Meri (The Two Moons of Rehnor)

by J. Naomi Ay

"I think so," Sister Moon replied. "For as long as we keep him."

  "Then we will keep him until they want him back," the Father declared. The next week, the Father had a new speeder. It was shiny and red with rich leather and polished wood inside. It looked very expensive. He wanted me to sit in it with him. He wanted me to pleasure him while he drove it around. I did because he was the Father and I was so ugly no other man would want me. If he threw me out on the street I would have nowhere to go and be forced to pleasure other men who were worse than him. This is what he told me when his leavings were in my mouth, and I wished to spit them out on the fine carpet of his new speeder.

  When I came back to the orphanage, I went to the baby room and found Senya crying. He sobbed silently, his little body heaving but making no sound. There was a red welt across his back. "Who did this?" I demanded of Sister Lena.

  "Sister Moon," she said. "Sister Moon says he is destroying too many socks and wasting our precious cloth. She says he is to have cold feet all winter. He shall have no more socks."

  "But why did she hit him?" I asked, picking him up and holding him tight until he stopped crying. He put his hand on my face and nuzzled my neck.

  "He looked at her with his wicked eyes and she said she felt dizzy because of it and nearly fell down. He is possessed she says, but the Father says he must stay here so we cannot throw him out in the gutter."

  I wondered if I could take Senya and run away. I would have to pleasure anyone who would give me money and how many would want one as ugly as me? I would have liked a real job. Once I knew how to type and could speak well and answer a vid and perhaps put together things with my hands. There were no jobs like that anymore. There were no jobs for anyone because Mishnah was broke. There were only jobs for men who joined the guards and women who worked as maids in the Palace. I could not do that because I was a woman with a broken back and burned face.

  It was a cold winter, and there was not much food. The money from the purse had been spent on the Father's new speeder and his fine clothes and jewelry. The children cried because they were hungry and cold, and the old radiators spat and hissed, but little warmth came from them. Senya's little feet were always cold, and when I was with him I wrapped them in rags, but someone else always took them off. Senya sat in his crib and held the bottle himself. He was getting big, and his face was taking shape.

  "He looks more and more like a Karut," Lena said beside me. "He looks like Prince Sorkan."

  "He does," I agreed, admiring his handsome little face. "But pale."

  "Maybe he'll get darker over time," Lena thought. "Did you give him this bottle? It's not time for him to eat." She took it away. Senya opened his mouth to protest.

  "I didn't," I said. "He was already drinking it when I came here."

  "Well I wonder how he got it then," Lena frowned and just as she did so, the bottle went flying out of her hand and back into Senya's.

  Lena and I both screamed.

  Senya popped the bottle back in his mouth and gave us a big smile.

  "How did he do that?" Lena whispered, her eyes giant saucers.

  "I don't know," I whispered back. "Do you think that's how he got the bottle from the warmer?" We both looked at the warmer as if it could speak to us. Lena turned back and snatched the bottle out of Senya's grasp again. He opened his mouth in a silent howl. Lena ran across the room and put it on the warmer table.

  "You want it, Senya?" she challenged. "Then take it."

  Senya pulled himself up by the bars on his crib and held out his little hands. The bottle flew across the room right into them. He fell back on his bottom and sucked triumphantly.

  "Don't say a word of this to anyone," I begged Lena.

  "Blessed Saint," Lena collapsed in a chair. "What is he?"

  "Please Lena, please! I'll do anything. Don't let them throw him out on the street!" I was on my knees before her.

  "Okay," she said, narrowing her eyes and smiling wickedly. "Forever and ever you will be doing the diapers, Meri."

  "I will, I will," I promised.

  Senya laughed. It was the first noise we had heard from him. I ran to him and gathered him in my arms.

  "You little devil," I cried, and he laughed some more.

  "Mayhap, he really is," Lena snorted and walked away.

  We lost four babies from the baby room including our one little girl. There was a fever going around, and the diapers were endless and messy. Our one year olds and two year olds were sick too, and I was forever dumping buckets filled with loose and foul smelling stools. Our two year olds were messing their pants, but we did not punish them because several of them had died, as well. Our building was cold, and the snow and frost outside made it impossible to open the windows and bring in fresh air. The children burned with fever and then shook with chills. I wrapped and rewrapped as many as I could, but there were not enough of us Sainted Ladies here to take care of them. There was sickness in the city, too, and bodies lay in the gutters where ever you walked. Our dead children joined them waiting for the coroner's van to collect them.

  Three times a day I checked on Senya and each time he stood and greeted me with a smile. He called me by name now and jumped up and down yelling 'Meri, Meri, Meri' when I came in. He didn’t get sick like the other babies even though his feet were like ice every time I checked them.

  The spring came, and Senya was moved to the one year old room. I did not think he was quite that old because he had only four tiny teeth. He could stand well on his own and feed himself with his hands and he was hungry and wanted more food than all the bottles in the warmer. I gave him a spoon, but he banged it on the table top and hit himself in the face with it. Though we had lost many from our nursery, many more were coming having lost their parents during the winter freeze. Our baby room was crowded, and we had to move out anyone who could manage in a chair for now.

  Senya sat in the chair like the other one year olds. Most of them sat quietly or slept, laying their little heads down on their table tops sometimes right into their food. Senya didn’t like it. By summer, he was climbing out as quickly as anyone could put him back in. Some of the other boys followed his example and in no time they were running about the room knocking over the buckets and creating a nasty mess. They were all punished soundly, and their poor little bottoms were red and swollen for days and days. Senya didn’t learn, though. He continued to climb out, and now Sister Flower locked him in the closet.

  The closet was exactly that, two feet this way and two feet that with a small door at the bottom to crawl in and out.

  "I have never used the closet for one so young," Sister Flower said as she carried the squirming Senya. "But this one is beyond any other punishment." She opened the door and shoved him through, swatting his bottom soundly. "Don't mess in there," she called. "Or you shall have to sit in it for many days." The door slammed shut, and she locked it with the key.

  I cried myself to sleep that night worrying about my poor baby locked in that tiny dark space. As frigid as the winter was, the summer burned with heat and in that tiny closet, he could be roasted alive.

  The next day, Flower opened the door and pulled him out. He glared at her with his silver eyes and then held out his fat little arms to me.

  "You are too kind to him," Flower spat at me. "He is a horrid little Karut that should be thrown out on the street."

  "Come baby," I said and fetched him a glass of water because he was too old now for a bottle though I would dearly have loved to sit with him on my lap; his head against my breast, watching him suck the bottle and pat my face as he did so. Senya returned to his chair but still he did not like it and climbed out again and again. The boys watched him but did not follow. Senya was returned to the closet again and again throughout the summer.

  One day in the last month of summer, a man called upon us. Sister Moon sent for me.

  "This fine gentleman is here to see Senya," Sister Moon said, and I saw in her hand was another purse.

  "Do you mean to adopt h
im?" I asked meekly for this gentleman was dressed in fine clothes and looked very wealthy. He was big with white blonde hair and very pale skin. I wished for Senya to be adopted by such a fine man, but my heart would be broken, too.

  "It is none of your business, Sister," Moon snapped at me. "Go fetch the brat."

  Senya was in the closet, and so I had to first convince Flower to release him. I ran back and forth to Flower and Moon before the door was opened and then Senya crawled out. He was sweaty and covered in dust for the closet was never cleaned. I feared the fine gentleman would be distressed to see him in such a condition, so I quickly took him and bathed him. I dressed him in the clothes of a two year old, little pants and a shirt for he was certainly big enough and I was certain the gentleman did not wish to see him dressed only in our one year old sheath. I brushed Senya's hair, which was thick and wavy, and shiny black like all Karuts. Then I took his hand, and we walked to the foyer where the fine gentleman sat waiting on a bench. He stood as we approached and looked down at the boy appraisingly. Then he squatted down on his haunches and held out his hand.

  "Hello Senya," he said.

  Senya clutched my hand tightly but opened his eyes and gazed with his silver light upon the man. The gentleman raised his eyebrows and glanced briefly at me before turning his eyes back upon the boy.

  "Are you a good boy, lad?"

  "Not at all," Sister Moon cackled. "He is a challenge to all of us."

  Senya hid behind my skirt. He didn’t like Sister Moon.

  "Come now, Meri," Sister Moon scolded. "Make him stand before our lord sir."

  I pushed Senya out from behind me and held him by the shoulders. The man touched the boy's cheek and ran his hand across the soft shiny hair. Then he nodded and rose. "Thank you." He turned to leave, but Senya had let go of me and instead held his arms up for the man. "Ah, my son," the man said and picking up Senya, he hugged him tightly. There were tears in his eyes. "I can't take you with me now. You have to stay here."

  "Are you his father?" I asked. Could it be his mother was the Karut?

  "I must go," the gentleman replied, handing Senya back to me. The boy perched on my hip and held his hand up in a little wave. The gentleman didn’t respond to my question.

  As winter approached again, Senya was moved to the two year old room even though he had been with us slightly longer than a year and was probably only a few months older than one. He could toilet, dress, and feed himself with a spoon, so he did not need to sit in a chair or be tended to all day. My time was spent primarily with the infants and the ones, and so I did not see him often. He still spent an inordinate amount of time in the closet. He never complained when going in but rather seemed to prefer not to come out. He did not speak except to call me by name. Sister Moon feared he was of small brain and would never speak or learn a productive trade. He was beautiful though and everyone who gazed upon him agreed. This was unfortunate for him. As soon as he was old enough, he would be put to work in a trade where his beauty and silence were the only requirements.

  As for me, the Father traded my favors with his friends in exchange for money or possessions. During the food shortage of the winter, I was traded for two loaves of bread. He said of me that I was ugly, but was good with my hands and mouth and, therefore, worth more than a few pennies. The money from the gentleman's summer purse was spent on more beautiful women, wines and chocolates and of course, a newer speeder.

  The fine gentleman came every summer, and each time brought another purse. He stayed not more than a few moments, asking Senya of his health and whether or not he had been good. Senya did not speak and not since that first year did he wish to be held or hugged. He gazed warily with his brilliant eyes and nodded in response to the gentleman's questions.

  Our adoption day took place in the spring. We bathed and dressed our children in clothes kept just for this day. Then we lined them up in their rooms, which were scrubbed clean, and couples looking for a child came through. All the girls were adopted on this day and some of the boys. Senya was sent to the closet. Year after year, I looked for him in each room and only when it was over, and all the new families had gone home did I find him. The Father didn’t want him adopted, Sister Moon told me. That would mean the end of his rich purses.

  When Senya was with us six years, he was taken to the school room. He did not speak for the sister there and so it was decided that indeed he was of small brain and could not learn. I was fearful now. There was only one place he would go and already I saw the Father smiling and asking of him. The Father flush in new robes purchased with the coins from gentleman's latest purse called me to him one evening and bid me bring Senya. It was winter again, and there was snow on the ground and the windows were covered in ice that seeped through and left puddles on the floors of the nursery. I fetched Senya and holding his hand walked with him through the back corridors to the Father's study. I had been here many times, and at this hour I knew it would come to no good. I considered running away. I could steal a coat and some shoes for Senya for still he wore nothing on his poor ugly feet. We could run out into the snow and find shelter for the night and in the morning run far enough away from this place that we might come upon somewhere else to begin a new life. Perhaps I could take him all the way across the continent and from there take a boat to Karupatani and bring him to those people who surely would recognize him as one of their own. I did nothing though. I led him toward the back rooms because I was weak of heart and soul. My own body ached from the chill in the air which seeped into the marrow of my bones. I had no strength to run. I was weak and complied.

  "There he is," the Father said, opening the door of his great office. A fire burned in his hearth and instantly warmed my bones. There was brandy in cups upon a tray, and other foods, but I knew they were not for me. The Father gazed fondly at the boy as we entered and reached out to touch his beautiful black hair. Senya shirked away. The Father laughed.

  "Let me teach you something, child," he said taking Senya's hand from my own and pulling him to the sofa. "You are too stupid to learn books. You are so dumb you cannot even speak. You are obviously of Karut blood and lower than a dog, and this is why your family pays me handsomely to hide their shame. You are beautiful, and because of that you may live, but there is naught you can do in this life save one thing. Meri and I will teach you how to do this and I will reward you. Isn't that right, Meri?"

  "Yes milord," I replied even though my heart was trembling. Senya turned his silver gaze upon me and his brow furrowed.

  "Come now," the Father said, pulling tightly to Senya's hand. "See what I have here." He opened his robes to reveal his great and ugly manhood and placed Senya's little hand upon it. "Meri, teach the boy what he must do." Senya tried to pull away, but the Father held him fast. "You have one of these too, little Senya." The Father reached for the boy's crotch. "Yours is still small, but if I stroke it the same as you stroke me, we can make it stand tall, too."

  Senya shook his head frantically and pushed himself away.

  "Meri!" the Father ordered. "Make him obey, or I shall beat him."

  "No!" I cried. "Please Senya. Do as the Father says." I had been beaten by the Father's belt, and the pain lasted for days. This would all be over in a few moments as the Father was aged and had not the stamina of a younger man. I grasped Senya and pushed him close into the Father's embrace. The Father shoved his hand into the boy's pants, and Senya shrieked like an animal.

  "Ah, there it is, and a very nice one, too," the Father said. "Come Meri; show him what you can do with mine." I knelt before him and took him in my mouth. "See child, this is what you must learn to do. You will be very popular if you can pleasure as well as Meri. Good Sister Meri."

  Senya screeched again and lashed out with his hands. He scratched the Father's face leaving long, deep tracks that seeped with blood. The Father roared. He slapped the boy hard sending him flying across the room. He hit me too though I was only doing my best to pleasure him. I fell down against the floor.
Senya scrambled to his feet, and though he was quick, the Father trapped him and pushed him down.

  "So you don't like it that way, Karut?" the Father hissed, ripping the trousers off the child. "Maybe you'll like it better this way. Are you pretty like a girl?"

  "No," I screamed. "No milord, please don't do that." I threw myself upon the Father's back and pounded at him, but he shoved me away as I was weak and inconsequential. Senya cried and made horrible screeching noises, but I was powerless to help him. I closed my eyes and covered my ears, so I was not witness to this. I called to the Saint, and his Blessed Being shone upon me and compelled me to open my eyes again. My eyes searched the room as if they no longer belonged to me for I could not control where they looked. They seized upon the hearth, the fire burning brightly and the poker which stood immediately to the side. I believed I could grab the poker. I could take it and hit the Father across his back. I could hit his head. I clambered to my feet, but I faltered because I was weak and the Father had fed me and kept me warm and safe all these years. I was ashamed of myself for my weakness. I fell again to my knees, and I wept and prayed to the Saint for strength. As I wept, I saw the poker moving of its own accord, releasing itself from its holder and flying across the room. I saw it dive at the Father, pierce him and I heard him scream in agony as it became lodged in his body. His body collapsed, and blood poured from him. Senya scrambled out from beneath the Father. The silver light shone from his eyes as bright as the fire and for a moment, the face I had cherished since first I held him was unknown to me. For a moment, I saw the devil himself reflected therein and then it was gone, and I saw only my Senya. His was bleeding.

  "Go in the washroom there!" I said and pointed to the door. I knelt down beside the Father. His eyes were open and wept as he dribbled blood from between his lips.

  "Help me Meri," he pleaded. He could not move. He was impaled upon the fireplace poker which flew across the room as the bottles flew from the warmer years ago when Senya was an infant. I realized now I had no choice. We had to run out into the snow and as far away as possible. I scrambled to the Father's closets and looked for a cloak to wrap Senya and something for me, as well. When the boy emerged again from the washroom, I had found pins to hold his trousers together, a heavy fur lined cloak with a hood that hid his face and large fur lined boots that would not be destroyed by his claw like toenails. For myself, I had taken several blankets from the bed and three gold coins that lay upon the table there. I helped Senya with his boots and cloak and then taking his hand, I led him to the door at the rear of the chamber although the Father with a weak and gasping breath cried for our help