sometimes, and then ravenous thirty minutes later for something totally weird. I’ve been craving dirt, Kira, like dirt from our garden. Is that the craziest thing?”
“We don’t get certain minerals in our diets here,” Kira whispered. “Pregnant cravings are your body’s way of telling you what nutrients it needs. Dirt’s not that uncommon with our diet.”
“I’m going to go into the hospital in a few days to get tested for real,” said Madison, “but I wanted to tell you first.”
“No,” said Kira again, shaking her head. This couldn’t be happening—she knew that it could, that it was in fact very likely, but at the same time she knew that no, this was Madison, this was the closest thing to a sister, to a family, that Kira had left. “Do you have any idea what it’s like?” she asked. “The pain? The danger? Women die in childbirth; even with all our equipment and experience at the hospital it still happens, and then even if you live, your baby won’t. We haven’t cured RM yet—you’re going to live with this for a few more months, and go through all that pain and terror and blood and everything else, and then it’s going to die.” Kira felt herself tearing up, felt a hot wetness welling up in her eyes and spilling coldly down her face. She imagined Madison where Ariel had been, wide-eyed and screaming, banging on the glass as her daughter squirmed and wailed and died. “Haru is right to be upset,” she said, wiping her face with her fingers. “This is too much for you, you don’t need this.”
“Yes, I do,” said Madison softly.
“It’s a stupid law,” said Kira, raising her voice angrily before glancing nervously toward the hallway and lowering it again. “You don’t have to go through with this. Give me more time—fake sterility or something, it happens, just don’t—”
“It’s already done,” said Madison. Her smile was the sweet, beatific smile Kira had seen on a dozen other mothers, and it broke her heart. Madison put her hand on Kira’s. “I didn’t do this for the Hope Act, and I didn’t do this for the Senate, I did it for me.”
Kira shook her head, tears still rolling down her face.
“I want this,” said Madison. “I was born to be a mother—it’s in my genes, it’s right here in the center of who I am.” She clutched at her chest and blinked back a few tears of her own. “I know that it scares you, and I know it scares Haru. It scares me too, it scares me to death, but it’s the right thing to do. Even if it only lasts for a few days—even if it only lasts for a few hours.”
“Oh, Madison.” Kira leaned forward, clasping her friend in an embrace. She felt terrified and guilty, knowing she was right but ashamed of herself for dumping on Madison like that. Of course Madison knew the risks; everyone on the island knew them. Madison wasn’t running away from them, she was meeting them head-on.
Kira pulled back, wiping her eyes again.
“One of these days we will have a survivor,” she said. “It’s inevitable. A child will live. It might be yours.”
Marcus walked in with a broad wooden tray and stopped at the sight of them hugging and crying. “Is everything okay?”
“I’ll tell you later,” said Kira, pulling back from Madison and wiping her eyes again. Her cheeks felt raw from the constant scrubbing.
“Okay,” he said slowly, setting the tray on the low central table. Xochi had covered it with a whole roast chicken, crusted with herbs and dripping with juices, and a heaping pile of pan-fried potatoes. Xochi followed next with a tray of vegetables—all fresh in honor of the holiday—and Nandita came last with a tray of chocolate-covered doughnuts. Kira’s mouth watered; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything so good. It might have been a full year ago on the last Rebuilding Day.
Marcus stooped in front of Kira. “Do you need anything? Can I get you a drink or whatever?”
Kira shook her head. “I’m
“We don’t get certain minerals in our diets here,” Kira whispered. “Pregnant cravings are your body’s way of telling you what nutrients it needs. Dirt’s not that uncommon with our diet.”
“I’m going to go into the hospital in a few days to get tested for real,” said Madison, “but I wanted to tell you first.”
“No,” said Kira again, shaking her head. This couldn’t be happening—she knew that it could, that it was in fact very likely, but at the same time she knew that no, this was Madison, this was the closest thing to a sister, to a family, that Kira had left. “Do you have any idea what it’s like?” she asked. “The pain? The danger? Women die in childbirth; even with all our equipment and experience at the hospital it still happens, and then even if you live, your baby won’t. We haven’t cured RM yet—you’re going to live with this for a few more months, and go through all that pain and terror and blood and everything else, and then it’s going to die.” Kira felt herself tearing up, felt a hot wetness welling up in her eyes and spilling coldly down her face. She imagined Madison where Ariel had been, wide-eyed and screaming, banging on the glass as her daughter squirmed and wailed and died. “Haru is right to be upset,” she said, wiping her face with her fingers. “This is too much for you, you don’t need this.”
“Yes, I do,” said Madison softly.
“It’s a stupid law,” said Kira, raising her voice angrily before glancing nervously toward the hallway and lowering it again. “You don’t have to go through with this. Give me more time—fake sterility or something, it happens, just don’t—”
“It’s already done,” said Madison. Her smile was the sweet, beatific smile Kira had seen on a dozen other mothers, and it broke her heart. Madison put her hand on Kira’s. “I didn’t do this for the Hope Act, and I didn’t do this for the Senate, I did it for me.”
Kira shook her head, tears still rolling down her face.
“I want this,” said Madison. “I was born to be a mother—it’s in my genes, it’s right here in the center of who I am.” She clutched at her chest and blinked back a few tears of her own. “I know that it scares you, and I know it scares Haru. It scares me too, it scares me to death, but it’s the right thing to do. Even if it only lasts for a few days—even if it only lasts for a few hours.”
“Oh, Madison.” Kira leaned forward, clasping her friend in an embrace. She felt terrified and guilty, knowing she was right but ashamed of herself for dumping on Madison like that. Of course Madison knew the risks; everyone on the island knew them. Madison wasn’t running away from them, she was meeting them head-on.
Kira pulled back, wiping her eyes again.
“One of these days we will have a survivor,” she said. “It’s inevitable. A child will live. It might be yours.”
Marcus walked in with a broad wooden tray and stopped at the sight of them hugging and crying. “Is everything okay?”
“I’ll tell you later,” said Kira, pulling back from Madison and wiping her eyes again. Her cheeks felt raw from the constant scrubbing.
“Okay,” he said slowly, setting the tray on the low central table. Xochi had covered it with a whole roast chicken, crusted with herbs and dripping with juices, and a heaping pile of pan-fried potatoes. Xochi followed next with a tray of vegetables—all fresh in honor of the holiday—and Nandita came last with a tray of chocolate-covered doughnuts. Kira’s mouth watered; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything so good. It might have been a full year ago on the last Rebuilding Day.
Marcus stooped in front of Kira. “Do you need anything? Can I get you a drink or whatever?”
Kira shook her head. “I’m
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