We had been all of 12 years old. Both of us had gone through a growth spurt at the same time, which put us at the head of the line when it came to school sports. Both of our mothers had had to have 'the talk' with us as we both awkwardly tried to manage this new phase of our lives. Menstrual periods!

When we were 14, that summer we'd gone to camp together. A co-ed camp, which meant that there were a few 'shenanigans' when it came to raging hormones. One boy-girl couple had been sent home when caught at the chapel-in-the-woods one night deep in the dark forest - the 'pulpit' for that chapel had been a hollowed out stump, elevated above a ring of benches which doubled as pews.

She and I, we were bored that last night. We both were tired of the campfire songs sung way-too loud. Even the schmores bored us! So we decided to head into the darkness of the woods to see the chapel, to see the spot where the pair had offended. Climbing up into the hollowed out stump, with the bench-pews in front of us, it was an eerie feeling. We were far enough away so that the midnight forest-sounds could be heard over the distant camp-fire songs.

When I turned to see her, she was already staring at me, giving me a very strange look. Before I could manage, she leaned forward and kissed me. At first I cooperated, it had taken me by surprise. Then I pushed away. We stood there aloft in that pulpit, just staring at each other. She then burst into tears, she said through her sobs, "I'm so sorry, but you're just so beautiful!"

At that, a camp counsellor came from the path into the wooded chapel, she said, "That's where you two are! You're not to wander away like that! Scoot, scoot, get down from there. Don't make me report that you'd wandered away."

Years later in our Senior class, my friend caused a stir by asking another girl to the prom. We weren't a big city, and the town's ethos was 'conservative' to say the least.

Me, I got a few of our friends together. We organized a boycott. If my friend could not go with her girlfriend, then none of us would go. We got 1/4 of the Senior Class to sign the petition. The school relented.

NEVER SPEAK OF THIS

By reading this, you commit yourself to never speaking of it. Until I'm gone. Don't worry, they plan to keep me around until the Commander's trial. That's not soon. I cannot do anything before that.

This is in lieu of telling the therapist. This is in lieu of lying in court. Remember what Moira had said about pleading the 5th in Canada. Can't do it here. Here, you have to tell. You have to answer. It's just that when you're called up to the great hereafter, it can be used against you. They also get at you by other means.

Tricia had saved me. I had pleaded with the Guardians who'd loaded me into the truck, that my son had died for Gilead. That's the first time I'd been slapped. I didn't think that Guardians "slapped", I thought they punched.

I offered the guy sex. I'd use my mouth. I got slapped again. As he was preparing for another swing, Tricia diverted the Guardian. He struck her instead, then left us all alone. Tricia took one for me. That's how we met. This was happening too fast, and there were too many women crammed in that truck. Some crying, some cursing. Some sitting pliantly. I did not know her name at the time, but Tricia took one meant for me.

We were ushered into a dark gymnasium. Apparently, this was a holding centre. It held women. Probably 200+ women already there in all states of repair, some whimpering, most silent. Clothes, what that they were, were ragged. It reeked. We were left to ourselves, save for the times - day or night - when someone with a gun would come in and shout someone's name. Sometimes by the dozen. Sometimes in pairs. Sometimes outside the windows of the gymnasium, the sound of close gunfire was heard. Sometimes women returned, but never after gunfire.

The cots, what that they were, went to the strongest remaining. Sometimes two to a cot. Two women sharing a cot were shot right in front of us, right there in the gym. Not even the dignity of being dragged outside. No one bothered to clean up the blood.

It was the first time I'd heard the term, "gender traitor".

Those two bodies were just left there. Once their bodies were removed we maneuvered, dickered, shouted and pushed for their bloody blankets, and a big woman who'd been sleeping with a little woman on the floor got the bloodied cot. I got the remainder of rudimentary feminine products, I needed them that day.

If you must know, Tricia got them for me and passed them along without me needing to ask.

MY SIN

My name was called. As was Tricia's. In the week previous to this, I'd been hiding a fever. No weakness here. One of those days, I was too weak to get food, what that it was. Tricia secreted some to me. She said she was going to get randomly tasered anyway, so may as well get it for feeding someone.

We pal'ed around after that, that's when she told me her name. "'Patricia', but that's only what my mom calls me." Some would have called it safety in numbers, it was good to have a friend. I'd given her some of my water. Neither of us had a cot, we were in eye-shot of each other on the floor for what passed for sleep at night.

"Move it!" Tricia got to the Guardian before me. Unspoken rule, don't purposely try to show up someone else. It ticked me off.

She was in the interview room first. I waited outside with the Guardian, sat ramrod straight out in the hall, eyes front. Neither I nor the Guardian knew what this was about. Not that he would have said.

Door opened, Tricia came out escorted by a second Guardian, escorted back to the gym. To me, that guy simply said, "Ok." He called me by my full name, reminiscent of my mother.

I was sat down in front of a desk, a man (the boss of this place, apparently) looking at a file, he was already seated across from me. The Guardian who'd escorted me, took a place standing behind the boss, and beside another Guardian. A smaller guy. Tricia had looked no worse for wear a few moments ago, so I tried to relax.

The man, not looking up, repeated my full name. He then said in checklist fashion, my birthplace, my parents, and my son who'd died in the war. And other things. He pulled a piece of paper from the file, looked at it with a frown, then said, "It says here that you're not fertile. Is that true?"

Where'd he get that? Jesus, what does one say to that? I told him that I'd had a son. But he knew that, too.

"It says here that doctors back then told you, you'd not conceive again, is that true?" Where do they get this stuff? The gravity of his tone, and the menace of the Guardians behind him, paralyzed me.

Before I could speak - searching for words - a shot rang out, from just below his window. Fight or flight, freeze or fold. No time to work that out!

He snapped, "As I live and breathe, they do that right outside. At least give us some warning! How are we supposed to work!?" The smaller Guardian peered out the window, said, "Looks like a salvaging, sir. We may want to take a minute, sir, there's three or four more." Me, I lost control of my loins and pee'd myself. I'd folded. Right there. After a moment, the smell made it very apparent what had happened with me. Then four more shots mercifully diverted their attention from my smell.

After satisfying himself that the actions outside were finished, the boss looked at me, more annoyed than anything. "Jesus Murphy," he offered. He motioned to the bigger Guardian to fetch a towel for me. "She can clean it up," he said, "it would be good practise." At that point I would do anything, say anything.

I got it sopped up and tried not to sit awkwardly. It reeked. My hands, my clothes now stank. The boss closed the file. "Ok, let's be quick. Here's the thing, Rita. You smell, but you've got all the qualifications. Best part? You can't have children. Not any more anyway. But I have a problem."

"We're recruiting women for domestic service. To cook, clean, wash, do laundry in respectable homes. Don't take this the wrong way, Rita, but there'll be no pee'ing yourself there if you make the cut." The big Guardian smiled at the joke. The smaller one didn't. I tried to guess which one was going to take me outside for a fifth salvaging.

No, a sixth. I added in my head - one plus four plus me, that equals six, dummy.

"It's between you and Tricia. You have equal qualifications. Tonight, one of you will be dining at the domestic's school kitchen across town. Which one will it be? And I'll let you in on something: Tricia hasn't pissed herself!"

I was frozen. Nowhere to flee. I prayed to God to save me. I then heard myself saying, "Tricia is a gender traitor, sir. She tried it with me."

He leaned back in his chair, "Really, is that so?" more a statement than a question. "I mean, it's quite the time for that kind of accusation." He then motioned to the small Guardian to get me out of there, "Get her cleaned up, and get someone in here, a cleaner." As I was leaving the small guy said to me, "Don't worry about pissing, it comes with this place. You remind me of the guys at the front."

IT NOW COULD NOT BE UNDONE

That late afternoon, Tricia noticed I was not speaking to her.

I said nothing as she told me that some cots had come available, as well as blankets. She'd got a cot. I could have either it or the blanket.

Just before the dinner hour, a Guardian with a gun came and bellowed Tricia's name. She was taken. I never found out where.

A few moments later, that smaller Guardian called for me. He didn't have a gun. He told me his name was Nick. The first time someone in authority had volunteered their name.

This Nick-person put me into a car, then drove a short drive through the late afternoon. It was the first taste of Boston I was to see.

By evening I was eating in a proper cafeteria, with food prepared by other women - domestics like me in training. Real food. Fresh ice water. Fresh ice. From a glass. A washed, clean glass. Everyone chatting. That night, I was in a room with four other domestics. In beds. Sheets. Blankets that didn't smell. There were showers. The next day I was cooking with real food. I was washing the glasses. Spotless.

Did I benefit from Gilead? Ask Tricia. I got fresh ice water. Fresh ice. Still can. I can go up the CN Tower when I want. For free. Tell no one.

Please merciful God: Syl, Emily, and Moira must never know.