FAST FORWARD
I'd been on the school bus on the Canadian side, waiting for the 22 marthas to cross the bridge northbound. It was tense. Mark Tuello and Rachel Tapping had convinced me, me more than anyone would know what those women would face.
I would be their Martha. I had to be there, and as Moira had said, I had to keep my shit together.
As I saw the women at the far end of the bridge assemble, a Canadian military vehicle pulled up to the near, north end - the Canadian side. I gasped audibly. There was Commander Waterford, pulled from the back by Mark Tuello. Tuello roughly led the Commander to the bridge as the women started north.
REWIND - LUKE BANKOLE
Just for context, out of all of us Luke had been in Canada the longest. He'd never been subject to Gilead, not like us. Luke was now returning from Sault Ste. Marie to Toronto with June - whom he'd been painfully aching for all these years. The legendary June Osborne to everyone else, not to him.
Luke had barely known what Mayday was. June had been his mid-life muse, to whom he had turned after his first wife, Annie, had told him she'd been barren. Luke would always tell that story couched in terms of, 'look, it was more complicated than that.' Really?
It was a reminder, though, that none of us had been saints. Luke was no saint. Nor was I. Truth be told, neither was June. From the sound of it, even with Luke's telling, I was tempted to take Annie's side.
Not sure why I needed to include him here. It was not as if the therapist had ever paid him much mind - meaning, probably, that I seldom brought him into her office as someone to deal with.
On the face of it, Luke seemed to have the least 'issues' about Gilead. Especially compared to the women, those of us who'd lived there. Seen people die there. I never got the whole story, but apparently he and June had been making their escape early on, even before it was officially 'Gilead'. They'd been separated, June and their daughter Hannah had been captured, Luke had got wounded.
Luke then had literally been dragged onto a boat headed for Nova Scotia - pushed on to it by Erin and Zoe the soldier before the latter'd been shot. Luke and Erin escaped. Erin herself had been a handmaid, and had graced her subsequent first five years in Little America with her mutism.
Luke had adopted her. Made sure she kept her refugee appointments - missing them could cost a refugee a perk or two.
REFUGEE SPONSOR
He'd left his name with the Canadian government as an initial contact if (and when) his identified named-escapees ever made their way north. The very first had been Moira. Moira had known literally no one in Canada. Apparently in their former lives, June, Luke, and Moira been friends, but had had fireworks over June. Gilead was the great leveler of that.
As Luke had remembered it, Moira's name on that list had been an afterthought. Of course names #1 and #2 were June and Hannah. As the years went on, of course, the American consulate put June on their radar anyway.
But Moira recounted her intake processing by an eager and perky Canadian refugee worker. She admitted being annoyed at first, "Jesus, not this dick!" Except she then descended into tears. Luke, the dick, had put her on his list. He had called her 'family'. Moira owed him on that alone.
Of course, Luke was never to receive another call until recently. The presence of June Osborne on the CERA boat attracted all sorts of attention on both sides of the border.
WHAT GILEAD TURNS YOU INTO
Truth be told, she had been my third therapist. The other two had 'fired' me for missing appointments. Erin had been on my contact list that the receptionist had kept - truth be told, after a session I wasn't always in the best of shape.
This time it had been Luke. He was there to take me back to his place, the receptionist did not think I was safe to travel by myself.
There we were on the Toronto street car, those goofy trolleys which traveled down the inside lane of a four-lane busy street, leaving the emotionally challenged of us to fend for ourselves crossing the curb-lane traffic.
I was glad it was Luke. The lone 'guy' in a house of women. Obsessed about June, frantic about Hannah, morbidly so about Commander Waterford - about whom Luke had amassed quite the binder of information. Also obsessed by a baby with now even more questionable paternity, after my visit to Serena and the Commander.
Luke was still Luke. On the street car, he had turned his obsessing to someone else, was belly aching about Emily. He said, "Emily, she has family here. And she's ignoring them."
Told me that Erin had not come when the Therapist's office had called, because Erin had wanted to cook for Emily and Syl coming over. That was a lie. Erin did not want to be alone with me, so they sent the big man. He said that it was 50-50 that Emily and Syl would both even show up. They're going through a rough patch, he said. Called them 'snowflakes', which I thought was low and unfair.
Then he said that they were lucky to have each other - Emily was "out of Gilead" and he couldn't understand why she just wouldn't move on, move back in with Syl. Be Oliver's mom. "PTSD is exaggerated," he said. "What's the diagnosis for us who're still in limbo? She's got her boy back, and won't move in. What's with that?" "June's still back thereā¦.." he'd say. When he got like that with Emily in the room, Moira would shut him down.
But alone with me on the trolley, I couldn't take it. He went too far, "June could get everyone's kid out except her own."
I snapped. "Fuck you, Luke, just shut the fuck up," I jumped on him, my hands on his throat. Transit operator stopped the tram. Strangers separated us. Police boarded.
As Zoe the dead soldier had once said, "Gilead does that to you."
THAT WAS THEN
This was now.
Luke has just returned from Sault Ste. Marie with his wife. Be careful for what you wish! Upon entering eager to see June at Moira and Luke's, I saw June hugging Emily's son. I said, "Can I get one of those?" She turned and we embraced.
Our hug lasted forever. All the events of the Waterford house flashed between us as we embraced. It nearly, but not quite, made up for the times when such a thing could not be risked.
WINNING
Moira had started it. She said, "we did what we had to do. To survive." Putting a brave face on it, Moira added, "we got out, we're here, ladies. We won. They tried to destroy us and we won." Moira uttered a half-hearted, 'yay'.
June, the newest survivor, predictably wouldn't let things alone. Wouldn't even take a day to smell Canada's roses. June asked, "What do you guys know about Serena?"
Sensing the awkward tension endemic to these sorts of gatherings, Moira tried to buy some time, she asked, "Serena?" To which June confirmed it with only a hint of sarcasm. June wanted to know if anyone had heard anything.
At the end of a painful silence, June looked at the group of us and barked, "What!?"
I looked at the floor. I had my own demons, and I knew full well that this was going to be one of June's. I tried to stall, I simply said, "I saw her."
Again, not wanting the silence to swallow up the moment, June said, "Well!?" with even more bite to it. It was clear to her that something was being withheld. June added, "How!?" Then, "Why!?" as if visiting Serena had been a betrayal of her. Personally. 'Rita had betrayed me', June was probably thinking. 'And I've been with these people less than a day!'
I tried to buy time, "She wanted my help. You know her, a total narcissist."
Calling Serena a name was not going to forestall or divert June. She was going to get to the bottom of it.
"What did she want?" June asked, everyone else shuffling in their seats. "Just tell me," June demanded.
I shook my head, 'no', before blurting it out. "She's pregnant."
Everyone in that room recognized the broken-determination building in June's demeanor. She was not finished. Clearly, she was only beginning.
"Is it his?" she intoned, more sharply than all the others. Hearing nothing, she repeated, "Is it the Commander's?"
I was cornered. I said as simply as possible, "yes."
No one believed any of the words which followed the ensuing silence, not even their own. "Fuck her," June finally said, "I don't care." June did not believe that, nor did I.
To which Moira and the others quickly agreed. "That's right, fuck her." I confirmed that Serena had looked awful, and that her bun had been pulled back like a tight rat's nest.
Then Moira disappeared outside. No one left in the living room was extravert enough to find anything else to talk about.
I thought, 'this was winning'? Emily was desperate to tell me that none of this had been my fault. The look on my face must have signaled to her that I was no longer in the room.
Never being one to start a conversation at a gathering, it was left to Emily to break the silence. So Emily transitioned to a safer topic (ha!) it was never 'safe' to talk about Gilead.
"June," Emily asked, "what about the Red Center women, Alma, Janine, Brianna?" Emily felt guilty for not remembering more.
June said soberly, still obsessed with the info from a couple of seconds before. "Oh, they're dead," June said matter of factly. That was, as they say, that. No In Memoriam, just the fact of it.
No one, much less me, asked, "How?" It fell to June to add, "Surviving is over-rated." I gave her that.
BACK AT THE REFUGEE AID FOUNDATION OF CANADA
We had just settled 22 Marthas into a hotel, leaving each one with a support worker. Two marthas to a room, and they could decide where the support worker slept. But the worker would the next day lead their martha through the refugee process.
I got back to the RAFC office, expecting Moira and Emily. Only Moira was there. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.
She was usually the one to comfort me, but I asked her, "is everything all right?" It wasn't.
"June and Emily, they killed Waterford," Moira muttered. "Particicuted him." I assured her that that was impossible, I'd seen it for myself, that Tuello had escorted the Commander across the bridge into Gilead. Moira said that June had rigged it with Nick Blaine, that Fred would be given to the ex-handmaids in disputed territory. Syl was now texting that she could not contact Emily.
Luke had texted that June had arrived at the house all bloodied, spent 5 minutes hugging Nichole, then left. Neither June nor Emily were now returning calls or texts.
In quick succession I called Mark Tuello's, then Rachel Tapping's cells. No answers. I called their office at the Consulate. I was told that Tapping was 'out of touch' and that Tuello was at the ITWC lock-up.
For the first time since landing with Angel's Flight, I called a taxi. Summoning an Uber was too much to manage, even a taxi was anxiety laden.
But I had to get to the ITWC lock-up.
A NEW SEASON
I was denied entry. It didn't matter that I explained who I was - for the first time, I tried to pull Angel's Flight rank, but they were not impressed.
Just as I asked if Mark Tuello had been there, he came into the lobby from the lock-up part.
Spying me, he came over. "Rita," he said somewhat out of breath. "Now that you're here, I may ask you to do something." He paused. "June is out of control. Mrs. Waterford is hysterical. You may not know, but The Commander is dead," I told him I knew. He said, "Serena might go into labour any hour now."
I asked Mr. Tuello what it was that I could possibly do? I was a recovering-Martha from Gilead. Still shattered into a million pieces.
"It's what Mrs. Waterford wants," he insisted.
"She wants you to take the baby. She said you told her you would."
