The Women Who Marry Ghosts

The River

Uperi snapped awake with a gasp as if someone had pressed a blade to her throat. Morning had passed, verging on noon. She shook her head, digging the heel of her palm into her eye. Dreams still clung to her. She pressed a hand to her stomach, then lower. She stretched -- and then remembered her dream.

Her hands flew to her mouth. Could it have been real? The soreness of her loins implied it was possible. But when she tried to remember his face it was like trying to hold wisps of smoke in her hand. He and Apo had looked so much alike.

The doubt and the disdain from yesterday melted into nothing, or nearly nothing. She felt like she needed to apologize to each and every ghost wife. If their ghost husbands were as attentive, as soft as Apo's brother had been --

Perhaps I was wrong about him, she mused, remembering the heat and the need. Maybe Apo's brother is a good man, now that he is dead. He had certainly treated her like -- like -- Uperi's mind struggled for a comparison. The only thing she could think of was like how people cleared a path for the Seer, or how they sung their devotions to the sun after the rainy season and the rain after the long summers. She closed her eyes.

Translucent memories like butterfly wings. Half-finished fingertip kisses. Uperi wished she could remember more. She wanted to deepen the memories so she could swim inside them like silken pools. But not now. Now, she needed answers.

She threw on her clothes, wrenched the hut's flaps aside, and bolted across the village. A few watched in amusement, wives and mothers, husbands and fathers, remembering their own confusion and excitement.

When Uperi entered Apo's hut, Mehter looked up and then smiled. The two embraced, forehead to forehead in silent greeting.

Decorum stipulated that Uperi begin with some nonsensical small talk -- the cows, the crops, the rain, or lack thereof -- but she couldn't. Not in general, but especially not today.

"They weren't lying," Uperi blurted. Mehter sat down on a mat and pulled her stone mortar and pestle to her.

"Who?" Apo's first wife asked.

"The women who marry ghosts."

Mehter motioned for Uperi to hand her the jug of dried corn.

"What do they have to lie about?" Mehter asked, handing her the other pestle.

"Their children – their husbands–"

"I didn't give you the pestle for you to just hold it," Mehter admonished. Uperi sat next to her friend and began grinding the corn into meal.

"Ghosts can–" Uperi couldn't look at her friend, and couldn't finish her sentence. Mehter slowly stopped working. Uperi at a loss for words was nothing short of concerning. "I'm trying to tell you Apo's brother visited me last night."

"Of course he did." Mehter resumed grinding, seeming a bit relieved. Like, Oh, is that all? "He is your husband. What did you think husbands did on their wedding nights?" Uperi flushed. "Don't tell me you were surprised by the wedding night's activities. I warned you well."

"I just..." Uperi tapped the pestle uselessly. "I can't believe it." It can't be true. It can't be. But the memories from last night -- Uperi had never been more certain. But still. She had spent most of her life not believing. Scorning belief, even.

Uperi wanted to be more honest with her friend, but she knew Mehter's beliefs. It would be an insult to question them in her own home.

Mehter tutted, reading Uperi's thoughts, as usual.

"What's so hard to believe? Apo's brother needed a wife to be at peace. We gave him one so he performed his husbandly duties." Her friend bumped her on the shoulder. "Did he perform them well?" Uperi was still stammering an attempt at a reply when Swesor ducked into the hut.