My ring was gone. That was the first thing I noticed waking up. I could feel the weight of it missing. I felt naked without it. Two years, that's how long Connor and I had been married. We thought we'd been careful, that those around us would chalk up our childless lives as victims of the times, but they hadn't. Now he was dead because of it. Staring up at the painfully white ceiling, I saw his blood splattered against the windshield of his truck. There were bits of brain in it, his brilliant, beautiful brain. My eyes stung, but no tears fell. Strange, I thought to myself. I'd always been such an easy crier.
A door opened. I shot upward in bed, the lump on my head courtesy of a rifle butt immediately protesting with a flash of red stars.
"Good. You're awake. Blessed be the fruit." A woman's voice clipped.
I looked up. A tall figure covered head to toe in brown towered over me. An Aunt. Her face was as sharp as her voice sounded. Her nose had an odd angle to it, like it had once been broken and not set well. Her lips and eyes were pinched thin and her hair more gray than brown. If I had to guess, I'd say she was in her early 60's. She was smiling at me, a cattle prod dangling from her hand threateningly.
She was waiting for me to speak, I realized. "Where…where am I?"
"You have been blessed by God, my dear." She replied. That face sure didn't look like a blessing. "You have been made fertile, despite your selfishness. We have saved you from your sinful ways by the mercy of God and brought you here, to the Rachel and Leah Center. Here you will become a woman of God, a Handmaid unto the Lord instead of an unwoman who has rejected her natural blessing."
I felt the blood drain from my face. The Red Center. I knew what it was, of course, though the town I'd lived in was too small to have one. One could hear the stories passed from Handmaid to Martha to Econowife with only the slightest prodding from the town gossips. The Republic of Gilead had been around for about a year now, I'd seen what it did to disobedient fertile women, there'd was the occasional woman in red on the street, though our town wasn't large enough to have more than a handful. I knew what would happen if a fertile woman was caught in the slightest offense. I had kept my head down, grit my teeth, obeyed as best I could. It didn't matter now. I was the same as them: a Handmaid.
The Aunt smirked. My horror must have shown. "Your clothes are over there. Get dressed. You have a lot to learn today."
To my right, a brilliant scarlet dress and cloak lay folded on a side table. Belatedly, I realized I was only wearing underwear. It was so long and baggy, I hadn't even recognized it for what it was. Econowives were at least allowed a bra and panties. I struggled putting my hair up into the cap. I'd never been good at doing my hair, even in the time before with YouTube tutorials and hairspray. I learned the basics out of necessity once the dress codes became enforceable, but my fingers still fumbled a year later. Lightning pain radiated from my neck. I screamed.
"Don't dawdle." The Aunt chided.
"Sorry, ma'am."
Another jolt of electricity.
"Sorry, Aunt Claire. Say it."
"Sorry, Aunt Claire," I repeated. How was I supposed to know? I protested inwardly. Haven't been here five minutes and I've gotten the cattle prod twice. I'd be dead by the end of the week at this rate.
Once I was dressed in the voluminous robes of a Handmaid, Aunt Claire led me out of the hospital wing and showed me around. The Red Center had been a public school once. We passed halls of empty classrooms, a gym filled with cots, a cafeteria, and a football field. Aunt Claire went on and on about how blessed I was, how I would be molded into a meek and silent servant. She watched my face closely through it all. If I so much as twitched with displeasure, she would lift the prod threateningly. I was ashamed to already be flinching at it.
Months passed. I learned what was expected of me as a Handmaid. I was obedient, silent. I learned that quickly after saving a handful of food for one of the girls left tied to her bed during dinner. They shredded my feet for that handful with a whip made of metal cables. We were required to report another Handmaid for disobedience every couple of days or so. Didn't matter what we did. Roll your eyes, gossip about an Aunt, speak without permission, you were beaten all the same. Half the time the person accused hadn't done anything at all. We got good at deciding silently to all blame one person for a variety of crimes, that way only one person got beaten that day.
It was a good system until you made a mistake. I once spilled water from my glass during lunch. I was quick enough to clean up the mess without the Aunts seeing, but it didn't matter. That day was Confession Day. We were seated in a classroom as Aunt Claire strolled between the desks, cattle prod humming. Sweat dribbled down my neck as the girls on either side eyed me as their chosen target.
"Girls, you know the rules of Confession Day. Either come forward and confess your sin and accept the punishment or, if there is no log of sin in your eye, remove the log from one of your sisters'. As we are our sisters' keepers, we must look out for one another to ensure we all keep to the path of righteousness."
The class's hands shot up in unison. I kept mine flat on the desk. That was the unspoken rule. When you knew you were the day's target, you bit your tongue and took it. I'd be beaten whether or not I accused another girl, doing so would only ensure that I'd be accused again next Confession Day. It was the only way our system would work. Aunt Claire spotted the empty space and strode purposefully over to me.
"Your hand is not raised, my dear," she cooed.
"No, Aunt Claire."
She motioned to the girl behind me to stand up. "Jenna, my sweet girl, do you know this girl's crime?"
The girl's dark brown eyes showed no mercy. "Yes, Aunt Claire. She is a slattern, she spilled her water at lunch, and spent the day in dirty clothes."
"Really?" Aunt Claire replied, tsking. "Such shameful behavior, shameful. A slovenly exterior reflects a slovenly interior. We must cure her of her sinfulness immediately. What of you, Fatma, what do you have to say?"
Fatma stood. "I saw her neglect our lessons yesterday. She looked out the window instead."
The list of my sins grew as one by one the other Handmaids were called. I wished I could hate them for it, but I'd done the same to each of them over the weeks. When the last accusation had been heard, two Guardians pulled me from my seat and dragged me to the basement. My hands and feet were caned until they were bloody pulps. They would've pulled my nails out, but they hadn't grown back from last time. Instead, they branded me with the Gileadean crest on my stomach and packed the burn with salt. I was left tied in the freezing basement until morning.
Outside of the punishments, life fell into a tedious routine of class, meals, twice daily walks around the track, and downtime. So much downtime. Others slept, but I rarely could. It was so boring. I almost wished to get an assignment, just to change scenery and have more to do. Not that there would be much more to do. Just the shopping and the Ceremony. Wait for a baby. I made up stories in my mind to pass the time. Epic space fantasies, romance, historical dramas, anything and everything but memories. Memories were forbidden. But gradually, even the best stories dimmed and faded. They didn't mean anything, they changed nothing. Eventually, I just stared up at the ceiling, waiting.
It was snowing during our walk around the football field. A girl named Jade walked beside me in the line. I didn't know much about her, the Aunts said she'd committed fornication. Jade had whispered she'd been raped as we lay on our cots that night. A few weeks later, she taught me how to tie off a braid using my own hair through the peephole in the restroom stall all the handmaids knew about. We both kept a tiny braid hidden under our caps from then on. She'd been transferred from New York. We didn't talk much beyond that, but it didn't matter. Jade was the closest thing to a friend I had at the Red Center.
A hand grabbed my arm and pulled me out of line. I froze, waiting for the electric shock to come.
"Blessed be the fruit, child." Aunt Claire said sweetly. Odd. She was rarely in a good mood.
"May the Lord open." I replied, eyes cast downward.
"Come with me. We are leaving. You too," she added to Jade.
Jade and I exchanged curious glances as best we could beneath our wings. A handful of other girls were also pulled out of line to follow Aunt Claire down an unfamiliar hallway. She lined us up against the wall, occasionally zapping anyone who's posture she deemed not submissive enough. Another Aunt approached with a man. No, not just a man, a Commander. I could tell from his brightly polished shoes, they looked expensive. His pants were perfectly pressed and tailored as well. I dared not look farther up.
"Here are the girls, Commander Cole. Each of them fits your description, I can vouch for every one of them," said Aunt Claire as he walked methodically down the line of girls.
He stopped in front of me. I felt my breath catch in my throat as he inspected me for several moments. He placed his hand on my chin, tilting my face to meet his. He was fat, to my surprise. It was difficult to become fat nowadays with the strict rations and lack of processed foods. He must be wealthy then, even for a Commander. He was in his early sixties, his balding head rimmed with wispy white hair. His beard and mustache were trimmed crisply to give angles to his round face. Like if Santa had become a calculating businessman. What unsettled me most though, were the eyes. They were a frigid blue framed by wire-rimmed glasses and seemed to pierce right through me into the wall.
The tip of his tongue grazed his pale lips. Aunt Claire moved to whisper something in his ear. He nodded, dropping my gaze.
"Yes, this is the one." He said with a Southern drawl. My heart dropped into my stomach like a lead weight, not knowing what he thought I had done. Surely it must be serious for a Commander to come to the Red Center. Such a thing was unheard of, only guardians were permitted here.
Aunt Claire tugged me away once the Commander had left. A black van was parked on the other side of the chain link fence surrounding the football field. We climbed in the back and a guardian closed the doors behind us. Where were they taking us? I racked my brain for any mistakes I'd made. Were they going to punish me? If so, it must be severe. I'd only known a few instances where a Handmaid had been driven off for punishment rather than beaten at the Center. Perhaps they were taking me in for questioning. Yes, someone else must have made a mistake, a critical one. I knew nothing about it, but who would believe that? They'd torture me anyway.
"Ofmartin, don't fidget," Aunt Claire chided. "Blessed are the patient."
Ofmartin. I was being assigned to that Commander? But why had he picked me rather than the Aunts? I didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified. I wasn't in trouble, I was leaving the Red Center, but they were going to rape me until I bore children and pass me to the next Commander or until I was sent to the colonies childless. I regretted wishing in those tedious moments in the middle of the night to be assigned. I changed my mind, I wished I was being punished instead.
"The Coles are a beautiful family. The Commander is a member of the Committee and I hear Mrs. Cole has the best gardens in the city. They keep a nice, orderly house. It is an honor for you to be chosen to bear his child. Do not disappoint me," Aunt Claire continued.
"Yes, Aunt Claire," I replied.
The van stopped too soon. Aunt Claire and a Martha shuffled me inside. Two Guardians stood along the cobblestone path to the house. In that brief time outside, I could see the grounds and brick house were quite extensive. The wide porch was supported by pillars. A greenhouse could just be made out from the side. Holly topiaries lined the house and driveway. A few timid flowers poked out of the snow. They'd surely die soon in this unexpected freeze.
The door was painted a royal blue. As I walked into the house, I could see it was a favorite theme of Mrs. Cole's. The walls, fabrics, china, nearly everything was a shade of blue in the entryway and drawing room. I almost didn't see her sitting in her wicker peacock chair, she fit the blue theme so well. A guardian standing by her side gave her away.
As soon as I noticed her, I dropped my gaze, folding my hands neatly over one another. Mrs. Cole was much younger than her husband, mid-forties at the oldest, and thin as a rail. Silver streaked her dark brown hair which was bound in a severe bun under penalty of death. Her bony, perfectly manicured fingers gripped the arms of the chair like talons. Aunt Claire placed me in front of her. I could feel the wife's inspection like a laser burning me.
"Blessed day, Mrs. Cole," Aunt Claire began. "May I introduce you to Ofmartin. She's a quiet, pious girl. She will give you no trouble, I am sure of it."
"I expect it to be so," Mrs. Cole replied. Her voice was higher than I'd expected.
"I will be out in the hall," said Aunt Claire. With a quick squeeze of my shoulder, she was gone.
"Kneel." Mrs. Cole demanded, voice even colder once Aunt Claire had left.
"Mrs. Cole?"
"Kneel!" She repeated, louder this time. "And do not speak unless I tell you."
I dropped to my knees, expecting her to continue speaking. She did not. Minutes passed and my back began to ache with the odd posture of a bowed head and bent knees on the dark wood floor. She must be enjoying her power, I thought to myself. Eventually she evidently decided I'd sweat enough.
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen, ma'am."
"Martin tells me this is your first assignment." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. We don't take others' leftovers here. I'll keep this brief. You are never to speak to my husband. He will not address you and you shall not so much as make eye contact with him. The only interaction you will have with my husband is for procreation only. The last one we had was a flirty slut with him and got her mouth stapled shut. Such an eyesore disrupts the peace of the house. You are not to speak with the driver either. The only times you may speak are when the Martha's or I ask you a question. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Mrs. Cole." I answered.
"And you are not to be lazy. This house doesn't keep itself. I expect you to be cleaning or helping the Martha's cook when you are not shopping. If those tasks are completed, I will give you a task in the garden." Mrs. Cole cleared her throat loudly. "Well, I think that's enough for introductions. I'll see Aunt Claire out. Ofmartin, find Anne and help her with dinner."
With that, she left the room. Fled, more like it. I stood hesitantly. Commander Cole was still staring at me. Unsure of what to do, I hurried out the door opposite the one I'd entered through. Without too much searching, I found one of the Martha's dusting a vase in yet another sitting room. She appeared to be in her early twenties. Her hair was light brown with curls breaking free of their bun.
"Blessed be the fruit," I said softly.
"Oh, you're here already. I thought you weren't supposed to be here until Thursday. I'm Maria." Maria thrust out her hand. I stared at it until she withdrew it. I wasn't allowed to touch anyone outside of the Ceremony.
"Mrs. Cole told me to find Anne and help with dinner."
"Ah, I can show you the way there. This place is a bit of a maze."
Anne turned out to be the brusque, middle-aged woman who I'd met outside. She objected when I told her Mrs. Cole wanted me to help in the kitchen.
"I've managed this kitchen for two years and have never needed help from anyone." She said heatedly. "And I don't plan to start needing help now, especially from the likes of her," gesturing at my robes.
Maria laughed. "Anne, lighten up. What harm could it be to let Ofmartin peel carrots or something?"
"She could kill herself with the knife. Or worse, me."
"Then let her cook the rice or stir something," Maria retorted.
"I'm standing right here, you know." I said, surprised to find myself speaking unprompted.
Maria turned on me. "Ha! I knew you'd crack. Didn't even take a day to break that 'blessed are the silent' nonsense."
"Hush, Maria," Anna warned. "You don't want Mrs. Cole to hear. Behave for once."
Anne eventually let me stir the various dishes she was preparing. It seemed an awful lot for just one household, even if the country wasn't under strict rations. But then again, I'd never been in a Commander's home before. Perhaps this was normal for them. After dinner, Maria showed me around under the guise of dusting. Before bed, the commander gathered the household and did a facsimile of nightly prayers. He pulled out the Bible from its locked box and read emphatically-only the Old Testament naturally-interspersing it frequently with "Amen" and "Praised be". Funny how I hadn't heard the name Jesus since the time before. So much for being a Christian sect. He ended with a speech about how the Lord told him there would be a child in the family very soon as a reward for their devotion. It took all the fear instilled by the Red Center not to grimace.
My room was much as I'd expected it to be. It was the smallest room in the house besides the coat closet. Even with just the bed, nightstand, and closet it felt crowded. The walls were a faded green wallpaper decorated with a leafy pattern. A ragged bath mat served as a rug at the foot of the bed. I moved it to the side opposite the nightstand so I could step on it rather than the cold wood floor. A bubble of laughter rose up. It wasn't funny really, but that rug was the only thing I could control anymore. I could move it and the nightstand however I wished. No Aunt could scold me in here. I could even decide to fold my dresses and cloaks rather than hang them. Yes, I'd do that here. So what if it was impractical? It was mine. My room.
I quickly discovered the best part of the room. There was a window. Opaque curtains framed it, I wondered if I could steal some scraps from Mrs. Cole's embroidery to make something of them. But beyond those, behind the barred and shatter-proof window, was a tree. I couldn't tell what type of tree, it was still bare and I'd never been knowledgeable on the subject, but it was tall enough to reach the third floor. Its trunk was thick and straight. Some of the branches came almost to the window. I could watch it grow as spring came. Maybe I'd know what it was then. Birds could come by. Maybe one would build a nest. I could almost forget my problems, looking at that tree glistening with frost.