Drumpftland - Chapter 6

Dunston and I are married a week later. And we’re married for a month before our wedding is consummated. I didn’t know sex could be this wonderful. And I often feel guilty that I just never enjoyed it fully with Bryant. We’ve been married about three months when Bryant is allowed to go home. The guilt really hit me hard when I saw him back in church for the first time. Settling in as Dunston’s wife has been easy for me. Loving Dunston is so easy. And I feel guilty that it was never easy with Bryant, but I don’t blame him for that. I know it’s not his fault nor mine.

My birth control implant expired about the same time Bryant came home and Dunston didn’t have it renewed. And as I sit here at the back of the church very pregnant with our first child, I’m quite content. I miss work, but women with children under the age of six aren’t permitted to work outside the home. And I’m okay with that. I’m looking forward to being a mother. The other young women who are all hoping to snag Blake or Bronson just ignore me now. Not that Blake or Bronson are showing any serious interest in any of them.

Well this is different. There’s a young woman with the Crosses that isn’t from our district. A young light skinned black woman. Her skin is more yellow than mine. My hair is curly but won’t do a cute fro like hers. Her fro is just a little darker brown than her skin. She’s smiling as she’s holding Bryant’s arm. There’s a lot of whispering among the young women in the church. Not that any of them want Bryant any more, not after he tried to kill me. But I doubt this young woman knows anything about it.

Pastor Cross announces that the young woman’s name is Amber and that she and Bryant are to be married today after Sunday school.

My father whispers to us, “Byron is screwing up. He wants it to look like Bryant is bouncing back from losing Ava and making a full recovery. But I don’t think Bryant is ready for this. He looks numb.”

My dad’s right. Bryant does look numb.

Someone hisses at Amber.

We haven’t spoken for months, yet the Crosses approach us on the way to Sunday school.

Mr. Cross looks a little uncomfortable as he says to my parents and grandparents, “I know we haven’t spoken for a while. And I have no right to ask anything of you. But Amber has no friends or family here beyond us. And I’m hoping you’ll allow Ava to be her friend.”

My father nods agreeingly, “Sure. Amber, welcome to our little district. I’m Dr. Simon Washington and this is my wife, Irena. She’s a pediatric nurse. My father, Dr. Eugene Washington. My mother is deceased. My father-in-law, Dr. Lance Reed and my mother-in-law, Lupe. She’s a nurse practitioner. This is my son-in-law, Dr. Dunston Walker. And of course, this is my daughter, Ava. She’s a pediatrician.”

Amber is just as cute as a button as she shakes my hand with both of hers, “You’re a doctor. That’s wonderful. I’m just a nursing assistant.”

I smile warmly, “Welcome to our district. I hope for the most part you’ll be happy here.”

“Thank you,” returns Amber smiling brightly. “Are you due soon?”

I nod, “Two more months.”

“You must be so excited,” says Amber excited for me.

I admit, “I am. I didn’t think I would be. I was initially concerned with Dunston’s decision to have a child. My childhood here was rather lonely. Bryant was my only friend while we were growing up. So I worry about our child not having friends.”

“So you and Bryant used to be close friends,” inquires Amber interested.

I nod, “We were best friends.”

Amber shares, “I think Mr. Cross is hoping for a grandchild right away. Our children will be able to be friends.”

I return her infectious smile, “That would be grand.” I turn to Bryant, “Bryant, she’s lovely.”

Bryant reaches over and lays a hand on my swelling abdomen, “Pregnancy suites you, Ava. He’s treating you well.”

He looks very sad as I inform him, “Very well. He’s a loving, doting husband.”

“Good,” says Bryant with a firm nod. “I’m glad.”

Bronson says sadly. “We miss you Ava.”

I push up on my toes and kiss his cheek, “I miss you too.”

Bronson ask me, “Do you still love us Ava?”

I answer without hesitation, “Of course I still love you all. I’m sorry we don’t get to spend time together anymore.”

Blake leans over kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear softly, “I love you. I’ll always love you. And I miss you so much.”

My eyes well up with tears. I know my relationship with them wasn’t a healthy one, but I miss them too.

“Once Amber has settled in,” my father suggests, “you should bring her for a visit.”

“That’s very kind of you,” says Mrs. Cross who looks very sad and like she might have had a couple of glasses of wine before church.

Another district resident pauses by us in the hall outside the Sunday school room and says to Mr. Cross, “Really Cross? You didn’t think one nigger whore in our district was enough. You had to import one from another district for Bryant.”

Mr. Cross responds unruffled, “We’re doing our part to breed them out. What are you doing to prove your patriotism?”

The man does some deep grumbling as he tries to come up with a response.

My poppa says, “He’s raised a sorry excuse for a son that we would never consider allowing to marry Ava, but he still had the nerve to call us requesting Ava for that bully he raised.”

The man takes a deep frustrated breath and walks away from us into the Sunday school room.

“Jackass,” comments Mr. Cross irritated.

Amber ask concerned, “Are many people here rude like that?”

I ask curious, “Did you have white friends in your home district?”

Amber nods, “Yes. No one back home would come up and say something like that. I’ve actually never heard the N-word before.”

I inform Amber sadly, “You won’t have any white friends here outside of your family. Don’t bother trying to make friends with any of the young white women here. That hiss earlier was nothing. You would think they would know that’s not keeping the Sabbath holy, but many don’t read and write and they’re never paying attention during the Sunday school lessons.”

“How are we doing today,” ask Pastor Wimbly all smiles as he comes up to us. He gives me a quick kiss.

“We were just getting acquainted with Bryant’s bride to be,” shares Poppa.

“Well isn’t she lovely,” Wimbly greets her warmly, “Welcome to our little district.”

“I didn’t realize there were districts this small,” shares Amber.

Wimbly shares, “This district was originally meant to be a retirement community. So it was designed to be very walkable and electric vehicle friendly. But it’s also very rural and isolated. Physical size wise, we’re not that small. But it’s mostly farmland. Some of the farm families have to endure an hour long carriage ride to be here Sundays which seems to leave them grumpy. But they’re exempt from attending when the weather is bad. I think they hope and pray for rain every Sunday.” Then he tells Amber softly, “A word of caution. We have a shortage of good, honest, reasonable people. Don’t bother trying to associate with or befriend any of them. If they’re being nice they’re up to something. But Ava and her family are good people. You can always count on them.”

“Thank you, Pastor,” responds Amber with a concerned look on her face. Things are going to be very different here from her home district.

We stay after Sunday school and witness Bryant and Amber’s wedding. Weddings here in Drumpftland are not big fancy affairs. Your church clothes are also your wedding attire. It’s kept small and simple to remind you that the greatest joys in life often come from the little things. Vows for the bride and groom are different. The groom is asked if he accepts the bride as his wife. He is asked if he will love her, honor her, keep her counsel and cleave to her and only her. He is asked those things. He has the option to say no and not accept the bride that was usually chosen for him by his parents.

Bryant says “I will,” but he doesn’t look happy about it.

Amber on the other hand has a big excited smile. Her vows are different. She is told she is to love, honor and obey her husband. She is directed to bear him as many children as he desires, keep his home clean and harmonious. The only question she is asked is, “Do you understand your wifely duties?”

Amber of course says she does happily. They are pronounced husband and wife. Bryant is told he may take his wife home and enjoy her.

The next evening, we’re in the middle of dinner when the doorbell sounds. We rarely get to sit down to dinner all together any day other than Sunday. Poppa says he’ll get it and heads to the front door. I hear men’s voices, but I can’t make out what’s being said.

Poppa returns to the dinner table but he doesn’t sit down. He’s pale and looks shocked as he’s just standing there staring at nothing.

Abuela ask him, “Lance, what’s wrong?”

Poppa begins with “Bryant,” but he doesn’t continue.

“Is Bryant alright,” I ask concerned. “Has there been an accident?”

Poppa shakes his head, “Not an accident.”

“Pop,” questions Dad concerned.

Poppa finally finds his tongue, “Bryant was found with the body of his new bride a few hours ago. They’re not sure if he did it this morning, sometime during the night, or yesterday sometime after they were married. They just know she’s been dead for hours. It looks like he strangled her, but her body’s being sent for a full autopsy. Bryant’s not responding to anyone. They want us to bring Ava to see if he’ll respond to her.”

We’re all in shock.

“I knew he wasn’t ready to begin a new relationship,” says Dad, “that he wasn’t over Ava yet. But I didn’t think he would hurt the girl.”

Dunston ask Poppa, “When do they want us to bring Ava?”

“Now,” answers Poppa.

“Let’s quickly get the food into the frig,” directs Mom. “We’ve all lost our appetites.”

A short time later I find myself at the hospital. We pass Mrs. Cross in tears as Blake tries to console her. Bronson looks as if he’s seen a ghost. Mr. Cross looks like a lost puppy.

Dunston and I are let into the same interrogation room where Bryant is once again sitting with his hands cuffed to the table and his feet cuffed to the floor. He’s staring at nothing as he rocks slightly. I don’t try to rush to him this time. I cling to Dunston as we sit across from Bryant. His eyes are empty. There’s no sign my Bryant is in there at all. He doesn’t seem to know we’re there. So Dunston nods toward Bryant for me to go ahead and try to talk to him.

“Bryant,” I say softly afraid of a violent reaction.

Bryant’s head turns slowly in our direction. He focuses on us and smiles. “Ava,” he says smiling, “My beautiful Ava.”

“Hello Bryant,” I return with a nervous smile.

Bryant tells me, “I miss you, Ava.”

My eyes well up with tears, “I miss you too Bryant.”

Bryant asks me, “Is he treating you well?”

I nod, “Yes, very well. Dunston’s a good husband.”

“He better treat you well,” states Bryant.

“He does,” I respond.

“Good,” states Bryant. “I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy. But I still wish I was the one making you happy, that we were having a baby.”

Now the tears spill from my eyes, “I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Yeah,” acknowledges Bryant, “that sucks,” as a detective is motioning for me to ask about Amber.

So I ask, “How’s Amber?”

“Who,” ask Bryant.

“Amber, your wife,” I remind him, “You were just married yesterday. I really like her. She’s absolutely lovely. Is she settling in okay?”

Bryant says, “Oh, her. I set her free.”

“Set her free,” I question.

“Yeah,” Bryant tells me, “She didn’t belong with my mess of a family any more than you did. I knew I couldn’t protect her properly from my brothers and my dad. So I set her free to make sure she’ld be safe. Sent her back into the loving arms of God. She’s free now.”

I ask, “Why didn’t you just refuse to marry her?”

Bryant informs me, “Dad said you were making us look bad with how well you’re doing with Dr. Walker. He said I had to show everyone that I’m over you and moving forward with my life. Except I’m not over you. Yelled at me about being a Cross. And I am a Cross. No escaping that. So I married her like Dad told me to. But I didn’t have to leave her stuck being a Cross like my mom. So I set her free.”

I take a deep breath and blow it out.

“I’m sorry Ava,” apologizes Bryant, “I know you don’t approve. That you would find a way to endure with strength and dignity. But I really believe setting her free was the best thing I could do for her.”

“I can’t say I understand Bryant,” because I don’t understand, “but they may put you down for this.”

Bryant shrugs uncaringly, “That may be for the best. Probably better than spending the rest of my life in a nut house. Certainly better than being stuck in that cold oversized house with my family.”

I tell him, “Your family’s not the worst.”

Bryant responds, “They’re far from the best though. Your family’s the best. I hope Dr. Walker knows how lucky he is.”

“I have an idea of how lucky I am,” Dunston tells Bryant.

Bryant tells Dunston firmly, “You better take good care of her. You better love her with your whole heart and soul. Because if you ever mistreat her, I’ll send you into the loving arms of God.”

Dunston tells Bryant sincerely, “I do love her with my whole heart and soul. And I promise I will always take good care of her and treat her well.”
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Bryant nods acceptingly to Dunston, “It’s getting late. You better get her home to bed.”

Dunston helps me rise. I pause by the door, “I’m sorry Bryant. I feel like I failed you. I was hoping for a long happy life for you and Amber since I couldn’t do it for you. But I’ll always love you. And I’m always going to miss you.”

Bryant gives me a smile that’s half full of love and yet half deranged, “I’ll always love you too Ava. You’re the one person who’s never failed me. Good night and sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. I’m so glad you’re free.”

Bryant has never understood that here in Drumpftland no one is free. Everyone in Drumpftland is a slave of one kind or another. Slave to their own ignorance. Slave to their own hatred and bigotry. Slave to their daily survival. Even Drumpft Jr. is a slave. Slave to holding on to being Drumpftland’s dictator. Slave to holding onto and maintaining his family’s power and wealth.

Not one person in Drumpftland is truly free and casualties here are high. Most will only count the dead like Amber as a casualty. But your life, your very self, can be lost without dying. Bryant has lost himself. And I believe he’s lost for good this time. But it’s not his fault. He gave everything he had trying to be the type of slave they demanded he be. He gave until he had nothing left of himself to give. Drumpftland stole everything from him.

Perhaps Bryant’s right. Perhaps putting him down would be a kindness. Even though when I looked into his beautiful blue eyes they were cold and empty, I fear that somewhere, deep down where I cannot see, he’s in there, a prisoner within himself, screaming in unheard agony to be set free. I hate the thought that he may be stuck inside himself suffering. Bryant has suffered enough.

Many people my grandparents’ age once had the opportunity to vote, to choose. Poppa says they took it for granted and didn’t vote. I wonder how many of them that didn’t bother voting wish they had. I wonder if they see that their lack of involvement led to the Drumpftland we exist in today, where we are forbidden to say the name of the country it was before. Or are they still telling themselves that it doesn’t matter and their vote wouldn’t have made a difference anyway? It’s certainly too late for it to make a difference for my Bryant.