Left on Paradise (19 page)

Everyone laughed as tension eased.

“This,” Kit said, “ruins Lisa’s proposed work schedule. I’ll have to refigure the workloads and give assignments this evening. Any objections?”

“Do I still get the sewage pits?” Alan asked.

“You behaved yourself,” Kit answered, “so I’ll take them myself. Or give them to my husband if he doesn’t get his act together.”

Ryan raised both hands in mock surrender.

“Charles,” Kit continued, “will lead us in the last segment of this meeting, though I’d like to address new business first. Are there any new concerns?”

Lisa stood to speak.

“There’s a serious problem,” the young woman said after waiting until every citizen had stilled. “Someone poached the sea turtle nests.”

“What do you mean, poached?” Kit said as she blushed.

“What I mean,” Lisa said, “is the nests have been dug up and the eggs stolen. The sea turtle eggs have been poached.”

“Mine were scrambled,” a man’s voice called out.

“Sunny side up for me,” a second voice declared.

Lisa turned pale.

“I’m sorry,” Kit said, “you weren’t at breakfast. We had eggs today. We sent Brent and John to collect them. We’re not getting many eggs from the hens. Barely enough for baking.”

Lisa looked stunned. “Those turtles,” she whispered, “are protected by federal law.”

“We don’t have federal laws,” Kit whispered, more than a little shame-faced.

“We shouldn’t need them,” Lisa said, “we’re better than that.”

“But hungrier,” a man shouted.

“You killed sea turtles. You killed baby turtles in their shells.”

“I didn’t think,” Kit said with dropped eyes, “about them being sea turtles. They were just eggs.”

“They weren’t,” Lisa said as she wiped away a tear, “going to hatch into chickens.”

“I’m really sorry,” Kit said as she looked away. “I’m really sorry I cooked them. I’d never kill a turtle, but I really didn’t think much about their eggs. You couldn’t see a turtle inside when I cracked them. Just yolk.”

“But they were going to be turtles someday.”

“We didn’t take too many. The guys only brought a few dozen. There are hundreds—maybe thousands—of eggs at the beach.”

“Every egg is precious,” Lisa said, her eyes filled with tears.

Kit dropped her chin as she admitted this to be true and the room grew quiet as Lisa struggled to control her emotions.

“I propose,” Kit said after a long pause, “we outlaw the killing of sea turtles or taking their eggs. At least in our district—where we have control.”

“I second the motion,” Jose said, “and I propose we make the beach a protected sanctuary.”

The rest of the village joined the chorus and no more than fifteen minutes passed before Turtle Beach had been named and dedicated as a wildlife preserve. It also was proposed that egg-hunting be restricted to the nests of gulls and other common birds and Hilary suggested conservation laws be proposed to the Executive Council for island-wide adoption. Each proposal was ratified before the villagers turned toward what promised to be the most contentious topic of the meeting.

Charles led that discussion.

“This has been a difficult day,” the former university professor began, “and we need to draw this meeting to a close. What I intend to do is to read a declaration from the Executive Council. You can discuss it on your own time. A week from tomorrow we’re scheduled to vote the legislation up or down at an assembly of the General Will of the People. Any questions?”

There were none, so Charles proceeded to read the proposed marriage legislation and distribute printed copies for further review. He gave the assembly several minutes to consider the implications of the law.

Tiffany was the first to ask a question.

“I don’t understand,” Tiffany asked, “why this is being proposed. Are we abolishing marriage?”

“No,” Charles answered, “just the opposite.”

Tiffany’s face went blank.

“We have no laws of marriage,” Charles explained. “No one can marry here or divorce. Every marriage was made in the States under what is essentially the metaphysics and morality of social conservatives: of Puritans and Pilgrims and their legal descendants and cultural heirs. We need to reconcile the restraints imposed on the household in the old order with the freedoms allowed in our new society.”

“Still,” Tiffany said, “is it necessary to annul my marriage?”

“A mere formality,” Charles said, “like second vows. Consider the alternative: if Brent decides to leave you, our laws provide no protection whatsoever. How can we uphold the laws of the American states—even if we choose to?”

“Don’t worry, Tiff,” Brent said, “I’ll propose tonight.”

“Of course you will,” Tiffany said, not at all humored, “or you’ll sleep on the beach. Alone. For a long, long time.”

Laughter was sparse.

“Let me explain our objective,” Charles said. “We propose marriage be freely made between consenting adults. Men and women alike should be free to marry or not as they see fit. Man can marry man and woman may marry woman. No duties will be imposed by marriage and the household won’t be considered a law unto itself—exactly as we ruled this afternoon for pregnancy and work. Our goal is to insure that the law of love rather than the letter of the law be the real force to bind couples, married or otherwise. The opinion of Small Council is that this is already the case, given the liberality of divorce and freedom to arrange one’s own domestic affairs. All we wish to insure is every lifestyle be provided a firm legal grounding and marriage—as understood by progressives and liberals—be adequately defined before any mistakes are made or misunderstandings arise. Besides, this proposal will be publicly debated in open forum next week. We’re not forced by the propaganda of conservatives to sneak it through the courts with our tails between our legs.”

Tiffany said nothing more and Charles stopped taking questions. Kit gave final instructions regarding dinner preparations and the meeting was adjourned as villagers left the assembly in animated discussion. Some argued and others questioned; two or three kept their opinions to themselves.

Supper was served early. Ursula felt well enough to walk to the beach—though she ate little. Tiffany and Linh catered to her every whim and Kit kept herself available as well. Charles strummed a guitar for several songs, before being replaced by a boom box from which rock and roll blasted over the surge and splash of the surf. A few couples danced and others talked. Sean partied with Jason and Jose—his friends teasing him about the inevitable domestication he’d soon suffer.

“From stallion and stud to plow horse,” Jason uttered in one particularly cutting remark, “you, my man, are shoed and collared and your main squeeze is now mare and master.”

“Do you realize,” Jose added, “you’re going to be married to a woman whose belly won’t zip into her sleeping bag, let alone fit into a bikini?”

“Maybe she can send for a bigger bedroll,” Jason added, “and a maternity thong.”

Sean groaned.

“Or,” Jason quipped, “she can zip Sean’s bedroll to her own. She’ll have a double-wide.”

“My man, “ Jose pointed at Sean as he spoke, “you will be pushed naked into the rain.”

“At least,” Jason said. “Ursula was hot while she lasted. You always have her memory.”

“Now she’s just,“ Jose laughed loud as he made one last crack, “a goat belly in a bikini.”

“Baaaaaa. Maaaaaa. Baaaaaa.”

Jason and Jose broke into a chorus of goat calls. Sean took the teasing well, though he drank liberally from the bottle of vodka in his hand. Long after Ursula inched home, he staggered toward his nylon house—running into only one tree along the trail.

16

The General Will of the People

Sunday brought deliberation and discussion as villagers debated the advantages and disadvantages of the marriage proposal. In the beginning, the mood was against the legislation—with support limited to Charles, Joan, Hilary, Lisa and Jason. But as neighbor after neighbor concluded some form of law necessary, more of them came to accept the decree—especially after it was observed the proposal codified progressive ideals and guarded against customs that punished adultery, chastised premarital sex, and upheld gender stereotypes. By evening, most neighbors rallied to the legislation and a majority was openly excited by it. Some couples even began to plan second weddings. Only John publicly dissented, arguing it dangerous to rework years of labor and affection—as if life had been a blank slate before Paradise. Kit and Heather abstained from voting. Several villagers debated late into the night.

Discussion came to an abrupt halt Monday morning after Kit delegated work assignments and declared her intent to build a barn by week’s end. With more regard for efficiency than equality, she tasked men to saw lumber and women to cut grass. She assigned herself to help with bedridden Ursula, as well as to watch all four children—with Linh’s daughters asked to help with the twins. Kit also agreed to assist Maria and Ryan in the kitchen and help Linh gather fresh fruit. Everyone else was assigned to construction duty: thatching roofs, digging foundations, and sawing boards. Whenever a neighbor slowed down or otherwise showed signs of weariness, Kit offered to trade duties for a time—though her offers generally were refused and, more often than not, inspired her compatriots to pick up their pace to prove themselves.

Deadlines were met and the barn built by the end of the week. Materials were collected and prepared Monday; the concrete foundation was poured on Tuesday; the frame was raised and a timber roof begun on Wednesday; and wood walls and a thatched roof were added on Thursday. Indeed, by Friday morning, a barn approximately the size of a two-car garage had been completed—along with a root cellar for dry food storage. Villagers also built storage shelving and policed the construction site for trash and debris. Throughout the week, teams were chosen well and worked efficiently as each neighbor labored where he or she was best suited and most inclined to contribute.

Doctor Graves visited Ursula Friday morning, providing a clean bill of health and a jar of prenatal vitamins—and prescribing rest and a double ration of goat milk. Afterwards, he inspected the village’s sewage treatment system, gave the twins a routine examination, lanced a boil on John’s back, chatted with Heather about gynecological irregularities, and sutured a cut to Sean’s forehead. Following an early dinner, he restocked the medicine cabinet and started south upon hearing from a messenger that two young children had fallen ill from damp tents. The doctor wrote a prescription for vitamins and antibiotics and sent the courier to New Plymouth at a run. Indeed, the boy sprinted hard for the slopes of Mount Zion since it was his baby sister who was the sicker of the two. As soon as the courier departed, Dr. Graves hurried south, declining Lisa’s offer to escort him over the hill (since he intended to follow the coast and had little fear of twisting an ankle or becoming lost).

Kit called for a voluntary workday on Saturday to fill stores for the coming week. Her request was answered by all except a handful of neighbors (who had previous plans) as fish were caught, fruit gathered, herbs stored, and salt dried. Ursula minded children from her tent while villagers worked through the day. Citrus fruit was harvested from the slopes of Mount Zion and coconuts and breadfruit picked from the beachfront. Clams were gathered and fish netted. By day’s end, the barn was stocked with food and supplies alike and Kit applauded village crews for work well done.

The General Will of the People met at noon on Sunday in the assembly tent at New Plymouth. Nearly every islander rose early for the trek and most arrived midmorning. In the west, Ursula stayed at home since she was too nauseous to hike over the slopes of Mount Zion. Other villages also left a person or two behind: a middle-aged northern woman with food poisoning, an east villager with a sprained ankle, and a southern woman whose baby remained stricken with dysentery. Precisely at noon, the assembly recited the charter and reaffirmed their oath of allegiance and aspiration. Afterwards, delegates elected to the Executive Council took seats at the front while the lot was cast to select officiating representatives for the current meeting—one from each village. Four men (two white and two black) and one woman (namely, Maria) were chosen and subsequently conferred among themselves to establish meeting protocols. Only after they had come to agreement after several minutes did Maria step to the podium as the four men took seats behind her.

“Good afternoon,” Maria greeted the assembly. “We have before us ...”

“Louder,” someone shouted from the back.

“We have before us,” Maria said louder, “a proposal to establish laws of marriage. Has everyone had a chance to examine the bill?”

Scattered applause sounded.

“Has anyone not seen it?”

No one raised a hand.

“Then let’s start off,” Maria declared, “with question and answer. Raise your hands to speak and please be polite.”

A middle-aged woman stood from the middle of the tent.

“My neighborhood,” the woman said, “didn’t understand how marriages were to be celebrated. We don’t have county clerks and no one’s proposing the use of clergymen. Hell, we don’t even have clergymen.”

“I’m a theologian,” Joan yelled across the crowd, “and an atheist. I can marry you.”

“I already have a husband,” the woman replied, “but I’ll certainly keep you in mind if I need to upgrade.”

“Any suggestions,” Maria now spoke over subsequent laughter, “from the Executive Council?”

“We didn’t discuss it,” Charles said as he stood, “but the matter clearly falls under the Articles Two, Five, and Six of the proposed amendment. Article Two makes marriage a strictly private matter; Article Five forbids the making of any marriage under any other terms; and Article Six undoes all old world marriages.”

Charles cleared his throat as the audience stilled.

“The new laws of marriage,” Charles said, “as far as I can determine, allow couples to make or celebrate a marriage however they themselves see fit. It’s prohibited only to do so under illegal auspices. That is, no one can establish binding private agreements as part of a marriage ceremony. No one can be made to promise to bear children or forsake divorce. Such obligations can’t be slipped into a private contract as a way of subverting public law.”

The woman raised her hand again. “Since we’re free to do as we please, why the worry?”

“In a single word,” Charles said, “Louisiana.”

The woman looked puzzled.

“Was it four years already?” Charles said as he looked to Karla—who sat beside him.

“At least,” Karla said as she rose. “Do any of you remember when the fundamentalists of Louisiana set up a two-tiered marriage code to allow so-called covenant marriages? These entailed more solemn vows and more serious consequences for adultery or abandonment and included legally binding private contracts that upheld almost puritanical laws of marriage. It was a means for the religious right to legally circumvent secular marriage by appealing to tort law.”

“I’m from New Orleans,” the middle-aged woman who had asked the question nodded, “and I remember loss of custody and property and even determination of fault in divorce.”

“Exactly,” Karla said, “the only things missing were stockades and stakes.”

Karla took a seat and so did the woman.

When Maria asked the assembled community if there were additional concerns, a young African-Islander woman spoke up.

“I still don’t understand,” the young woman said, “how a marriage will begin. How will it be ...”—she paused several seconds before continuing—“how will it be registered?”

“Couples,” Karla explained, “will announce their own nuptials just as they do engagements. Article Two seems to rule out signing contracts, so I’d suggest a simple ceremony be performed, if desired.”

“Can couples marry without a ceremony?”

“If they choose.”

“If I may,” a gray-haired man interrupted, “we need to remember that the only real law of marriage is the law of love. Our camp considered this carefully and we don’t believe that weddings create couples as much as couples plan weddings.”

“Agreed,” the black woman said, “but it seems to me we need to know exactly when a marriage has taken place.”

“Why get hung up on documents and dates?”

“To know whether a man or woman is married, I guess.”

“Ask her. Or him.”

“I once dated a man for a month before he bothered to mention he had a wife and two daughters,” the black woman said. “I guarantee I’d never have given him a glance if I’d known. I sure as hell wouldn’t have slept with him.”

“We don’t have such men here.”

“Tell that to Monica Lewinsky.”

Several women told similar stories and it wasn’t long before the assembly was debating the competing needs of public honesty and private vows. The assembly was almost evenly divided, with men and women equally favoring opposing arguments. After forty-five minutes of pressed debate, a middle-aged brunette sitting near the front addressed the crowd.

“As I’ve listened,” the brunette said, “for the past hour, it’s become clear we all agree love is the law of marriage. Right?”

No one dissented.

“It’s also become evident we don’t intend to set up a marriage court or even a clerkship. Right?”

No one objected.

“And it also seems that we want to distinguish between the married and the unmarried? Am I correct?”

A few voices expressed agreement.

“Then there is,” the brunette concluded, “a very simple solution: we need to allow individual couples to chose how to become married as long as they do so in an unambiguous manner. Some may choose to publish vows; others may hold receptions or make private promises. It’s like a dance. Everyone dances differently to the same music, but it’s still easy to see who’s dancing and who’s standing on the side.”

The brunette sat down to scattered applause.

“I’d add only,” Karla noted as she stood to speak, “that divorce should be made the same way and it too must be made subordinate to the law of love. No one intends to force couples who don’t love each other to stay married or to punish so-called adulterers and adulteresses for so-called sins of the flesh. Marriage doesn’t create any new obligations that didn’t exist before vows were taken. It’s only a sign of love.”

“Venus frothing from the foam,” Joan shouted out, “we’re getting tangled up with baptistic and eucharistic controversies: theological and philosophical sophistry. Someone tell me I’m not back in purgatory—I mean, seminary.”

The crowd laughed.

“Not tangled,” Karla said, “but untangled. Every one of us agrees love is the substance and marriage is the sign. We marry from love, to love, and as long as we love.”

“What is love?”

A young woman’s voice rose from the west village; it was Heather who had stood up and now spoke.

“That,” Karla said, “is left to the couple to define. I mean, the individual. For couples are made of two distinct persons who retain complete freedom.”

“People may be different,” Heather said, “but isn’t love the same for everyone?”

“Is it?” Karla asked. “How can we know?”

“We talk of it and try to find it together.”

“Are we all really seeking the same thing?”

“Why else do men and women come together?”

“That,” Karla said, “proves my point. Some believe men find love in the pelvis and women find it in the heart.”

“Are you saying,” someone shouted, “women don’t like sex?”

“Not at all,” Karla answered. “I’m saying that while men and women alike enjoy a roll in the hay and call it making love, most women ultimately want something different from love than most men do. Same word, different meanings.”

“If couples,” Heather said as she frowned, “don’t mean the same thing when they hope for love, how can they ever come together? How can they even talk?”

“Maybe we can’t,” Karla said. “Maybe that’s why they say women are from Venus and men are from ...”

Several women’s voices rang from the hall.

”A black hole.”

“Pluto.”

“Brooklyn.”

“My joke is ruined,” Karla said, “but the point remains: love may not last forever, but arguments about it do. We could debate love for eternity and we’ll never come to agreement. Not only man-to-woman, but woman-to-woman and man-to-man. This young woman may be an old-fashioned romantic, but many of us are not. In any case, our goal is not to define the obscurities of love, but to allow men and women to love. As they themselves see fit.”

There was more applause.

“What does it matter to us,” Karla continued, her voice now deeper and louder than before, “how love is defined in the dictionaries? Our concern is to love and to be loved. If you ...”

A voice from the podium interrupted the speech. “If I may take the floor back,” Maria said, “we need to draw this to a close.”