. Recover.
Then, my back slaps onto the frozen pavement below. Staring up at the frigid sky, I’m coughing before I gasp for breath. All I see is the stark, clouded ceiling, and slowly, faces appear above: no words, just stares.