He’d also told me not to talk to anyone: any of these people could be a Gilead plant, and if they tried to ferret out my story and I slipped up, they’d smell a rat and warn the Pearl Girls. He did the talking, which was mostly grunts. He seemed to know a couple of them. One of them said, “What is she, retarded? How come she doesn’t talk?” and Garth said, “She only talks to me,” and the other one said, “Nice work, what’s your secret?”
We had several green plastic garbage bags to lie down on. Garth wrapped his arms around me, which made it warmer. At first I pushed his top arm away, but he whispered into my ear, “Remember, you’re my girlfriend,” so I stopped wriggling. I knew his hug was acting, but at that moment I didn’t care. I really did feel almost as if he was my first boyfriend. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
The next night Garth got into a fight with one of the men under the bridge. It was a quick fight and Garth won. I didn’t see how—it was a short, swift move. Then he said we should relocate, so the next night we slept inside a downtown church. He had a key; I don’t know where he got it. We weren’t the only people sleeping in there, judging by the junk and crap under the pews: discarded backpacks, empty bottles, the odd needle.
We ate in fast-food places, which cured me of junk food. I used to think it was slightly glamorous, probably because Melanie disapproved of it, but if you eat it all the time you get a sickly bloated feeling. That’s also where I went to the washroom, in the daytime, when I wasn’t squatting in one of the ravines.
The fourth night was a cemetery. Cemeteries were good, said Garth, but there were often too many people in them. Some of them thought it was entertaining to jump up at you from behind a tombstone, but those were just kids running away from home for the weekend. The street people knew that scaring someone like that in the dark was likely to get you knifed, because not everyone roaming in cemeteries was completely stable.
“Such as you,” I said. He didn’t react. I was probably getting on his nerves.
I should mention here that Garth didn’t take advantage, even though he must have realized that I had a puppy-love crush on him. He was there to protect me, and he did, including protecting me from himself. I like to think he found that hard.
44
“When are the Pearl Girls going to show up again?” I asked on the morning of the fifth day. “Maybe they’ve rejected me.”
“Be patient,” said Garth. “As Ada said, we’ve sent people into Gilead this way before. Some of them made it in, but a couple were too eager, they let themselves be scooped on the first pass. They got flushed before they even crossed the border.”
“Thanks,” I said dolefully. “That makes me feel confident. I’m going to screw this up, I know it.”
“Keep cool, you’ll be fine,” said Garth. “You can do it. We’re all counting on you.”
“No pressure, right?” I said. “You say jump, I say how high?” I was being a pain, but I couldn’t stop myself.
* * *
—
Later that same day the Pearl Girls came our way again. They loitered around, passing by, then crossed the street and walked in the other direction, looking in store windows. Then, when Garth went off to get us some burgers, they came over and started talking to me.
They asked what my name was, and I said Jade. Then they introduced themselves: Aunt Beatrice was the brunette, Aunt Dove was the freckled redhead.
They asked if I was happy, and I shook my head no. Then they looked at my tattoo, and said I was a very special person to have undergone all that suffering for God, and they were glad I knew God cherished me. And Gilead would cherish me too because I was a precious flower, every woman was a precious flower, and especially every girl of my age, and if I was in Gilead I would be treated like the special girl I was, and protected, and no one—no man—would ever be able to hurt me. And did that man who was with me—did he hit me?
I hated to lie about Garth like that, but I nodded.
“And does he make you do bad things?”
I looked stupid, so Aunt Beatrice—the taller one—said, “Does he make you have sex?” I gave the tiniest nod, as if I was ashamed of those things.
“And does he pass you around to other men?”
That was going too far—I couldn’t imagine Garth doing anything like that—so I shook my head no. And Aunt Beatrice said maybe he hadn’t tried that yet, but if I stayed with him he would, because that’s what men like him did—they got hold of young girls and pretended to love them, but soon enough they were selling them to whoever would pay.
“Free love,” Aunt Beatrice said scornfully. “It’s never free. There’s always a price.”
“It’s never even love,” said Aunt Dove. “Why are you with him?”
“I didn’t know where else to go,” I said and burst into tears. “There was violence at home!”
“There is never violence in our homes in Gilead,” said Aunt Beatrice.
Then Garth came back and acted angry. He grabbed my arm—the left one, with the scarification on it—and pulled me to my feet, and I screamed because it hurt. He told me to shut up and said we were going.
Aunt Beatrice said, “Could I have a word with you?” She and Garth moved away out of hearing, and Aunt Dove handed me a tissue because I was crying and said, “May I hug you on behalf of God?” and I nodded.
Aunt Beatrice came back and said, “We can go now,” and Aunt Dove said, “Praise be.” Garth had walked away. He didn’t even look back. I didn’t get to say goodbye to him, which made me cry more.