The Underground Part 1

The Underground.

By Ilana Katz Katz.

For s.h.i.+ra.

In grat.i.tude for so many things.

Chapter 1.

"What do you think?" Janice said, twirling as if she were a perfectly proportioned Barbie doll.

"You look beautiful," Nathaniel said, forcing a smile. Beautiful was the last word he thought of when looking at Janice. Not just because her doughy body was tightly packed into a sausage skin of a dress. Years of inebriation made her skin sallow. It wasn't surprising since she was drunk most of the time, and Janice was a nasty drunk.

Still, being with her beat mandatory castration, his likely fate without her marriage proposal. He was grateful for that, but it didn't quell his resentment.

Her perfume of stale cigarettes mixed with sour breath was constant. She leaned in to kiss him. Luckily, the doorbell interrupted.

"Your party guests are here!" she said, pulling away. A string of Janice clones stumbled in, chattering loudly.

"We need some drinks!" she yelled in Nathaniel's direction, snapping her fingers at him as she greeted her guests.

"No vodka, no happy Janice," he muttered to himself as he slipped back into the kitchen.

"My birthday party has begun," Nathaniel announced sarcastically to Janice's Uncle Chester, once the kitchen door closed behind him.

"You mean Janice's friends are here and they want booze?" Chester joked, while rotating trays of hors d'oeuvres between the counter and the oven. Nathaniel found it hard to believe that this kind man was Janice's blood relative.

"You got that right. The last time we ran out of vodka, it was after 11 p.m. which is not a good time of night for a man to be out. I tried to tell Janice, but she didn't care about my safety, just about getting more booze. I ran to the liquor store and barely outran them," Nathaniel said, letting his words trail. His near miss with the military police, or Tasers as they were commonly called, paled in comparison to what Chester had suffered.

From the outside, Chester seemed to have a decent life. Almost 50, he had a successful bakery with lines snaking out the door each morning. If it wasn't for the dime-sized purple "Spot" tattoo to the left of his Adam's apple, which all men received on their castration day, Nathaniel would never know he had gone through such a horrible ordeal.

"Thanks for all your help. I couldn't have done this without you," Nathaniel said, motioning to the platters peppered with Chester's artful garnishes. There were cut up vegetables with homemade artichoke dip, baked Brie with apricot jam and crackers, and Chester's signature award winning mini m.u.f.fin tops.

"It's the least I can do for your birthday," Chester said.

"Why don't you take these drinks out to Janice and I'll finish up in here. Just tell me what needs to be done," Nathaniel said.

"You know I'm more comfortable in the kitchen. Help me finish getting the rest of this tray ready and then get out there and mingle. That is most important."

As they wordlessly chopped vegetables, Nathaniel felt thinly insulated from Janice's favorite electronica music. The drums suddenly pulsed louder, triggering his nerves. It sounded like rhythmic bombs, much too close for comfort, right outside the kitchen door. Nathanial put down the knife and met Chester's eyes.

"I'm too nervous to go out there. When she turns the music up like that, it means she's pretty drunk and I just never know what she's going to do. I hate to give her more fuel," Nathaniel said, motioning to the vodka sitting on the counter.

Chester quickly peeked out the kitchen door, before ducking back in and locking it.

"It's alright. She's just dancing and having a good time. You'll be fine. Before you go out there, I have something for you," Chester said. He wiped his hands on the ap.r.o.n bearing his bakery's name, Chester's, before pulling a wrapped package from underneath the table.

"Happy Birthday," he said, holding it out to Nathaniel.

"On top of everything else, you got me a gift? You really shouldn't..."

"Open it," Chester whispered.

Nathaniel took the package and began to tear the brown wrapping.

"Careful!" Chester snapped.

Nathaniel's hands started to tremble as the black leather cover revealed itself. The embossed gold letters were half faded and worn away, but still clear enough to read.

Reminder of Truth By Anonymous "Is this what I think it is? I can't believe this really exists," Nathaniel said, hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky as he felt. "Thank you," he said trying to look Chester in the eye.

Nathanial tentatively ran his fingers across the cover and started to open it.

"Put it away," Chester said, tersely.

Nathaniel quickly rewrapped the book wondering why the h.e.l.l Chester had it but was too afraid to ask. Castration would be a picnic compared to what would happen if the Tasers found Nathaniel with this contraband. According to legend, it described a time long ago when there was equality between the s.e.xes. It was impossible to imagine.

Nathaniel quickly stashed the ancient book at the very back of the cabinet under the sink, behind all the cleaning supplies. Janice would never look there since cleaning was men's work. As he closed the cabinet, Janice's familiar cackle bled through the kitchen door, setting him on edge and bringing him back to reality.

"We're in good shape here," Chester said, releasing the lock and stepping aside. Nathaniel was about to leave the kitchen, but stopped. What if she dumped him on his birthday? She had been engaged two other times and had done exactly that. He caught his reflection in the gla.s.s cabinet door, and while he didn't love his buzz haircut that Janice had mandated, at least he wasn't going bald like other men turning 25. He looked good. Years of manual labor for the Cambridge Public Works kept his body toned. He was six feet tall. His warm blue eyes contrasted his dark hair. He could see in his reflection his chiseled jaw visibly tense.

"Go on out there," Chester said, as if to break his spell.

"You sure you don't need help?" Nathaniel said. He was nervous about getting through the night, but that wasn't the only problem. There were four months until their wedding, and getting through that time period really weighed on him.

Chester shooed him away.

"Just one more thing...I told Janice that I made the platters. I said you just came to help at the end," Nathaniel said.

"Don't worry, I can keep a secret." Chester winked at him.

LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!.

LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!.

LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!.

Nathaniel first heard that familiar chant as a child. Still, he wasn't desensitized to it. Each round grew louder. As he opened the kitchen door and stepped out, he felt like a caterer at someone else's party.

He couldn't help but think about Reminder of Truth. It supposedly chronicled an era when men weren't afraid to walk outside. Nathaniel couldn't imagine that. After all, Nathaniel felt like he was heading into a minefield, and he was only walking from the kitchen into the living room of his apartment.

LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!...

He tried to let the words wash past him, but the women glared at him as they raised their fists in unison, rhythmically punching their words with lacquered fingernails. He was the only man there, besides Chester in the kitchen, so it wasn't surprising that the aggression was entirely aimed at him. Nathaniel fought against the adrenaline urging him to run away. Instead, he pretended he was playing a role in a movie as he made his way toward his fiancee.

No matter how hard he tried to give himself a pep talk, he couldn't deny his fear. What if they attacked him? What if Janice hated her drink?

"HERE COMES THE BIRTHDAY BOY!!" Janice yelled from the chair she stood on, high above all the others as she broke the chorus she had been conducting. The synchronicity deteriorated into comments thrown at him like rocks. "Tick Tock, one year closer to the C Center..." "...You dodged a bullet. Well not quite yet, but soon, a.s.suming she really does marry you, Nathaniel."

He couldn't hear them all, but a few rose above the cacophony of taunts riddled with a laughter that didn't stem from anything he thought of as funny. He tried to block them out.

This was not how he envisioned his life. When Janice silenced them with a single wave of her hand, he felt a nanosecond of grat.i.tude to her for making them stop. He s.h.i.+vered inside as the moment stretched. The final few steps toward Janice made his nerves jump as she beckoned him with her finger. It took effort to keep the tray steady as he felt a single bead of sweat slowly fall down his forehead to sting his right eye.

"I brought your favorite," he said, holding the beautifully presented hot dogs in pastry dough as though it were a diamond he hoped was big enough for the Queen, herself. He held it to her with a display of reverence he didn't feel. Whispers abounded as everyone waited. Janice gobbled two at a time and said nothing, holding the moment like a long musical crescendo.

"You're right, pigs in blankets are my favorite, but they do make me thirsty," she finally said, handing him her empty gla.s.s and giving him a shove that made him stumble and nearly spill the rest of the food onto the floor.

After regaining his balance, he walked toward the kitchen. With each step, the path seemed to stretch. Along the way, the women pawed his tray as if each hors d'oeuvre was a winning lottery ticket. He focused on the kitchen door ahead, his heavenly gate to a few moments of peace. Just as he made it inside, the electronica abruptly reignited.

"I don't know how I'm going to get through this," Nathaniel said, the moment the kitchen door closed behind him.

"You will because you have to," Chester commanded. Nathaniel had never heard him speak that way. The veins running through the purple tattoo on Chester's neck swelled. It was like a badge that he had earned, but never wanted.

Nathaniel wondered how Chester summoned the energy to lead his life following castration. It wasn't like he just plodded on. He had a successful business. Chester's Bakery won a slew of "best bakery" awards. That would be a noteworthy accomplishment for anyone, but for a Spot it was particularly significant.

"Janice is insisting on another drink," Nathaniel said.

Chester wordlessly pulled a perfect pitcher of Janice's favorite mixed vodka drink from the fridge and handed it over. "Hurry."

Nathaniel did as he was told, even though all he really wanted to do was sit down and ask Chester about Reminder of Truth. How did Chester get that book and why? Chester seemed like the kind of person he could open up to, but there never seemed to be the time. Chester was either working at his bakery or else they were with Janice.

Chapter 2.

It was nearly 11 p.m. when Nathaniel forced his last smile for the evening and closed the door behind the final guest. He turned and surveyed the damage. Spilled drinks patterned the wooden floor, and food littered the apartment like confetti. Women are such pigs, he thought, as he a.s.sessed the damage.

Chester offered to stay and help clean up, but Nathaniel insisted he go home. It was a work night for each of them, but Chester's day at the bakery started practically in the middle of the night. Nathaniel felt a little sorry for himself with the job ahead. Luckily, Janice was already pa.s.sed out on the couch eliminating the possibility of obligatory drunken s.e.x. If she was semi-conscious, she would demand it.

Still, he had to get her to bed. He scooped her up, which was no easy feat. Just as Nathaniel strained to lift her, his cell phone sounded with Brigg's ring tone. "d.a.m.n," he muttered, furious at himself for leaving the ringer on. He couldn't risk putting her down, so he quickly carried his snoring bride-to-be over the bedroom threshold. He gently laid her down on the bed and looked at her. There was a momentary peacefulness, but as the phone stopped ringing, Janice started talking like a broken string-pull doll.

"Anna Marie, sing-it-with-me...long-live-the-queen-longlivethequeenlonglivethe..."

Nathaniel held his breath.

If there is a G.o.d, I pray that you listen. Please make Janice stay asleep. Please, as a birthday gift for me.

He felt silly begging to an ent.i.ty he didn't believe in. As abruptly as she began to speak, Janice's talk dissolved to a snore and Nathaniel wondered if there was a G.o.d listening. Maybe he should pray more often.

He glanced back at her before quietly closing the bedroom door and checking voicemail: "Good luck, old friend, and happy 25th. I hope this is a good year for you and I'm sorry I couldn't be there. I'll take you out some night when she's working. My treat. Give me a call if you're still up or else I'll see you at work."

Nathaniel loved celebrating past birthdays with Brigg, but Janice didn't allow Brigg an invitation to this party. She was too jealous, having only known Nathaniel for a year. That timeframe was no match for a lifetime of friends.h.i.+p that Brigg and Nathanial shared.

Nathaniel was usually annoyed at how she tried to keep Brigg away, but on this night it was a gift. He was ashamed that he had turned into the exact kind of p.u.s.s.y-whipped guy that he and Brigg used to make fun of when they were teens. Now, he kissed a.s.s just like all the other men trying to save their b.a.l.l.s, and he understood why they did it.

Things could be a h.e.l.luva lot worse, he repeatedly told himself over the next two hours as he cleaned the dishes, emptied the ashtrays, and mopped the stickiness off the floor. He found food between the seat cus.h.i.+ons, and scrubbed the vomit-laced bathroom, as well as any man-servant could.

Nathaniel then tucked his head back into the bedroom to be sure Janice was still asleep before returning to the kitchen. He locked it from the inside, as Chester had done hours earlier, and his heart boomed as he pulled the book from underneath the kitchen cabinet. Nathaniel wanted to know who gave it to Chester and why. This was probably the most dangerous illegal possession in the country.

He looked at the book cover and almost put it back in its hiding place. If there was another kind of life in another time, maybe it was better not to know about it.

If it hadn't been for the flat tire he got precisely one year earlier, he might never have walked into Eva's Diner and met Janice. And he might still have the threat of castration hanging over him.

"Can I help you?" Janice said, cracking her gum, as she flashed a smile. Even then he could tell she thought herself s.e.xy by the way she sashayed in her stained polyester uniform, as though she was walking the red carpet at a Hollywood premiere.

"Flat tire," he said, shaking his head. "My ride meets me here in an hour, so I thought I'd get a cup of coffee while I wait."

"We've got more than coffee!" she said.

"Here you go" she said a short while later as she set a burger with fries in front of him, along with coffee. She also sat herself down, as though invited. She was attentive that night, but never again. Since then, Nathaniel served her. Always.

"Wow, I only ordered coffee," he said, feeling funny about her attentiveness.

"I know, but I thought you might be hungry," she said, flirtatiously, leaning in to him, as though studying every pore of his face.

"Thank you. It's my birthday dinner," he said, feeling a little self-conscious.

"Today's your birthday? How old are you?" she asked.

"Twenty-four," he said. He felt uncomfortable admitting he was getting closer to that life defining birthday.

"Hmmm," she said, thinking for a minute before she asked for his number. It was a good sign, at the time, and when she proposed a few months later, that was even better. Didn't he owe something to Janice? She was kind sometimes, and he couldn't help but remember that she didn't have to propose.

As he looked at the cover of Reminder of Truth, he wondered if reading the book would make him feel better or worse. Should he feel guilty for even considering it? He was grateful for Janice's proposal and indebted to her. But, he repaid her every day in too many ways to count.

This lure of reading the truth that the Queen tried to hide was too much to ignore and he opened the book.

Reminder of Truth By Anonymous A yellowed corner of the first page flaked off, falling to the ground like a snowflake. He didn't stop to pick it up as he was transfixed on the text: There was a time long ago when men and women were equal. There was no monarchy or Tasers, nor were there castration centers. Yes, dear deader, there was such a time and I lived in it! I have nearly nine decades behind me. Until my death, I will pray for the balance in our country to be restored. Dear reader, I am writing to offer you a "Reminder of Truth."