Peaceful Quiet Lives

Forbidden lovers fall foul of laws in both nations born from the ashes of the Second American Civil War — Part 1, Chapter 5

Continued from Part I: Chapter Four

Part I: Chapter Five

There is a spring in my step that I can’t quite explain. The walk from the metro station to work seems more interesting for obvious reasons, even though the air is so much colder, and the skies are a wall of dark grey. I pass the elementary school and see Eve in the playground. Like before, she is talking to parents, but as luck would have it, she concludes her conversation just as I approach. I glance over the railings and our eyes meet.

She smiles. I smile back.

After a few seconds, she turns and walks away. I do the same. It is probably dangerous to look back, but I can’t resist. I turn, and see she has also glanced back. She turns away, almost coyly, upon seeing I have looked back. Then I look away too. This dance of stolen glances is sublime and exhilarating.

All morning at work I feel distracted. At lunchtime, I push the half-eaten chicken sandwich to one side of my desk, and run through the conversation with Eve from the previous night. There is so much more I want to know about her. I want to meet her again, tonight. I check no-one is looking, and just as I am about to send an email message to her underworld contact, I receive one from him.

Tonight. Same place. Same time.

I briefly wonder who this intermediary is. His email address does not give away a name. [email protected] could be anyone in the country. Doubtless he’ll have his server bounce anyone who wants to trace him.

My good mood does not go unnoticed. Doug can’t help but comment, nor can Christy. Rather disconcertingly, they come to see me together, entering my office and sitting down opposite my desk.

‘You seem different today,’ Christy says.

‘I didn’t sleep well last night,’ I reply.

‘No, there’s definitely something different,’ says Doug. ‘You aren’t just tired. You seem too… happy.’

‘I didn’t realise there was a ban on happiness in this organisation. I shall endeavour to make sure I don’t let it happen again.’

‘Well, as long as you’re working hard, having a part in one of the most prestigious news media organisations in the nation surely has its own reward. Doubtless that is why you’re smiling.’

‘Doubtless.’

Christy’s face hardens. ‘I’ve never been able to figure out you Brits. Why are you so comfortable with sarcasm?’

‘Why are you so comfortable with manufactured courtesy?’

Doug’s eyes meet mine. He lets out a brittle, forced laugh. Whatever he has come here to say, he is building up to it, assessing me at every turn and looking for weaknesses. Eventually he decides to come to the point.

‘We’re here to talk to you, because we were a little unhappy with the way you handled the Matthew Ingram affair.’

‘Why were you unhappy?’

‘You weren’t co-operative,’ Christy says.

‘How exactly didn’t I cooperate? I was asked to handle the investigation, so I did. I questioned both you and Matthew.’

Christy’s eyes darken. ‘Your recommendations didn’t… favour me.’

‘There was no evidence supporting your claim, at that point. What else was I supposed to do? I had to conduct the investigation fairly and impartially, or I would have been risking my job. Fond as I am of you Christy, you must be able to see that.’

Christy glares at me. I didn’t take quite enough care to disguise the sarcasm in my last sentence.

‘Of course,’ says Doug. ‘But you must understand Sam, you took the word of a non-party member over that of a party member. That’s a serious business.’

‘I took the evidence that was available at the time. There were no receipts for the missing funds, and Christy could not account for them.’

‘That didn’t make her guilty.’

‘Of course not.’

Christy frowns. ‘Is that more of your British sarcasm?’

‘No. But I’d like to cut through the manufactured courtesy and find out exactly why you are both unhappy. Are you suggesting that I should have lied in my report, and that Matthew was incorrect in his statement, even though I had no evidence to the contrary? Or are you saying that I should have taken Christy’s side, purely because you are both influential party members?’

The words tumble out of my mouth with a recklessness that ought to alarm me. But in that moment, I don’t care. The shocked faces of Doug and Christy provide a measure of revenge for what I know their actions have done to Matthew Ingram, and what they will almost certainly do to Marcy Hicks.

Doug regards me for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing. Eventually he nods. ‘There is something different about you Sam. But although your defensive attitude is unnecessary, perhaps you are correct in what you say. You simply did your job.’

Christy turns to Doug with an incredulous expression. ‘But I thought…’

‘No.’

Doug’s word is firm, and makes clear to Christy that whatever they had planned to say, the conversation is now at an end. Yet I sense he hasn’t so much ruled in my favour as made a strategic retreat. He tried to intimidate me, and it didn’t work. He has nothing else he can use against me, and that annoys him. I wonder if perhaps he will try to find something, as Christy did when she was accused by Matthew. I suspect whether this happens depends on how aggrieved Christy feels. Either way, for now they are both powerless.

‘I think we’re done here,’ Doug continues. ‘Sam, I apologise if our words were ill-considered. I want you to know that I have enormous respect for your professionalism, and the excellence with which you carry out your job.’

‘Thank you.’

Doug and Christy get up and leave the office. I watch as they pass through the open plan area, briefly greeting the other journalists, before heading back to their own offices. Christy shoots a brief poisonous glare in my direction as they disappear from my eyeline.

I don’t give Doug or Christy a second thought for the remainder of the day. My excitement at meeting up with Eve again dominates my mind. I take a moment to savour how gleefully subversive this feels. Yes, I am risking certain things by making this illicit rendezvous, but the sheer pleasure of sneaking around and bucking the system is a rush of pure adrenaline. I feel a schoolboy-ish thrill at my plan to meet up with Eve which, for the first time, makes me wish I had misbehaved a bit more in school. Now I understand why those who pulled pranks and practical jokes did what they did. It made them feel alive.

I haven’t felt this alive in years.

Yet, my joy at meeting Eve again goes deeper. What passed between us last time felt wonderful. Her rare, flirtatious nature reminded me of girls I knew (and largely ignored) before the Catastrophe. I don’t know why I didn’t realise before, but being flirted with is a wonderful experience. Having a woman show an interest in you in the NPAR is like finding a diamond in an ocean of quartz. Here, in a world where women are programmed to be demure, submissive, passive, and prudish, Eve Young is like the Holy Grail. She isn’t merely beautiful. She is confident, clever, careful, witty, tenacious, and sexually assertive. I am so glad she slipped through the New Puritan grip, despite her upbringing.

That night, we meet again, on 26th Avenue West. Her eyes captivate mine, and I sense the same electricity between us. Before I can speak, she puts a finger to her lips and points in the direction of the park. I nod, wondering why she wants to take such extreme precautions. Are there police prowling the area with listening devices? The prostitutes in Newton Street loiter in the shadows. Are they also observing?

We walk in silence towards the park. After we cross the threshold and are a good distance away from the main road, Eve puts her hand in mine and squeezes playfully. The thrill of her touch sends a ripple of pleasure through my entire body.

In the NPAR, all physical contact between unrelated adult men and women is strictly prohibited, outside of marriage.

We just broke the law.

Admittedly, at best we’d only receive a fine for this, but I feel as though I have committed a capital crime. I savour the experience of feeling like a rebel.

‘Feels good, doesn’t it?’ Eve says. ‘Violating that dumb-ass morality code.’

I nod as we sit on the same park bench where we sat previously. Eve takes her hand out of mine, and moves it up to my face, touching my cheek. She gently strokes. There are tears in my eyes. She abruptly withdraws.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says.

‘What for?’

‘I’m moving too fast.’

‘No, it’s fine. Really, it’s fine. I love it when you touch me.’

Eve nods. ‘I understand. I love to be touched. But it also hurts to be touched. I love it, even though it hurts. Yet because it hurts, I love it more.’

I consider the irony of Eve’s words. Before the Catastrophe, there were so many opportunities to be touched. So many opportunities for what people called love. Yet in a society that has done its best to eradicate love, romance, and sexual freedom, making such things rare has made them all the more precious. The feelings are more intense. The highs are higher, and the pain of attraction is greater.

‘I haven’t been touched for a long, long time,’ I say. ‘Not since before… I suppose I’ve just got used to everything. I got used to being alone.’

‘Have you ever been in love?’

‘No. At least… I can’t actually remember. There were girls, back in England, but I don’t think I was in love with any of them.’

‘You’re a mystery, Sam Wright. But I’ll figure you out, even if you have built walls around yourself.’

‘You’re good at hiding too,’ I point out.

Eve laughs. ‘Oh, no-one sees the real me. But I’m starting to think I might show you, Mr Never-Been-In-Love.’

‘Have you been in love?’

‘I don’t know. I’m still deciding…’

She smiles. I wonder if by telling her my life story I will help her make up her mind, so I launch into a full account of my past. I tell her about my upbringing, my parents, my life in England… I speak of my escape to the NPAR once radiation levels made it impossible to live in that part of the world any longer… I explain about my career, working at Badger News Inc. I tell her about Doug Hendrick, and about Christy. I relay many amusing and not-so amusing anecdotes about their behaviour. I mock Badger propaganda and poke fun at NPAR ideology. I then begin to mock the speeches of President Harding.

‘My fellow wholesome New Puritans, your wholesome commitment to wholesome families, wholesome neighbourhoods, wholesome churchgoing, and wholesome, clean living will shine like a wholesome beacon in a godless world, and distract you from how many times I use the word wholesome.’

Eve laughs and responds by continuing the speech.

‘As good, God-fearing folk, we will be an example to those degenerates in the DEAR, of how the American life should be, the way our Founding Fathers wanted it to be. We believe in being tolerant of all Christian religions. We believe that sex is dirty, nasty, and unwholesome, especially if women enjoy it. In fact, the only thing women should enjoy is being in their proper place, under the control of men at all times…’

‘Oh absolutely,’ I say. ‘That’s the thing we most believe in.’

‘We believe in framing the innocent, for the good of the party,’ Eve continues. ‘I still haven’t heard from Marcy Hicks. Not a word.’

‘She must have been a good friend.’

Eve nods. ‘She was a lot of fun. One time when we were about fourteen, we snuck out of a school Bible class. Mrs Becker was our teacher. She had one of those really severe faces, spoke with a slight German accent, and had bad breath. Everyone was terrified of her.

‘I can’t remember exactly why we snuck out. The lesson wasn’t much more boring than usual, I don’t think. But Mrs Becker had a way of making even the most entertaining bits of the Bible seem boring. How can you make Joshua and Judges boring? You’d have to really try hard.

‘Anyway, it was a really hot day, and I was fed up of being stuck indoors in a stuffy classroom. I passed Marcy a note under the desk to say I wanted to go outside for a bit. I asked to be excused, but I didn’t really need to use the bathroom. I went and stood outside in an area of shady trees, overlooking the sports field, but hidden from the main building. A few seconds later, Marcy joined me. She had made a similar excuse to Mrs Becker.

‘I don’t think we meant to be much longer than about ten minutes, but we ended up chatting for some time outside, next to the playing field. We lay down on the grass and enjoyed the warm air, talking about things that were banned, like certain kinds of books and films we had heard of, but had never read or seen. We talked about music groups from the 20th Century that had been banned, like The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Guns n Roses, and how much we’d love to hear their music… We discussed about how much we’d like to try cigarettes, or beer, or whisky… We talked about how determined we both were to lose our virginity. It felt so good to talk about all these things, without limits, without worrying that one or the other of us would tell. I trusted her, and she trusted me.

‘I’m not sure how it happened, but as we lay there in the sun, we both dozed off. We were woken up much later when Mrs Becker and the headmaster, Mr Anderson, found us. The inevitable paddling in Mr Anderson’s office that followed — delivered with Germanic efficiency by Mrs Becker and Mr Adams — put a painful end to our little escapade.’

‘Ouch,’ I said. Corporal punishment hadn’t been legal when I grew up, but it had been reintroduced with a vengeance in NPAR schools.

Eve raises an eyebrow. ‘Mr Adams and especially Mrs Becker were both kinky as hell, and got a kick out of it, I have no doubt. Anyway, sore bottoms aside, that day felt like an important one, for both Marcy and me. Our conversation was like a statement of intent. Although we never said it openly, a seed was planted in both of us that day, which determined what we did throughout much of our teenage years.

‘I built up a few criminal contacts as we grew up, and one by one we did all the things we said we would do. We found old vinyl records of The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Guns n Roses, and many others. We listened to them in secret. Have you ever heard any?’

‘Of course,’ I say.

‘Well, we did that. And we smoked cigarettes, drank booze… and did other stuff. We had a lot of fun. But eventually something changed with Marcy. She seemed to withdraw for a while and got super religious. I didn’t understand why at first, it was completely out of character, but eventually I got the truth out of her. She had been raped by one of the elders in church.’

‘Damn…’

I don’t need to say anymore. Rape is almost always covered up by police, as it’s bad for the NPAR image. The New Puritans like to put out propaganda that rape doesn’t happen here, so instead they reclassify it as serious assault, but only when the evidence is iron-clad.

‘Was he prosecuted?’

‘No. It was her word against his, but I know she wasn’t lying. Afterwards, Marcy started believing it was her fault. Then she thought she was inherently sinful and tainted. Then I think she figured she might just as well not bother maintaining any kind of front, and got involved in prostitution. I tried to stop her, but… Well, in the end I couldn’t help her. Once my parents got wind of this, they banned me from seeing her, as I already told you.’

‘Yes, well that’s the Christ-like way to deal with someone who has been traumatised and violated,’ I mutter. ‘Isolate them, shame them, excommunicate them.’

Eve lets out a grim laugh. ‘It’s amazing what you can get away with if you are a party member. Your story about Christy Hendrick proves my point. She sounds like a nasty little bitch.’

‘She’s certainly nasty enough to ruin an innocent man’s life, not to mention Marcy’s life once they catch her.’

Eve sighs. ‘I hate it all so much.’

‘I understand how you and Marcy felt, when you were young. Wanting to listen to rock music, smoke, drink, have sex… All those things they try to suppress. I didn’t grow up thinking that, because those things weren’t suppressed. But now… Now I feel like a teenager, wanting to experiment with dangerous things banned by the New Puritans. It’s a strange feeling, but it’s something you awoke in me. I blame you completely.’

Eve laughs. ‘So, I’m a bad influence on you?’

‘Very bad.’

‘Then we should do something really outrageous together…’ Eve raises an eyebrow. ‘Or has it been too long? Have you forgotten how?’

I’m too flustered to speak. I desperately wish I had the nerve to move in and kiss Eve. I want to tear her clothes off, and take her right then and there on the park bench. But my courage fails me.

Eve giggles. ‘It’s fine. You don’t have to. Yet…’

‘Do you enjoy torturing me?’

‘Oh yes… I love torturing you. But I also love talking to you. I haven’t felt this able to talk to someone since that time with Marcy, when we were fourteen. Perhaps we can lie down together, like I did with Marcy. Perhaps we can close our eyes, and dream of a better future.’

‘And perhaps like you and Marcy, we’ll both be caught. I expect we’ll end up with a worse punishment than you received.’

Eve looks thoughtful. ‘Of course, there is a way to do this properly, if you’re scared of being caught.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Join the church I attend, on 22nd Street. Sunday service is 10:30am. Be there early, and we can meet officially, under the watchful eye of my family. They’ll be very welcoming, I have no doubt. New Puritans aren’t all bad you know. Some of them can be very hospitable.’

‘So that’s your plan? Ingratiate myself with your family, then apply for… what? Permission to date you?’

‘You must know there’s no such thing as dating in the New Puritan church,’ Eve says. ‘But you could apply for courtship rights, with a view to marriage.’

‘A part of me wants to say that’s rushing things a bit,’ I say. ‘But I know that would be bullshit. I think I’m likely to become more obsessed with you than anyone or anything in my entire life.’

Eve laughs. ‘I love your enthusiasm. Still, you’ll have to be patient if we go the official route. They won’t allow us to marry for at least a year.’

I make a faux sulky face.

‘Don’t look so downhearted. I’m happy to fuck whenever you’re ready.’

I can’t help but feel shocked. I never thought I’d hear a woman speak that way ever again. It’s so refreshing. But it’s also unnerving. I get the feeling that Eve really would have sex with me right here in the park if I wanted to, but I simply haven’t got the nerve.

‘I… Er…’

Eve laughs at me again. ‘It’s so much fun, seeing you get all flustered. Relax. I promise I won’t jump on you today.’

I glance at my watch. ‘Perhaps I’d better go.’

‘Perhaps. If you really want to. But if you want to see me again before next week, turn up at church on Sunday. If you don’t, I’ll get you a message via email.’

I nod. ‘Should we leave the park separately?’

‘Yes. But you go first, this time.’

‘Why?’

Eve glances at her watch. ‘I’m meeting someone else, in about twenty minutes.’

To be continued in Part 1, Chapter 6.

Copyright 2020 Simon Dillon. The moral rights of the author have been asserted. For more information about Peaceful Quiet Lives, including articles exploring the themes, inspiration, and initial reactions, as well as purchase links for e-books and paperbacks of the novel, click here. For more information about Simon Dillon on Medium, click here.