Matronly Duties

by Melissa Kendall

  ***

  June 18, 2220

  Dear Bethanie,

  If you are reading this letter, it means I never got the chance to talk with you in person before you had to hear the blasphemy I will be forced to speak at my trial.

  I also know you probably have questions, so I hope this letter will answer most of them for you. If it doesn’t, please write to me and I will answer anything else that you ask.

  I have gone over this a thousand times in my mind and tried to figure out the best way to explain things, but I’ve decided that telling you the whole story is the best way.

  Yes, I am the leader of the Trads. It was a position I was given when the previous leader disappeared without a trace. It’s not something I ever wanted, but I did it because someone had to hold the government accountable for its actions.

  Not long after I took the position, someone came up with a plan to kidnap the next Matron in hopes of opening her eyes to the true nature of things before she took office. The next Matron, of course, was you.

  For months, I watched you from afar, keeping track of all your movements and learning your schedule to find the right time and place to enact our plan. It became clear early on that the easiest opportunity would be when you were in the catacombs on one of your runs.

  When it came down to it, though, I couldn’t go through with the plan. Some of my favourite times were watching you when you ran. You seemed to be so much more carefree than at other times I observed you, and the very idea of taking that away from you, of scaring you just to further our cause, made me feel physically ill.

  Unfortunately, my men got it into their heads to go it alone. When Margie got word to me that you’d been kidnapped, I headed straight for the place I knew they’d have you. Fury the likes of which I’ve never known almost brought me to my knees when I got there and saw Albert pawing at you. I promise, he paid severely for his behaviour. I never meant for you to get hurt. I’m so sorry. Carrying your limp body back to my parents’ house, I promised you over and over that I would set things right no matter what.

  When you bolted from the house during the blackout, my heart plummeted to my feet. I thought for sure something would happen to you and rescuing you from Albert would’ve all been for naught.

  You could have knocked me over with a feather when I kissed you and you didn’t even push me away. Once I realised what I’d done, I had fully expected you to slap me for being so forward. But you didn’t. Instead, you awoke feelings in me I had never thought possible.

  I have to admit I left the door open on purpose when I was in the bathroom later that night. I was curious whether you might feel even an inkling of what I felt for you, and the naked desire I saw reflected on your face in the mirror gave me the answer I’d been hoping for.

  When I walked you to the post office the next day, I wasn’t ready for our time to be over. I prayed the whole way there, hoping that I could think of a reason for you to return with me. When you told me you had some time to kill before someone could pick you up, I knew my prayers had been answered.

  I was overjoyed when you agreed to take a walk with me after lunch. I promise you, though, I just wanted you to show you the caverns and maybe have you to myself for a little bit, away from the prying eyes of my family. Never, not in a million years, did I think what happened between us was going to happen. It was not even a remote possibility in my mind.

  The moment we kissed, however, it was all I could think of. And then . . . you started talking about sex and love, and well, damn it, I was lost. As awful as this is going to sound, I have been with my fair share of girls, and not once was it as amazing as being with you. Matter of fact, none of my sexual experiences have been half as good as one kiss with you.

  I need you to know that everything I said in that cavern was the truth. I also need you to know that we never drugged you. It really was a painkiller my mum gave you. The government made up this supposed drug a while ago, claiming that when we give it to anyone it made them do our bidding. It is another lie, though, an excuse they use to explain to the public why people they don’t expect to help us sometimes do.

  When security grabbed us outside the catacombs, I wasn’t surprised that I was immediately arrested and thrown straight in prison. That isn’t the government’s usual modus operandi, but I knew straight away that the whole process would be a witch hunt. You were the next Matron, and I’d been caught red-handed, as they say.

  My suspicions were confirmed when the government offered me a deal—plead guilty to all charges and my sentence would only be seven years. Otherwise, if I contested the charges, they would ask for the maximum sentence of twenty-five years and go after everyone I had associations with, including my family who had “harboured me while I’d held the Matron prisoner.”

  So I lied. I stood up in open court and told them I kidnapped you, drugged you, and took advantage of you. It killed me to utter those words, and I would understand if you never wanted to speak to me again because of them. But know this—I would like nothing more than to have you in my life and continue what we started in the cavern.

  If I don’t ever see or hear from you again, I just wanted to let you know that you are an amazing woman, Bethanie Greene, and you will do great things. I will never regret knowing you, only how we met, and that I couldn’t have you in my life longer.

  Yours,

  Howard James

  When I reach the end of the page, my head is spinning and the paper is shaking in my hand. Margie was right. It wasn’t all a lie. He was going to kidnap me. He helped plan it, yes, but he couldn’t go through with it. And he had feelings for me. For me. Tears slip from my eyes, even as waves of relief leave me feeling weightless. I shouldn’t be so quick to believe his tale. I should be mad that he used me, or suspect that this is just another part of the Trads’ plan to get me on their side, but I don’t. His version of the truth just feels right. His words confirm all my nagging suspicions and the distrust I feel of our government. They explain everything.

  Suddenly I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. I read the letter again, then a third time for good measure. Each time something different stands out and I have questions, lots of them. I grab a pen and paper from my desk and settle myself on the bed. While everything is fresh in my mind, I write a letter to Howard.

  Chapter 9

  “Wow. Look who’s all bright and chipper this morning,” Margie says as she walks into my room like she owns it.

  I turn and pretend to look for something in the wardrobe so she can’t see the flush heating my cheeks. “Yeah, happy and hopeful,” I say.

  “Take it the letter was good?” She moves around the room, making the bed and straightening up.

  “Definitely cleared a few things up, that’s for sure.” With the weight of the truth off my chest I can breathe fully again.

  “Do you believe him?”

  “Yes. Too much has happened for me not to.” Even to my own ears, my words sound shaky. It’s not that the words are untrue; it’s more that the truth of them means the foundation of my world has been irrevocably shaken.

  “I’m glad. Howard would never forgive himself if he’d hurt you, intentional or not. Are you going to write back to him?”

  I sigh. I had tried, but after my third attempt the night before, I’d slammed the paper down on the bedside table and given up. It was useless. No matter how hard I tried to put everything that was—is—going on in my head into words, it came out wrong.

  If only there was some way I could meet with him in person.

  The moment the thought pops into mind, I glance at Margie. Maybe . . .

  “Margie, I have a favour to ask.” She looks at me intently. “I want to go and visit Howard, and I am hoping you and your family can help me.”

  “Of course,” she replies, her eyes lighting up. “It will take a little while to organise, though.”

  “Really?” I’m a little flabbergasted. “No, ‘are you sure’ or anything? Just yes?”<
br />
  “Beth, if you must know the truth, this is something my mum and I have been hoping for, so we already have ideas on how to pull it off. We just need to set the wheels in motion.”

  I didn’t think I could be anymore stunned, but I am. “Well . . . good. A little time will allow me to organise a gap in my schedule for it to work. How far away do you think I should plan for?”

  “I would think somewhere between two weeks and a month,” Margie replies.

  I do a mental happy dance. I honestly hadn’t thought this was going to be a remote possibility. “I think I can work with that.”

  ***

  April stares at me, mouth agape, when I pass her desk. “Good morning, April.”

  “Good morning, Ms Greene.” She glances at me from head to toe then asks, “Nice evening?”

  I take a quick look at my appearance and don’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Yes, you could say that. Why?” My tone of voice is harsher than I intended.

  April shrinks back in her chair. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. It’s just that you’re smiling and you seem . . . taller.”

  Unsure of how much I can trust her, I don’t try to allay her obvious fear. “Yes, April, something has changed. But I am not sure I’m ready to discuss it.”

  “No worries, Ma’am. When you’re ready.”

  In my office, my diary is open in the middle of the desk. It’s not only paper in front of me but the mechanism with which they control me. I want to hurl it into the rubbish bin and set it on fire, but that would only make them aware I’m onto them. Instead, I’m thrilled when I see I only have my MITI speech in the afternoon. With everything going on, it will be hard enough to deliver the speech without having to first spend the day faking my way through a bunch of meetings or appearances.

  I can’t help a silent chuckle as I recall being informed of the MITI obligation. It has barely been a couple of months since I was a resident there and already they want me to go back and give a speech—one that is full of lies and misrepresentations. When I raised my concerns about the content with the publicity department, however, I was told in no uncertain terms that I was to give the speech I had been given or there would be severe consequences.

  “Can I have a cup of tea please?” I ask April through the intercom. “And a copy of my speech for this afternoon.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  A few minutes later, she brings me what I asked for. I take the cup from her, bringing it straight to my lips. “Thank you.” I take a long sip and enjoy the warmth as it travels through my body.

  “You’re welcome, Ms Greene.” She places the speech on the desk, along with some other paperwork. When I look at the pile, there is a note on top.

  When you want to talk,

  I am more than willing to listen.

  But not here.

  The walls have ears.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I grip the arms of my chair to stop myself from looking around the room to see if someone is hiding in the shadows. It’s a ridiculous thought, but still, that instant feeling of someone watching me is there. Have I ever said anything inappropriate in my office? I don’t think so, but my home is another matter. If that’s wired as well, they could have heard all the conversations I’ve had with Margie.

  I realise quite suddenly that I might have another ally in April. The only way to be certain is to ask, but I obviously can’t do it here. I pass a note back to her, asking where we can talk that is safe.

  She thinks about it for a minute then writes:

  Anywhere outside the government buildings.

  Looking around the office, my gaze lands on my itinerary and the solution seems so easy.

  “I think I’m going to require you to go over my speech with me again. Will you ride with me to MITI?”

  She nods, then returns to her desk.

  When it is time to head to MITI, Red appears at the precise moment I am ready to leave my office. I often wonder if he is psychic with his uncanny ability to appear at exactly the right time. But no sooner does the thought enter my mind that it occurs to me that his “right on time” arrivals might be a result of him listening to some sort of government monitoring system.

  I almost ask April whether she thinks Red is safe but decide against it. I need people around me I can trust and there’s no better way to find out if he is trustworthy than to wait and see if he will pass on information to the authorities.

  “I’m ready to go, Red,” I say. “April will be accompanying me today.”

  He doesn’t question the change to the routine, just escorts us down to the cart. Once we are settled, I turn to her.

  “How do you know?” I point to the note still stuck to the front of the speech.

  “I’m almost always there when the technicians come and go from your office. They installed it after your breakdown and come every couple of days to check it.”

  “Is that why they organise my schedule? So I’m never in the office when they need to check the recording equipment?” I wonder, not realising I’ve said it aloud.

  “I suspect that is part of it, though I personally think they just like having control.”

  She is probably right and I wonder how it got this way. Was it like this from the beginning of the Matron system? Or did the true path get lost along the way?

  My stomach knots when I recall ex-Matron Angelo’s words to me on Dedication Day, all the negative ways she described being Matron. At the time, it contradicted everything I learned growing up, but now I understand what she meant. Can I spend the better part of five years being a puppet for power hungry politicians?

  When we arrive at the MITI compound, I am bombarded by emotions. So much of who I am is because of my time here—the teachers and the other students shaped me into the woman I have become. Was it all for nothing? Was every moment of loneliness and hardship just to make me into a pretty face for a corrupt government? I wish I’d never taken the damn FMAT.

  As I move through the halls of my former home, the all-too-fresh memories somehow seem foreign. Most of the time I was happy at MITI—proud, even, of what I was achieving—but now that the blinders have been removed, every single one of those memories has a different meaning. During the years of isolation, I was conditioned to respond on demand. The staff I thought was protective and caring was actually there to prevent me from ever looking too closely or seeing too clearly. Every word out of my mouth was given to me by somebody else. Every desire was suggested by another. Every moment planned by some unknown entity behind a proverbial curtain. The gathered group of girls looks at me in awe. To them, I am the pinnacle of what they want to achieve. If only they knew what I have begun to see. Would they feel as trapped as I do now?

  Sitting in the middle of the front row is Gail, who gives me a smile and a small wave. I wave back but can’t manage a smile. I want to tell her what has been happening, let her know to leave while she can. Doing that, though, would only endanger her life.

  Despite it all, I read my prepared speech. I play my part. I tell them how wonderful it is to serve the nation of Oceania and that I have never felt as fulfilled as I do putting all of my training to use.

  With each word I utter, I want to scream. I want to take it all back. I want to tell them that it is all lies, but I can’t. All I can do is smile and wave as the girls give me a standing ovation.

  The ride back to parliament is a quiet one. Red normally engages me in a little idle chitchat, but both he and April understand I’m not in the mood.

  Every building we pass, I wonder what is hidden inside. What is going on that no one sees?

  I also think more on the situation with Howard. When we arrive at the office, I give writing to him another try.

  July 14, 2220

  Dear Howard,

  Thank you for the letter. It must have been hard to write, but I’m glad you did. Things have been topsy-turvy in my life since I met you, and if nothing else, your letter helped provide some clarity.

&nb
sp; I’ll admit hearing you confess to organising my kidnapping, when I was so sure you were innocent, was heartbreaking for me, and it took me a while to get up the courage to read your letter.

  I also think that if I had read the letter when I first received it, I probably wouldn’t have believed you, but things have happened since that make your words far more believable. I’m not going to elaborate because I have no idea who is going to read this letter, and it’s just not safe.

  Despite the deep betrayal I have felt at times, my thoughts often drift to you. I wonder what you are doing and if you’re all right. It brought a smile to my face to read that you want to be a part of my life. I’d like that, very much so.

  I hope this letter finds you as well as you can be, given you are in prison. I, too, sometimes feel like I am in prison, though I’m sure it is nothing compared to the actual place.

  Okay, so I am rambling now.

  Once again, thank you for your letter, and I hope to hear back from you sometime in the future.

  Yours thankfully,

  Beth

  ***

  “Margie? You got a second?”

  She’s flitting around my room, finishing whatever it is she does before I retire for the evening, but walks over to sit next to me on the edge of the bed. I hand her the envelope.

  “What’s this?” She looks at the paper in her hand as if it is dynamite.

  “A letter for Howard. I figure you’d have a way of getting it to him.”

  She shakes her head and hands it back. “Sorry, I can’t help with that.”

  My confusion must be written all over my face. I didn’t expect a “no” after they offered to sneak me into the prison. I’d figured a letter would be easy.