Two and a third of a year went by, two months since my ma and pa died of bomb explosion in the midst of war. The last time I saw them, auntie wept in anguish as a couple of men in suits were coerced to bury the dying family members of people, friends, and my parents to share the common graveyard. We had no fresh or torn money to pay for a proper funeral. And, the next we heard was a public announcement of my home country in danger of an impending invasion. Auntie Sue Bates, ever a woman of warm and firm steel, told me there is not much time to mourn the departed and had to leave. Changing our black attires to the casual, we packed and carried. She was driving the car and all I did was hold onto the stuffed lady mouse in a dress, tight and scared, looking at the window.
Here, in a new town, settling in a small house rented by the Fitzgibbons, I reside with my aunt and working to afford ourselves. Ma and aunt taught me embroidery, how to sew, knit, and other domestic arts. So, working as a seamstress with auntie in a small shop was a humble but safe beginning of new life. Although, she wished she didn't need to interact with several unpleasant crowds.
"Close dat DAMN door, boys! Can't ya see we're workin'?!" One of the seamstresses and a friend of mine, Magdalene screamed at onlooking men.
"More payment, less working, y'all must be PLEASED with yo-self!" The other seamstress named Ellie Mae huffed.
"If ye want sum pretty-face and hot-bods, go back to yer own wives!" The Scottish seamstress shooed the men.
The women rolled their eyes as the onlooking men booed. When my auntie said only men understand men and women know women, I couldn't help but begin to get curious why. She used to be in a stressful rant about how men distance themselves from their wives when they grow old. And even complain how "man" is the synonym of "human" as to which word "woman" should belong to. Like the words male and female, exist… But, as an illiterate woman with inefficient education, I failed to comprehend what she said.
"Ay, Elizabeth, drop those needles and threads, ya can join me for dinner~!" The lean man called out to me.
"No shit, ya loony! I can pay full course for her, chicks dig men with cash~!" Another man, who was dressed properly in a suit, interfered.
"See you later, Elizabeth~!" Soon, the men left as they bid goodbye only to me.
In fact, I didn't introduce myself to them before. Perhaps, they heard of me from people I knew.
"Naw, not them tryin' to sweet-talkin' to her," Magdalene shook her head before turning to me, "ya should just reject them all. Them men don't take silence as a no."
"Voice of wisdom, girlie. They wanna hear what they wanna hear, but sometimes… they tend to twist the answers, or they're fools." Ellie Mae sighed before giving me the next clothes to reform.
"The only way to get them off ye tail, is getting married."
They nodded in unison as I made a small sigh.
Marriage.
It was what my auntie, friends and friends from work discussed. Magdalene is already married, she has five daughters and one son. Perhaps, it was because I was the youngest among the seamstresses, the idea of marriage was something I avoided yet anticipated at the same time. So far, none of the men have caught my interest as I found them…mildly unpleasant. On the other hand, whenever I watch the big picture show of a pair in love there is a growing dream in my heart that there must be someone out there. Someone whose smile is so warm, whose arms can give me reassuring trust I'd be safe in, but at the same time giving me affections that are beyond warmth. Take me out to a nice place to talk, enjoy our days together and dance under my favorite spot in the green grassy dance floor under the moonlight. I hoped to have a man who is very intelligent and willing to teach me all the things that I haven't learned. At the same time, I wished the man wouldn't view me as a breeding mare to produce children out of survival instinct, nor demanding me to do things I feel uncomfortable with. Just a lifelong, loving husband I'd feel safe and happy.
And…, I never thought I'd meet that type of man so soon.
On my way home after getting help from Magdalene escaping from the men, I was walking the usual trail of the town only to be interrupted when a couple of hunters were scattering outside the entrance of the forest. They were seemingly frustrated on their way home as I presumed they didn't catch much at that time.
Although I did not expect to see an injured man sitting under the shade of a tree not far from home. His hair a rare silver, in a ragged military uniform as he clutched onto his abdomen and even before I approached him, he was bleeding. Dread and concern filling my entire mind, it didn't take me long to realize that I dragged him in my shelter. He was still unconscious, so that was the right timing to tend his wounds as soon as I fetched the medical aids my auntie usually saved in the living room. A slash of wound that wasn't light, but the best I could think of at that moment was preventing any infection on the injuries. Doing everything I know of ways to do so, I pressed the medical cottons on them before wrapping the gauze around.
And just as I finished curing him, I was faced with the man's eyes opened and looking at her straight, much to her surprise.
"Oh…! You're awake…," I began, tone shaking nervously, "...I saw you unconscious close by… I couldn't just leave you alone."
The man remained silent, his gaze unwavering. In fact, he was scrutinizing me from the top to the bottom. As if, detecting whether I was a threat or not. Watching me shifting nervously must have lowered his guard as his body was no longer tense.
"Oh, forgive me… I'm Elizabeth Bates… I live here with my aunt…" I introduced myself first, as I was told that in order to get acquainted with a guest it must be me to greet from the beginning.
With a small laughter I could muster while waiting for his response, I felt my heart leap when he answered.
"Jonathan. Jonathan Brisby."
Days turn into weeks, I never missed checking up on my unwilling guest Jonathan. When encountering him, my auntie was, at first, wary of him as she warned me he was no normal human. A soldier. And we don't know if this man was either on our side or from an enemy nation. But a week after discovery, she gave up and let him stay. He didn't talk much with me whenever I approached with a tray of food for him or tended to his injuries for the first two weeks. Later, there were times he asked me questions, tone no longer suspecting. I interpreted this as beginning to open up to me.
"What do you do for a living?"
"Where do you work?"
"When do you return home?"
And I answered every question. Despite my plea not to, Jonathan insisted on helping me with domestic chores or assisting me in grocery shopping. Sighed in defeat, he got what he requested. The good side of this was that no man bothered me when I was seen with him outdoors. When he noticed I never read words from wherever we went, I felt ashamed. Feeling insecure of myself that I was illiterate. However, he kindly offered himself to teach me how to read and write.
"So, who's yo friend~?" Magdalene once questioned playfully, "I've heard of you and your handsome companion from RELIABLE sources~."
I had no idea why, but the thought of me and Jonathan together has brought a heat on my cheeks. Perhaps, it was because of his mysterious eyes, luminary silver hair… his slightly low tenor voice, or his masculine features I couldn't help sneak a peek when changing the bandages….
"Jon's a soldier… he was hurt and I offered him a place to stay…" my voice was trembling a bit in anxiety.
"Ooooh~" the other seamstresses gave me a teasing smile.
And, living as tenants of Farmer Fitzgibbons', Jonathan's stay in our home was permitted as they have taken our relationships as more than friends. When auntie left to visit the city where it was off from war as her friends resided there, it was Mrs. Fitzgibbons who asked me when and where would me and Jonathan wed, though I couldn't speak out of embarrassment as no words seemed to form out of my mouth. Even so, whoever brought up the questions about us, Jonathan didn't speak as well. No words of denial, nor affirmation.
But, I remember my aunt said action speaks louder than words. And that very day happened that confirmed our feelings.
"YOU…" Drago hissed, grabbed his rifle tight.
I glanced up at Jonathan's expression, then where I tended his wounds. The revelation hit me entirely the day I met him for the first time. And, why he was found injured.
"Elizabeth, stay away from that dreaded creature!" The gatekeeper snarled.
"W-what..?" I blinked my eyes in disbelief.
"He is no human! He is one of the kinds that are made to feast upon our flesh and blood!"
My eyes widened, but softened when gazing at Jonathan. It was painful to witness him letting the man deride him with such nonsense. I had never seen Jonathan hurt people. But, it was people who used their words to hurt him. Only, because he was ethnically different and was not a normal person. The thought actually upsetted me.
"Rubbish! Poppycock!" I found myself screaming at Drago Welker.
I felt the eyes were on me, but I was too angry to care.
"I don't believe it! Jon wouldn't do such a thing! He's the most kind and caring man…!"
"You calling me LIAR, woman?! Look at this scar on my face! That gypsy boy had done this!" Drago pointed at his left side of face, injured.
"Mr. Welker, I've known your temper on people, your actions got you into trouble! You wouldn't have got those scars if you could have just left him alone!" I jabbed my finger on him.
"Well-! If I didn't know better, I'd say you care for him!" Drago huffed, arms crossed.
"BECAUSE I WILL BE HIS WIFE!"
Silence filled the area as soon as I yelled. Jaws dropped from the man's face and I could hear Magdalene smiling at my declaration. When I realized I had just verbally announced my dream in front of others, my head slowly turned to see the shocked face of Jonathan. Feeling a growing heat all over my face, without a word, I dragged him away and stormed off to home.
"...Elizabeth…" I flinched as Jonathan called my name.
"I'm sorry…, … didn't mean to embarrass you…," I covered my face, "I just got angry with him…for the way he treated you."
"Eliza."
I felt my cheeks flushed when he called me by that nickname. Gathering up all courage, I finally glanced up to see his warm eyes.
"About what you said…, that you'll be my…," he paused, eyes wandering off briefly before gazing back at mine, "...did you mean that…?"
Shyly, my head nodded, eyes never left from him.
And I have never seen the man's smile so radiant at that moment. Once calm, aloof shades of brown eyes were warm, loving. He scooped me up in his strong arms as I yelped. Oh, he wasn't upset. He was…elated.
He felt the same.
Soon, I returned the smile and embraced him. In return, he leaned forward, his hand on the back of my head gently pushed closer. My eyes closed, my arms still wrapped around his neck. Age 20, and that was the first time I let a man steal a kiss from me. Pulling away briefly, our eyes met.
"Are you really… willing to be the wife of a man who is not your kind…?" he asked, voice small.
I nodded.
"Will you promise… not to erase me from your life?" He asked again.
"I won't do that… I promise."
Gazing at him, then I realized I was in my bedroom. The window opened, sunset was no more as the young night sky replaced it. Attracted to his features gleaming from the moonlight, it was me who bashfully continued the kiss. However, he responded with less chastity and more passion. He nibbled my lower lip before licking it, urging me to allow him to go further. As soon as my lips parted, he did not hesitate to savor my mouth. It was overwhelming when his long tongue intertwined with mine and as soon as his hands untied my black bodice, I knew through my instinct he was not satisfied yet. Even so, I never brought myself to stop him. Either a curiosity or longing I felt, my body was already prepared and I was left with nothing but bare skin. His shirt was off, and I noticed there was no bleeding from the bandage. With it unraveled, there was no scar left on his abdomen. As if he wasn't hurt from the first place.
"Pity…I hope at least a small scar was left…," he smiled sadly, "I would keep it to remind me how we met."
My breath hitched the moment my lower part was greeted with a rub of something unimaginably firm and alive. I've been taught through auntie how the man and woman would mate to commemorate their love and unity. She reminded me to keep my chastity until the wedding night. I never felt so sorry for being a bad niece to her, yet at the same time, I wanted Jonathan to be the first.
"A-ah…!" I let out a gasp when I felt his hand against my moist entrance.
"Eliza…," he leaned and kissed my forehead, soothing me, "...my wife."
I dragged my fingers on his back, grasping onto him tight when he entered. The pain was too much even though he kept going in as he hissed. When letting out a pained moan, he brushed my lips against his. His hand caressed my cheek, then down to my breast, and my hip. Pulling out slowly, he repeated again causing my body to jolt. While feeling as if I'd be torn in half, there was a wave of unfamiliar feeling I couldn't fathom. Unmarried, yet naked and engaged in lovemaking.
"Jon…," I called him in between my moans, "I-I'm…scared."
"Don't be…" he responded, planting a kiss on my neck.
I covered my mouth, stifled a sound of carnal pleasure from it. But, I gave in when he fastened his pace. Burying the side of my face in a pillow, I heard my bed creaking. I heard our skin hitting one another. I could hear us growing wet. My visions were blurry from tears, but he wiped them away with his clawed hand. Delicately.
Wrapping my arms around him tight, fear was long gone but only a bliss. Head jerked back, legs around him with a sudden possessiveness filled my conscience.
"Jon…~!" Moaning out his name, I have long forgot how long the night lasts as I felt the warm fluid of fertile seeds swimming through my core.
"Eliza…, darling…," he pulled me to his embrace in a sitting position, buried his face on my collarbone, "will you marry me…?"
I let out a small giggle. A laughter of a girl in love.
No, not a girl.
A woman.
