Morgan headed home, fresh from another brisk game of basketball with the militia. To his relief, Mapula was back to treating him as one of the girls. Things were stable again.
His friends were stable, at least. Within sight of his home, Mari Maldashi's farm was swarming with heavy machinery piloted by uniformed workwomen, backed up by a mob of hired hands. One week ago, Mari had confirmed that there was a copper seam beneath her farm, and now she was hiring working machines and working women, throwing around money as though she was already rich. They clustered around a stone-lined hole in the ground where her tomato garden had been. The surrounding ground had not been disturbed, but still Morgan had to cringe. The soil must not have liked being violated, especially after Mari had taken such good care of it before. Farmland was sacred, just like anything else, and it occurred to him for the first time that Mari might not respect that. He resolved to watch her for the next few weeks.
At home, he went through his usual shower routine, then stood idly by the table, picking cheese and crackers out of the snack bowl. A few minutes later, his father appeared from the kitchen. There was an unusual look of purpose on his face.
"Dad?" said Morgan. "What's wrong?"
His father must have realized how he looked, because he lightened his expression immediately. "Son," he said, "I just heard one of the girls from basketball asked you out last week, and you turned her down. Is that true?"
Morgan decided not to ask who had told him that. "Yes, it's true. Is that a problem?"
"I only wanted to know why. She's one of the militia, right? She'd be perfect for you. What's wrong with her?"
"What would the others think? If I had said 'yes,' her sister would have felt insulted because I chose Mapula instead of her, and Sami might be upset too. Mapula is a sweet girl, but I don't want to ruin my friendships just for her."
"You could marry them all, you know."
The words hit Morgan like a bee sting. "Dad!" he snapped. "I'm not a polygamist! I don't care what other boys say. A wife deserves better."
"It's just an option. No need to ruffle your feathers," said Graham gently. "All I'm saying is, you've got to keep your priorities straight, make some long-range plans. If you don't, you're going to miss out on the girl of your dreams, and I don't want that for you. So can you promise me you'll be careful who you turn down?"
Morgan sighed. He did not like to look at the future. At age seventeen, his looks and his availability earned him an endless supply of female attention. But as soon as he married, all of that would vanish, and other women would regard him with cold, respectful distance. He would be alone.
But his father was making sense. "I promise," he said. "I won't turn a girl down lightly."
Morgan's father patted him on the back. "Good man."
They ate quietly for a few minutes, then Morgan's mother showed up, a fresh cut running across her forearm.
"What happened to you?" asked Morgan's father.
"I'm fine," she said curtly. "I just caught myself on the paneling on the garage."
Morgan drew in a breath through clenched teeth. He had done the same, and it was not a pleasant memory.
"That looks bad," said his father, standing up. "Susie, come here..." He followed his wife into the bathroom, leaving Morgan alone with the cheese crackers.
When his parents returned with Susan's arm bandaged, they set to work preparing dinner, his mother putting together manioc salad with vegetable stew and his father setting the table. Morgan helped as always, even though there was little room for a third pair of hands.
