Chapter one
Once more, I felt the steam from the pot of stew enter my sleeve and I wanted very much to fold it back. However, Raoul was standing in the living room and any movement of the like would attract his unwanted attention to me. I never quite knew what he found to be so interesting, watching his best friend's sister making supper as she did every night. Thomas never did anything about it, probably because he barely noticed it. He, like my other two brothers, liked to pretend that I did not exist. I would have liked to do the same in return, but then the three of them would not eat, and this they would notice.
We lived with our father in New Jersey. I was short, at age nineteen, and stood five feet and one inch. This would not have been too horrible were it not for people such as Raoul, who was a complete eleven inches taller than myself and enjoyed to celebrate this daily.
Noting this attention I was giving to Raoul, I banged the spoon against the pot, feeling his eyes on me once more. If only my brothers might ever bother me with their attention! Despite these grievances, I never could bring myself to complain.
Michael, the oldest of us, was not so cruel. Usually, he had the final opinion on most matters among my brothers, as the eldest does most of the time. He was twenty-six-years-old and his main interest was sailing. In fact, the following day he was to leave us to go to sea as an apprentice. He had been studying since he was my age, and our short exchanges of conversation made me feel angrier that I would never go to college. I liked to think that because his education exceeded James', he would not agree with the foolishness James invented. Nevertheless, whenever James would start to insult, Michael joined.
James was a mean, terrifying monster that reminded me daily that Mother was dead and that it was my fault. He lived to remind me that she had died giving birth to me, and every time I looked at him or thought about him, I was reminded. His insults were sometimes meant to be for humor, and sometimes they were serious. It depended on James' mood. He was twenty-three and I hated him the most. At this moment, he was at work, as it was his turn at Father's furniture shop. He would be home only a little later than Thomas and Father had arrived, because they liked to keep their hours short. Nobody bought furniture at suppertime, anyway, I supposed.
Thomas was my last brother. He agreed with James and Michael, and was just as commanding. He and James worked at Father's store, and that was that. He and I were sometimes quite alike in our passivity, but he would never see it this way. His friend, Raoul, lived across the street and came to visit nearly everyday. Raoul behaved more conceitedly than my three brothers put together, and maybe it was my imagination, but I always felt his glances were on me.
Father once told me that my mother was lacking height, as well. He was our moderator. He never appeared hurt at James' comments but I knew must have been. He had his share of quarrels with James and Michael about me, but he never mentioned Mother. James never ceased to talk to Father about Mother as though she were never his wife. To James, Mother was only his mother.
I did not recall complaining to anyone. I tried not to, as it was not my place. My brothers made it clear to me where I belonged at home. And, my father's passivity made matters no better. He was quiet most of the time, but he was my only friend in the house, despite that as I was born, his wife died. I never stopped wondering why my brothers were in more grief about this than my father was, or whether they just showed it more. This event marking my entrance to the Daae home only pushed me to the back if it and out of everyone's way. The back of the house, by the way, was our kitchen.
That made five for supper. No, I had forgotten Meg, who was knocking at the door. She was my friend from school, and while my own father was not pushing me towards marriage, Meg's family was pushing her. Raoul was also to come to supper. We should have charged him money for eating supper with us as often as seven times a week. As Thomas opened the door for Meg to find James behind her as well, I brought supper to the table. Raoul put his hands together in delight as he made his way to his seat, next to wherever I chose to sit. I greeted Meg and went to sit near Father, but Meg had seated herself at Michael and James' end of the table. I moved towards her and sat, and was abruptly followed by Raoul to my other side. He grinned and whispered, "Christine, I notice that your feet barely touch the ground."
His remark was not much true because my feet did touch the floor, but I glared at him. He gave me a smirk and turned to Thomas. "Your sister is no fun to be around."
"Yes," James said. "She may kill you."
He had to remind me. "Father!" I pleaded.
"James," he said sternly.
"I am sure that this is not my place to say," Meg spoke up, "but don't you all think that this topic has outgrown you yet?"
"Mind your own business, girl!" James snapped bitterly.
Everyone ladled stew into his own mouth for a while. Was it not enough now, that I could not invite a friend to supper without James having to torment her as well?
There was a knock at the door. All eyes turned to Meg.
"That is my father. May I be excused?"
"Yes, you may, Meg," my father said.
Michael got up. As he turned his head to nod to Meg, I noticed his blond hair shaking, which he had a habit of doing. Mother had blond hair.
"Good-bye and goodnight, Meg," I called from my chair.
"Goodnight and thank you for the meal."
As Michael walked her to the door, Raoul and James snickered. Thomas joined in after a few seconds.
"What could be so funny?" Father asked.
"Nothing," Raoul replied. He glanced at me and excused himself. I then excused myself and went to my room.
We were not so rich. Father sometimes liked to jokingly consider us upper class, but we were really in the middle. I sat on my plain bed in my plain bedroom. I hardly owned anything. Very little ornamentation. One pair of earrings and no other jewelry that a girl would have. There was a small assortment of clothes in my closet, only two dresses, two skirts and four blouses. My life was a daily schedule: get up; bathe; dress; make breakfast; eat breakfast; clean up breakfast; run some of Father's errands, as my brothers had their own to do; prepare, eat, and clean up dinner; clean the house; and by now Raoul would be over and I would have to put up with the taunts and make supper. Thomas usually helped with the clearing of the supper table, and Raoul usually helped to eat supper! After supper would be the only time to myself. I had done this ever since I could hold a plate in my hand. Of course, Raoul did not start to tease me until I was fourteen, when I had stopped growing.
I undressed and slipped under my covers. Just then James shouted, "Christine, are you asleep yet?"
"No, James." I heard no response, so I went to bed. It had been another long and boring day in my life. Sometimes I thought of change, but there was no money for me to go to school. James and Thomas had to cut two years of their higher education for each other. They would never do as much for me. Even finishing school would have sounded more exciting than staying home and cooking all day long for five male mouths, but the idea of finishing school made me feel more like a piece of Father's furniture needing polish, and not like a person. But never mind "person" around here.
"Good-bye, Thomas," Michael said the next morning. "Good-bye, Raoul." He gave Raoul a hug, as he had done with Thomas. "Good-bye, James. Good-bye, Father."
A chorus of good-bye's followed, including my own. But Michael did not say anything to me. He glanced at me, picked up his baggage and left. After James closed the door behind Michael, Raoul prided sarcastically. "Hey! Now I can put my feet up at dinner!" as he usually sat across from where Michael sat. "Of course," he added, looking at me, "Your feet don't reach…"
"Stop it," I cut off. I did not feel like putting up with his jokes. I was disturbed. Why did Michael not say good-bye to me? I knew that even though he felt I had killed Mother… I was his sister! He should love me for that! He should have said something to me before he left. I must have underestimated his hatred for me. But this was really ridiculous…
"Christine, wash the breakfast dishes. Stop standing there, staring into space," James ordered. "Oh, by the way, Meg sent this package for you."
What, I thought to myself, muttering at the same time. "She lives right next door, why did she not come here and give it in person?" My nineteenth birthday had passed already, in September. It was not a birthday present, for sure.
I read the card.
Friday, 10 February, 1911Christine,
I have married yesterday and moved this morning. The gray one is Magic, and the brown one is Bright. They are boys.
Good-bye,
Meg
Married? Moved? What was this about? I had no idea she was doing anything that involved marriage and a husband… What on Earth was she talking about?
I opened the box, which James had set on the kitchen counter. Down inside were two kittens, one gray and one brown. They both were gazing up at me with eyes yellow and curious. The gray one, I guessed was Magic, stood on his back legs and looked out of the box, with one paw on the rim. He jumped out and sniffed around. The other cat, Bright, was curled up asleep. My opening of the box awoke him, but he did not seem to care about his new surroundings.
"Why did she leave?" I mumbled.
"She thought you were too short."
I did not need to turn around to see that it was Raoul. He had enough conceit in his voice for me to tell it was he from miles away.
To my surprise, he put his hand on my shoulder. I turned around and looked at him.
"You know I'm only joking."
This time, I carefully looked at him. He seemed oddly different. I pulled myself away and towards the cats.
"Now you're turning from me? Don't hide. I know what you're thinking," he said. I felt icy, and noticed that there was nobody else around. A horrible thought raced through me: He likes me. I shook my head in order to erase the thought.
"Don't deny it. I know you better than you know you. And you know what I'm talking about."
I ran from the room, cold, frightened and anxious. Raoul was making moves that I did not like. How could I like him, anyway? He was so rude! Oh, and a self-centered, hungry pig!
"Uh, Christine?" It was James, standing in the doorway of my bedroom." Do you have ribbon?"
"What ever for?"
"Just give it to me if you have it." He looked stern.
"Oh, all right." I ran to my desk drawer to get it. "Is this enough?" I asked, holding about a yard of ribbon.
"Perfect." He grabbed it and left. I did not receive any thanks for it, but I was used to this.
For the rest of the day, Raoul acted more of himself. He joked; they laughed; Father scolded; I scowled. A normal routine without Michael.
After supper, Father came to my room. He sat on the edge of my bed. "Christine, we must talk."
"Yes, Father, you know that I am listening."
He came straight out with it. "What do you plan to do with your life?"
My hands fumbled with each other. I had never been given this question before.
"You have not lived half of it yet," he continued. "Have you thought of our arranging a marriage for you?"
"But," I protested. "To whom? Do I have to?" The idea of marriage did not appeal to me right then. "Can't I just stay here?"
"What happened to Meg? Do you know why she did not tell you about her plans to leave? Are you in the least upset?"
"I hate her!" I shouted, feeling as though it were the only noise in a large, empty room.
"There is no need to shout, Christine."
"She promised. She said that we would go to each other's weddings, meet each other's husbands… Instead… And I thought that things like marriage take time! How did she do it all in one night and behind my back? And she lives across the street! It's nearly impossible! How could she do such a thing and tell me all about it in a note the size of a… a… "
"I have absolutely no idea. She must have had a good reason for secrecy."
"But without me?"
"I know. She did it behind your back."
" She had no right," I said, firmly and blandly.
"Maybe her husband…" Father looked away at his hands, perhaps a little embarrassed.
"She had no right.," I repeated.
Father made a face of distaste. "Christine, you know how rude interrupting is-"
"SHE HAD NO RIGHT!" I screamed, finding myself standing on my bed in my nightgown, tears pouring out of my eyes.
Father looked terrified. "Christine, calm down."
"Fine," I said briskly. "I'll calm down. But you can't tell me what to do. I'll marry if I want. I'll show Meg that I can break a promise, too."
He was confused as the rage continued. "Christine," he whispered in shock. His eyes were saddened and calm.
I climbed off of the bed quietly and hugged him gratefully. "Please don't leave me," I cried, sobbing like a child.
"Why would I leave?"
"Just don't. I love you, Father."
"I love you too, Christine. Go to bed."
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight." He sounded exasperated as he left my bedroom, and maybe worried as well.
I awoke the next morning on the sound of footsteps. They sounded like James'. I guessed that he had bathed; the bathroom was next to Father's room, where he came from. And the footsteps went past my room; he is the only one with a room on my left.
Next, I rose from of bed and as I walked past my father's room, I paused and gawked at him, he was lying on the floor on his stomach. A knife was stuck in his back.