They know I’m not a man, Papa isn’t fooling anyone.
Mama smiles at the people in the square and directs me to the stage where the other eighteen year olds are waiting to choose their mates. Mama pushes me up the stairs then turns around to face us with the rest of the awaiting parents. Out of the eleven teens on the stage I know only a single girl, Naturi. She is the third girl in line with long blonde hair and blue eyes; I nod, she looks away, so I keep walking. She’s never spoken to me before, why do I think today would be any different?
The moment I reach the row of boys they all shift a few feet away from me. One of them whispers, “Go home, E.T.” I make myself numb and look into oblivion. This is God’s will, I remind myself.
Papa holds fast to his bible and mounts the platform in the center of the stage. It raises high off the ground so Papa can connect with God and recite his instructions. His white iridescent smile placates the crowd and the murmurs cease. Still my heart roars. I’m sure everyone can hear it, if not feel it’s fear.
“People of Garden Home, raise your eyes on high and give thanks to the Lord Almighty for delivering us from deaths door for yet another year so that we may continue to repent for the sins of the past,” Papa says. The crowd worships the yellow lantern ceiling before returning their focus back to Papa. “Thank you Jesus for your forgiveness and love,” Papa begins. “Today marks the twenty second year after the Great Fall.” He waves his arm in our direction. “Today our children are no longer children, but soon to be parents of their own. Today we say good bye to the years of ownership and send our children out into the vast underworld to multiply God’s kingdom. His wrath has been heard, and we without a doubt will remain in full trepidation of his might.” Mama strolls up the stairs with grace as Papa presses on with his sermon. “As God commands it we shall commit, for we of Garden Home vow never to stray from his word again.”
The crowd yelps an Amen. Mama picks up the bag with all of our names in it and stops in front of a tall brown boy with short black hair at the head of the line. God chooses who we marry.
The boy sticks his hand in the hat, and pulls out a name. A smile spreads across his face. “Tinsel,” he says. A tiny girl no larger than my pinky beams and runs into his waiting arms.
Mama moves to the girl’s side. The girl with curly brown locks puts her hand in the hat. “Vecter,” she says. Again the both of them embrace like they’ve been planning this the whole time. Two more pull, cheers and cries sound as no complaints arise.
Naturi reaches in and her face freezes. I know the moment has arrived; the moment that I hoped would never occur has just revved its head. “Saved,” she says. All the color drains from her face. Her hand shakes and the paper falls to the floor. A commotion in the crowd distracts my failed heartbeat. Her father is racing towards the stage, his eyes are wild and he’s screaming something incoherent. I spin around and look at Naturi. She’s staring into space, her eyes are full white, she vibrates then crashes to the floor. Life is gone; life she should have cherished is gone. Her father scrambles onto the podium and pulls her into his arms. She’s so tranquil now, nothing burdens her anymore.
More cries deafen as Mama reveals the white poisonous flower in each one of their hands. There’s only one person who knows where that grows. I look up at Papa, but his eyes remain in his bible. Why would he do this to me? I stagger, my wife is dead. Garden Home only allows one spouse for all of existence. No one had any attention of being mine. They chose the ultimate sin to a life with me.
My head can’t stop swiveling. This is wrong, my life is wrong. I cause nothing but contaminated pain. I stand for nothing other than a reminder of what not to do. I back away, legs moving without thought, I run. I run from their eyes, from their shouts, and from their invisible daggers. Up, up through the cracks in the rocks, over the sharp protrusions and through the dense cloud of poisonous fog.
Before the black mist welcomes me a hand sucks me back into the unblemished air. I gasp, and clutch familiarity and devotion. Neither one of them understands, neither one of them feels the consistent pin pricks, nor comprehend finality.
I pull away from Mama. “Saved!” She wipes away the warm salty tears streaming down my face. “God loves you, I love you. What Naturi did is not your fault; it is her sin and her sin alone.” Mama’s so blind, this is Papa’s doing.
Our hands clasp one another, but I move towards the unknown. “God doesn’t exist, Mamma,” I say using my other hand to point outside of the caves. “God died with everyone else.” He died with the people that gave me life; the people who birthed a monstrosity.
She matches each one of my back pedals. “He gave me you.”
I shake my head, grab a bunch of leaves and smash them to her face. They squeeze around her nose and mouth, sucking the poison away. She stalks me as I step out into the black smog. The air is thicker but it doesn’t harm me. This is where I belong. “You said God is love, all I see is hate.”
“God is love, Saved. It’s people who are hate.” She muffles through the leaves. “Come back, love, come back to me.” It’s people that I see and hear every day.
My foot steps into the two person boat. I gaze upon the woman who gave me everything, but protection from other’s vicious deeds. “It hurts Mama, everyday it hurts to be left out because I was born.” I rub my heart. “It hurts.” The leg that remains on the ground slowly swings into the boat. I place my hand on the screen, the back of the boat turns the water and it pulls me away from my Mama. It hurts not to be loved.
Mama’s breathing leaves begin to wilt, and she coughs. “Be safe my child, I hope you find whatever you are looking for.” She hurries back into the safety of clean air just as the ground shakes and rocks cover the cave opening. My pulse quickens, the quakes are getting worse. There is nothing I can do from this side, or anything I truly want to do. So I continue into the sea with nowhere to go, and no reason to live.
Eighteen years ago Mama found me lying in a boat wrapped in a blanket; she said I changed her life. Papa said God makes no mistakes. It took me this long to realize that Papa means I am not one of God’s children. If God created all life on Earth, how did he forget about me?
Chapter 3
I lie in the bottom of the boat curled into a closed fetal position. If I don’t look then I can’t see the last minutes of my life washing away. If I don’t move then I can’t feel the end. These have been my only thoughts for the last day or maybe it’s been two or three.
Thirst grinds against dry organs, and hunger sucks at whatever it can to abate its neglect. None of this matter, none of this will even be a stray thought. Soon it’ll be over and the last mistake on earth will cease to exist. Too bad I never found my love.
Mama’s sharp features pop into my memory. She always found something to smile about. Mama, I think, she never did give up on me. Not even when the adults, her fallers, locked me inside a hollow tree. She searched and searched never resting, never eating until she found a cloth that an adult had left behind by the bark of the tree. There I was almost beyond death, but she nursed me back to health, she poured every ounce of her strength into me so that I can live. And this is how I repay her, by giving up? A small prick punctures my chest. The woman who walked out into the quickest poison without the aid of the leaves, because she had a dream; nearly died to give me course, and this is how I repay her?
Why didn’t I ever tell her it was Papa who locked me in the tree while we were hunting? Why didn’t I tell her it was Papa who filled the villagers head with disgust for me? Why didn’t I ever say one bad thing about Papa to her?
Mama loves him, that’s why. When they’re together she shines. The time he tried to force me to choose my gender was the saddest she’s ever been. Most days she wouldn’t even talk to me or look at me. Mama loves him, I couldn’t destroy that. She loves me too and she wouldn’t want me to quit fighting.
It’s a good thing Mama isn’t here to witness me shrivel. My motivation has come a little too late. Not a single limb wishes to move at the moment. My body only sees dying. But Mama’s lovely face and her easy smile keep me company through the turbulent black waters.
Warmth touches my hand, it close my eyes, and caresses my body. I gladly fall into it.
“
