Hands in my pockets, I walk through the town proper, offering a friendly smile to those I pass. When Trinli asked me if I knew of a doctor that did not work for the Magnus Mining Company, I was not exactly sure what to expect. With Trinli, though, I should expect the unexpected.
Contraceptive diaphragm. I shake my head with a chuckle, just as I have for the many weeks since she brought it up. It took me this long to prove myself to the underground operation that deals with any contraception, let alone diaphragms. I pat my satchel and reassure myself once again they are in there.
As a general rule, physicians are opposed to contraception. Religion frowns upon it as well. And for the last 30 some years there have been laws on the books that prevent the manufacturing or shipping or possession of any such substances or devices. Apparently, there is a company in Montreal that produces the little rubber devices and the jelly used in application. It is run by a husband and wife that firmly believe in the need for such a thing. They ship to their connection in New York and from there the diaphragms are distributed through a network of people willing to risk life and limb and prison to place reproduction in the woman’s hands.
Do not get me wrong, I have no desire to ever set foot in a prison, let alone become an inmate of such an establishment. I do not want to be separated from Trinli and the kids, however,the thought of her swelling with that bastard’s child once more drives me to a near homicidal rage. She is a married woman, and it matters naught to me. Trinli is mine. My heart, my soul, my everything. Our situation is not ideal, but I love her enough to know that I will be at her side in whatever capacity I can for as long as she deems it so.
So, here I am walking for miles to procure contraception for her and the other voiceless women of the patch.
“I did not agree to that, you louse!”
“It is a hole. What is the difference between one or the other?” I release a low growl when I register the owner of that voice.
“Let me stick a carrot up yer arse and see how you like it!”
“Do I have to pay extra for that?”
“UGH! I am done with you.”
“Hey! Where are ye going? I did not cum yet!”
“You did not pay either!”
“I will tell Salvatore.” Turning the corner of a building, I lean against the brick and stare at the scene in the alley. Darragh is rushing to pull his pants up as he waddles after the young woman. She is fixing the skirt of her dress, her bare baps on display. She stops, hands on her narrow hips and glares at Darragh.
“Telling Sal will involve speaking to him. And if you speak to Sal he is going to collect what you already owe.” Darragh is motionless, his hands on the waistband of his trousers, his sad little penis laying limp in the opening. My poor Trinli. Rage at her father burns hot and white inside me. How could a man, a father, sell his child to a man like Byrne?
“Yer right, Mary, I should not have tried to stick ye in the arse without yer permission. You should head on home, and I will do the same and think on me actions and how I may improve upon them in the future.”
Mary tosses her head back and laughs loudly, but the sound carries no humor. “You are a real piece of work, Darragh! No wonder you spend all your time with whores; no woman would ever voluntarily lie with such a coward!” She spins on her bare feet and stomps toward me, taking her time to pull the straps of her dress over her shoulders to cover herself. She smiles at me, her eyes running over my tall form. I shake my head and point my thumb behind me.
“Appreciate what you said but keep moving.”
“Why do handsome tall men never seek the company of whores? I might enjoy my job for once.” I chuckle at her lamentation but focus my gaze on Darragh. That white hot rage redirects itself to the sad excuse for a man that stands before me. He tries to stand tall, his narrow shoulders back, his gut sticking out over the top of his now fastened trousers. He is almost a foot shorter than me, though we might weigh about the same. Difference is my weight is muscle and height, his is cheese and beer. I smirk despite wanting to choke the life out of him.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, my question surprising him.
“Been too long for ye, Paddy ol’ boy? I was trying to drain my bollocks inside something hot and wet.”
“I doubt there was much moisture.”
He ignores my jab. “If you run along, you might still catch her.”
“You have a wonderful wife at home, and four beautiful babes, and this is where you stick your pecker? Where you spend your time?”
“Trinli? I am surprised there is enough friction in her used-up snatch for me to cum.” He reaches into his trousers and adjusts himself, pulls his hand out and brings his fingers to his nose. He meets my eyes with a hard stare. “But it will not stop me from trying. Whenever it pleases me to do so. Because she belongs to me. My wife. My property.”
“She is your wife, have a little respect, she is worth more than this.” I wave my hand around the alley, his current state, and the company he keeps.
“In fact, she is not.”
“What?”
Darragh grins, his rotted teeth turning my stomach. “She was worth exactly 3 goats, about 63 pounds of fresh cheese, and $18 of previously consumed cheese.” I shake my head in disgust that he has reduced Trinli to a dollar amount. She is priceless. “Her father gave her to me and wiped out my debt as her dowry. And truthfully, I was bamboozled. Constipation is less painful than dealing with her.”
My arm cocks back and I let my fist fly as hard as I can. His head whips to the side so hard, I hear his neck crack before his body goes limp and collapses to the ground. I am not worried that anyone saw me or will report me. There is no one here. Regardless, it is worth any headache to finally punch him in the face as I have dreamt of since the first day I met him.
I lean over his unconscious form and spit. “I hate you.”
