Somewhere That's Green
By Laura Allen
"I'm his December Bride
He's Father, he knows Best
Our kids watch Howdy Doody
As the sun sets in the west
A picture out of Better Homes and
Gardens Magazine
Far from skid row
I dream we'll go
Somewhere that's green."
--Howard Ashman and Alan Menken
"Somewhere That's Green
from "Little Shop of Horrors"
Scared though I was, I fled with the officers, not knowing what was going to happen to me. I was terrified, but at the same time excited. And all the while, I heard Nick's voice in my head, saying, "Trust me, trust me, trust me…" I did not know whether Nick was having me killed or set free, but I trusted him.
I was right to trust him. The officers came and took me to Canada. They said, here I would be happy. They said it would be better here than in Gilead.
At least there I was needed. This thought wound through my head for my entire stay in Canada, then I was moved to Europe. England. Everything was familiar; society was like I remembered from the old days. Life went on, there was democracy, women could vote, play sports, read, write…they did whatever they wanted to do. It was entirely possible for women to walk down the street with their friends, talking and laughing, enjoying themselves. Families rushed down the sidewalks, hurrying to go to the zoo or ice cream shop; people juggling four kids in two arms…it made me terribly depressed. I longed for Luke, for her, even for Nick and the Commander…they needed me, for whatever their reasons, they needed me. Now, in this time and place, nobody needed me. Why did I agree to come with?
I walk down the London street, head toward a small art museum, La Deuxieme Louvre, they call it. I walk around inside, my head bowed, looking at nobody. I feel self-conscious about the way I look, feel like a freak without my winged hood. I pause to gaze at a picture. "Starry Night," one of Luke's favorite paintings. Tears sting my eyes. Somehow, being out in the open, the loss of Luke and my daughter is far more painful than it had ever been at the Commander's home.
"Pretty, innit?" someone asks, his deep Cockney accent pulling through. I turn in vague surprise, careful not to look at him, manage a nod.
"Yes, it…it is." Somehow, "pretty" is a term quite alien to me. All the years with the aunts has dulled my mind, made me a philistine.
The man smiles. "You like art, then, love?"
What can I say? I am not as appreciative of art as I had been, but I do not wish to be rude. "Yes, sir, I do enjoy art."
"I could tell. People who stare at 'Starry Night' the way you do must appreciate art." I say nothing, not knowing what to say. He touches my cheek, turns my head so I can look straight at him. "Besides, I know you." He says my name, my true name, and not the name I had been given in Gilead.
My heart pounds in my chest; I feel I can barely move. "Luke?" I choke.
"Hello, darling," he whispers, his accent suddenly vanishing as he pulls me in close. "Oh, God, I've missed you."
"Luke!" I gasp, suddenly aware of the full meaning of this. "I thought…I thought…"
"Thought I was dead, did you?" Just as quickly, the accent is back upon his lips.
I laugh, throw my arms around his neck. "I did, Luke, I thought they had killed you for…for some reason…"
He grins at me boyishly. "Me? Get killed? No, that would never happen."
"What happened, Luke? Why…why are you here? How did you escape?"
He pulls me even closer and kisses my cheek. "That, my dear, was a stroke of simple luck and pure genius on my part."
"Tell me everything, Luke," I say softly. "Please. I need to know."
He smiles. "Of course, love." He meets my gaze and smiles softly. "It was terrible, at first. They gave me a choice: die, or become a Commander. I hoped that one day I would be reunited with you, and of course, to do that, it was necessary for me to live. So I became a Commander. It wasn't long before I grew sick of it, and I quickly fled. Nobody questions a Commander. So I just left."
"And you came here."
"Yeah, I came here." He grins. "So, what's your story? I hope it's more interesting than mine."
I smile. "You have no idea," I murmur as I kiss him softly on the cheek. "But I will tell you the ending now: and she lived happily ever after with her husband at her side."
He smiles back at me. "I like those kinds of endings, love. What do you say we go home?"
Home! Such an alien term to me now. "Home is nice," I reply, taking his hand and following him home. Indeed, home is very nice. Luke and I managed to get things worked out, managed to forget about the past, forget about our first child, and we had three more children.
And I did live happily ever after in a perfect world.
By Laura Allen
"I'm his December Bride
He's Father, he knows Best
Our kids watch Howdy Doody
As the sun sets in the west
A picture out of Better Homes and
Gardens Magazine
Far from skid row
I dream we'll go
Somewhere that's green."
--Howard Ashman and Alan Menken
"Somewhere That's Green
from "Little Shop of Horrors"
Scared though I was, I fled with the officers, not knowing what was going to happen to me. I was terrified, but at the same time excited. And all the while, I heard Nick's voice in my head, saying, "Trust me, trust me, trust me…" I did not know whether Nick was having me killed or set free, but I trusted him.
I was right to trust him. The officers came and took me to Canada. They said, here I would be happy. They said it would be better here than in Gilead.
At least there I was needed. This thought wound through my head for my entire stay in Canada, then I was moved to Europe. England. Everything was familiar; society was like I remembered from the old days. Life went on, there was democracy, women could vote, play sports, read, write…they did whatever they wanted to do. It was entirely possible for women to walk down the street with their friends, talking and laughing, enjoying themselves. Families rushed down the sidewalks, hurrying to go to the zoo or ice cream shop; people juggling four kids in two arms…it made me terribly depressed. I longed for Luke, for her, even for Nick and the Commander…they needed me, for whatever their reasons, they needed me. Now, in this time and place, nobody needed me. Why did I agree to come with?
I walk down the London street, head toward a small art museum, La Deuxieme Louvre, they call it. I walk around inside, my head bowed, looking at nobody. I feel self-conscious about the way I look, feel like a freak without my winged hood. I pause to gaze at a picture. "Starry Night," one of Luke's favorite paintings. Tears sting my eyes. Somehow, being out in the open, the loss of Luke and my daughter is far more painful than it had ever been at the Commander's home.
"Pretty, innit?" someone asks, his deep Cockney accent pulling through. I turn in vague surprise, careful not to look at him, manage a nod.
"Yes, it…it is." Somehow, "pretty" is a term quite alien to me. All the years with the aunts has dulled my mind, made me a philistine.
The man smiles. "You like art, then, love?"
What can I say? I am not as appreciative of art as I had been, but I do not wish to be rude. "Yes, sir, I do enjoy art."
"I could tell. People who stare at 'Starry Night' the way you do must appreciate art." I say nothing, not knowing what to say. He touches my cheek, turns my head so I can look straight at him. "Besides, I know you." He says my name, my true name, and not the name I had been given in Gilead.
My heart pounds in my chest; I feel I can barely move. "Luke?" I choke.
"Hello, darling," he whispers, his accent suddenly vanishing as he pulls me in close. "Oh, God, I've missed you."
"Luke!" I gasp, suddenly aware of the full meaning of this. "I thought…I thought…"
"Thought I was dead, did you?" Just as quickly, the accent is back upon his lips.
I laugh, throw my arms around his neck. "I did, Luke, I thought they had killed you for…for some reason…"
He grins at me boyishly. "Me? Get killed? No, that would never happen."
"What happened, Luke? Why…why are you here? How did you escape?"
He pulls me even closer and kisses my cheek. "That, my dear, was a stroke of simple luck and pure genius on my part."
"Tell me everything, Luke," I say softly. "Please. I need to know."
He smiles. "Of course, love." He meets my gaze and smiles softly. "It was terrible, at first. They gave me a choice: die, or become a Commander. I hoped that one day I would be reunited with you, and of course, to do that, it was necessary for me to live. So I became a Commander. It wasn't long before I grew sick of it, and I quickly fled. Nobody questions a Commander. So I just left."
"And you came here."
"Yeah, I came here." He grins. "So, what's your story? I hope it's more interesting than mine."
I smile. "You have no idea," I murmur as I kiss him softly on the cheek. "But I will tell you the ending now: and she lived happily ever after with her husband at her side."
He smiles back at me. "I like those kinds of endings, love. What do you say we go home?"
Home! Such an alien term to me now. "Home is nice," I reply, taking his hand and following him home. Indeed, home is very nice. Luke and I managed to get things worked out, managed to forget about the past, forget about our first child, and we had three more children.
And I did live happily ever after in a perfect world.