Chapter 5: The Diner (Part 2)

"You don't need to tell me everything that happened to her," Luke assured him. "I mean, I know the worst parts. June testified at a hearing for Waterford, so I heard all that stuff."

"Yeah, I read the transcript. Those weren't really the worst parts."

"Oh no?"

"No."

"So what was?"

Nick thought about how to condense years of abuse into a succinct conversation for a clueless husband, then stopped trying. "You haven't asked her?"

"Oh, yeah, but she won't talk about Gilead. Totally clams up. She gets angry if I ask any questions. Like I'm supposed to already understand it all. Was she like that with you?"

Nick avoided the question by munching on his nachos. The answer was no...but he didn't want to compare his and June's relationship with Luke's. "What makes her angry?" he said instead.

"Last week, it was raining, so I suggested we just hang out in the living room and play a board game. She exploded at me."

Nick squinted at him. "Did you mention Scrabble?"

"Yeah, actually. It used to be her favorite."

"Oh, no. No. She…no, you can't. Waterford used to make her play that."

It was Luke's turn to look confused. "Why the fuck would he make her play Scrabble?"

"He got off on the power trip of making her do something illegal, just because he ordered her to. And I guess he enjoyed the challenge of playing that kind of game against her, since she usually kicked his ass at it. He liked smart women."

"How is Scrabble illegal…?"

"For women it is. It's reading and writing. She could've lost an arm for playing. And Waterford knew it. But he'd make her come to his home office, give her some liquor, then play. If she won, he'd give her little treats like looking at fashion magazines or having candy. Or he'd…make her do things." Nick didn't elaborate on that.

"Uh-huh," Luke said slowly. "So she doesn't want to play Scrabble anymore. Why couldn't she just tell me that?"

"Maybe when she's around you, she's trying to be the woman she was before Gilead. The woman you were in love with."

"I'm in love with the woman she is now."

"Uh, no, you're not. I know you want to be, but…you're not. Which is okay. You love the old June, as you put it. She's a different person now and she's never going back, but you two will figure it out. You just have to get reacquainted, and renegotiate your relationship, I guess."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "You actually think my marriage is going to survive?"

"Yeah, I think you'll figure it out," he repeated. He tried to sound buoyantly optimistic, though he was not. June only needed Luke as a friend, co-parent, and bank; she didn't want him to fix her. She wasn't broken, as far as Nick was concerned.

Luke shrugged. "Well, maybe. If I can figure out how to heal her. Which brings me to…can I ask you a personal question? Like, really personal?"

"Go ahead."

"One of the things that worries me most about her nowadays is her attitude towards, uh, intimacy. She's incapable of kissing or hugging or anything. Before, you know, we were so good at the affectionate stuff. We could spend half an hour on the couch just making out, just kissing. Now, she's totally messed up in that regard. If I try to kiss her, she kisses me back, sometimes, but mechanically. She knows she's supposed to kiss me, but…you know, I was married to her for seven damn years, I can tell if she's not into it. Or the second option, and this is the one that worries me more, is when I kiss her gently, and she responds by grabbing my belt and pulling my jeans off. She doesn't want to kiss, doesn't want to talk, but she'd be fine with fucking. She gets this detached look on her face. Like a prostitute's attitude. It's just mechanical," he repeated. "So my question is, did you do that to her? Is that how your relationship was?"

Nick stared at him, forehead creased. "You think I would ever have treated her that way? Luke, I.…" He thought about explaining what commanders did to handmaids, decided not to go there. "I don't know the woman you're describing," he finally said.

"No?"

"No. Really. She's never like that with me."

"Can you…kiss her? Normally?"

He looked away—at his empty glass, past Luke's ear, anywhere but directly at her husband. "Sure, we kiss. It's nothing like what you're describing. If I added up all the minutes I've spent kissing June, it's probably more than all the time I've spent kissing all other women in my entire life, combined. I don't know what's wrong with her now. But she's certainly capable of being, uh, intimate. Normally."

Luke paused a few moments, ate a few of the nachos Nick had ordered. He spoke very quietly. "Not with me. There was one night. June went to see Serena Waterford in prison and came back late, after I was asleep. I woke up with June on top of me, totally off in her own thoughts, just…well, fucking. And I told her to stop, or slow down, I mean, we hadn't been together since America, and I wanted to make love, but not like that. She ignored me. Pinned my wrists down so I couldn't push her away, covered my mouth with her other hand 'cause I kept telling her to stop, and got herself off. Then she stood up and left. Didn't say one word to me the whole time." Luke took a breath, and regarded the dumbfounded man across from him. "Was she ever like that with you?"

Nick shook his head slowly. "Not even close. I mean, she does like to be…." He trailed off. No, too intimate to say.

"On top?" Luke finished for him. When Nick grimaced, he waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, she's always liked that best. This was not that."

"What you're describing is a Ceremony, except she's acting out the role of a Commander." In that moment, Nick seriously considered taking Tuello up on his offer and driving back to Toronto with Bankole, just to embrace his June and soothe her obviously-wounded spirit. There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole, he sang silently. There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul. Maybe confronting Serena and ending Waterford helped her psyche. He hoped so.

"Well, I'm glad that's not her new normal," Luke finished.

"Definitely not. Have…things…improved since then?"

"Nope, she's slept in the guest room since that night. We haven't talked about it, haven't tried again." He looked directly at Nick. Neither man was going to say the word rape, but that's what it was and they both knew it. "Do you know how to make her okay again?" It broke his heart to have to ask another man that question—especially this man, her lover—but Luke clearly didn't understand his own wife anymore. This was the reason he'd driven six hours from Toronto to the Vermont border. "Can you help me help her?"

Nick finished off the last of his dinner—two thousand calories of junk food, guaranteed to give him heartburn later, but what the hell, he hadn't eaten like that in six years. He sat back in the booth and gave Luke the same advice he'd shared with Tuello earlier. "Okay, here goes. Don't tell her what to do. Don't mansplain, don't give her advice, don't assume you're the wise one and she should listen to you. And definitely don't tell her to get over Gilead and move on. You can't tell someone with that much trauma that it's time to get healthy. I had a shitty, abusive childhood, but all my nightmares are about Gilead. And for June too, those years are always going to be the worst chapter of her life. We're never going to get over it. And don't suggest she count her blessings—she has plenty of survivor's guilt, and can rattle off a long list of people who should be alive but aren't.

"But she has to make an effort, too," Nick continued. "I mean, she can't explain all of Gilead to you. It's too much. But your marriage isn't going to last if she can't learn to open up and tell you what specifically scares her."

"Yeah, I need to know her triggers, that's what her therapist says."

'Triggers' wasn't a word Nick normally used, but it made sense in context. He nodded. "Well, maybe whenever she freaks out, like about Scrabble, just write down the incident for yourself, then later when she's calm, show her your list? Because she is capable of describing what happened to her. Like, she told me all about her first commander, the one before Waterford. He was another horrible human being, by the way, who deserved to be murdered if he hadn't died of a stroke."

"Anything I need to know about him that'll affect her?"

"He used to come up to her from behind and grab her ass or breast. And he'd bite her; he liked to see little bruises on her skin. I walked up behind her once in the Waterfords' kitchen and kissed her neck, and she elbowed me so hard my rib cracked."

Luke raised his eyebrows. He'd nuzzled her the same way in Toronto once; she had bolted out of the room. She used to like that kind of thing. "Okay, good safety tip."

Nick glanced at his watch. "Look, I really need to get going back soon. Tuello can get a letter to me, or place a phone call, if you'd like to talk more. Or I can come back here. That's riskier, but if you need me, I'll come."

"No, I mean, I don't want to get you in trouble."

I wouldn't get in trouble, Nick thought. I'd get killed. Instead he said, "Well, if you two need me."

"June seemed a whole lot happier after she went to see you. You do something to her. But then again, right after that, she went out and murdered a guy. So one visit with you didn't exactly fix the problem."

He smiled slightly. "I guess I'll have to try again."

"Did you know she killed him?"

"Oh, yeah." Nick looked away for a minute. "He deserved everything he got. You've got to let her have her anger. For five years, she was only allowed to be obedient, meek, and pleasant. Never angry. So she needs that now."

"There's a difference between angry and murderous. She even screamed at Tuello that she would 'fucking kill him' if he let the Waterfords go. It didn't sound like she was exaggerating."

"Gilead taught us all how to kill."

"Well, she's gonna get kicked out of Canada if she keeps doing that."

"Okay, then, maybe get her into therapy."

"Oh, she was. Then she convinced the entire group to go help her kill a commander at the border. So, yeah, I'm not sure the therapy is working out. At least not the 'anger-management' aspect of it."

Nick had to laugh at that. "That's our girl. Always the leader of the group."

Luke caught the waitress's attention. "Do you happen to sell coffee by the pound?"

She frowned. "Not usually."

"Well, do you maybe have an extra pound or two of ground coffee in the back that I could buy? My friend here lives in the middle of nowhere, and likes good coffee." He smiled at her suggestively. "We'd really appreciate it."

She smiled right back. "I'll go check." She eyed Nick curiously, recognizing the Commander's uniform but not commenting on it. "Would you like a cup to go, as well?"

"Yes, please. Your largest size." To Luke: "Thanks again."

"Aw, you know, gotta support the local economy." He regarded the younger man. "Are you sure you don't just want to defect, come back to Toronto with me?"

"Hell yes, I want to. But Commander Putnam, he's the asshole who sent me here with his wife, he promised me that if I didn't come back tonight, my household would be, uh, punished. Meaning hanged. I've got a Mar—a maid, Sarah. She was a fourth-grade teacher in Chicago Public Schools before. Doesn't take shit from anyone. She's great. And there's Kathryn. She's thirteen, a sweet kid. My so-called wife."

"Hold on, does June know that little detail?"

"No, but she'd understand. Kathryn's dad asked me to marry her; she was pregnant by her doctor, and she needed a way out. Long story. And there's also a driver at home, who was a college student before the revolution. He's really active in the underground. So is Sarah." Nick looked anguished. "I love June and I love Nichole but I can't be responsible for three deaths. Or maybe two; Kathryn, since she's fertile, would be reassigned to another husband, some middle-aged asshat who'd…." He trailed off. "I've got to go back for them."

"Yeah, I get it." They stood up. Luke stuck his hand out to shake, then changed his mind and gave Nick a quick, fierce hug instead. "Take care of yourself, man, please. Because if you get yourself killed, I seriously don't know what I'll be able to do for June."

"That's a good reason to stay alive, then. Give Nichole lots of kisses from me."

"Sure." He smiled. "But I ain't giving June any kisses from you."

"Well, no, that'd be weird."

It was a long, lonely trip back to Boston, with a love letter, photos of a giggling toddler, and three pounds of Colombian coffee hidden securely in the spare tire well.