The Book of Strange New Things(123)

Speaking of which, I found out the real reason why you are NOT here. A few hours ago I met

In the pause while he searched his brain for Doctor Austin’s name, he recalled that he’d already written about this at the beginning of the message, before Grainger interrupted him. He deleted the redundant words, feeling more tired every second.

I’m going to say goodbye and send this letter now. It was hanging around unfinished all the time that Grainger was here and I’m ashamed that I’ve kept you waiting so long between responses. You are right to chide me for my perfectionism. I’m going to do better from now on! (Joke) Speed up my responses. Send this one flying towards you while I’m working on the next one.

Love,

Peter.

True to his word, he sent the message, then opened up another of Bea’s letters and refamiliarised himself with its contents. This time, he let go the idea that he must dutifully address each and every point she raised. She didn’t need that. What she needed was two simple things: an acknowledgement that he’d read her letter, and some sort of message from him in return. His eyes lit upon the part where she described the almost-healed wound on her hand: ‘pale and pink and a bit waxy from the swaddling, but looking good!’ Immediately he began to compose a letter of his own.

Dear Bea,

I’m so happy to hear that your hand is healing so well. I was horrified to hear you’d hurt yourself and this is a great relief. Please don’t be in a hurry to go back to work. You need to be fully well in order to take care of others. Plus there are lots of bugs lurking around in the hospital, as you know – and I’m not just referring to

He pondered for a minute or two, to recall another name that eluded him, but it wasn’t retrievable, despite the fact that he and Bea had mentioned this person every day, probably, for the last two years.

your paranoid colleague with the curly hair.

Despite making good progress here, I’m missing you and wishing you were with me. Upset that you were disqualified. For my own selfish sake, of course, but also considering the bigger picture. Whatever USIC’s criteria were, they made a big mistake. Someone like you is exactly what’s missing here. The whole set-up feels . . . how can I put this? Quite overwhelmingly (overweeningly?) male. I mean, there are plenty of women around, but they don’t make much difference to the prevailing atmosphere, the esprit de corps, if you like. It’s a kind of camaraderie that you associate with the armed forces or maybe a major construction project (which I suppose it is). The women don’t rock the boat, they don’t try to feminise the place, they just adjust their natures to fit in.

Maybe that’s an unfair generalisation. After all, women shouldn’t have to conform to preconceptions of femaleness I have in my head. But even so, I must admit that this base is not an environment I feel comfortable in, and I can’t help thinking that it would be hugely improved if there could be a few women like you added to the mix.

That’s not to suggest that there are lots of women like you in the world! Of course there is only one.

As for gender politics amongst the Oasans, that’s a tricky proposition. I still haven’t got to the bottom of their sexes, yet – they don’t understand my questions on that score and I don’t understand their answers! From what I’ve observed, they don’t have genitals where you’d expect. They do have children – not very frequently, I gather, but it does happen, so some of my Jesus Lovers are mothers. I wouldn’t say that the ones that are mothers behave more maternally than the ones who aren’t. They’re ALL quite nurturing and connected. In their own way. I’ve grown very fond of them. I think you would, too, if you could have shared this adventure with me.

Another thing I should say about them is that they’re very kind. Very caring. It’s not evident at first, and then it dawns on you. During our most recent gathering in the church, we were all singing, and suddenly one of the paintings fell off the ceiling (not fastened securely enough – it’s difficult when you’re not allowed to use nails, screws or other sharp objects!). The painting fell right onto Jesus Lover Five’s hand. We all got a big fright. Fortunately the painting wasn’t very heavy and Lover Five was OK – nothing broken, just a bruise. But the way the others rallied round her was extraordinary. They each took turns to embrace and stroke her with the utmost tenderness. I have never seen such an outpouring of communal love and concern. She went very shy – and she’s usually quite verbal! She’s my favourite.

Again he paused. This praising of other females – human or otherwise – was perhaps not so diplomatic, if his own wife was feeling insecure. He and Bea had always had the sort of relationship where either of them could feel free to comment on the admirable points of anyone, regardless of gender, confident that their own relationship was rock-solid and inviolable. But even so . . . He deleted ‘my favourite’ and wrote:

the one I communicate with best.

There was still something not quite right there.

But of course none of this matters as much to me as our rare and precious relationship, he wrote. I had such a vivid memory of our wedding not long ago. And your wedding dress, and how you wore it in the years since.

Please write again soon. I know you’ve written a lot already and I’ve been very lax in responding, but it doesn’t mean I don’t value the contact from you. I do miss you terribly. And I’m sorry I gave you the impression that certain topics are out of bounds. Write about anything you like, darling. I’m your husband. We have to be there for each other.