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Sede’s wedding day.
From Main Hall, you can see Front Gate and Patrol with the dogs. More Patrol in the towers on each side of the gate – big guns to shoot at infected. They’ve got special permission to skip the wedding. No reason they’d check East Fence, but I keep thinking about Maria. Can’t finish the alphabet if she gets caught.
Father Noah sits at the front of the hall – his white beard’s long enough to sit in his lap. Brother Shem stands on one side and Brother Japeth on the other. Beards aren’t as long or as white. The rest of the men kneel behind them, at least fifty. Married men to the right. They’ve got beards, too. Boys and unmarried men to the left. No beards.
Father Noah sits at the front of the hall – his white beard’s long enough to sit in his lap. Brother Shem stands on one side and Brother Japeth on the other. Beards aren’t as long or as white. The rest of the men kneel behind them, at least fifty. Married men to the right. They’ve got beards, too. Boys and unmarried men to the left. No beards.
We girls kneel on one side of the hall, the youngest near the door and the oldest near the men. My braid reaches down my back nearly to the hard wood floor. Only a few other girls between me and the men. The floor sends needles into my knees, and the damp air makes me shiver deep inside. I want to lean forward and look toward Ada, but that will get me in trouble with one of the Aunts kneeling to my right. Ada will be crying without her rag bunny to suck on. Hopefully, the Aunt assigned to her will keep her quiet, but I know Maria could do a better job.
The Wives come into the hall and kneel on the other side facing us, youngest to oldest. Sister Sedeqetelebab, the wife of Brother Shem, and Sister Adataneses, the wife of Japeth enter next and kneel in front of their husbands facing the hall. Mother Emzara, the wife of Father Noah walks in after them and kneels in front of him facing the hall, as well. Mother once had that place, and I don’t think the new wife is half so pretty. We’re all wearing our best dresses, though mine is patched beneath one arm where the girl before ripped a hole.
Then Sede enters, and I stop breathing again.
She walks slowly to the front of the hall, eyes straight ahead, hair piled high on her head. I look at her face, try to find the older sister that fought next to me in our ark in the woods. I want to tell her about Maria. Ask her if I’m doing the right thing. But her eyes show nothing. She’s dressed prettiest of all, a long white dress, only a little yellow at the hem. A pair of white shoes, too big for her. They must’ve stuffed cloth in the toes.
She stops in front of Father Noah and kneels with her back to us.
Father Noah puts a pair of glasses on his nose and stands. Brother Shem hands him The Book. Still standing, Father Noah clears his throat and reads The Story in his deep, beautiful voice. This time, I listen carefully. Maria wants to know exactly what The Story says.
My children, listen and heed my words. When men began to increase in number on the earth and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they married whom they chose. But as their number grew beyond what the earth could sustain, the Lord saw how great man’s wickedness had become. So the Lord said, “‘I will wipe mankind, whom I have created, from the face of the earth – for I am grieved that I have made them.’”
My children, listen and heed my words. When men began to increase in number on the earth and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they married whom they chose. But as their number grew beyond what the earth could sustain, the Lord saw how great man’s wickedness had become. So the Lord said, “‘I will wipe mankind, whom I have created, from the face of the earth – for I am grieved that I have made them.’”
Noah did everything the Lord had commanded.
Then the Lord said to Noah, “‘Go into the ark, you and your whole family. Take with you any found to be clean and righteous. For forty years, the floodwaters of the infected will beat against the bow of your ark. They will perish while you remain safe within its beams. While you endure, be fruitful and multiply for one day your offspring will inherit the earth.’”
So sayeth the Lord.
Father Noah closes The Book slowly and takes off his glasses. He looks down at Sede and puts a hand on her head. She seems to quiver, but it might be my imagination. “Child, you may now take your place before Brother Shem.”
Sede gets up and kneels in front of Brother Shem – back still to us. She’s got her head down, hands in front. Brother Shem’s face looks flat, no expression. But Sister Sedeqetelebab is pale white, hands tight as a knot to her stomach. She won’t look at Sede kneeling next to her. Man can only keep one wife, even Father Noah. Brother Shem’s got to claim Sede as his own or give her to one of the wifeless men kneeling behind him. If he takes Sede, Sister Sedeqetelebab will become an Aunt in charge of the children. Not many aunts left – most end up infected. Just like Mother after his new wife took her place in front of Father Noah.
Brother Shem closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Seems like he’s praying. When he opens them, he puts his hand on Sede’s head, chooses her as his new wife. I’m not surprised – Sister Sedeqetelebab’s had five children and looks it.
As Sede turns toward the hall and takes her place in front of Brother Shem, I still can’t read her face. But she’s as pale as our new Aunt Sedeqetelebab
~~~
Maria sounds angry when I tell her about the wedding the next day. “Married at twelve? To a man who could be her grandfather? Because of a story, you can’t even read?”
Her voice rips open the hole inside me again, only the terrible coming out this time. Ada whimpers and sucks on her rag bunny. Our mother spoke like that, angry whispers the night she tried to make us leave. I tell Maria to be quiet. No loud voices in the woods, or Patrol will hear. She stops talking, but her eyes still flash in the gloomy ark. I push the terrible deep inside. Our people must be even more different than I thought.
N is for night. (You’re right – we don’t have enough fuel in the generators to keep the Patrol lights on all night. Easier to run away. But are you strong enough to go back over the mountains?)
O is for orange. (We don’t have those! I already said that with the lemons!) O is for octopus. (Well, we don’t have those either, but they’re more interesting than oranges.)
P is for pig. (Me and Ada feed them every day before I come to see you. No, that’s not where I get your food.)
Q is for quarter. (What’s that? Oh, we don’t use money here.) Q is for quilt. (That’s all we’ve got from Mother. She took it from our house when she ran away from Father and brought us here. She tried to take it with us again the night that Ada cried. Are you warm enough here? Aunt Rake’el says it might snow tomorrow. Is that sleeping bag enough?)
R is for ring. (My mother had one of those. From Father. She gave it to the people who helped bring us here. Girls used to wear one to become a wife. Now you take out your braid and put up your hair.)
About Stephanie A. Hunter
