Time for another chapter! Man, the hype for the new season has really boosted my creativity for this story.
Chapter 8
Boxes fill the room. All full of trinkets that were never mine, gifts bought from district Wives, paintings probably stolen from the raids. Guardians crowd the room as they remove each box's contents and wait for approval on where they should be placed. Mother is enjoying this, I can tell. She orders the Guardians around on where to place each item, because according to her "Each item has a place". I let her place the items and furniture where she wants them to go, I don't really care. I enjoy watching her flip out over the details of the room as I stand next to the entryway of the living room.
"That lamp goes on that side table, the one by the couch. No, the one I am pointing to. No the other one!"
"That painting isn't straight, move it slightly to the left. No your left! A bit more, more, more! You know what let me do it."
It is all so funny seeing her stress out over the smallest of details, you would almost think it was her home she was decorating for. I watch as a small locked box is placed over the mantle piece, its content inside is not to be opened till a special occasion. We all know what that occasion is and I hope we never have to go through one. The living room is quite large, directly off of the entryway, which is convenient. I see Guardians placing paintings on the highly decorated fabric wallpaper, trinkets on a bookshelf with no books, lamps in corners of the room being plugged in, a chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling. It all looks so Victorian, especially with the furniture chosen out by mother. Its intricate wood carving frame and evergreen upholstery. It matches the walls quite well, and yet all together the room seems dark. That no matter how many light fixtures we put in here it will never be bright enough. A dark stained wooden piano sits by the two bay window seatings. The view looks over the front yard where I see a long driveway and the forest of trees that surround the house. I think that is why I chose this place, the privacy it allows us to have is amazing.
"Kyra, what do you think of this painting? Should it go on this wall? Or in the entryway, perhaps?" My attention is brought back to Mother where she stands next to an awkward Guardian who is holding a landscape painting. I feel like I have seen this painting before. A beautiful landscape with trees and soft mountains in the back. A lake that reflects the mountains and sun setting sky. It looks familiar yet I can't recall its artist.
"Uh, here's fine." She nods in approval. I hear her say something to the Guardian and he goes and hangs it on the already full wall. Mother liked the idea of having a wall of art somewhere in the house, I guess the living room is the chosen place. I don't stay long in the room, it feels crowded and dark, and I don't really care for what Mother does with the room. I don't want to impede on her territory.
The kitchen is also full of boxes and Martha's who came to help with the move in. It doesn't take me long to spot Vera among the sea of muted green. I see her organizing one of the many cupboards in the large kitchen. Mother asked Vera to stay with me and help me around the house, she is my Martha now. That's weird to think about, I throw it out of my mind. I see that she notices me staring, her head slightly turns towards my direction and a soft nod is given, that's all the acknowledgement that I need.
The kitchen is quite large, which is surprising for how old the house is. There is an island in the center of the room and two walls are lined with cabinets. A nice painted tile backsplash line the walls with countertops. They look hand painted, beautiful, a hit of French flair. I can tell some of the other Marthas are in awe of the kitchen, they aren't so lucky to be in the service of such a high Commander, and a new one at that. They look around at the cabinetry, the back splash, the delicate windows and lace curtains, acting like they are working. Their hands gracefully cress the wood, the glass, the counter as a way to touch a surface they can not have. They are jealous, and honestly I don't blame them.
I can tell that I am not wanted, so I take my leave. Outside there is a back porch that looks out to the green grassed yard and the forest that stretches beyond. There is a muted blue fence that surrounds the edges of the yard and makes its way slightly into the woods. I make my way onto the dark wood porch. Porch chairs have yet to be placed, a table hasn't made its mark. I look out to the forest that surrounds the house, its trees starting to turn its soft yellows, oranges, and reds. The air is crisp and cool, I have to wrap myself in my cloak to stay warm. There is a small greenhouse to the corner of the yard, probably freshly made for me although I doubt I will go in it. There are pots stacked on shelves and tools hanging from hooks, ready to be used but won't be touched. Mother will probably be sad that I am not partaking in her favorite pastime, but I don't care.
The shed next to the greenhouse is opened. I can see wooden boxes full of gardening tools and lawn care stacked on the counter, a young man is inside taking out some of the contents. He doesn't notice me standing, watching him. He looks like all the Guardians, dressed in a black button up shirts and black pants. Although the sound of the muffled voices coming from their walkie talkies is not heard, either he has his off or he doesn't have one. It's strange to think of someone like him who doesn't have a specific piece of their ensemble that defines who they are. It's like a Wife not wearing blue or a Handmaid without their bonnets. He makes his way out of the shed as I think about that concept, he notices my existence, hard to miss the bright blue staring back at you. Our eyes meet and I see the familiarity in his eyes, someone I know.
driver. I haven't seen him much since the wedding. I am surprised he is here, shouldn't he be with Commander Beal? He makes his way over to me and before I can contemplate what to say, he greets me with the typical "Blessed day", looking up at me as I stand above him. It looks like we are in a production of Romeo and Juliete doing the balcony scene.
"May the Lord open," I respond in the acceptable manner.
"So, fancy seeing you here." He has a humor, I never knew.
"Yeah, it's not like I live here now." He is awkward, trying to come up with things to say, and same here. This is the longest conversation we have had, to the both of us we are strangers meeting for the first time.
"So... what have you been up to?" He asks, not quite sure what to ask.
"Oh you know, the usual. Watching Mother order the Guardians around, telling them where things should be, the fun stuff." He laughs, I have never heard him laugh before.
"Ha, I'm sure it is." What is he doing here, why is he here. Just ask him!
"So, uh, why are you here?"
"Oh, Mrs. Beal asked me to help with the move in, thought she could use someone who knows her taste, to help the others unpack." Knows her taste? Well, he was here before me, maybe he helped the Beals move into their home at the start of all of this. He must have taken notice of my questioned expression. "I helped her decorate her home before," he adds. I nod, what else can I say to that. He looks like he was about to say something else but the soft voice of my name being called by Mother from inside the house interrupted his speech. We look at each other for a second more until I speak up.
"Mothers calling." And I turn to leave.
Inside I see Mother looking around like she is missing something. When she notices me by the back door she looks relieved. "Oh Kyra, there you are. I have something to show you." She grabs my hand and we are off. Up the stairs to the second floor we go. My hand is guided to two double doors made of a dark, intricate wood. Beautiful carvings are attached to the door and along the door frame. She opens the door to the interior of a bedroom. A big poster bed sits up against the center of the room with bay windows on either side. Light, sheer white curtains hang from the posts and are held off to the side by a grey silk sash. There is a huge wardrobe with mirrors on the doors, it seems to be made of the same wood as the bed. A matching vanity set sits inside one of the bay windows looking out onto the front yard and forest. The other houses a little reading nook with a comfortable chair and table, although no reading can be done there. A box made of the same colored wood as all the other furniture in the room sits on the small table.
We make our way inside and Mother shows me around. The room is comfortable, I like it. The style is not something I would have thought Mother would create. It's simple, comfortable, not extravagant like her room back at her home. She seems to be proud with what she has done with the place, she should be, it is a lovely room.
"Uh, wow Mother, this is, uh…" I am not quite sure what to say. A bright smile is on her face as she moves closer to hug me. Normally I wouldn't care for her hugs, but for some reason, with what she has done for me, I receive it happily. I look around the room, trying to memorize its crevices, I touch the smooth fabric wallpaper, I smell the flowers on one of the bedside tables, lay on the bed. "Thank you." I tell her. Small gestures, like setting up a room, means a lot to me surprisingly.
She looks happy, but also sad. I hear the sound of the delivery trucks doors being shut and engines starting, everything must be unpacked. It must be time for Mother to go. She looks at me, tears in her eyes, sad that her only daughter is all grown up. We have only known each other for two years and yet she looks at me like she has watched me grow up since birth, like a mother seeing her daughter go off to college for the first time. She wraps me in a hug, to which I embrace. I may not care for her, but she has taken care of me since this all began and I too am a bit sad to be left alone.
"You will see me soon," she says through the tears. "We can have tea."
"That would be nice." I smile. She lets me go, composes herself, a last tight squeeze of my hand and she leaves the room, closing the door behind her. I make my way to one of the bay windows and watch as she goes to the car, Liam holding the door open for her. She looks up at the bay window, and notices me there. There is a soft smile, then she closes the car door. I find myself waving her goodbye as the cars and delivery trucks drive away, down the long driveway, through the trees, and out of sight. And once again, I am alone.
First you hear the sound of the engine turning off, then the closing of car doors. The front door opens and the sounds of shoes on the stairwell comes next. The door to the bedroom opens and I quickly shut the wooden box on the side table of the sewing nook and stand up from the seat. Jack stands in the doorway, looking around the room. "You did nice." He says, his voice seeming surprised with the look of the room.
"Thanks, Mrs. Beal did it." I respond, I can't take credit for her art. He nods, understanding, then falls onto the soft bed. He almost sinks into it slightly with how heavy his fall was. A small chuckle escapes my mouth as he sinks into the bed.
"That's one soft mattress." I say as I watch him lay in confort.
"I am going to sleep well tonight!" We fall silent after he speaks, none of us know what to say. He seems stressed, I can tell by the stiffness in his shoulders. Something happened at work.
"Is everything alright with work?" I ask him, not expecting the full detail response he gives.
"It's the same old, same old. Stressful. Tensions between Gilead and Canada have been kicking out ass. The Canadian government is refusing negotiations about anything really. We are constantly pushing and they are not pulling. But enough about work, how was your day?" So Canada is what is causing all of the stress, good, glad they are being stubborn.
"Oh you know, just watching Lilith order around Guardians on where things should go, the fun stuff." I say sarcastically. I want to hear more about the Canada situation, what is going on in the government.
"Well I am glad you had a relaxing day." 'It wasn't really relaxing, just boring', I think in my head but say nothing. We fall silent yet again, something we have grown accustom to doing. None of us know if we can trust the other or not, whether we should speak what is going on in our heads. I almost got caught that one time, in the bathroom back at Mothers place. I almost slipped. He was going to say something that night, but he just left. Probably was too stressed with work and the situation. We haven't talked much since that night, even though it was a month ago. I only see him in the evenings, and then he is usually out with Commander Beal. I am usually asleep when he gets back and he is gone by the time I wake up. Our paths never really cross, and we are married.
There is this sudden urge in him. He gets up from the bed and quietly opens the door to our room. I make no noise, not entirely sure if I should day something or not. He listens, looks out the door, then closes it quietly. "Its late," He says "Vera should be asleep."
"We all should," I say. Its true, I usually never stay up this late, I don't know why I did. A chair is pulled beside me and I hear him whisper close. I almost shudder at the sound of his voice. Why is he whispering.
"Kyra," He says softly. I don't dare to look at him, for fear of what he has to say. "I know."
Know? Know what? What could he possibly know? I haven't done anything to reveal my hatred towards this place, me wanting to burn it down. Is this about our conversation? Is he really bringing this up now?
"Know what?" I say softly, not entirely knowing if I should have said anything or not. He pauses, I guess he is also not sure if he should continue on with this conversation.
"Kyra," he says again. "I know you, I know how you act. This isn't you. You are not someone who falls into believing this sort of thing."
"Oh and you are?" I speak before my brain has the time to process what I just said. Shit. I blew it.
"No, no I am not."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"My boss, in high school. He was a firm believer in all of this. I only went along to get a good pay. And when all this shit went down, I guess I stuck with it. I was like you, I learned to act like someone I am not. And when the whole world turned upside down I stayed by his side to not get thrown into the fire. I wanted to survive. So when he died, I got into a high enough position where I could be at the top. Where I could have power."
"So what, you are only in this for power?" I say sharply. Of course he pushed his way to the top, every man does that.
"No. Well, in a way yes. I know things, information. Important information that I can use as leverage. I know people, what places get checked, who works where and who is easily persuaded. Kyra, I can..." He isn't sure if he should say it, but I know exactly what he means. He is saying that he can get me out, he can get others out. If he knows all that he says he does, he could do it and no one would bat an eye that it was him. Of course, who would think of someone who was so loyal to a past Commander, someone who has been so devoted to the cause, or so it seems. Of course he could.
"I understand." I respond. He relaxes a bit, has he always been this stiff.
"Kyra, we could... you know... we could do it." Is he asking for a partnership? Is he asking me to get people out? Is he an idiot!
"Are you insane! That will get you on the wall, and get me as a Handmaid. Are you out of your god damn mind?" Yes, of course he is. We are in a place that causes for desperate measures. No, he can't do this, I won't let him. But it could save people, I could get out of this hell hole. But Heidi could still be here, I can't let her stay here. But I could get out. No! Don't think like this. You are a Wife, you wear bright blue. Do you know how obvious that is when you are running. There is a reason why we are in these colors. Vera has an extra Martha uniform. No!
"Kyra, you could get out! You can be free. We could get others out. Do you know what that would do to Gilead?"
"Nothing, absolutely nothing." he knows I am right. The more who get out means nothing to Gilead because they know they wont get far. With all of the check points, the soldiers, the patrols. Once it is know that people have gone missing, patrols will go out and then where will we be. He sighs. Its obvious he has been thinking about this for some time. If he is so set on rebelling, making a dent in this place, he isn't limited to only one option. There are more than one way to make a boom.
"There is something else we could do."
Thought you all should have a slightly larger chapter than my past ones, so Ta Da! I hope you are all interested in the story. What do you guys think? any theories? Let me know in the comments, I love hearing form you all and love getting to know your theories and that you are enjoying it so far. Thanks for sticking this far.
-K