Page 38 of Longing for Liberty

TWENTY-NINE

STATE NEWS: NEW HOMESCHOOLING CURRICULUM TO BE DISTRIBUTED THIS WEEK!

After that began a strange time of being the maid and mistress for Amos Fitzhugh, my days and tasks and sexual encounters blending into a lifestyle that felt like some alternate version of myself.

A version of me who listened and parroted back every single thing she overheard at work to either Rebecca or Jeremy.

A version who automatically went up on her toes to kiss her husband hello or goodbye each day, only to see his eyes widen, and his head give a minute shake, reminding her it wasn’t allowed.

But at night, we held hands under the covers—our mutinous act of affection.

At church we learned that seven more people from our mid-family neighborhood had died, and their community was still “Closed for Prayer.” Some sort of sin needed to be dealt with there, and the deaths would continue until the Maker was satisfied. Until then, nobody was permitted in or out.

These were the sorts of things that kept me awake at night.

What if Jeremy ever got sick? I didn’t know if I could watch him waste away and suffer, knowing there were ways to save him.

The phoenix inside me arched its spine at the very thought.

I would lose my head…perhaps literally and figuratively.

I couldn’t let those kinds of thoughts go on too long. Or empathize too deeply with the families going through it right now. My focus had to be on the only thing I could control—keeping and growing Fitzhugh’s trust so that I could continue to pass information.

Unfortunately, there were many things I could not control.

I woke in the middle of the night shivering. When I sat up to grab the blanket, I realized I was sweating, but I was freezing. I knew this feeling, though it had been years…I had a fever. Shit. Shit .

I got up to get the extra blanket from the closet.

“You okay?” Jeremy whispered in his sleepy voice.

“Yes,” I assured him, trying not to let my teeth chatter. “Just a little cold.” I curled up under both blankets, and we both fell back asleep.

Dawn was lighting the sky when I began to shake so hard the whole bed trembled.

Jeremy rolled toward me. “Lib?”

“I’m just c-cold,” I whispered.

He sat up and reached down, covering my forehead with his cool hand. “No.” He ripped the cover off himself and jumped from bed, rushing to the bathroom. “You’re burning up.”

No, no, no.

Moments later, the feel of a freezing cloth on my forehead made me jump. “Too cold.”

But he pressed it to me, and it quickly warmed. “What else are you feeling?” he asked. “Your throat? I haven’t heard you coughing.”

“Nothing,” I said, trying to concentrate through the haze of fever. “I just need to pee.”

He helped me up, and when I went to the bathroom, it burned and was dark yellow.

No, no, no.

I washed my hands and came back out, hardly able to straighten my body, climbing quickly back into bed.

“I think it’s a UTI,” I told him.

“What do I do?” Poor Jeremy sounded helpless and terrified, the way I imagined I’d feel if this were him.

“I need to drink water and flush it out.”

He rushed to the kitchen and came back with the biggest glass, then helped me sit up to drink it.

“I used to get these when I was little,” I told him. “My mom always gave me cranberry juice. But water will help.”

He said nothing, just watched me drink, and refilled it as soon as I finished.

Back then when I’d gotten urinary tract infections, my doctor explained that I might not be wiping well enough, or I was contaminating myself by wiping back to front.

I was careful after that. But now, I had no doubt I’d been contaminated by all of the sex with Amos.

How was I to explain to a man who was part of an administration that didn’t believe in germs, that his fascination with my ass had passed bacteria to places it wasn’t supposed to be?

I’d never had a fever and not been able to take ibuprofen or acetaminophen. Oh, God…did women die from UTIs? Of course they probably had before antibiotics. A rush of cold terror ripped through me as I huddled under the blanket, shaking uncontrollably. Could I survive this?

The cool cloth was dabbed against my forehead, down to my cheeks and neck. Next thing I knew, it was brighter in the room, but still the dabbing continued.

“Jer, you need to go to work.”

“I can’t leave you like this.”

“I need to go to work too.” But my body was not cooperating when I tried to get up.

Jeremy pressed my shoulders down. “You can barely stand! I’ll call your boss.”

My mind was fuzzy as I listened to Jeremy in the kitchen talking to Kathy on my phone. Moments later he was by my side again.

“She said to rest.” He paused. “I don’t want to leave you.”

I mustered the tiniest ounce of strength to push myself up and give him a small smile. He handed me the glass, and I forced myself to drink more, even though my stomach rolled and I was freezing.

“I’ll be fine. I promise. There’s nothing you can do if you stay home.”

“Don’t try to do anything,” he begged. “Just rest.”

“Okay.”

We stared at each other, our eyes saying all the things our mouths couldn’t.

His head fell as he walked slowly from the room, leaving me.

I forced down the rest of the water and burrowed again.

Normally when I took meds, the fever would break in thirty to forty-five minutes and be gone for hours at a time, but without meds the fever kept going and going.

I faded into a fitful sleep and was woken by the front door opening and closing. Was Jeremy allowed to leave work early?

A short, balding man stood in the bedroom doorway, frowning at me. I quickly sat up, making the room spin.

“Well, you’re certainly flushed,” he said in a grumpy tone.

I pulled the covers up since I wore no bra under my thin nightgown.

“I’m Doctor Bradly, sent by Amos Fitzhugh.” He made no move to come into the room. “Do you have a cough?”

“No, sir.” Amos sent a doctor?

“Hm. No coughing up blood at all or mucus? Sore throat? Earache?”

“No,” I assured him. “Just a fever. And it burns when I…urinate.”

“Ah.” He stepped in now and sat on the edge of the bed, putting a thermometer under my tongue and taking my pulse.

“Almost one hundred and three.” He shook out the thermometer and stuck it back into its pouch without any kind of sanitation.

Ew, had anyone else used that today? Before I could contemplate how long other types of germs might be able to stay alive in that pouch, he was handing me a cup.

“I’d like to take a sample of your urine. Just to see the coloration.”

If he wanted to see the coloration, he could look in the toilet after I went, but sure. I did as I was told, though he stood in the doorway of the bathroom and gave me no privacy. I winced when it burned, and I hardly peed, despite the two glasses of water.

“I’ll be in touch,” the doctor told me as he took the sample and left.

I walked my shivering self to the kitchen where I drank another glass of water and poured one to take back to the bedroom for more fitful sleeping.

When would this fever ever break? I was so cold and wished I had three more blankets, though in my brain I knew I was actually very hot. Way too hot. I began to dream scary things, short scenes like snippets of horror movies, jolting myself awake with gasps and shouts.

I barely registered the doctor there again, and the shot he administered to my arm.

“Sleep as much as you can,” he told me. “I’ve dosed you with a vitamin concoction, and I’m leaving an herbal supplement for you to take twice a day.

You must be quite the maid to have one of the Three concerned for you.

” I didn’t miss the snideness in his tone or the implication that he believed he knew exactly what I was up to.

I looked away from him as he gruffly continued. “The State does not have the resources to give supplements to everyone, so do not be boastful. This will stay between me, you, and your employer, or you will risk punishment. You have been blessed today, and don’t forget it. Sit up and take this.”

“Thank you,” I whispered as I struggled upright. I saw the look in his eyes as he handed me the large white pill and glass of water. Jezebel . He left me there, and I was too out of it to be offended. I almost immediately curled up and fell asleep again.

When I woke feeling the side of a gentle finger stroking my cheek, I was confused about where I was and how much time had passed, and why I was completely soaked.

I reached up and touched my hair, which felt as if I’d just showered.

And I was so freaking hot. I kicked weakly to shove off the blankets.

“Hey, hey,” Jeremy whispered, helping me where my legs were slightly tangled with the sheet. “You okay? Your fever broke.”

Oh, thank God. I blinked up at him and felt a gooey sensation at the sight of his smile.

“Hi,” I whispered.

He held out a mason jar of red juice. “I got you something. Can you sit up?” He reached under me and helped me up. “It’s cranberry juice.”

I made a small gasp because juice was a luxury. “Wait, how…?” I looked at his bashful face. “You used the savings?”

“Don’t worry,” he told me. “This is what the savings is for. Emergencies. I also got us some bean soup.”

My eyes burned as he handed me the jar and spotted the small white bottle beside me.

“What’s this?”

I held the container of juice tightly. I felt suddenly more ashamed than I did when the doctor was judging me.“A, um…doctor came.”

Jeremy’s forehead crinkled, and he opened the bottle, peering in at the white pills. I looked down at them too. I hadn’t fully been able to process earlier what had happened and what the doctor told me, but it was clear what these pills were.

“Herbal supplements,” I explained as we looked up from the antibiotics at one another. I saw the same shock and disgust on his face that I was feeling. Jeremy looked from the bottle to the jar in my arms, and he let out a dry, sardonic chuff through his nose.

“God is good,” he said.

“All the time,” I whispered back.

And I did believe God was good. But people…we weren’t.

“I’m going to shower.” Jeremy turned from me to the bathroom, where he shut himself in, and I opened the jar with shaking hands.

The juice had no sugar added, so my whole face puckered after the first drink, the tartness activating my salivary glands almost painfully.

It was sour and bitter, perfectly suiting the feel of my home at that moment.

And while I knew Jeremy wasn’t mad at me, just at the system, it hurt to see.

I didn’t like being part of that system or benefiting from it while others died.

This was so unfair. It was wrong . I looked down at the bottle of “rare” antibiotics, and a surge of pure hatred tore through me when I thought of the families dying nearby.

I didn’t want to take the rest of the meds.

The whore of the Secretary of Arms was good enough to be saved, but not the innocent children of our community? Got it.

What if I could give these pills to Rebecca, and she could get them to someone with a sick child?

My addled mind began to tumble with possibilities.

But then what if the doctor came back? Fitzhugh would probably be expecting me back to work, back to his bed, within a day or two.

My stomach turned, and my heart clenched as a feeling of helplessness washed over me.

A sob clogged my throat just as I heard the whir of a drone outside.

I quickly lay down and rolled over on the still-damp bed with my back to the window.

I tried desperately to control the tears as they came, wetting my pillow further. My body shook despite my best efforts.

Soon after the drone passed, I heard Jeremy come out of the bathroom, and I didn’t move. His footsteps stopped, and I knew he was standing close, looking down at me.

Please touch me.

Even just a hand on my shoulder. Something to show that he didn’t hate me. That he didn’t see me as one of them. But all I heard was a shuffle as he turned, and solid steps as he left the room. Left me. And I let myself cry.