The Sparrow - Mary Doria Russell [181]
"Well, there is a certain logic to it all. Emilio, you seemed to have guessed correctly that Askama is a little girl. Fifty-fifty chance, and you won the toss. The trick is that Chaypas is Askama’s mother, not Manuzhai. Yes, indeed, darlings!" Anne said when they stared at her in shock. "I’ll come back to that in a minute. Anyway, Supaari says that the Runa females are the ones who do all the business for the village. Listen to this, Sofia, this is really cool. Their pregnancies are fairly short and they aren’t much inconvenienced by them. When the baby is born, mom hands the little dear over to daddy and goes back about her business without missing a beat."
"No wonder I couldn’t make sense of the gender references!" Emilio said. "So Askama is in training to be a trader, and that’s why they think I am also female. Because I’m the formal interpreter for our group, yes?"
"Bingo," said Anne. "And Jimmy, they think, is our mom because he’s the only one big enough to seem like a full-grown female. That’s why they always ask him to make decisions for us, maybe. They only think he’s asking D.W.’s opinion to be polite, I guess." Yarbrough snorted, and Anne grinned. "Okay, now here’s the neat part. Manuzhai is Chaypas’s husband, right? But he is not Askama’s genetic father. Runa ladies marry gentlemen they believe will be good social fathers, as Manuzhai is. But Supaari says their mates are chosen using"—she cleared her throat—"an entirely separate set of criteria."
"They pick out a good stud," D.W. said.
"Don’t be crude, dear," Anne said. Chaypas and her guests decided to go to Aycha’s to eat and suddenly the apartment emptied out. When they were alone, Anne leaned forward and continued conspiratorially. "But yes, that was certainly the implication. I must say, the custom has a certain rude appeal. Theoretically, of course," she added when George pouted.
"So why are they only ’pretty sure’ I’m a male?" George asked petulantly, his manhood under oblique attack from two quarters.
"Well, aside from your virile good looks, my love, they have also noted how wonderful you are with the children," Anne said. "On the other hand, you don’t show much interest in collecting blossoms, so they’re a little confused by you, actually. Same for Marc and D.W. and me. They think I might be a male because I do most of the cooking. Maybe I’m sort of the daddy? Oh, Jimmy, maybe they think you and I are married! Obviously, they don’t have a clue about relative ages."
Emilio had become increasingly thoughtful and D.W., watching him, began to chuckle. Emilio didn’t laugh at first, but he came around.
"What?" Anne asked. "What’s so funny?"
"I’m not sure funny is the word," D.W. said, right eye on Emilio, one brow up speculatively.
Emilio shrugged. "Nothing. Only: this notion of separating the roles of genetic father and social father would have been useful in my family."
"Might have saved some wear and tear on your sorry young ass," D.W. agreed.
Emilio laughed ruefully and ran his hands through his hair. Everyone was looking at him now, curiosity plain on their faces. He hesitated, probing old wounds, and found them scabbed over. "My mother was a woman of great warmth and a lively nature," he told them, choosing his words carefully. "Her husband was a handsome man, tall, strong. Brunette but very light-skinned, yes? My mother was also very fair." He paused to let them absorb this; it didn’t take a geneticist to work out the implications. "My mother’s husband was out of town for a few years—"
"Doing time for possession and sale," D.W. supplied.
"—and when he returned, he found he had a second son, almost a year old. And very dark." Emilio sat still then, and the room was quiet. "They did not divorce. He must have loved my mother very much." This had never occurred to him before and he had no idea how he should feel about it. "She was charming, yes? Easy to love, Anne might say."
"So you took the blame for her," Anne said astutely, hating the woman for letting it happen and silently berating God for giving this