“Yes, she would become a wasted woman.”
Marie felt sick at the mere idea of condemning someone to that fate. Women sent to waste plants were called wasted, marked with serial numbers on their arms like the men, and forced to live away from civilization. They lost contact with the rest of the world and died there, forgotten. Even their families gave them up for dead once sentenced to serve in a waste plant. “I won’t say anything.”
Verena nodded at her words.
“What are you doing there? Come here!” Cina called them from under the gazebo, bright eyes and a big smile on her face. “You missed the best already. Come on.”
“Don’t worry,” Marie said to Verena and then went to join the rest of the crowd.
Cina and Laila moved out of the way to make space for the two of them and Marie resigned herself to stay until the very end of the night, although the only desire she had was to climb four flights of stairs and jump in her bed. She laughed, gasped, and cried with everybody else, but her mind wasn’t there. Verena kept sending her glances, but Marie couldn’t meet her eyes.
Once back in her room, Marie undressed facing the wall, avoiding Verena. She wanted to ask if those kinds of things happened often at Redfarm and if she knew of anybody who’d been caught and sent to a waste plant. But she didn’t. Somehow, just asking seemed inappropriate and Madame Carla had raised her right. She wasn’t that kind of girl. “I need a shower.”
“Now? Weren’t you just too tired to hang with the girls after the stories?” Verena repeated what she had just told Cina and Laila when they had asked if they wanted to join them for a late snack down in the kitchen. Apparently, it was something they did often after those celebrations.
Marie understood why. Tomorrow could be the last day at Redfarm for some of them. Tomorrow could be the last day here for Verena. “You should’ve gone without me.”
“I’m not in the mood.” Verena was at the desk, looking outside at the dark night. The roofs glinted under the moonlight.
Marie saw a tear glide down Verena’s cheek, but the girl didn’t seem to notice it and let it fall on the desk where it landed heavily. Marie decided to follow Verena’s clue and pretended to have seen nothing. “You won’t be picked tomorrow. You’ll see.” She didn’t know why she felt the urge to say something she couldn’t possibly know, but the words were out already.
“Thank you.” Verena turned to face her. “Go take your shower.”
“Are you sure…?” Marie had always been clumsy with words and feelings. Now she felt useless and wanted nothing more than leave. Still, she had a conscience.
“Sure. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone for a few minutes.” Verena’s eyes were already looking for a faraway place outside of the window.
Marie exited the room in silence and went directly to the bathroom, her mind a chaos of discorded thoughts. She wondered what her roommate was thinking. She had never worried about the chance of being a donor. At the Institute, they never talked of such things. The mere topic was considered inappropriate conversation. But here, in the real world, fathered women were used to procreate men—the idea made her shiver, and by association, the recent memory of the intertwined couple popped in uninvited. Or maybe it had been there all along, eager to be acknowledged. She tried to push it away under a jet of cold water, but her body didn’t seem to cool down. She stayed there, blue extremities and racing heart. The way Carnia had leaned against Grant. The man’s bright green eyes. The surprise he showed at seeing her looking at them.
What did you see, Grant? Did you recognize me? A strange fluttering broke havoc in her stomach. Marie couldn’t understand why she was asking herself such questions. She couldn’t understand why she recognized him so easily when he should’ve been just a nameless man to her. But as hard as she tried to divert her mind somewhere else, the image of Carnia cradled by Grant’s arms stood before her eyes long after her shower was done. She lay in bed, sleepless for hours. Flustered by the erratic directions her thoughts were heading without her consent, she finally decided to go downstairs and see if anyone was still around. Verena had left while Marie tried to wash away the day’s grime and hadn’t come back. Hoping to find her in the kitchen, Marie put on the first thing she found in the dim illumination provided by the small night-light by the door and went out again.
The stairs were silent. Not a sound echoed from downstairs. Maybe they’re being quiet. Madame Lana couldn’t be aware of those impromptu parties. Madame Carla would have never authorized late-hour celebrations. The elders enforced curfew hours with great zeal. Unnerving silence accompanied Marie until she reached the kitchen and she knew before entering that the place was deserted. A single, forgotten lamp barely lit the large room. It scarcely illuminated the corner of the sink and the small area where someone had left a few dishes and mugs to dry. Not sure of what to do, she walked toward it and hit the leg of one of the tables in the middle of the room. The sudden, sharp pain made her curse out loud. Angry tears filled her eyes, but she refused to cry. Instead, she pulled a chair out and sat, head lowered on the unpleasantly cold surface of the table. She had never liked marble. The pure breed cemetery in Trin was filled with rows and rows of marble headstones. It didn’t matter that the different colors or the veins crisscrossing every slate made them different; marble always reminded her of death.
The next morning, the girl on cleaning duty woke her by unceremoniously poking her folded arms with the tip of the broom. “Partying the whole night, useless the day after. Don’t think for a moment you’ll be exempt from your duty.”
“What…?” Marie could barely open her eyes, a series of images still playing in her mind. The girl poked her again viciously and Marie yelped. “No need for that.” She stood up and wobbled on unsteady legs.
“How drunk are you?” The girl looked around, her expression disappointed when she couldn’t find the proof of her suspicion. “I got sorted to clean and I miss Donor Day when this idiot gets lucky,” she muttered under her breath.
“I didn’t drink at all.” Do they also get drunk here? Marie steadied herself, planting her hands on the back of the chair. “I’m only tired.” Thank the Goddess I got to sleep some.
“I don’t believe you.” The girl’s eye narrowed and Marie could almost see what she was thinking.
I’m not going to convince you, am I? Marie waited patiently, knowing what was going to happen next.
“I’ll go tell Madame Lana I found you hung over and out of your room.”
Just say it and get it over with. Marie maintained her gaze on the girl, her mouth closed in a straight line.
“Aren’t you worried about Madame Lana knowing what you’ve done?” The girl didn’t like Marie not cowering before her suggested threat.
“I’ve done nothing.” Marie moved her weight to the balls of her feet, rocking back and forth to reestablish blood circulation in her legs.
“Madame Lana won’t see it that way once I tell her.” The girl was getting angry at Marie’s attitude.
Legs working again and the painful tingling gone, she looked at the girl. “What do you want?”
“I won’t tell if you volunteer for me.”
Of course. “I’ll do it.” She didn’t want to go to Donor Day in the first place, and what better excuse than being blackmailed for cleaning duty? She didn’t want to be present at the ceremony and face Verena if she got picked.
The girl eyed her suspiciously but passed Marie the broom and instructed her on what to say if somebody asked. Marie memorized the message, repeated it for the girl, and then took possession of the broom. She started sweeping the floor, unable to hide the small smile tugging at her lips, but lowered her face before the girl could see her.
Two hours later, she was far from finishing all the chores the girl had seen fit to bestow upon her, but the kitchen was still empty. A few minutes earlier, she had heard the bell calling everybody outside to gather in the courtyard to participate in the ceremony. Oh, Verena… A feelin
g of hollowness possessed her at the idea of losing her newly acquired friend to a terrible fate. What’s going to happen to you? Idra once had said that she would’ve killed herself before being touched by a man. Marie had nervously laughed at her words and told her not to be daft. The memory made her shiver. One look at the board where all her chores were appointed in neat writing and she groaned out loud. I won’t ever get done. Out of the blue, she felt a sudden craving for that piece of marzipan she had meant to smuggle the day before. I shouldn’t go back to the cellars. The more she said no to herself the more the aromatic sweetness called her until she was salivating at the mere idea of placing a piece of marzipan on her tongue.
A last gaze at the board and the sheer magnitude of the chores waiting for her left Marie thinking ten minutes wouldn’t make any difference. “Nobody will notice I’m gone anyway.” She reassured herself with a nod. She entered the cellars a moment later, having run the steps three at a time. She walked straight to the shelf where the sweets were stored and grabbed a big chunk of almond paste from a rectangular mold. The marzipan was in her mouth and she was already going for a second helping.
“You’re not going to betray another woman, are you?”
She spun around, mouth hanging open, marzipan spilling from her lips. Grant was a few steps behind her, staring unblinkingly at her. Shocked she hadn’t heard him coming, her heart started racing in fear.
“You won’t, right?” He closed the gap between them, forcing Marie to step back, only to be stopped by the hard edge of the shelf behind her. Grant towered over her and his proximity was menacing.
“Are you going to hurt me?” One look at him and she was already shaking.
“Hurt you?” His eyes finally registered a glimpse of a feeling.
He’s angry. Marie nodded to answer his question.
“I’m not a woman.” His voice was low and carried such contempt that Marie wished she had never thought of stealing the marzipan. “Are you going to betray your friend?” he repeated.
“She’s no friend of mine.” Wrong answer. The fury in his eyes flared and she closed hers, waiting for him to beat her or do something worse. Every time some of the younger girls tried to escape the strict rules of the Institute, the elders told horrific tales of women killed by men. They didn’t spare details. Marie instinctively brought her arms over her chest, closing the lapels of her shirt with her crossed hands.
“What are you doing?”
Marie opened one eye and saw Grant looking at her with a strange expression. He could’ve been shocked for all she knew. Unable to read his thoughts, she said, “Please, let me go. Carnia is not my friend, but I won’t say a word to anybody. Promise.” She felt her knees shaking to the point she could barely stand. Grant moved away a few steps, still looking down at Marie with eyes she could only describe as bewildered. “I won’t say a thing,” she repeated.
He seemed mollified at her statement. “Thank you.” His facial muscles relaxed and he let out his breath as if he had been holding it, then turned and left.
Marie watched as he disappeared through the window opening at the end of the cellar. She stood still several minutes, not knowing what to make of the whole episode. He’s protecting Carnia, she finally realized and the thought surprised her more than the fact he hadn’t beaten her. A man protecting a woman.
3
The taste of marzipan lingering on her tongue became sour and she had to spit it out. Once the shaking of her legs abated, she ran back to the kitchen where a group of somber girls was comforting a crying brunette. The girl had her face hidden under her hair, but Marie recognized the shirt and her heart lurched down to her stomach in less than a second.
“Verena?” Marie walked straight through the circle of girls and went to hug Verena. “Were you…?” She was desperate for better words, but there wasn’t a lot she could say.
Verena’s weeping became so loud that when she answered, Marie didn’t understand a word. “I’m so sorry.”
“I wasn’t chosen! Marie, I wasn’t chosen—” Verena managed to utter between heartbreaking sobs.
Marie’s reaction was to start laughing. “Oh, my Goddess! You just killed me.” Happiness replaced the dread that had squeezed her heart to the size of a walnut.
“I was sure this was it.” Verena finally raised her face and Marie saw she was smiling. “I’d already prepared my bag.” Another round of heartbreaking sobs replaced the smile and Verena buried her head against Marie’s chest.
The scene was almost comical, big and tall Verena leaning down, looking for comfort in Marie’s embrace. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” She let Verena cry for a few seconds, then disentangled herself from the embrace and looked at her. “You weren’t chosen. You can breathe now.”
“You weren’t at the ceremony. Why?” Verena sniffled once or twice, but the worst seemed to have passed.
“Got blackmailed to kitchen duty.”
“How?” Verena went to sit at the table and one of the girls promptly brought her something to drink.
“Wrong place at the wrong time.” Marie joined her at the table. “Not important.” But it was, and her mind, now that Verena turned out to be safe, went immediately back to the cellars. The memory of Grant’s piercing, unblinking stare assailed her. She despised him for looking at her as if she were a vile creature ready to betray her own race. She didn’t want to be looked at that way. You, a man, disrespecting me. She was getting upset and didn’t like it.
“Poor Carnia, I feel so bad for her.”
Marie was abruptly snapped out of her thoughts by Verena’s comment. “Carnia was chosen?”
“Yes, Captain Callista called her name—” one of the girls answered, but then her voice broke and she couldn’t finish the sentence.
“She ran off after the announcement. The elders gave order to leave her alone.” Verena said the last words looking directly at Marie.
What’s up with all of you and this obsession of looking after Carnia? What’s so special about her?
“I barely know Carnia.” Marie felt an ugly tinge coloring her words, but nobody seemed to notice and she hurried to add, “She needs close friends now, I imagine.” Oh, she has plenty of those, doesn’t she? And there it was, unbidden, the image of the redhead being consoled by Grant.
“I’d want to be alone in a moment like this,” one of the girls surrounding Verena said, her voice almost broken.
Yeah, right. Alone my butt. Marie snorted and tried to cover it as a sneeze. “Something in the air…”
“When is Carnia going to leave?” the same girl asked, seemingly too upset by Carnia’s fate to notice Marie’s flounders.
“I guess the elders are giving her a few hours to compose herself and then she’ll be shipped to—” Verena blushed and everybody nodded, filling the blank.
A good fathered woman would have problems even thinking about the place Carnia was going to, let alone saying it out loud. Semental farms were the place fathered women dreaded the most. Madame Carla had taught everyone that a waste plant was a better option for a fathered woman. She didn’t get caught for being a man lover, but she got her comeuppance anyway. The ugly tug had come back with a vengeance. Marie was troubled by her own thoughts. What’s up with me?
“So soon?” several voices commented the same.
“Why prolong her agony?” Verena shrugged, her eyes liquid again.
“Okay, stop. It doesn’t help Carnia anyway.” Marie felt she was being childish and unfair, but words had left her mouth and there was no going back. “Let’s focus on the positive. You’re here and are going to stay here, and that’s all that matters. Right?”
A few of the girls nodded. Others didn’t dare say anything one way or the other.
In the afternoon, the elders gave the order to look for Carnia. Nobody could find her and the bus was waiting. Madame Lana made an appearance in the kitchen and icily asked if anybody knew where Carnia was. Nobody dared breathe a word. The rector stormed away, thr
eating to punish the whole farm. A few of the younger girls, barely floor sweepers, started crying. Marie had the feeling they knew firsthand the kind of punishment of which the woman was capable.
“I’ll go find her.” Verena removed her apron and sailed off soon after Madame Lana left.
Marie was checking off items from her interminable list. “I’ll come with you.” She couldn’t pass the opportunity to leave the kitchen if even for a moment.
“Don’t judge her,” Verena warned her with a whisper, but didn’t say she couldn’t come. She left without checking if Marie was following.
Marie ran after her. “Of course not.” She was happy Verena had reached that conclusion about her reaction. It was the appropriate reaction given the circumstances. “But, do the elders know about her…?” Perversion. She shivered at the thought.
“Don’t know, but probably.”
“But why has nobody denounced her?”
“We stick together no matter what. We fathered women protect each other, always.” Verena slowed her stride to look at her as if she were from another planet. “Didn’t they teach you that at the Institute?”
“We never had cases… like Carnia.”
Verena stopped altogether and laughed. “You’re so young.”
“I’m fifteen already.” Marie hated when people assumed she was a child just because she didn’t look like a woman yet. “And I would’ve known if we had cases at the Institute.” She wasn’t surprised they went directly to the Apothecary. It was the first place she would’ve gone and wasn’t sure if Verena knew anything about the window in the cellars. For some reason, she didn’t want to divulge that information. Maybe because it felt exciting to be the only one privy to a secret.
This time, Verena had thought beforehand and brought a flashlight. Without breaking stride, they walked through the main room to reach the dim-lit, smaller hallway. The faint noise of whispered words stopped immediately when Verena called, “Carnia? Are you here?”
Silence stretched for a few seconds before Carnia emerged from the safety of the darkest corner at the end of the hallway. As Marie had imagined, the redhead wasn’t alone. Grant, who kept his arm around her waist, followed Carnia. He looked at Marie and she felt judged once again.
Marie's Journey (Ginecean Chronicles) Page 4