“Run away with me.”
“Iro, we’ve been over this.”
“Mary, he doesn’t love you like I do.”
“Iro, you’re a woman. I’m a woman. I love you with all my heart, but we cannot run away together. Where would we even go? What would we do? How would we make money? What happens when someone figures out we’re two women living together and sharing a bed? It’s unrealistic, my love.” Mary cupped Iro’s cheek. “Let’s just enjoy what we can while we can.”
“What do you mean, while we can?”
Mary leaned down and kissed her.
“No, Mary. What do you mean, while we can?”
Mary leaned back and said, “I’m with child, Iro.”
“What?”
“It’s early. I’ve told no one. He doesn’t even know yet.”
“You’re pregnant?” Iro asked, shifting until she was sitting up, leaving Mary to straddle her thighs.
“Yes. You knew this would happen eventually.”
“You just married.”
“Seven months ago. People are already asking when I’d give him a child. You know how this works, Iro. Had your father cared about you how he cares about his grandsons, he would have married you off already, too. I’m certain he will soon. He’ll want the dowry.”
“I’ll never marry,” Iro stated.
“Iro, you’ll have to marry. Like it or not, you’re a woman. Your father won’t let you remain unmarried, living in his house forever. He’ll eventually remarry himself, and he won’t need you to cook for him and clean the house.”
“I won’t do it, Mary. I’ll never let a man touch me how you touch me.”
Mary looked at her with sympathy in her eyes and replied, “I wish that were true; that no man would ever get to touch you how I do.” She ran a hand between Iro’s breasts. “I hate when he touches me, but now that I’m with child, he won’t as often, and he won’t want to be around a crying baby all the time, which means you and I can be together more often.”
“With a child that you share with a man you don’t love?” Iro said.
“Iro, if I could change this, I would. If I could marry you, run away with you, and be with only you for the rest of my life, I would love nothing more. You are my only. You are my one true love. I want nothing more than to live that life with you, but we can’t. I can’t.”
“I love you. I’ll give anything for that. What do I have to do to convince you that we can make this work?”
Mary climbed off her then and wrapped herself around Iro’s body instead.
“Nothing. There’s nothing you can do. I’m pregnant. I can’t raise this child with you, Iro. We’d have no money, no home,no way to ensure their safety. I can’t. It’s not just about me anymore.”
Iro lay there with the only person she had ever loved and knew things were about to change. She had no idea exactly how yet, and what it would do to her, but six months later, when she found out that Mary was in labor, Iro went to the local pub, one of the few buildings that had survived The Great Fire of London the year of her birth. It didn’t make sense for her to be at the house with Mary. They’d always kept their closeness a secret so as not to draw attention to their relationship. She walked through the door and earned stares since women typically didn’t enter the pub unaccompanied, unless they were working, and she sat down at a table that smelled of smoke, somehow.
“Hello,” a woman said as she sat down across from Iro.
She had long brown hair and gray eyes, which Iro had never seen before.
“Hello,” Iro replied.
“I’m Cassia. And you are?”
“Iro,” she said.
“Iro? That’s an interesting name.”
