Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Over the next couple days, I got into a routine of sorts.
My wristband chimed every morning at eight, alerting me to my temperature while I got ready for the day or was eating breakfast. Bette and I ate together, sometimes joined by Malika, but more often than not, it was just the two of us.
Ivy was around but keeping to herself, and none of us had seen Ginger since our arrival.
Her absence had me growing increasingly uneasy, especially when I thought about her harsh words to Hilary during our group sessions, about how she’d challenged the soldiers when they arrived at the Department of Fertility, and the possible consequences.
Had she been sent to solitary or shipped to a prison hospital?
I hoped not but wouldn’t put anything past the people in charge.
After breakfast, I did my required work.
Malika had pulled lunch cleanup while Bette was exempt since she was so close to her due date.
I wasn’t sure if she was lucky or not because there wasn’t much to do to kill time, and even though I didn’t love cleaning up, it at least gave me something to focus on for a couple hours a day.
I’d been irritated to discover that my supervisor was the very minder I’d pissed off on my first day here and did my best to keep my head down while I worked.
Apparently, though, the woman hadn’t forgotten me and hated me even more than Hilary.
Minder Jane was her name, and she was a cow of a woman with a scowl that made her look like an angry pit bull and a tongue as sharp as a katana.
And she was the pickiest bitch I’d ever encountered.
“You missed a spot,” she snapped as I vacuumed the dining room, pointing to what I was pretty sure was a piece of lint. “Let’s not leave work for the next shift.”
Determined to keep my cool, I gritted my teeth, ran the vacuum over the lint, then continued. Unsurprisingly, she followed, her eyes narrowed as she gleefully looked for anything else I might have missed. It didn’t escape my notice that I was the only one she was focused on.
Fortunately, my job wasn’t that bad. There were a dozen of us assigned to the shift, which made the workload light and helped us get through it pretty fast. We didn’t have to wash the dishes – there were machines for that – but we did have to load them and put the clean ones away, wipe down tables and the buffet, vacuum, sweep, and clean up any other messes left behind. Really, it was a nice distraction.
Among the dozen women in my group was the androgynous person I’d seen on the first day and a few times since, which gave me an opportunity to introduce myself.
“You’re Vic, right?” I said as we loaded dirty plates into the industrial dishwasher.
They nodded, their expression guarded.
“I recognize you from my first day here,” I explained. “I think we were on the same plane.”
Vic grunted. “I kind of stand out in this place.”
“Well, yeah, that’s true.” I shrugged, trying to let them know I wasn’t bothered by their presence. “I’m Ara, by the way.”
Vic hesitated when I stuck out my hand, but eventually took it. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
We worked side by side in silence for a bit while I tried to figure out what to say.
I had a million questions for Vic but wasn’t sure where the line was.
In group, we had to talk about how long we’d been in the program and where we were in the process, but fertile women typically avoided talking about stuff like that when it was just us.
It wasn’t something we liked to dwell on since most of us weren’t here by choice, and you never knew how the whole thing was affecting a person emotionally.
The last thing you wanted to do was pour salt into an open wound.
But I was also curious about Vic’s role in the program because, stupidly, I’d never thought about a trans or non-binary person having to go through this.
“You can ask,” Vic said as they shoved the now full rack into the dishwasher.
My cheeks were on fire at being so transparent. “Ask?”
Vic rolled their eyes. “About this.” They waved to their masculine clothes. “And me being here.” Another gesture, this one to the room.
“Oh. I mean, I wasn’t going to. Of course, I was curious, but I don’t want to overstep.”
“It’s fine.” Vic crossed their arms and leaned against the counter. “I was born female, which means I was evaluated at seventeen like every other woman. It doesn’t matter that I’ve always known I’m male. Not to the government and especially not when you have two working ovaries.”
“God, that sucks,” I said, and meant it.
“You’re telling me.” Vic let out a sound of derision. “If I wasn’t fertile, I would have been allowed to transition years ago, but since I am, I have to get through this before I can even think about taking hormones.”
“Wow. I never thought about it,” I said, even though it made perfect sense. The government wouldn’t let anyone who was fertile off the hook. It didn’t matter how much it affected them mentally.
“No one ever does,” Vic grumbled.
I shook myself, my cheeks hot with humiliation. “Oh, my God. I just did the exact same thing to you that everyone has been doing to me for years. Disregarded your circumstances. It always pisses me off, and I don’t want to be like that. I’m so sorry.”
Vic tilted their head, their eyes narrowed as if trying to work out if I was being genuine, then finally smiled. “Apology accepted. Thanks.”
There was an awkward pause. “I mean it.” I laughed.
“I’m going to do the totally hetero-normative thing and tell you my best friend is gay, which I know is awful and cliché, but it also happens to be true.
I’m a supporter of the queer community, and I don’t want to ever come across as someone who isn’t. ”
“I think what’s really cliché here is that you have a gay best friend,” Vic said, their eyes sparkling. “Is this a 1990s rom-com?”
“God, I wish,” I replied. “At least then I would know there was some kind of sappy happy ending to all this.”
They exhaled slowly, their mood sobering. “Yeah. That would be nice.”
“It would,” I murmured, letting out a sigh that matched Vic’s.
Minder Jane came into the kitchen just then, and seeing us doing nothing, put her hands on her hips. “Am I going to have to add yet another note to your file, Miss Murphy?”
“Nope.” I swallowed my sassy remark and waved to the immaculate kitchen. “We’re actually done here.”
Jane narrowed her eyes and looked around, and apparently not finding anything out of place, huffed. “Well, I’m sure the ladies in the dining room would appreciate your help since you’re all finished.”
I forced my smile to stretch wider even though it hurt. “I’d be happy to help.”
Like she was considering spitting on me, Jane pursed her lips. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, Miss Murphy.”
“I’m being totally genuine,” I replied, my words sugary sweet.
Jane said nothing but didn’t look convinced. Oh, well.
Vic eyed me as we headed into the dining room. “Man, she hates you.”
“I have that effect on people in the Department of Fertility.”
“You’re not alone in that,” Vic said. “Although, I don’t even have to open my mouth for people to hate me. One look is all they need.”
I believed them.
Two days after arriving, and there was still no WIFI – and no word if or when it would be available – but Sergeant Collins made an announcement on our third morning that phones had finally been fixed.
Just in time for me to call Trevor. People started reporting for their scheduled times right away, and even though we’d been told all calls would be monitored, no one was quite prepared for what that meant.
I’d expected to be in a room with a soldier or maybe even Hilary listening, to maybe have the conversation recorded, but even that small amount of privacy was not on the list of the Department of Fertility’s priorities.
The calls were made on speaker phone at the front desk where everyone nearby could hear every word of the conversation, while a soldier stood beside you.
He started by laying out the rules to both parties, then listened to everything that was said and put a stop to any questionable topic.
It was as invasive as the procedures we were forced to undergo, but just like everything else about this program, we had literally no choice in the matter.
When it was my turn to call Trevor, I excitedly reported to the front desk with plenty of time to spare since I didn’t want to be late. Another woman was already there, her face streaked with tears as she listened to a little girl talk while the soldier stared her down.
“One minute, Mrs. Tipton,” he barked.
The woman’s eyes widened, and in a hurried voice she said, “Rose, honey, I’m going to have to go in a minute. I love you. Remember that, okay?”
“I love you, Mommy,” was the response. “And I promise I’ll be good for Daddy.”
“Good girl. Now, put Daddy back on so I can say goodbye to him.” The woman swallowed as she waited for her daughter to hand the phone over.
“Lucy,” a man’s voice said a second later, “I’m here.”
“Robert, I love you,” the woman said hurriedly. “So much. Take care of Rose and give her a kiss for me. Okay?”
“Time’s up,” the soldier barked before the man could respond.
“I have to go.” A choked sob broke out of the woman. “I’ll call you next week. Same time.”
“We love you, Lucy,” the man said. “We’ll talk to you next week.”
The soldier disconnected the call.
Lucy covered her face with her hands and began to cry.
Acting like she didn’t exist, the soldier turned to me. “Name?”
“Ara Murphy.” I shook my head. “Arabella.”
He looked at the tablet next to him, checked something off, then waved to the phone. “Dial the number but leave it on speaker. You get fifteen minutes.”
It didn’t seem like enough.