Only Ever Yours

by Louise O'Neill

  There’s a long pause.

  “Look, freida.” He avoids eye contact with me as he pulls the ends of his sweater over his hands. “It’s not that I didn’t care about you. I did. I mean, I do. Of course I care about you.” His voice is hesitant. “But I’ve been fooling myself, thinking that I could choose a companion on the basis of how much I ‘liked’ her.” He kicks the chair with a resounding whack.

  “I know I messed up,” I repeat myself. I reach across the table to touch his bandaged hand but he pulls away, and starts drumming them against this legs. “But can’t we move past it? Why does it have to change things?”

  “I’ve been talking with my dad.”

  “What’s it got to do with him?”

  “He’s making me understand.” He frowns at me.

  “Understand what? That you’re obsessed with getting his approval? ‘My dad won’t let me have friends. My dad is so mean to me. My dad … My dad … My dad …’?”

  The rational freida is inside my brain screaming, telling me to play this better, to play by the rules, to be nice. But I can’t stop the words pouring out of me, as every hope I ever had seems to be going up in flames, Darwin indifferently watching them burn.

  “Have some respect,” he says, and I shut up immediately, wilting under his critical gaze. He never looked at me like that before.

  “He’s an important man, freida. And he knows what he is talking about.” He says the lines as if he has learned them by heart. “I need someone who will fit as a Judge’s wife. Someone with attention to detail. Someone who is controlled.”

  “I can be controlled!” I sound hysterical, desperation unscrewing the hinges on my fear.

  “Someone who can be trusted to be discreet.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

  “I said I was sorry. How many more times do you want me to say it? Please. Please, Darwin. I’ll do anything.”

  “Is everything all right here?”

  chastity-ruth is standing there and she is laughing at my stupidity. She wants to see me fail.

  “Leave me alone!”

  “freida!” Darwin rebukes me, and when I blink I see it’s not chastity-ruth; it’s a worried chastity-magdalena.

  “I’m sorry,” I say once again, wiping the visions from my eyes.

  “It’s fine, magdalena,” Darwin says.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” He smiles at her and she walks away.

  “So your dad doesn’t agree,” I start again. “I know he’s probably angry with me too. But he hasn’t even met me. If he met me, he would like me.”

  “freida …”

  “Or maybe, maybe—maybe we should run away.”

  “What?” he asks incredulously. “And go where? Where exactly do you propose we go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And how are you planning on doing it? The train leaves from the chastities’ quarters. Do you think they are going to wave us through, give you a packed lunch for the journey?” His handsome face is screwed up in annoyance.

  “I don’t know,” I say again, my head swimming with tiredness. The edges of the room are softening like decaying froot.

  “I can’t do this anymore.” He gestures to chastity-magdalena to cut the session short and I claw at his hand.

  “Just choose me for Heavenly Seventy.”

  “What’s the point at this stage?”

  “Please, Darwin. You owe me that much.”

  “How do I owe you anything? After all that’s happened.”

  I grab his unbandaged hand and stare at him.

  “Please, Darwin. Just one last time. I need to explain.”

  And as he sighs in resignation, I make up my mind. I know what I have to do now. I know what I must do to fix this.

  “How do you think yours went?” gisele whispers to megan.

  “I was happy,” megan replies smugly, adjusting the deep V-neck of her sweater so a hint of pale blue lace is showing. She matches her underwear to her shoes. Is this the sort of attention to detail that Darwin wants?

  “… yeah, and then I said to William that I wanted to have at least five sons, and he looked nervous. Do you think that I should have said that? What would you have said? What sort of conversation topics did you stick to?”

  “Yeah, totally, that color is fab on you,” megan interrupts gisele’s monologue. “Seriously, where are the boys? We’ve been waiting here for at least ten minutes.” She raises her hand.

  “Yes, #767?”

  “I was wondering where the Inheritants are? We’re supposed to have our final Heavenly Seventy now.”

  “I can’t wait,” miranda says, reapplying blood-red lipstick on angelina’s full pout while rosie braids lara’s wispy blond hair. They are draped all over each other. You would think they were living in the harem already.

  “Can we help you with something, freida?” karlie asks, catching me off guard. I mumble an apology and she piles her light brown hair into a high ponytail, cheekbones prominent on her thin face.

  “Um, nice outfit,” I say to make amends, gesturing at the mesh dress, her ruby-colored lingerie visible underneath. She, alessandra and adrianna start giggling uncontrollably. This what I will have to endure if I’m forced to become a concubine, living in a thinly disguised version of School.

  “You are supposed to have a session now?” chastity-ruth’s voice slithers through the desks, searching for its prey. “And who told you that?”

  “chastity-magdalena.”

  “Did she?” Her gray eyes flash. “Did she really?”

  “Yeah, she did,” megan says. “So where are they?”

  Before chastity-ruth can reply the door crashes open, the ten Inheritants clustering at the left of the chastity’s desk. megan settles instantly when they arrive, the epitome of serenity. Is that what he wants? I’m beginning to sway in my seat again, weariness singing a soothing lullaby to my bones.

  “freida.” The hiss straightens my spine. “Are you okay?” cara asks, tucking a long strand of silky hair behind her ear. “You don’t look well.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Not like that,” she reassures me. “You just look a bit spaced.”

  You … just … look … a … bit … spaced.

  She pauses for an hour between each word. A rush of leftover chemicals makes my body twitch and her eyes widen in alarm.

  “What’s going on down there?”

  What’s … going … on … down … there?

  “Nothing, chastity-ruth,” cara says.

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” the chastity says impatiently. “Let’s just begin. Darwin, you’re first.” megan flutters her eyelashes at him. “Darwin?” chastity-ruth says again when he remains silent. The other Inheritants are becoming restless, eager to get started. “Do you want to choose one of the eves for Heavenly Seventy?”

  “Fine.” His voice is stiff with resentment. “I choose freida.”

  There is an intake of breath, that familiar vein throbbing perilously in megan’s temple as I follow him, whispering directions to myself to remember how to move my arms and legs. The cupboard seems to have magically lengthened into a space two miles long, one of us at either end, the gap between us widening with every second.

  I take the first step.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “What happened to your hand?”

  “I fell.”

  “Does this have anything to do with me telling the eves about the female aberrants?”

  “I said, I fell.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I say, my eyes flicking every so often to the wall. I need to see us in a mirror to believe that this is real.

  “freida!”

  How did I get on the ground?

  “Are you okay? Will I call a chastity?” he asks urgently, crouching down on his haunches, his hand in the small of my back to steady me.

  “No.” I seize the hem of his sweater to stop him leaving. I coil into
him, making him sit down too, his back propped against the wall. I’m between his legs, leaning against his chest. I watch in the opposite wall as he wraps one arm around my body. He bends his head toward mine and I move forward, slowly touching my lips against his.

  “We can’t do this, freida.”

  “Then why did you choose me today?”

  “You said you wanted to explain.” His voice is becoming prickly so I lower my mouth onto his again.

  “Forget what I said.”

  We kiss again. I wrap my legs around his waist, the glass wall hard against my knees. He grabs my hips to pull me closer. His hands are pressing into my waist so tightly the lace is cutting into my skin. I reach behind me, pulling the zip down enough so that I can peel the dress off, one sleeve at a time. He stares at me, naked from the waist up, and swallows hard.

  “Are you sure?” he says as he pulls me close again, the over-washed material of his T-shirt soft against my bare skin. I can’t answer him. I don’t know if I am sure but I know that I have to do something to keep him, and this is all I have to offer. I kiss him, waiting until I can feel something break in him. He grabs my hair so tightly I whimper and he draws back, pulling his T-shirt over his head. His body is taut and tanned, his stomach defined into a sharp V above his low-slung jeans. He pulls off his belt, kicking off his jeans and underwear, and I look away, embarrassed. He bends down, kissing me harder, his hand reaching between us and pulling my underwear aside until it’s happening, he’s there, he’s inside me.

  I don’t know how long it lasts. I just watch in the ceiling mirror as waves shudder through his naked body before he rolls off me, sweating. Something is leaking between my legs, seeping into the fragile fabric of my dress.

  “Thanks,” he says out of the side of his mouth as he pulls his clothes back on.

  “No problem.” I shuffle closer to him. “And when I’m your companion you’ll be able to do it whenever you feel like it.”

  “What?”

  “What?” I repeat idiotically.

  “What did you say about being my companion?”

  “We had sex,” I whisper, suddenly afraid that someone outside will hear us.

  “Yes …” he says, sounding like he wishes that he could take that back now. “But it didn’t mean anything.”

  I look away, my head throbbing. Good girls don’t cry. Good girls don’t cry. My shoulders heave, a low keening coming from the pit of my stomach.

  “freida, come on.”

  I shouldn’t do this in front of him, but the more I know that I need to be calm, the less able I seem to remain so.

  “I’m not crying. I don’t cry,” I say, the words coming out in gasps. “I’m just so tired.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says uneasily. “Don’t they have medication for that?”

  “You don’t like drugs. I tried to stop taking them because you said you didn’t like them.” He subtly tests the door handle. “It’s locked,” I say, and he hangs his head sheepishly. “We had sex.” He needs to understand what this means. “I’ve never had sex with anyone before.”

  “I didn’t force you,” he says, getting to his feet and paces back and forth. “You wanted it just as much as I did.”

  “I only did it because I thought you were going to choose me. I only did it … I don’t know. I wanted to show you that I’m the right companion for you.” I’m beginning to feel feverish.

  “Why would you have sex with me to prove you would make a good companion? That makes no sense whatsoever.” He’s towering over me, blocking the light. The fly on his jeans is undone, his white underwear poking through.

  “I can’t be a concubine.”

  “I never said you were going to be a concubine.”

  “But how can I be a companion now? After I …”

  “I won’t tell anyone what you did,” he says, backing away and leaning against the opposite wall. “Someone else might choose you.”

  “I haven’t tried with any of them. You have been the only one.”

  “And that’s my fault, is it?”

  “No. I wanted to do it. I wanted you.” I crawl closer to him, touching his shoes. “I thought you wanted me too.”

  “I thought you were different.” He stops. “I thought … I don’t know what I thought.”

  “You’re the only one I want.” I stare up at him, my voice hoarse. “You’re my only option.”

  “Why?” he asks. “What’s so special about me?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Would I be your only option if my dad was a publican?”

  “Not this again,” I groan.

  “Just answer the question.”

  “But you’re not a publican’s son.”

  “But if I had been? Would you be so desperate to be with me if my dad wasn’t a Judge?”

  “I don’t know … How would I know what I would do? You are a Judge’s son.”

  “Humor me,” he says. “Just pretend. You seem to be good at that.”

  “Why are you saying all these things?” I try to get up but my legs buckle beneath me again. “Of course I would want to be with you.”

  Would I?

  “Just choose me …” I push the thought away. “I … I love you?” My tone is questioning, asking him if this is the right thing to say, if this is what he wants from me. Does he want me to love him? I can love him if he wants me to.

  “No, you don’t.” Years of chastity-training are blasting sirens in my head, like a broken fire alarm. Abort, abort. Why am I even saying this? I don’t love him. isabel took any love I might ever have been capable of. She sucked my heart dry of it.

  “I need you to choose me,” I say, and I am shattered by the way he looks at me. It’s the same way that I look at myself in the mirror, the disappointment, the traces of longing, the useless wish that I could be different.

  “You know you’re not allowed say that, freida. It’s forbidden.”

  “Please, just choose me. I’ll do anything you want.”

  He stares at me in silence for a long time before saying simply, “Who are you?”

  Who do you want me to be? I want to ask him. Just tell me who you want me to be. I’m tired, so tired. And I’m running out of time. He is the only one who can save me now. I wrap my arms around his legs like a limpet and he shakes me off, catching the right side of my face with his foot. I fold over, feeling something hot and sticky melting at the corner of my eye. The bell rings, releasing the door latch, and he falls out like a man coming up for air.

  “Please don’t do this to me, Darwin. I can’t be a concubine. I can’t.”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “If today was anything to go by, I think you could be a natural.”

  The door closes behind him, cutting the overhead lamps out. I lie face down, something steadily dripping onto the cool glass beneath me.

  A chink of light breaks in.

  “Well?” chastity-ruth’s impervious tones.

  “She’s not there,” cara replies. “I told you, I saw her leave with the rest of the eves. You must have missed her.”

  The chastity grunts before loudly shooing any stragglers out of the classroom. The door closes. I listen to my heart beating relentlessly, wishing that it would just stop. A crack of light splits the darkness again.

  “She’s in there. I didn’t know who else to get. If chastity-ruth finds her …” cara doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t need to.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  Everything.

  “I didn’t ask. I went straight to get you.”

  There is a heavy silence before cara speaks again. “I’m doing the best I can, isabel.”

  “I know.” isabel sounds more animated than she has in weeks. “Let’s bring her back to the dorms.”

  “What if we meet a chastity?”

  “The chastities won’t be a problem if I’m there.”

  “But …”

  “Fine, cara,” isabel sighs. “Ge
t chastity-magdalena. She’ll help us.”

  isabel creeps in and darkness covers us again. Her hand is on my hair, peeling it off my sticky face. She’s whispering, soothing words that sound of nothing. A few minutes or a few hours later I hear the door opening again, flooding the cupboard with light, turning the inside of my eyelids red.

  “She’s bleeding,” isabel gasps. “It’s all over my hands.”

  I want to apologize but I have no words.

  “What happened?” chastity-magdalena must have arrived.

  “I don’t know,” cara answers, her voice thick with relief now that a chastity is here. “She and Darwin had a Heavenly Seventy session and she never came out after.” She pauses for emphasis. “I wonder what happened. You know he chose megan last—”

  “She’s exhausted,” isabel cuts across cara. “I’m sorry to involve you, but cara insisted on getting a chastity.”

  “You did the right thing. You two grab her under each arm and lift her. I’ll walk ahead of you.”

  I feel a pinch under my left armpit, then the right. They groan as they haul me up. Am I too heavy? My arms are wrapped around two sets of shoulders, their collarbones stabbing into me. They carry me, my feet skimming the floor. My eyes flutter open and I see flashes of the chessboard tiles and painted toenails. Whiskers of hair brush against my skin, tickling my nose. Then they let go and I have the sensation of falling into something soft.

  “You can go now, chastity-magdalena,” isabel says.

  “But I—”

  “I said, you can go.”

  A swish of robes, and then silence. I curl on my side, forcing myself to look. I am in my room, isabel and cara standing in a line by my bed. cara is scratching at her scalp, scabs scraping off in little clouds of dry skin. I watch as they land on her shoulders, dusting the inky silk of her cap-sleeved dress.

  “CanIgonow?” the words collide together.

  “What?”

  “Er … can I go now?”

  “Fine,” isabel says curtly. A clatter of heels, running away.

  isabel sits at the end of the bed, taking one of my feet into her hands, then the other. She loosens the laces and removes my shoes. They fall to the ground with a bang, my feet throbbing.

  “There’s something on your dress,” isabel says, moving closer and rubbing the material between her fingers. I look down. My perfect dress, fit for a princess, is crumpled like a used tissue, a stiff stain in the middle turning the gold a dark gray color. isabel’s hands are stained with my blood, her nails crusted with it.