The Gender Game Read online

  I padded out of the room and into the corridor, which was almost blindingly bright. Sun streamed in through a skylight in the ceiling, warming my skin.

  Amidst the drilling, I heard the clinking of cutlery and I headed down to the kitchen to find Lee already dressed. He sat at the table looking clean-shaven and bright-faced, in front of a bowl of what looked like oatmeal. He wore a smart gray suit, his black hair combed neatly back.

  "Hi, how did you sleep?" he asked.

  "Pretty well, thanks."

  "Good. I was going to come and wake you up in ten minutes. You should eat some breakfast." He gestured to the stove, where a pot of warm oatmeal sat. On the counter next to it were a bowl of deep pink berries and a jar of honey. I helped myself and took a seat opposite Lee at the table. The berries were the sweetest, most succulent I had ever tasted, and the milk was creamy and rich. Much better than my usual breakfast.

  Lee was watching me as I finished, his expression thoughtful. "I suppose I've been in Patrus too long to appreciate the food like you do. I've forgotten how good it tastes compared to Matrus."

  Although much of Matrus' fresh produce was imported from Patrus, they gave us the worst of their harvest, always keeping the best for themselves. Not that I could blame them. Matrus would do the same if they were in Patrus' position.

  "Where's that noise coming from?" I asked as the drilling continued.

  "I have someone down in the garage fixing my third motorcycle," he said. "Hope it didn't disturb you."

  "Not really."

  I found it funny that he had three motorcycles when there was only one of him. It wasn't like I'd be able to ride it; Samuel would sooner be granted permission than me.

  I finished my breakfast and noting that I was done, Lee straightened before speaking. "Right," he said, glancing at his watch. "It's time for us to head off. Are you ready?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay, wait here. I'll be down in a minute."

  I roamed the kitchen as he left and stopped at a window that was slightly open. Even though I was feeling nervous about the day ahead, the beauty of the landscape lifted my spirits a little. The luscious greenery. The fresh air, fragrant with morning dew and the scent of pinewood. The swallows, chirping and soaring over the treetops.

  I supposed I could better understand the lure of Patrus for even a Matrian woman now that I was here. If you could ignore everything else that went on in this place—the lack of rights, and the fact that you were basically a prisoner of your husband—the land was beautiful. Vibrant, verdant, closer to nature than Matrus was, and maybe ever would be. There was little to no feeling of shortage on this side of Veil River. The population being smaller than that of Matrus probably helped. There was more wealth and resources to go around in general. The quality of life in a purely material sense was superior even for a woman. I had yet to witness real Patrian society for myself, but so far, I wasn't feeling as daunted as I'd expected.

  "Okay," Lee said as he descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. I turned to see him holding a brown wallet, which he slipped into the side pocket of his pants.

  "Let's go."

  Samuel followed us to the door before Lee shut and locked it. His motorcycle was where we had left it, in the center of the driveway and the gravel crunched beneath our feet as we approached it. Lee handed me a helmet and then the engine roared. We headed out of the driveway, slipping onto the winding road that led down to the city.

  It was quite surreal how different everything looked in the daytime. Seeing everything in color, I gained a whole different perspective of the mountain road and the triangular villas that lined it.

  We soon began to pass vehicles rolling up the mountain, and as the slope lessened and we arrived on flatter ground, we joined a highway that hummed with many more—at least half of them motorcycles.

  I found myself peering into the windows, curious to glimpse the passengers. I spotted some families—wife and husband in the front, kids in the back—but mostly, the vehicles were occupied by lone men. On the way to work, I guessed.

  The sky was almost cloudless overhead as we neared the city. Lee branched off the main highway onto a narrower street filled with restaurants before we arrived in a communal parking area.

  I got off, steadying myself as I gazed around. The parking lot was practically empty.

  "Now is the best time to go shopping," Lee said. "While most men are at work. Early morning and evening are when it gets most crowded."

  "So how come you're not at work?" I asked as we drew away from his motorcycle.

  "My hours are more flexible than most," he said with a half-smile. "Besides, I have a day off today — I'm getting married, remember."

  His hand closed around mine as he led me out of the parking lot and onto the street of restaurants. His leading me like I was a child felt weird, but I understood that Lee had to behave differently while we were out. All of the restaurants were closed at this time, except for a couple of cafeterias.

  The streets were immaculately clean, and I had to say that this aspect of Patrus reminded me very much of Matrus—their attention to hygiene. Even the exteriors of the buildings were well-maintained, many of them appeared recently repainted.

  He led me down a narrow alley and we emerged onto another road that was populated with shops that catered specifically to women. Clothes boutiques, hairdressers, and salons surrounded us.

  Lee's brows furrowed as he glanced over my hair and nails. "We'll pay a visit to Ciantro's first." He pointed to a storefront that appeared to be a beauty and hair salon combined.

  My hair was the same as it had always been: long, dry, and unstyled. And my nails… well, they were what they were. Given the environment that I had been living in for the past several years of my life, there had hardly been any point in putting effort into them.

  We crossed the road and entered Ciantro's, catching the attention of a tall, skinny man with a perfect coif of blond hair.

  He smiled as he looked from me to Lee.

  "Morning," he said jovially, moving to the reception desk. "And what can I do for you today?"

  Although he was inspecting me, he was clearly asking the question of Lee.

  "Just a wash and style for the hair," Lee said. "And"—he gestured to my hands—"a… whatever you call a hand treatment."

  "Manicure," the man replied with a grin.

  "Yeah," Lee said. I glanced around the pristine white salon. We were the only ones here.

  Lee offered me an encouraging smile before nodding toward the man, indicating that I follow him.

  The man led me to a chair in front of a sink and after telling me his name—Tyler—began washing my hair. He didn't talk as he worked—just the odd question about my usual "hair routine", which warranted a very short answer. After cleansing my hair, he dried and styled it.

  Staring at the finished result in the mirror, I was glad that Lee hadn't told him to do anything drastic. I still looked like myself… just shinier.

  Then he took me to the opposite end of the salon where he worked on my nails for the next forty-five minutes—a process that I found tedious. I was relieved when he finally was done, and allowed me to return to Lee, whose head had been buried in a newspaper most of the time.

  Lee smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up as he looked over the finished result. He pulled out a platinum card from his wallet and swiped it against the machine on the counter. Then we said thanks and goodbye, and left the salon.

  Next, we headed to a clothes store a few doors along. When Lee asked me what sort of thing I liked, I admitted I wasn't really sure. I'd grown up on mostly hand-me-down pants and shirts in the orphanage, and detention facilities didn't exactly provide the opportunity to develop a sense of style. The attendant—another perfectly groomed and extremely knowledgeable man—ended up helping us out. After trying on dozens of outfits, we ended up with two bags full of clothes —mostly dresses, but a fair amount of pants and shirts too (which pleased me). Lee said that dresses we
re advisable for me to fit in with the general dress code of women in Patrus, though I could wear fitted pants and shirts occasionally (and obviously I would wear whatever I wanted when I was in the house).

  I knew a lot of women adored shopping—in Matrus, too—but I wasn’t one of them. The first hour was a novelty, but after that it became rather dull to me, like watching someone poking at my nails had.

  I hadn't been paying attention to the prices, since Lee hadn't, but I suspected it would've cost him a lot of gold. The materials were all organic and high quality, unlike what I was used to wearing.

  Since we weren't having a proper ceremony, Lee told me that a traditional wedding dress was not required, but that I still needed something elegant. We ended up choosing a well-tailored long indigo-blue dress that, according to the attendant, made my eyes "pop". Whether they did or not, I couldn't deny that it looked nice. Not me, but nice.

  By the time we left the shops, it was nearing one o'clock. We headed back to Lee's motorcycle, where we offloaded the bags. Then he turned to me. "So, we don't have time to return home before the appointment. You can change into the dress and shoes we picked out for the marriage now."

  We dug into the bags and retrieved the items before he led me to a building of public restrooms nearby. As I moved into one of the shiny, steel-gray stalls to change, my throat went dry and I started perspiring more than I should have on a day of such a moderate temperature. I had to remind myself that there was no need to feel nervous. This marriage is fake. It won't mean anything.

  After pulling on the dress and slipping into the shoes, I stepped out of the cubicle and stared at myself in the mirror. My hair hanging down my shoulders in soft waves, the blue dress hugging my frame at the most flattering of places, I didn't remember the last time I'd felt so feminine. Perhaps when I'd tried on my mother's makeup as a kid.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I tore my eyes away from the mirror and rejoined Lee outside.

  I kept my gaze on the ground as he offered his arm to me, though I could feel his eyes pass over me in polite admiration.

  "You look perfect," he said quietly.

  An odd feeling swirled inside me. That was the first time I'd been complimented by a man. I wasn't sure whether I liked the attention or not.

  Lee cleared his throat. "Right, so, uh… we're not far away. About five to ten minutes' walk. It'll be easier to go by foot from here."

  I held his arm a little harder than I had intended as I focused on keeping my walk steady in my new shoes. We first returned to the motorcycle to drop off the clothes I’d changed out of, and then, leaving the street of women's boutiques, we wandered down another narrow alleyway. We passed several more streets after that—streets with barber shops, men's clothing stores, as well as other shops retailing furniture and food. We didn't exchange a word as we walked for the next ten minutes, until we finally arrived outside a tall, red-brick building with a sharp, protruding spire.

  "Central Matrimony Registration Office."

  We stopped outside the entrance. Finally, Lee and I met each other's eyes as he straightened his jacket.

  "Okay." His Adam's apple bobbed. "In we go."

  He pushed open the door and held it for me as we stepped into a sterile reception room. The lighting was white and bleak, the carpets a dull shade of green. A wide desk lined the wall opposite us, behind which sat three men in black suits. The man in the middle—a middle-aged bald guy with a heavy goatee—stood as we approached. A perfunctory smile spread across his lips.

  "Good afternoon, Mr. Banks," Lee said, holding out a hand for him to shake.

  "Afternoon, Mr., and soon-to-be Mrs., Bertrand," he replied.

  My hand instinctively moved to shake his, but I caught myself and instead gave him a brief nod, which he returned.

  "Do follow me."

  Mr. Banks led us through a door to our left and guided us into an office. Here, he circled around a black wooden table and sat down, while he gestured for us to do the same in the two seats positioned in front of us, opposite him at the table.

  He ducked down and opened a drawer, reemerging with a pile of papers, which he placed in front of Lee, and handed him a pen. Then Lee began to sift through the pages, signing and dating multiple sheets. Once he was done, he handed the papers back to Mr. Banks.

  Then Mr. Banks withdrew a single sheet of paper and passed it to me. "Read it and sign, please," he requested of me.

  My eyes trailed down the page. What I was reading was a declaration of oath to give up every freedom a woman took for granted in the land of Matrus, for the sake of my "husband". The language of the document didn't bother to soften the blow as it concluded:

  "I hereby declare my full dependence on and submissiveness to Lee Desmond Bertrand, who will take responsibility for my speech and actions, as well as ownership of any possessions previously deemed my own."

  It was like a deliberate affront to Matrus-born women. The document was designed to intimidate. As if a Matrian's transition to Patrus wasn't already difficult enough. Even coming from being a prisoner to my homeland, I found it an affront to my identity. Gritting my teeth, I scribbled my name and the date in the same manner one would strip a bandage from a wound. I would have been hurting a lot more if I'd been a regular upstanding Matrian citizen.

  Mr. Banks slid the paper back to his side of the table and glanced over it briefly before nodding. "Good," he said. "Now…" He dipped behind his desk again, opening another drawer, before appearing this time with a small black velvet pouch.

  He handed it to Lee, who opened it and drew out a single golden ring, then Lee twisted in his chair to face me.

  "Do you, Violet Bates," Mr. Banks spoke up, "accept Lee Desmond Bertrand as your lawfully wedded husband?"

  My voice caught in my throat as I stared at the ring. I realized that it was engraved with a name. "L. D. Bertrand."

  It became clear to me in that moment that Mr. Banks would pull out no second ring. There would be no exchange of vows, either. Just a single vow. A single ring.

  A single leash.

  This ring means nothing, I reminded myself again firmly. I'm not actually getting married. Lee won't be my husband. We are business partners and this is all just an act.

  I gulped before answering: "I do."

  11

  After Lee placed the ring on my finger, our business in the marriage office was done. On exiting the building, we both took a moment. As I stood on the sidewalk, the fresh air against my skin was soothing. I couldn't wait to get out of this dress. Out of these shoes. Out of Patrus.

  I had to keep my mind on the prize at the end of the tunnel: my brother—seeing him again would be all the reward I needed.

  Lee gestured to my ring and said in a low voice, "Whenever we're out of the house, you should wear it. It’s important that you have it on you at all times in case something happens—in case you get separated from me. You will be safe with that ring."

  I narrowed my eyes on him. "What do you mean by 'safe'?"

  He began to walk me away from the building, back to the alleyway at the other side of the street. "Let's just say there are some less-than-gentlemanly men here in Patrus."

  Okay…

  "I don't mean to worry you," Lee went on. "Most men here are decent, albeit different from what you're used to. Just keep the ring on your finger, eyes to the ground, and you'll be fine… Now," he said, looking straight ahead at the street we were about to emerge on—the street filled with women's shops. "I suggest we head home for lunch. By the time we eat, we won't have long before we have to return to the city for our lab visit this evening."

  I'd hardly spent any time in Lee's house so far, but it was already feeling like a haven compared to the rest of this disconcerting place.

  * * *

  Lee and I changed into more comfortable clothing when we got home. He had cooked a lot the morning before and frozen the leftovers, so we ended up finishing them off for lunch.

  As we sat at the table, I cou
ldn't stop thinking about the marriage office, keenly aware of the new weight on my finger.

  "Patrian marriages," I said, chewing slowly, "do they all take place in an office like that? Are there no proper ceremonies, like we have in Matrus?" Are they all so perfunctory? was what I was curious to know.

  "No," Lee said, dabbing the sides of his mouth with a napkin. "There are traditional ceremonies here, too. Some men opt for lavish arrangements, while others prefer to keep it low-key. It just depends on the man… and how much he takes into consideration the preferences of his bride."

  "I see," I muttered. Whatever weddings took place in Matrus were almost always accompanied by ceremonies. Even if they weren't grand or lavish, efforts were made to hold a small gathering at least.

  "Well," Lee said, finishing his meal and standing, "I'm going to take Samuel out for a walk and then we can head off. In the meantime, feel free to do whatever you want around the house. Make yourself at home and maybe freshen up for this evening. I suspect we'll end up going to a restaurant for dinner, so we could be out fairly late."

  My eyes followed him as he moved across the room to drop his plate in the sink and then headed out of the kitchen. He called for Samuel and led him to the door.

  Finishing my food, I rose from the table and moved to the window, peering through the blinds as they left.

  I glanced furtively at my ring again before walking to the sink to wash up the few dirty dishes.

  Make myself at home. That was something I'd had to try to do a lot over the last decade, though I hadn't had a true home since my mother died.

  I headed to the bathroom and after splashing cool water on my face, I decided to wander around the house a bit. I found myself roaming the stories of the triangular building, gaining a better understanding of Lee in the process. He really didn't like clutter, we were alike in that sense, and there were hardly any ornaments or decorations, except for the odd abstract painting on the wall. His own bedroom—bigger than mine but hardly containing more—also held a single bed.