Luffs (Transcendence 1.5)

“Make the best of it,” I whisper as tears begin to stream down my face.

Ehd scrunches up his face and shifts closer to me. He reaches out and touches my cheek, creating a smear of salty tears over my cheekbone. He grunts softly and nuzzles at my neck. When I don’t respond, he begins to run his hands over my arms and legs, looking for the source of some perceived injury.

“I’m not hurt.” I sniff as I grab his hand and hold it up against my face. “I’m just a little melancholy. Christmas is a time for family, and I don’t have one anymore.”

I fight against the sobs that want to escape from the core of my soul.

It’s not a simple Christmas without a loved one. It’s not like when my aunt and uncle got divorced, and he was no longer a part of holiday gatherings. It’s not like when my older cousin got married, and she only attended Christmas morning brunch every other year, opting to spend the opposite years with her wife’s family.

All of my family is far away in the most unattainable way, and I’m never going to see any of them ever again.

I can’t stop the sobs this time. Even as Ehd pulls me to his chest and runs his hand over my hair, I can’t quiet myself. It’s too much. Too deep. Too insane to fathom.

There is no recourse. No solution.

Ehd holds me tighter and eventually leads me over to the pile of furs where we sleep. He coaxes me into the bed and holds me tightly against his body until exhaustion takes its toll, and I sleep, dreaming of Christmases past.

Chapter 7

Despite my childhood dependence on anything and everything technology related, I haven’t really missed having a phone, internet, or digitally available music. Though I had once been addicted to checking my phone every few minutes, I no longer give it a second thought. I don’t have any use for such things here, and all of our time is spent on more basic human needs.

Until now.

At home, I had a phone app that kept track of my monthly cycles. It would conveniently remind me to make sure I had all the necessary feminine products a few days before my period started, and I never had to think much about it. Here, I’d started using a piece of bark to help me count the days until my next period. Every day, I’d take a flint knife and make another mark. My periods have always been regular, and by the time I’d reached the thirtieth mark on the bark, my period would inevitably start. On that day, I would start all over with a new piece of bark, a stick, or whatever else was handy.

I stare at the marking stick in my hand as my heart tries to crawl up into my throat. Nine distinct lines are etched in the surface. During the snowstorm, it was so dark outside and we had slept so much that I had no idea when a new day would start, and I hadn’t marked every day. Once the storm subsided, I’d been focused on gathering what food could be found, replenishing water stock, and decorating a Christmas tree, and I hadn’t even thought about my daily ritual. I haven’t marked the stick, and now I have no idea when I’ll be ovulating or when my period should start.

How many times have we had sex since the last time I’d marked the piece of bark? Several, I know for sure. Sex is the best way to keep warm, and Ehd is very willing and able to perform multiple times a day. How many days has it been? Five? A week? More? I have no idea. All the days have flowed together.

How could I have been so stupid? Keeping track of my cycle is the only way I have any hope of keeping myself from getting pregnant in a world with no doctors, no hospitals, and not even a midwife to help me out.

“Fucking idiot!” I scream and throw the piece of wood into the fire. Tears stream down my face, and Ehd jumps up, rushing to be by my side.

“Beh!” He grabs my hand and checks me out all over, probably looking for injuries.

“I’m not hurt!” I try to push his hand away, but he wraps his arms around me and holds me to his chest. We slump to the ground together, and he holds me in his lap, rocking me gently as I rest my forehead on his shoulder.

What am I going to do? Deny Ehd his favorite activity until my period starts? What if it’s too late, and I’m already pregnant? We spend every minute of every day gathering food, wood, and other necessities just to keep the two of us alive. How would we possibly have time to raise a baby?

I swallow hard, recalling my mother’s story of my own birth via caesarean. I had been transverse—lying sideways inside of her—and she always said she and I would have both died if it weren’t for the doctors.

What if that happens to me? What if I get pregnant, and the baby won’t come out? Who would help? Ehd? Though Ehd is very smart and loving, I seriously doubt he knows what to do during a baby’s birth. I don’t even know if he’s aware that sex leads to babies.

In all the time I’ve been with Ehd, the only other human being I’ve seen was my attacker at the lake. Ehd obviously came from somewhere and must have had parents at some point in his life, but how long has he been alone? Does he even know about pregnancy and babies? Is that instinctual?

If I am pregnant, I might be completely alone in the whole endeavor.

*****

It was inevitable.

I kneel beside our sleeping furs, fighting the feeling in my stomach as much as I am fighting the knowledge of why I feel so sick.

The lump in my throat travels downward, lodging in my stomach and making me retch. For so long, I’d tried to be careful. I’d counted every day between periods just to make sure this wouldn’t happen. I knew there was still a little risk, so I’d even tried to keep moderately risky days to oral though Ehd was not always pleased with the idea.

Then I lost track. During the winter storms, I’d forgotten to mark my stick. I thought I might be late and counted days in my head. Weeks have passed since that time, and now I know for certain how late my period is. I’m also pretty sure it’s not going to start now.

What am I going to do?