Encounter

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Labra

"The truth is, Lavi, you've got some guts for what you've done with your husband. Anyone else in your shoes would've got rid of him."

Lavidia was in the Northern Territory, alongside her grandmother. This woman was tall and slender, more similar to the redhead that Laba, Lavidia's own mother. The two women watched from a promontory as a pneumatic drill opened a deep hole in the ground to exploit the resources of an iron mine. Certain magnetic anomalies had been discovered in the area, indicating significant amounts of the mineral.

It was a cold day, and both women wore pants, boots, a thick fibre coat, and a cap.

"I'd bet he's still bedding you," the older woman deduced.

"You'd win that bet, Labra."

The woman smiled and then joked:

"Really? You won't tell me that your husband knows how to please a woman..."

Lavidia also smiled and said:

"My husband is like any other man. He neither knows how nor could he understand it even if someone explained it to him."

"I see. So, it's just sentimentality with him, right?"

"Call it what you want," the young woman replied, still staring at the hole they were digging.

The drill reached a water table, and the hole filled with water. It was the moment they were waiting for, and they descended from the cliff to operate the pumps that would extract the liquid.

"But yes, you're right," Lavidia continued. "Usually in these cases a woman would send him back to his mother."

"Who will try to marry him to some woman whose husband doesn't give her daughters. Yours at least has a certificate of fitness."

"Yes, I know of a girl who divorced for that reason and married another who's more 'capable'."

"I do too..."

"But I find that utilitarianism with men disgusting, Labra. I really don't understand how there can be women who love their sons, love their fathers, and love their brothers, and yet, with their husbands, they don't have that feeling, even if it's just to a lesser degree."

"It's the ties of blood, Lavidia. We don't have that connection with a husband."

The ties of blood... Those words echoed in her head repeatedly and affirmed her decision not to accept having daughters 'from other women'. Without the blood ties, she thought, she probably wouldn't have loved them as one should love a 'real daughter'. If she had accepted to breed an egg from her sister, what would have resulted would have been a niece, not a daughter. Perhaps she would have been her favourite niece, but nothing more. It would have all been deception, self-deception, she thought, and at least with that decision, she avoided looking at 'her descendants' with suspicion throughout her life.

While another woman led the crew of men who were to insert the conduit for water extraction into the pond that had formed —among whom was Batro—, a gust of wind blew Lavidia's hair into her eyes, and she proceeded to tuck it under her cap.

"Did you leave your hair long so that others think you don't have daughters?"

"No, how silly!" the granddaughter responded. "I did it for the cold!"

The question wasn't trivial. Most women always kept their hair short for pure convenience. Daughters, and especially sons, often grabbed onto them frequently, giving mothers strong pulls.

The girl hadn't finished tucking her rebellious hair when they saw the contraption again.

"What's that, Labra?" she commented, looking at the sky.

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