something borrowed, something blue
They’ve frozen them, she said. Mine too. The collective’s too. Any account with an F on it instead of an M. All they needed to do is push a few buttons. We’re cut off.
But I’ve got over two thousand dollars in the bank, I said, as if my own account was the only one that mattered.
Women can’t hold property anymore, she said. It’s a new law. Turned on the TV today?
No, I said.
Did they say why? I said.
He didn’t answer that. We’ll get through it, he said, hugging me.
You don’t know what it’s like, I said. I feel as if somebody cut off my feet. I wasn’t crying. Also, I couldn’t put my arms around him.
…
Hush, he said. He was still kneeling on the floor. You know I’ll always take care of you.
I thought, Already he’s starting to patronize me.
Then I thought, Already you’re starting to get paranoid.
I know, I said. I love you.
That night, after I’d lost my job, Luke wanted to make love. Why didn’t I want to? Desperation alone should have driven me. But I still felt numbed. I could hardly even feel his hands on me.
What’s the matter? he said.
I don’t know, I said.
We still have … he said. But he didn’t go on to say what we still had. It occurred to me that he shouldn’t be saying we, since nothing that I knew had been taken away from him.
We still have each other, I said. It was true. Then why did I sound, even to myself, so indifferent?
He kissed me then, as if now I’d said that, things could get back to normal. But something had shifted, some balance. I felt shrunken, so that when he put his arms around me, gathering me up, I was small as a doll. I felt love going forward without me.
He doesn’t mind this, I thought. He doesn’t mind it at all. Maybe he even likes it. We are not each other’s, anymore. Instead, I am his.
Unworthy, unjust, untrue. But this is what happened.
###
Passage excerpted from Margaret Atwood’s, The Handmaid’s Tale.
