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Bitter Waters

a novel

Published by lulu.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission for the Author, except for the inclusion of brief quotes in a review.

Copyright © 2006 by Andrea Ellis

ISBN 1-4116-5752-7

Lulu ID# 129789

For more information please visit
http://www.lulu.com/bitterwaters

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…The priest therefore shall offer it, and set it before the Lord. And he shall take holy water in an earthen vessel, and he shall cast a little earth of the pavement of the tabernacle into it.
And then the woman shall stand before the Lord, he shall uncover her head…

… and he himself shall hold the most bitter waters, whereon he hath heaped curses with execration.

…And he shall adjure her, and shall say: If another man hath not slept with thee, and if thou be not defiled by forsaking thy husband’s bed, these most bitter waters, on which I have heaped curses, shall not hurt thee But if thou hast gone aside from thy husband, and art defiled, and hast lain with another man: These curses shall light upon thee: The Lord make thee a curse, and an example for all among his people…

… Let the cursed waters enter into thy belly, and may thy womb swell and thy thigh rot. And the woman shall answer, Amen, amen.

…But if she be not defiled, she shall not be hurt.

Numbers 5: 16-22, 5: 28

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Exodus 20: 14

I wake with a jolt; I feel it like a slap across my face, as only my mother could slap me.

I am sweaty. The room is still dark and I feel sticky from the sweat that glistens on my body. My husband, Craig is “slunning slunning slunning” away in his sleep beside me. I realize that I was dreaming; there was no slap in the face.

The alarm is about to beep so I may as well get up and get in the shower before Craig. I don’t feel good and the hot water slushing over my body doesn’t lessen the anxiety I feel.

…Blessed art thou among women… I find myself mumbling as I get out of the shower. Now where did that come from? High school backlash I guess, and shrug my shoulders as I finish getting dressed for work.

Later Craig and I are both downstairs in the kitchen pouring coffee and coughing back dry toast in an effort not to miss the train again. Neither of us wants to drive into the city. I especially don’t want to today. I am caught up in the dream, a dream where I was seventeen and I still feel seventeen now that I’m awake. I’m not even sure I can drive, I feel spacey and anxious.

Suddenly I remember that I forgot my keys, again, and I rush up the stairs to find them. I grab them off the dresser, knocking over my statue of Saint Anne, “Sorry Dear,” I say crossing myself unconsciously. I stand her back upon the dresser and run back down the stairs two at a time. I’m out the door and jumping into the passenger side of the car just as Craig is starting the engine.

Saint Anne. My mother gave her to me at my wedding. She’s the patron saint of Healthy Babies, my mother said, kissing the statue’s fingers, “Gracious Saint Anne, Dawn of hope and the consolation of the afflicted,” I flinched at those words. “Pray for us, Good St Anne, Mother of Mary, Grandmother to Our Saviour, what a gracious woman. Make me a grandmother soon dear,” she had said. I bit my tongue and didn’t mention that I knew damn well that Saint Anne was for old biddy housewives, and NO mother I am not quitting my job now that I’m married. And I’m not having babies yet either.

“I had the strangest dream this morning.” I say to Craig as we drive down the road.

“Yeah, what about?”

“I don’t know really. I was back in high school—“

”Oh God," Craig rolls his eyes and grins.

“Oh God is right. I was standing in the halls looking for my locker or books, or something. I don’t remember what happened. But it felt real, you know? Like I should be putting on those horrid shoes and scratchy plaid skirt and heading off with a backpack.”

“It was just a dream Maddy. You’ve graduated; remember? You’re free from all of that,” he pronounces in a facetious tone. He knows how much I hated Catholic school; the uniforms, cliques and whispers.

We drive to Port Moody Station and just make it on to the train. Craig and I flop in to seats next to each other, sigh, and laugh. The regulars around us smile indulgently; they’ve seen this before.

I reach over and ruffle Craig’s red hair. “Time for a cut,” I say.

“Yeah I know, but don’t know when I’m going to have time to do anything about it, I’ve got meetings everyday this week at lunch, so…” and he shrugs. “I’ve got meetings that’ll last late most of the week too. If I’m not on the train when you are, just drive home and I’ll catch the bus.”

“Really?” I ask. He works late often. I hate not eating dinner with him. I rarely cook anything when it’s just me.

“Sorry, Hun can’t be helped.”

I pretend to pout, and he smiles, knowing this game. He leans over and kisses me.

“I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you later,” he whispers into my ear, his breath hot and wet. He licks my ear and I have to grip the arm of the chair to stop myself from climaxing right here on the train. I hate it when he does that in public, he knows how I am and what can happen to me.

But I love it. I love him. He’s fantastic in all aspects, and God, I melt when we kiss, there’s spice and passion. I relish in it. I try not to think about fucking him; I don’t have a change of panties with me.

The train rumbles on towards Vancouver. At Waterfront Station, we part ways, Craig catches the Skytrain and I bolt out the door to catch a bus. There is caffeine in the air as I pass the Starbucks.

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Bitter Waters will be available from lulu.com early December.

Posted on Sunday 04 of December, 2005 [15:13:36 UTC]