A SEAT AT THE TABLE

In my new office, High Commander Pryce said he was grateful not having to ascend and descend those stairs as much as he had. He said he had bad knees. He said, "Ok, tell me what you've got. I'm due back in chambers in twenty minutes, so be quick." He added with a smile, "By the way. So are you."

I fulfilled my promise - at least halfway, because I did raise it. I was going to have to sell the outcome of my bargaining with Pryce to Eleanor, and that was not going to be without strain - on her.

"Look, Commander Pryce, I'm not really a Commander. The original guys constantly remind me of that."

He put up a hand, and said, "Don't you worry about that. We need you, Lawrence. We Sons of Jacob have a lot of ideals, but there're few of us with the wherewithall to either draw up detailed policy, much less implement it. You're safe as long as I am here." Besides, he said, I was now a full Commander. There was no process to un-Commander someone. Well, there was. But that entailed the Wall.

I paused, then said, "That's kind of you, sir. But I need to raise another issue. A Handmaid is at my house."

Pryce didn't even look surprised. "Oh, that was my idea. It's not my place to infringe on the sanctity of another Commander's home, but you *are* an older couple. You and Eleanor have never had children. One responsibility of a Commander is to deal directly with the fertility crisis. Do you have anything to tell me about the Lawrence house's ability to combat infertility without a Handmaid?"

"No, sir, I don't," I conceded. "But even with that, let me just say that the presence of a Handmaid is…. disruptive. To our home." Remembering the ideology I was supposed to be propping up, I added, "to my home."

Pryce thought for a second, then said, "Tell you what, Lawrence. You keep the Handmaid and I'll shut down the naysayers about you. With the other Commanders."

I hadn't expected that, so I said, "What?"

"Take your place at the table, you're going to have to have a Handmaid. We need the workings of Gilead explained. And implemented." There was a bit of silence, so he added, "There'll be no more insults about you not being a real Commander. And if you're going to be a real one, you're going to have a Handmaid. Make babies. For Gilead and God." Before I could respond, he was gone.

MY BUDDY'S OFFICE

I'd never been at his office before. Indeed, I hadn't told Pryce why I wanted to go, but had got it anyway - a one day pass to Eyes of God headquarters where my frat brother now worked. You should give it up right now - even with that information you will never identify him.

Wow. He had a secretary. As a Commander I had an assistant - a gofer - but no secretary. The secretary was a young effeminate man. Don't get me going on that.

My buddy's inner office door opened, and he leaned out. Wordlessly, he motioned me in. Before settling behind his desk he said, "This better be good. You coming here is not a good idea. I'd rather no photos of you and me, that sort of thing. I'm confident that our calls are not recorded - but, I'll tell you this - it would curl your hair to know which Commander's calls I am recording as a matter of course." He saved his most sarcastic voice for what he said after sitting. "Gotta see to to the purity of Gilead!"

He then said, "Look, let's keep this short. What are you here for?"

"It's about Eleanor," I said. Leading with that would make a better case for what I was about to ask.

"I thought Eleanor was doing well. She's certainly enjoying the art."

"It's not that," I said. "We've uncovered a bit of an issue. Strangely, an issue I had a hand in writing legislation for. Now I need to get out of it."

He paused, then said, "Hell, you're a Commander. Commanders take lots of latitude for themselves. You've got your art. Others have the whorehouse. We've got files on you Commanders and which whore they prefer."

"There's a Handmaid at our place."

He paused again. All he said was, "oh, I see."

I sat in the chair opposite him, "You know we cannot do that, not me and Eleanor."

"No can do, dude. I'm looking into getting medication for her, contraband. I can make sure priceless art gets mysteriously diverted to your livingroom, I can do a lot of things." He looked at me, "but this, no can do. It's you Commanders who do this one."

I said, "I know. I wrote the legislation. Every time a Commander's Handmaid gets knocked up, either Pryce or one of the pretenders makes a long speech in Chancery about it being how a Commander is judged. Their primary duty. Fertility. Limp dicks or no limp dicks. Doesn't matter if the doctor at the clinic or a driver handled the actual duty, Commanders rise and fall with their pricks."

My brother smiled, "You're just going to have to suck this one up."

I got serious, "No, I don't. I'm not."

He wiped the smile from his face, said seriously, "get a driver to have a poke. Take your Chancery assistant home for a bit of R & R."

Now that we were serious, "No. Eleanor would not stand for that either. Truthfully, neither would I."

He smiled again, "So, can you get a truck to Canada?" He giggled at his little joke, it's what made him such a prick.

"You're not going to help, are you?"

In grand fraternity fashion he simply, said, "No. And not just because there's nothing in it for me. We're brothers, dude, but this is your problem. You Commanders are the ones who've painted yourselves into a corner. Deal with it, dude."

If he called me 'dude' one more time I was going to smack him.

He then concluded with, "Look, I'm throwing you out. Don't come back here, for this or for anything. We're going to look out after one another, but we're going to do it - well, it's my way or the Eye-way. Deal with it. Now get out."

Leaving the building, half-way down the front stairs a Guardian with a large gun asked me what my business had been. I simply mentioned my frat-brother's name. I was fine.

On that account. Not on the main issue. On the ride home I wracked my brain how to tell Eleanor. Our Handmaid was here to stay. Ofjoseph. Christ, the patronymic system of naming had been my idea. Truly, I never thought there'd be an Ofjoseph. I hate it when I'm an idiot. I hate it more when it is Eleanor caught in the vise.

THE SILENT TREATMENT

The trouble with the silent treatment. It had taken me until the tenth year of marriage to distinguish between one of Eleanor's 'episodes', as opposed to her being pissed with me. Then there had been this - Gilead. I'd like to think of it as a mutual decision not to flee to Canada, then again there wasn't much for us there, either. In Canada, Eleanor probably could have eventually got on in something related to the curator world. A 'content specialist' as she called it. Me, I would have been pumping gas somewhere or selling lottery tickets at a local store.

Here? We were in a Commander's house, with Commander's privileges. No driver, yet. I mean, I'd only just been accepted into their moronic ranks. It's amazing that those religious yokels took over. There was no actual empirical evidence that Gilead was making a dent in the declining birthrate. And if not that, why Gilead?

Speaking of. The silent treatment. Eleanor was more chatty with the Handmaid than she was with me. Which wasn't hard. Our Handmaid was the only one in all of Gilead who referred to the household Wife by her given name. Eleanor would often bring the girl her breakfast. Cora complained that she had little to do in relation to the girl.

Speaking of. Cora always complained about being busy. Wouldn't know it by the condition of the house. I lied when I said that Eleanor had not been speaking to me. Because I once complained to Eleanor that Cora wasn't working out. Eleanor told me to leave Cora alone. The meals were basic. My books and magazines were left out, not put away. I'd specifically told Cora that she could and should handle my books. My office was looking like an explosion in a paper factory.

One day rather than yelling at Cora for my morning coffee, I simply walked unannounced into the kitchen to get it for myself - I'd saved a really good barb for Cora that morning. I'd known my barbs had hit the target when Cora didn't even try to be sarcastic in return. She'd just tell me to shut up.

Yes, in case you're wondering, that was an unusual exchange between a Commander and martha in Gilead. We hadn't planned it that way, it just sort of evolved. It evolved from Eleanor and I and our little micro-aggressions meant to make us seem antithetical towards Gilead, if only behind Gilead's back.

So I walked into the kitchen with my bon mot ready to go. But no Cora. So I thought to myself, "where has Cora hidden the coffee today so as to annoy me." No Cora. It is at this point that I need to bring up that in two hours, a cadre of Commanders were coming over, complete with their security entourages and aids. I'd tried to get out of a meeting at the Chancery about labour needs in the colonies, but High Commander Pryce had finessed me by saying, "No problem, Joseph, we'll just have the meeting at your house. Ten a.m. I'm sure you can handle it."

So not only was it an issue that Cora had not made me my coffee, but as far as I could tell not one muffin had been made. Especially for the accompanying Guardians, these jaunts away from the Chancery was a perk for them, reminding them of their own homes that their duties took them away from.

I was about to bellow for Cora. She said she could hear me no matter where the two of us had been in the house. Just as I was breathing in for the upcoming roar, Cora came up from the basement.

It was the look of astonishment that was concerning when she spied me. I said, "What now, Cora?"

"Nothing, sir. Nothing. I was just seeing to a few things. What can I get you?"

I was not stupid. I hated it when people - underlings or overlings - treated me as such. "Cora, if I were to go down to the basement, what would I find?"

At that, the basement door opened again, and Eleanor came through with another martha. I guessed correctly that her name was Beth, she was a martha down at Jezebels. Ran the place, if truth be known.

The three of them just stood there like kids caught playing hookey from school. My first instinct was to leave this alone, it could be nothing good. So I said, "Hi Beth, how are you this bright morning?"

Beth said nothing. Eleanor piped up, "Dear, did you say some people were coming over?" See, Eleanor was talking to me.

"Yes, I told you. The Colonies Committee of Chancery is going to be here, in my parlour, in two hours. We will have coffee or tea won't we?" I said sarcastically, which didn't make a dent in any of the three of them.

Cora took a few steps forward saying, "I'll get right on it sir." Eleanor said, "How many are we planning for, Joseph?"

"No, no, no, no. Before we do anything, I'm going downstairs," I said pushing past Cora.

Eleanor blocked my way, and Beth closed the basement door. I had never manhandled a woman before, not like I did pushing Eleanor aside and Beth to the floor. As I descended the creaky stairs, both Eleanor and Beth were right behind me, Eleanor trying to clutch at my shirt from behind.

Turning the corner into the dusty open-space, some women saw me and tried to scramble for cover. That didn't account for the half-dozen women just lying there, in various states of repair - two Handmaids and the rest marthas with blood stains on their smocks.

Eleanor jumped in front of me, facing me with a look of fear-based determination. "Joseph, you promised. You promised that we would not do all that stuff that they do here. Now there's a Handmaid. In our house."

I was boiling with anger. What did a Handmaid have to do with this scene? I cooled enough to get out the next first word in a manner to match, more or less, its meaning: "Honey. A Guardian advance team is going to be here in 30 minutes. Sooner if they decide to vary-up their routine. You want Gilead? Gilead will be here in minutes."

Eleanor pleaded, "Joseph, some of these people cannot be moved."

I turned around, my back to Eleanor and said to Beth, "Beth, these people have to be gone. This room needs to be cleaned, but still needs to look like a dusty cellar. You have ten minutes." I added, "By the way, I apologize for pushing you. That was uncalled for." I said that as I pushed her out of the way again, ascended the stairs and tried to think what it would be like to be hanging from the wall.