Monogamy by the Numbers
Definitive guidelines for the modern couple

Introduction: Why another Relationship Book?

We can’t have too many relationship books, and that is because relationships are complicated and we are only just beginning to discern their full significance. Each new relationship book sheds a little more light on its particular area of focus, and in aggregate these lights illuminate the current state of relationship theory, a territory bounded on four sides by biology, sociology, psychology and ethics. There is always more useful work to be done in this field.

And certainly, any effort made to understand or improve relationships is effort well-spent, and people are increasingly interested in doing so. Dr. Philip McGraw’s work is hugely popular because people are hungry for his insights on relationships. However, no expert can do it all, not even Dr. Phil. Just like they say about raising a child—“it takes a village.” Well, say hello to a new face in the advice-village, Monogamy by the Numbers.

We say “by the numbers” because the controlling idea behind this book is that breaking a modern “taboo”—that is, looking at relationships from a mercantile angle rather than an emotional one—can yield useful results. I’m convinced that a pragmatic viewpoint (i.e, the relationship as commodity rather than gift) can help people. I believe that there is nothing more important to our society than solid, functioning and equitable sexual partnerships. Indeed, the well-being of our civilization depends on the quality of these partnerships, and in turn that quality depends on fostering a sense of parity between partners. Hence, we speak of monogamy “by the numbers.” It is an algebra of sorts that solves the equation of love and sex. Only when x = y is our job done. The relationship must balance.

This book deals only with monogamous relationships-- two people with an agreement to have sex exclusively with each other. There are of course other kinds of sexual relationships, but these are beyond the scope of this book. The area of focus is already wide enough and needs some delimiting, and besides the monogamous relationship is a very special one. Monogamous couples in particular operate within a seething maelstrom of forces-- conscious, unconscious, intellectual, emotional, spiritual, physical, material, sexual, financial, and historical—and that makes things interesting. The sexual dyad forms a microcosm of our world, and everything in that larger world has an analog within it. To improve a monogamous relationship is to improve the world in a very direct way. There is nothing more worthwhile.


About Myself

I’m from a left-of-center West coast clan, and absorbed a fun hippy-era upbringing in the small town of Aptos, California, just south of San Francisco. More important to me than smoking weed or hanging out was watching Mom and Dad hash out their complex and interesting relationship. They made an unusual couple, to say the least, and always had areas of contention going on.

For instance, my mother would travel alone for months to India, leaving my father to care for his brood of four children alone. He suffered immensely from isolation during these long absences; how, I wondered, would my mother make this up to him? There had to be some compensation, I reasoned, or why wouldn’t he leave her? And sure enough, he got his own opportunities for solo travel when she returned, which he availed himself to. They managed in this fashion to both raise a family and travel the world, but there was a price tag to be paid in melancholy for this feat, I noted.

They had a merrier repartee as well. Once my father shaved half the beard off of his face, leaving the other side intact, to see how long it would take my mother to notice. She went for at least fifteen minutes without making a comment, only to shriek when she finally saw what he’d done. This mixture of apartness and playful togetherness impressed me greatly as a boy, and continues to shape my attitudes about monogamy. Finally, that Mom and Dad are still solid after more than fifty years gives me a sense of optimism about relationships.

For some reason I had always been fascinated by monogamy. I was only six years old, my parents relate, when I greeted my aunt and her family at the door of their home by loudly announcing “I’m not married yet!” How many six year old boys think about getting married? Clearly, something had caught my attention but what exactly is lost in the mists of time. Whatever the cause, monogamy has always been my north star and lodestone and I orient my life around it.

At the age of twenty-two, without sufficient financial wherewithal, I finally did get married and that was the start of my personal confrontation with the difficulties that beset monogamous relationships. Although I went on to accrue a master’s degree in English and twenty years of experience as a registered nurse, my true calling has always been the study of relationships. This calling has been additionally fueled by the practical necessity of surviving the contentious unions that I always found myself in. As fate would have it, I’m drawn to assertive women. As a result I am a veteran of thousands of conflicts and sharp verbal altercations. Constant warring has left me with more than a few gray hairs.

This contentious milieu developed in me the habit of turning to self-help books for assistance. For years I’ve voraciously devoured every relationship book I could obtain, starting with Dr. John Gray’s classic Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, trying to figure out how to negotiate a fair resolution to my relationship woes. Each of the books supplied fresh insights, each acted as a piece in a gigantic puzzle—the puzzle being the “big picture,” the whole fascinating and intricate process of partnership negotiation

Over the years I’ve been married, had two great children, divorced, and now I’m currently involved in a complex 10+ year monogamous relationship with my partner Aileen, a public health nurse. She and I have squared off over dozens of relationships issues, and we joke that she should have been an attorney because she argues so skillfully. Let’s put it this way—because of her, I’m a very well-honed interlocutor. Most of my sharpest insights into relationships stem from what Aileen uncovers as she probes and rebuts every idea that I assert. This has been an invaluable resource. Monogamy by the Numbers was gestated and grown on real-world angst and tears, and it took horrendous “labor pains” to bring it into the world. Over the phone, face to face, by email, in cars, every component of the book has been hammer-forged in the heat of battle. Now the baby is delivered, and it represents the final flowering of a lifetime of obsessive study and testing. May it serve you well.


Ch. 1: Monogamous Relationships are a Valuable Commodity.

Most people at some point in their lives want an exclusive long-term sexual partner. Straight people, gay people, rich people, and working people all want the same thing: a loyal sex partner who loves them and whom they love. This want has been explained by biologists as arising from a deeply-rooted reproductive strategy that is programmed into the human genetic code. People want monogamy for the same reason that mallard ducks mate for life (namely, to successfully raise “chicks”) but that’s not the whole story.

We are not just biological entities—we are mental, emotional, and financial beings too. So, in addition to the reproductive advantages, there are plenty of other reasons why monogamous relationships are always in demand. Without going into too much detail, let’s assert that life is just better in a monogamous relationship. Health, wealth and happiness flourish within the trusting and protected confines of the pair-bond, making a loyal sex partner worth his (or her) weight in gold or far more. Be that as it may, in order to possess this gold, one must be willing to offer a comparable weight in return. And that is why we do monogamy “by the numbers.”

But can love really be assigned a price? The short answer is yes. Stripped (temporarily) of superfluous sentimentality and the gloss of romantic notions that surround them, monogamous relationships are at their core transactions. You give me this, and I’ll give you that. Love partners have many expectations for each other, both out in the open and hidden from sight, and it is amazing how many of these expectations are so obvious that people don’t even think about them. These expectations are really nothing more that price tags, reckonings of what will be spent for what kind of gain.

For example, Tim and Nancy have agreed to sleep only with each other. They have made a monogamy agreement. Now, when Tim doesn’t call Nancy for two days and Nancy begins to feel hurt, an unspoken expectation begins to surface. Does the fact that Tim hasn’t called for two days mean he doesn’t want to be with Nancy? Logically there is no basis to that assumption, unless there is some unspoken agreement that has been violated.

And there has. Frequent verbal contact, which provides a sense of being cared for, is a basic perk of relationships and everyone knows it on some level. Nancy has given Tim exclusive rights to her body and heart, and now Nancy expects Tim to call or make contact with her every day. Is this a legitimate expectation? Well, yes it is. A daily contact is par for the course between committed lovers and is a normal “standard of care” in a monogamous relationship (although insisting on two or more daily contacts is a different matter).

Tim’s task is to recognize and negotiate a response to this expectation. Of course, Tim needs and wants verbal contact too, but every three days works better for him. However, every three days is not the standard of care and so Tim needs to step up if he wants to keep Nancy from getting dissatisfied.

If Tim is smart he’ll agree to call her every day, but then he’ll feel like Nancy should give him something in return, like letting him control what time of day to call and how long the call will be, and that in turn is legitimate. In short, Tim and Nancy will have to cut a deal, guided by legitimate relationship standards.

Everyone has heard many times how essential good communication and compromise are to relationships—and this remains true. But we have a new take on this old advice—we’ll keep the good communication, but in place of compromise we’ll use trade. Instead of giving something up in a compromise, partners will trade for mutual gain. This creates an upward spiral of relationship wealth and prosperity. This is where the whole delicate science (and art) of negotiating a good relationship starts. Recognizing both the high value and the transactional nature of relationships is crucial to establishing one that works for you.

There are Standards to Guide Expectations

A popular misconception is that “all’s fair in love and war.” Well, I don’t know about war, but in love that’s a crock. There are definitely fair and reasonable standards of care that should be observed in love. People try to get away with outrageous stuff in relationships, mostly because they’ve think that whatever they want is legitimate. Then again, some people don’t get what’s owed to them, because they didn’t know they’re entitled. Most of these standards are just plain common sense—for instance, you shouldn’t make your partner do all of the cleaning and give nothing of equal value in return. But not all of these standards are so obvious.

One of the main tasks of this book is to lay down these standards of care—to my knowledge it has never been done before—where they can be used as a reference. For instance, it is considered standard to make contact with your partner either by phone or in person at least once daily, as we discussed. This is a standard of care that many people flout, and they shouldn’t. Standards will be discussed at length later in this book.

Your Partner is Replaceable

Yes, your precious darling, your soul-mate, the one whom you can’t live without, is replaceable. Truth to be told, there are thousands of people out there who could be a suitable mate for you, because being a good mate is not all that hard to do. Slackers must be sent packing. If your partner is not cutting the mustard, do not hesitate to “fire” him or her. Let cancelled partners know that you’ll take them back if and when they are ready to live up to standards of care. Do not be afraid to “fire” and “re-rehire” your mate as many times and as often as you need to until you get a fair deal. Later in the book we’ll outline criteria and procedures for canceling and re-starting partners.

People tend to hang on to their mates as if there was nobody else in the world to fill their shoes. Well, that’s just not true. That being said, just as you don’t just casually throw away a good automobile or a piece of valuable jewelry, the same holds true for the partner. If a partner is loyal and provides you with a reasonable standard of care and trades with you on an equitable basis, then he or she must be honored as a valuable asset and should be treated accordingly.

And yes, you are replaceable too. Don’t forget that.

It Really Is All About the Sex

It is important to establish from the outset the profound centrality of sex in the monogamous relationship. In fact, without sex the term “monogamy” becomes irrelevant. Sex must occur or a couple just doesn’t have “game.” I have heard of marriages in which the partners go for six months without sex, and I have heard of close romantic relationships between people who do not make love for any number of reasons, but these relationships are a whole different ballgame and operate under completely different rules than the standard monogamous relationship. In cases of medical impotence, illness, or in partners over 75 years old, kissing on the lips or neck adequately substitutes for sex. It must be made clear that substituting kisses for sex works only if a legitimate obstacle to sex exists. There’s no faking a sexual relationship. It is a generator of sincerity.

Sex is the basic transaction. Everyone knows this on some level but there is a fashionable tendency to downplay sex. Couples will seem to place a higher value on their friendship and emotional bond and will sometimes say that “sex isn’t that big of a deal with us anymore.” Don’t believe it. For instance, when defending him or herself against charges of infidelity, the accused lover will usually admit to “an emotional attraction” to another party, or perhaps even cop to giving money or other favors to a person of interest, but will be at pains to point out that “nothing physical happened.” This shows a tacit awareness that the physical act of sex has primacy over emotional bonding or financial considerations, which it truly does. Physically having sex crosses a line like nothing else.

Open relationships where other sex partners are brought into the mix, hidden infidelity, or threesomes or other group sexual activities immediately void a monogamous relationship and turn it into something else, in my opinion. Therefore, when thinking about sex in relationships, it is crucial to assign it a very high priority and to understand that sexual infidelity immediately voids a monogamous relationship even if the other partner isn’t aware of it.

Later sections of this book go into depth about sex and how to establish an equable sexual trade, and how to handle a broken monogamy pact. For now we brought up sex primarily to set the stage for defining a successful relationship.

How Do We Define Success in a Relationship?

There is enormous variety in the public mind about what relationships are for and what they should do. Some seek from the relationship nothing less than complete fulfillment in life; they seek to merge their identity into that of the beloved and lose themselves inside the relationship, or conversely to find an obedient and servile life-mate who will be an extension of themselves rather than a separate person. Some will give with no thought of return, while others will take with no thought of giving back. Then there are the jaded and cynical people who poke fun at monogamy and proudly avoid it because they don’t think it’s possible to achieve anything worthwhile from it.

There is a nebulous ideal in our culture that the best relationship is the one that needs no examination, that is a matter of the heart only, and that it is mystically regulated by a selfless mutual giving. In our romantic ideal, partners fulfill each other in a spontaneous out-flow of love. The partners offer their complete selves to each other and two become melded into one flesh.

On the other extreme are those who see marriage as a survival mechanism, within which they are powerless. It is entirely an economic situation, in which sex must be traded for food and shelter under duress. Monogamy is seen as a hell on earth or a necessary cross to bear.

Taking the disparities into account, one might be tempted to say that each couple must define success their own way, depending on what they want and their particular situation. This would be dead wrong. There is in fact only a single correct way to success in the love relationship, and that occurs when both partners give and receive a set of relationships services in equal measure.

Parity in a relationship is the one thing needful. Everything else is negotiable.

A successful relationship functions. A relationship is much like buying a car—you pay your money and you get a product. A car had better start up and take you from point A to point B or you’ve been ripped-off. The same applies to relationships. The successful relationship will not complete you as a man or woman, it will not by itself make you happy, and it will not merge two people into one flesh. It will get you laid and give you a nice companion who will meet some (not all) of your emotional needs. Those are the basics: the car drives from point A to point B, and the monogamous relationship gets you sex and conversation. From the basics, you can add on. .

That being said, just as owning a car can make you life a better place, so can a relationship. This addition of life-value we mentioned earlier does not, it must be remembered, spring directly from the relationship but tends to grow up around it as a side effect. And just as taking a taxi is not the same as owning your own car, monogamy is so much better than “playing the field” that there is no comparison.

The bottom line is that relationships are not really about “couples” at all—they are about separate people making a symbiotic deal. One must never lose sight of one’s individual autonomy in a relationship situation. Hard as it is, that’s the truth. It is every man (and woman) for him/herself. Once that fact has been absorbed, it actually makes it easier to reach out generously towards others. Self love is the basis of loving someone else, beyond a doubt. Only after you have your own basic survival needs under control can ask yourself: what do I have to offer to another person? Probably more than you think.

In summary: relationship success happens when two people get together, have sex exclusively with each other, talk, and trade their relationship offerings back and forth in equal measure. Ah, life can be so good when you have that going on!

The Monogamy Service Package

The “goodies” mentioned above are the things you can offer to partner. Every person brings a certain amount of “gold” (in the form of relationship services) to the bargaining table to transact the business of negotiating with a partner. These services make up a package which determines the parameters of the relationship deal. What is the package worth? The more services, the more valuable it is. A generous service package might include the following items (the first three in the box are not optional):

A monogamy pact (a mutual sexual exclusivity agreement)
Basic sexual access
Emotional support/daily verbal contact

Special sexual favors
Reproductive rights
Non-sexual touching: massage, cuddling, play
Conversation/ intellectual exchange
Financial contributions
Companionship at social functions and recreational events
Assistance with child-rearing
Assistance with household chores
Crisis management support
Investment in joint projects (portfolios, retirement, and real-estate)
Eye-Candy service (social status enhancement)
Style coaching




Take a quick mental inventory: What do you offer in your package?


When negotiating (or re-negotiating) a relationship, each partner brings their package to the table for exchange/barter on a daily/weekly/monthly/yearly basis. If all goes well, then the couple enjoys their commerce. But, if the exchange becomes unequal, resentment builds up. Everyone knows the gnawing sensation of discontent that comes when our partner doesn’t give us what we feel we deserve. Resentment is the root cause of relationship woes and can be prevented by achieving parity between partners. But, how do we do this? And how do we know when we have parity? How do we measure relationship transactions? We shouldn’t have to trust mere hunches and feelings to determine if parity is happening or not. There are ways of achieving and measuring parity, and that is what this book is all about.
Most people want to use all of their services (and receive payment back in kind), so the best partner is one who is offering a comparable package. The first step towards parity is to weed out and reject candidates who offer more services than you do or far less. If you’ve made a mistake and are in a relationship that is mismatched, then you already know you’re in trouble. It’s best to cancel these relationships (see chapter 9 on deal-breakers) rather then trying to continue them.


To Summarize Chapter One:

Relationships are a valuable commodity
Relationships are based on transactions
There are standards in relationship transactions
Your partner is replaceable (and so are you)
The most important transaction is sex
Success occurs when both partners give and receive in equal measure
Partners negotiate for equal exchange on an ongoing basis

DESIDERATA


GO PLACIDLY AMID THE NOISE & HASTE, & REMEMBER WHAT peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull & ignorant; they too have their story. *** Avoid loud & aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain & bitter; for always there will be greater & lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. (*) Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. (*) Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity & disenchantment it is perennial As the grass. (*) Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue & loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. (*) You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees & the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. (*) Therefore be a peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors & aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. (*) With all its sham, drudgery & broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy (*) (*)

FOUND IN OLD SAINT PAUL’S CHURCH, BALTIMORE; DATED 1692

Elena’s Hill
Grant Maher


Elena crawls slowly on her hands and knees up the steep grassy hill towards the spreading limbs of a huge oak tree sprouting from its crown. Limned like an oriental ink-painting against a gunmetal sky, the filigreed twigs and branches of the ancient tree fan out widely, ending in solid clumps of foliage. The whole effect is hypnotic and attractive to the girl. Elena’s wide brown eyes fix on the bulky dark bole of the main trunk as she scrabbles at the grassy earth, propelling herself up the slope one agonizing inch at a time. She must reach that tree.
But the pain, oh god, the pain; her head hurts like the times when she had bitten an ice cream cone. And what is this stuff? Around her nude limbs and torso what look like strips of linen bed-sheets tangle and drape and coil like snakes. Each movement is underwater slow, so…slow. There is so much resistance. And the young woman is tired, very tired.
“Don’t stop. Must not stop.” she whispers. A gusty wind snatches fitfully around her head like a distracted hand, and she realizes that she is alone. The iron sky, the gently rounded hill, the tree, and a wide blurry horizon in the grassy distance are her whole world. How long has she been here? She doesn’t know, but it has been perhaps a long time.
Wait, what’s that? A thin reedy voice carries on the wind, crackling with static and hard to make out. “Hispanic female, age 17… bummer… time will tell… we’ll get a repeat CT in a couple of…” Elena looks to her left, and sees two ghostly men in lab coats standing together. They fade in and out of focus like the turning of a kaleidoscope knob, then shred and blow away on the wind. Elena chokes back a cry. Come back!
A loud screaming explodes near her right ear. “Oh Dio! Oh Dio! Oh diodiodiodiodiodiodio…oh..dio…oh…dio…odiodiodiooooooo!”
The words smear together and ascend into a keening wail. A woman’s tear-streaked, swollen face appears before Elena. She is wringing her hands and bobbing back and forth. Her features convulse almost beyond recognition.
“Mom…Mom!” Elena stretches out her hand slowly. Her mother fades backwards and a man appears instead, eyes solemn and mouth compressed, dressed in a plaid shirt. “Mija,” he says softly, looking into her eyes.
“Yes Papa! I’m here, I’m here!” Elena tries to say, as Papa becomes translucent and disappears. Elena can’t muster the energy to think or feel. She must…get to the tree. Knee forward, then the arm and the hand; knee forward, then the arm, then plant the hand on the grass. Keep your eyes on the tree. How far is it, maybe a hundred yards? God, how tired she is and how frustrated with the fabric that encumbers her body! She tries to disentangle the confusing knots and twists in the sheets that are wound around her but they seem to grow only tighter. Why won’t they come off? Elena’s slim and dapper boyfriend Edgar now materializes next to her, and alongside is Omar, a classmate.
“Dude, you better hope she makes it,” Omar whispers hoarsely to Edgar, “or you’ll be in so much trouble.”
“She’ll make it,” replies Edgar, reaching towards Elena’s shoulder with a hand that becomes invisible as it gets closer and never touches her. “Won’t you baby? Yeah, you will. You have to make it. Do it for me, babe, do it for me.”
Elena motions for Edgar to help her remove the wrappings but he is already starting to flicker and recede. “I love you baby…” he says, pantomiming a kiss, and then both he and Omar disintegrate into what look like pixels on a video screen and disappear.
Elena gives up wrestling with the sheets and resumes crawling up the hill on her belly. Now she hasn’t the strength left to get up on her hands and knees. Even after a long time of crawling she doesn’t seem any closer to the tree. Elena sobs and shakes with frustration and the effort of moving.
“Elena, why are you crawling up this hill?” asks a smooth voice. A dark-haired lady in a powder-blue dress and matching high-heel pumps has appeared in front of Elena, and now crouches down beside her with an earnest expression on her kindly face. “Where ya goin’, girl?” she asks gently.
Elena thinks about this for a moment. “I don’t know. I just want to get to that tree up there.” Elena motions with her eyes towards the majestic tree.
“Ah yes, that tree,” says the woman. “It’s beautiful, of course. But look behind you, Elena. Look down the hill.” The woman places her warm hands in Elena’s armpits and gently hauls Elena around so she can see behind herself. “Tell me what’s down there.”
To Elena’s surprise, some way down the slope of the hill lays a beautiful blue lake, with a quay and a beach. How had she had missed it before? Shimmering and dancing as if seen through hot air, people swimming and sunning themselves on a sandy shoreline and a line of children waiting their turn in front of an ice cream stand are visible. Even though at a considerable distance Elena spots an old man in suspenders and a battered straw hat standing on the quay next to a little red sailboat, smiling and beckoning her to come and get into the boat.
“Grandfather…” says Elena. “My grandfather’s there with his red sailboat.”
The lady in the blue dress sweeps hair out of Elena’s face. “Yes, he certainly is. So, Elena, why don’t you just go on down the hill to him? It would be easy to get down there--just roll sideways down the hill like you did as a child and there you’ll be in a flash. Wouldn’t you like to get some ice-cream and go for a sailboat ride with your grandpa like you used to? He really misses you.”
Elena thinks for a long time, her face screwed up in concentration. “No, I have to get to the tree. I’m going to go to the tree now.” Elena groans and flops like a beached elephant seal until she until she is facing uphill and tries to creep forward again, but it’s obvious that she can’t do it; she scrabbles and grunts and writhes, trying to move her body, to no avail.
The lady in blue stands up straight and regards Elena’s struggle on the grass for a long moment, then sighs and shakes her head ruefully. She emits a soft snort, then sweeps back her own heavy dark hair with one hand and unclasps from her left ear an exquisite turquoise earring, heavy and round.
“Elena, I’ll help you get to the tree, but you must do exactly as I tell you. Will you do it?” she asks.
“Yes,” replies Elena. “I’ll do whatever you say. Please help me.”
“Here.” The lady opens Elena’s left hand and places the earring within the palm, then closes it up into a tight fist. “Don’t look at it; I’ve put an object into your hand. You must hold onto it and not open your hand for any reason. Do you understand? Do not open your left hand before you reach the tree or you’ll never make it. Keep the fist shut.”
“OK” replies Elena. “I won’t open my left hand no matter what.”
“It may hurt very, very badly,” the lady says solemnly. “Still you mustn’t open your hand. Can you do that?’
“Yes. I can do it. I will do it.” replies Elena.
“Good girl…now get going!” The lady pulls Elena up onto her hands and knees and gives her a nudge at the small of her back. “You can do it! Keep moving!”
The entangling sheets somehow fall away and Elena begins to crawl, her eyes on the bole of the great tree. The wind resumes with greater force and whips and moans around her. Keeping her left hand tightly clenched in a fist, and supporting her weight on the knuckles gorilla-style, she makes good progress. The object within her hand begins to vibrate and tingle like a cell phone on vibrate mode.
At last she’s getting close to the crown of the hill. The grass becomes shorter and more bristly. But what’s this? In her path lies a messy bundle of plain white bath towels lying on the ground as if tossed there by somebody. What are these doing here?
Elena pulls the towels apart, exposing what looks like a huge blob of strawberry jam. A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach warns her that she probably shouldn’t look at it. But she does look, and there is enough light from the steely sky to illuminate a little face peering up from down in the depths of the semi-clotted jam, a pale-pink face with flat watermelon-seed eyes that seem to hold secrets that its yet sealed slit of a mouth cannot tell.
“No, no, no, no…” murmurs Elena. The little face is topped by a bulbous translucent forehead laced with delicate blue veins and connected to a pale slug-body. Quaint pipe-stem limb buds tipped with rice-grain fingers and toes extrude outward. A pulsating waxy cord trails off down into the jelly. It’s alive, Elena thinks. Oh my God. I can’t leave this here. It will die. How can I carry it? I can’t open my hand…
Elena instinctively arrives at the only possible solution, and does not hesitate. Plunging her right hand into the red mass, she gropes and then pulls forth the dripping body, positioning it on her palm. Her first bite severs the waxy cord in a gush of warm slime. Her second takes the head, chest, and arms. She works her jaws hard, feeling rubbery proto-bones crunch like turkey gristle between her teeth. She swallows the semi-chewed chunks in several throat-stretching installments. Gouts of pulpy red liquid squirt from the sides of her mouth and drip down her chin. She almost gags. After a few deep breaths, she crams the bottom section into her mouth, chopping at the ragged hunk with savage grunting bites, jaw muscles aching from the effort. After heaving and dry-retching twice, the load decides to stay down.
Leaving the remainder of the mess behind in the towels, she crawls around and on up towards the tree, carrying the essential within her stomach. She rapidly covers at least a hundred yards, but the round object clenched in her left hand has now become burning, biting hot, stinging and smarting. She must not let go, and she will not. The tree is getting close enough now to see the striated details of its bark. Soon she’ll be under the protective canopy of its spreading branches and leaves.
OH, THE PAIN. Her left hand has been plunged into a deep-fryer. It is now massively swollen and bright red, with the redness and swelling reaching up the arm almost to her shoulder, advancing with each throb of her heart. Elena knows she will pass out from the pain at any time, and scrambles wildly the last few feet to the base of the tree, crunching over twigs and acorns on her bare knees. She lunges with her outstretched right hand and grabs a knobby old root swelling, and at the same moment her agonized left hand gives one last mighty heaving throb and explodes like a hand grenade, spattering her head and face with carpal bones and scraps of flesh. The flash of white light from the blast obscures the last thing she sees, the scarred trunk of the mighty oak. Elena screams long and loud, a movie scream, a scream to end all screams, and dies.
***
Beep…beep…beep…
Elena opens her eyes to find that she is lying on her back in bed looking at off-white ceiling tiles. An I.V pump is the source of the beeping sounds. Four women in uniforms are near her bedside, two bent intently over her left hand, manipulating it. Now there is no pain, only sensations of poking and pressure.
“God, it’s about time we got this hand open,” one nurse says. “She had it all contracted into a ball. And what the hell has been festering in there? There, see it? Pull that out.”
Something clatters to the floor and rolls under Elena’s hospital bed.
“Get that and put it in a specimen jar, and then let’s wash the crap out this hand. This is going to need antibiotics; there’s quite an infection here. No wonder the poor thing was screaming; that must hurt like hell. At least we know that she can scream now. That’s an improvement.”
Her companion reaches under the bed and comes up with a spherical turquoise earring. She wipes it with a tissue and holds it up to the light. “What a weird earring,” she remarks. “It’s like a miniature planet earth. Look, you can see all of the continents; there’s Africa. There’s South America.”
The first nurse snorts. “Well, someone around here has lost their planet in the wrong place, and I’d like to know who. Not the patient…no pierced ears, I don’t think.” She bends closer to check, and notices Elena has her eyes open and focused on her.
“Whoa, check this out. She’s waking up. Hot damn, we got to call the doctor!” she exclaims. “Can you hear me honey? Squeeze my hand if you can.” Elena squeezes the nurse’s hand with her right hand. The nurses cluster around, excited.
“Honey, you’ve been in ICU for around two weeks. We were starting to think you were never going to wake up,” the nurse tells her. “Can you understand me OK?”
Elena nods yes. She wants to say something but her mouth is incredibly dry. Where’s the tree? Where’s the hill? What has happened? She has no memory of events beyond a certain vague awareness of her life history. She has only a feeling of herself in the second person, as one would know the history of an actress. The room and people seemed insubstantial, wispy. The hospital linens seem to be the only real things. She notices how the sheets and gown encumber her body and twist around her as she tosses and turns in the bed. Her right wrist is tied and fettered with a cloth restraint “to keep you from pulling out your I.V.” The fetter prevents her from bending her right arm, and bothers her more than anything else. Her left hand is soon swathed in a bulky bandage.
Later in the day, after her parents, her doctor, and Edgar have visited, Elena’s settles into a fitful sleep. Nobody has told her anything, only variations on “You’ve been very sick, but we’re so happy that you’re getting better. Now get your rest, dear.” Now she is alone with the machines, the nurses, and the X-ray technicians. Late that night, a new dark-haired nurse in powder blue scrubs pays Elena a visit. After hanging an IV medication, the nurse turns on a light over the bed and props a newspaper against the inner side rail of the bed. She goes over to where a specimen jar sits on a shelf, removes a turquoise sphere, and after wiping it down with an alcohol swab, places it on her left ear to match the one dangling from her right. At the doorway to Elena’s cubicle she turns back briefly. “Carpe diem, dear--make use of the day,” she says to Elena with a smile, and then she’s gone.
Turning her head, Elena can make out the print on the paper and begins to read. A headline catches her eye.

San Jose Teen in Coma after Abortion

Seventeen year old student Elena Gutierrez lies in a coma at San Jose Medical Center and is expected to succumb from injuries sustained from an illegal abortion allegedly performed in the back room of a downtown apartment.
Gutierrez, a high school junior, allegedly had been desperate to end her four-month pregnancy but had “waited too long” according to Dr. Barry Hicks of San Jose Medical Center. “Nobody will do a late term abortion on a juvenile without parental permission, which she apparently didn’t have,” Dr. Hicks stated.
According to police detective Dale Jones of the San Jose Police, an unknown party then attempted the procedure illegally and botched the job—the teen had been carrying twins and only one of the fetuses was removed. Sepsis then set in, leading to meningitis, kidney failure, and finally coma, which has persisted for two weeks. The young woman is now expected to succumb to massive infection. “She’s a fighter, though,” remarks Dr. Hicks. “She has survived far beyond where we thought she would, or where anyone could be expected to survive.”
Incredibly, the remaining twin, a boy, clings to life in Elena’s womb. “When she dies we’ll have a double murder on our hands” said Officer Jones. “We need to get a message out there that illegal abortions that kill are prosecuted as murders and will have heavy consequences.”
No suspects have been identified so far in the case but police are questioning the victim’s eighteen year-old boyfriend, Edgar Morales, for possible leads. “This case shocks and saddens the whole community; a lot of things have to go wrong to produce a tragedy like this. Elena obviously slipped through some cracks, and we need to find and fix these cracks before someone else comes to grief,” said Jones. Anyone with information on this case should call the San Jose Police. Tips may be left anonymously.

Elena rubs her abdomen. So, I am not alone, she thinks. That’s O.K by me. That’s fine. I will make use of the day. Elena feels a prickle of joy, a tingling on her skin like sunlight, an alien but dimly remembered sensation that she thinks that she can get used to again. “Someday, maybe we’ll have a home by a lake, near an oak tree on a hill,” she whispers to her companion.