Day 20

After we successfully rounded Newfoundland it was officially getting cold. I leaned on Bessie to keep the ship moving as I slept. I taught her the basics of a sextant and got her to take measurements of the sun three times per day, every day there was a clear visual.

We were also now officially in iceberg alley. From here up through the Davis Strait we would need to keep an eye out to ensure Spielberg would never make a movie about us. I told Izzy about the pipes and didn’t see her for a whole day as she wept and prayed at the feet of her bathroom faucets. I’d keep the valves open till it dropped below freezing at night and then they would be emptied and closed until we hit more temperate zones.

I was taking us across the strait to within sight of the Greenland coastline. Izzy had flat out refused to hear my arguments to recommence my navigator catnaps and opted for plan B: Sail close to land, drop anchor for the night, and sail only during daylight. This would lengthen our trip but keep me on a schedule and keep us out of danger. We sighted land the evening of our 19th day and my passengers all cheered at the dark smudge that meant we weren’t lost at sea forever and ever and ever.

Izzy asked again if there was a port to trade in here. She’s new at this, I reminded myself. No, there wouldn’t be any ports we could or should stop at between here and my lonely mountain. I assured her there was a village there that might trade with her. The villagers helped me guard my stash and in return I brought them gifts and tools and any extra cargo I could spare. I’m sure they would offer her some eggs or caribou meat or other innocuous ingredients.

John Henry and I were spending our mornings together as had become our habit. He helped me steer and hold the lines and nod at the compass. Then we would eat our toast and eggs as his mother and aunties slept. Izzy had ceded him the “morning Anne” shift as it allowed all of them to rest and recreate, confident in the baby’s ability to keep me tethered to the earth.

He and I were just discussing the cloud formations and what that could mean for possible weather as Izzy came charging up the steps looking like someone was in anaphylactic shock.

“Anne! I need tampons. And pads. Did you know that they use actual rags? Like, old strips of cotton! I told them there was a better way, and I need to show them.”

So no one was dying. Well, Catherine might perish if Izzy performed a side leg lift and taught her where to place the applicator to insert the cotton wad home.

“You are going to…demonstrate how to insert a tampon? They took to the rice cooker okay but…this might be a little much for them. Rags are fine. It works.” Anything was better than envisioning Izzy in a Suzanne Somers sales video as she demonstrated modern day feminine hygiene.

“They are not fine!” She protested because of course she did. “They don’t even have wicking! Or adhesive. They have to tie it on-- never mind. It’s uncivilized. What kinds of pads do you have?

“I don’t have any pads.” I kissed John Henry’s cheek and offered him another apple stick. We both agreed the apples were good but likely only for another few days. Then we could feed them to the sea birds. We had had a long discussion about it this morning. He and I were of one mind.

“You might be right about the tampons. What do you use then?”

“I don’t use –” I looked up from John Henry’s curls to see her frantic expression. Did she really think that I still … “-- it’s not a problem.” I picked up another apple stick and sacrificed my finger to his sharp new teeth as he laughed and laughed at the new mark on my knuckle. I laughed too.

“What? What’s not a problem?”

“I – so –” Did she really not understand? “Do you remember we had a conversation about this?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Crap. She didn’t understand.

“That I’m almost –” I looked to see if the girls were up here. They weren’t. I covered the baby’s ears. He shoved my hands off. “--Three centuries?”

“Okay. And?” She gestured for me to find my point already.

How to cover this? I mean, we’d been in the same family life classes. There were endless pamphlets and lectures about the beginning of a woman’s cycle, not so much about the end of it. And not so much about that in 4th through 7th grade either. It had come as a major shock to me when it happened. I was vastly unprepared. I was living in Carthage at the time and my adopted grandmother had laughed herself silly as I freaked out thinking I was pregnant or sick or anything but…old.

“So – well…you know? You know.” She had to know. Come on, Izzy. She must be putting me on. She stared at me blankly, still wondering why I didn’t have any pads on my ship.

God, I remembered her and I making fun of our mother as she tried to explain periods to us as girls. She’d been so awkward and I’d been so cruel. I had much more sympathy now.

“Okay. You know how, like, a woman –” God, why couldn’t she just guess? “A plant! A plant. It grows…you like plants. You like plants. Right?” She looked at me like I’d lost it for good and true this time. “So The plant blooms. And the bloom is pretty.”

I was an ass.

“Petals –” Aurelia had said some beautiful words to me. She’d sat me down and explained that this was simply another phase of life. She’d brought me one of her dried and preserved olive wreaths and put it on my head and kissed my cheek and chuckled at my naivete without making me feel stupid. “This was better in the original Latin. A woman is like a plant…a flower. Not like a weed or anything. So the petals bloom and then it’s time to stop blooming…after fifty years or so.” Aurelia had meant so much to me during that time. Izzy still gave me nothing. She still didn’t get it. “Then it’s not a problem to not have pads on the ship. You know?” If she did know she was a little bitch for keeping me hanging like this. “Because there are seasons. And winter is coming and — well, not like winter isn’t pretty too. All phases of a woman’s life can be filled with interest and…fulfillment. It doesn’t just…turn to dust or anything.” It all still worked…down there. Izzy kept watching me.

John Henry handed me an apple stick.

“I don’t have tampons. “

“Was that your way of trying to tell me that you’re in menopause?” she finally spoke.

Menopause. I had fought the word even as it happened. I don’t know why but being done with all the bleeding and pregnancy scares had made me feel separate from the world, even more than exiting the temple had.

“Yes,” I answered her simply.

“How long ago did that happen?”

“I was probably about 50 years old. Like normal. Maybe 51. You run out of eggs, you know? Things just…stopped.” I'd really thought I was pregnant. Aurelia assured me she would help me. I thought it was impossible but the symptoms were there and there was no bleeding…I’d really thought I was pregnant. But the months stretched on and my belly stayed flat and that was that. I lifted John Henry over my head and smiled at him. He drooled in joy.

“Wow. You know...even Mom hasn’t gotten there yet.” She sat down and tickled the baby. “Sooo...you haven’t exactly been living like a nun. Any kids? Maybe a cool Antarctic explorer? Or–”

“I am not a mother. Are you wondering if you are an aunt?” No. I was not a mother. I never would be.

“Well. I guess. We never really talked about it, before –”

“You would have been a wonderful aunt.” I cut her off before she could pour more salt in this wound. ‘Probably making them birthday cakes and all that. Dressing them in little hats.” John Henry would look so cute in a little birthday hat. “Taking them to the zoo.” I bounced him on my lap.

“Speaking of birthdays! We obviously have limited ingredients, but if you have any special requests let me know and I’ll work on it. Hopefully you have a yearning for something seafood based.”

“I don’t need a party, Izzy. Don’t use up all my sugar trying to make icing. Please. I can sell that stuff.” I had a birthdate of course, but I’d long lost track of how many years I could mark. I hadn’t even told Andrews when my birthday was. Of course, he hadn’t known his either so it was never much of a problem. We celebrated other dates.

“God, you are such a spoilsport. Anyway, the party isn’t just for you. It’s also for John Henry! You wouldn’t deny this adorable, little plump faced baby a birthday party, would you? Or a cake?”

I blew a raspberry on his plump little toast and apple filled belly till he squealed. “He should have a party. Of course he should have a party. Let’s have a party for John Henry. One is a big year.” I hugged him close and kissed him. Yes, children should be celebrated.

“Yay! Great. It’s still going to be a joint party though.” She got up and kissed my cheek before heading down to the galley to use up all my stores of sellable ingredients.

“Hey, for the record,” I stopped her before she could get too far. “I know you would have made a great aunt. I’m sorry about that. That you aren’t one.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to be a mom. You might have missed one of your callings.” She said like it was nothing but her small words staggered me. I’d never heard that combination of them before.

“You might be the first person to ever think that. Thank you.”

“Those other people can kick rocks. Well, I guess the girls will have to stick to their strips of cloth. You need to start thinking about what you want to do for the party!” She skipped back down to the galley.

“Well, John Henry, let’s go see how well Auntie B’s patch is holding up in the headsail.” He agreed and told me he would scale the mast to check the block and rigging. I eased him off the ladder and told him not to worry about it. I’d check it later. He reluctantly agreed to eat and smear my deck with oatmeal instead.