I woke up before the sun rose on my second day. I'd never been a morning person in the time before, but when electricity was almost nonexistent for personal use and one had nothing to do in the evenings, I lost my nocturnal habits. I dressed and prayed-my way, to my God. Not this depressing fallacy that was Gilead-style religion. Anne found me looking out a window when she started breakfast.
"Blessed be the fruit," she greeted.
"May the Lord open," I replied automatically.
"You shouldn't be down here by yourself, you look suspicious that way. Mrs. Cole isn't one to tolerate that."
"I wanted to help with breakfast. You weren't here yet, but the garden looked so nice I…" I trailed off. Anne was right. I shouldn't leave my room without supervision. Aunt Claire would be disappointed that I was so entitled after a single day.
Anne's expression softened. "I'll come get you tomorrow morning. So long as I'm with you, you shouldn't get in trouble."
I smiled slightly. "Thank you."
Anne flushed, then bustled in the pantry where I couldn't see her face. "I still don't want you touching the food," she grumbled. "Help with breakfast my-"
Anne did not relent this time. Breakfast for the servants was plain oatmeal, but she snuck cinnamon and sugar-delicacies pilfered from the Cole's dessert supply-into it. I was given a glass of milk to go with it and the pills. After our breakfast, we prepared the Cole's. I was relegated to setting the table-minus the knives which Anne refused to trust me with.
I was most amazed at the amount of Guardians in the house. Five came for breakfast while two patrolled. Another three were asleep, according to Maria. I'd thought one or two was standard in a Commander's home. Aunt Claire wasn't exaggerating when she said Commander Cole was high ranking.
The Commander came down first, reading out of a file for work.
He smiled when he saw me. "Blessed be the fruit, Ofmartin."
I avoided his gaze. "May the Lord open, Commander Cole."
His hand brushed across my back as he walked past. I shuddered. Mrs. Cole came down not long after. She scowled when she saw me, but didn't say anything. The Cole's didn't speak to one another, even when Commander Cole left for work. He just leaned over for his wife to kiss his cheek, which she did begrudgingly, then went in his way.
After breakfast and cleanup, Anne handed me the day's shopping tokens. "Make sure the vegetables are fresh, last time Maria got half spoiled ones. If the chicken isn't fresh, don't get one, we have enough left over to make do without wasting a token."
Maria told me where to find my walking partner. She'd been delegated the daily shopping as a walking partner for Ofmilton in between handmaids. Ofmilton was already standing by the stone wall outside the Thorpes' house.
"Blessed be the fruit," I said.
"May the Lord open," Ofmilton replied.
Ofmilton led the way. I didn't know where any of the shops were here.
"How's the new assignment?" She asked after a while.
"Fine, I guess. The Commander seems to like me and the Martha's are kind. I think the wife hates me though. I don't know what to expect."
"The last Ofmartin said it wasn't too bad. I wouldn't worry too much about her."
"Praised be," I said dryly. "Which assignment is this for you?"
"Fourth."
"Already?" I exclaimed. Gilead had hardly been around long enough for four.
A guard reprimanded me for the outburst. I ducked my head, gripping my basket tighter.
"I know, right?" Ofmilton replied bemusedly. "First Commander's wife died three months in. Suicide, the Martha's said, but I don't know for sure. The Commander had a temper. I got lucky with the second, pregnant right away with a little boy. They named him Christopher. Third…let's just say it didn't work out. They didn't keep me two months. I'm not too worried about it. They won't send me to the Colonies now with a baby on my record and another on the way."
"You're pregnant again?" I asked. "You've been blessed indeed."
Ofmilton scoffed quietly so the guardians couldn't hear. "Yep, lucky me."
We arrived at Milk & Honey. They had oranges today and a fresh chicken, but no milk like Anne had asked for. Overall, I was pleased with myself. My basket was overflowing when we'd finished, significantly more than any of the other Handmaids I saw. Commander Cole must be one of the highest ranking Commanders in the city to have so many more tokens than even the other Commanders' families. Ofmilton showed me the Wall on the way back. The bodies were old enough to smell well before we got there. I puked in the bushes. Two Marthas and a Guardian. Oddly, they didn't have symbols on them indicating their crimes.
"Shall we rest here?" Ofmilton asked lightly. How could she say that as if we weren't standing underneath dead bodies?
"I'd rather not. I'll puke again if we stay much longer."
"You think it's bad now? Wait til the first May day when it's warm and sunny. It's much worse then, even when the bodies are fresher." She retorted, turning to look me in the eyes, as if she was looking for something.
I responded by retching into the bushes again. We headed home much quieter than when we left.
The days fell into a tedious routine of shopping, meals, cleaning, nightly prayers, and waiting. So much waiting in the dark of my bedroom.
The dreaded Thursday came. Today Ofmilton met me at the Cole's front yard. We exchanged the usual greetings as we walked.
"Hey, are you ok?" She asked. "You're even quieter than usual."
It took me a while to find my voice. "It's today. The Ceremony."
I turned my head a bit to see her nod in understanding inside her wimple.
"The first is always the worst."
"I'm terrified," I confessed. I'd vomited up breakfast and couldn't stop shaking the whole morning. The Commander was especially bubbly, which didn't help matters.
"It's…it's my first ever. I've never done…it…before." I continued softly.
"Shit, you mean you're a virgin?" Ofmilton exclaimed.
"Yeah."
"What did you do to end up in the red then? I thought we were all experienced in some way or another."
"We're not supposed to talk about the time before," I reminded her, tearing up at the thought of before.
"Wait, are you seriously crying? Listen, its not that bad. Just try not to think about what's happening tonight," She advised. "Pick a memory you don't mind being ruined for you and think of that instead. For me it's playing on the trampoline with my little brother when I was a kid. It makes things easier, I promise."
"I didn't want to lose it to the Commander. It was supposed to be my husband. We were going to wait until I was a bit older-"
Ofmilton sighed. "You said you didn't want to talk about it. Don't talk about it then. You've got to toughen up if you want to survive this, understand?"
I couldn't bring myself to put much effort into shopping that day. Ofmilton let us take the long way home to avoid the wall. She squeezed my hand in reassurance as we returned to our households.
Instead of helping with dinner that night, I was sent to the washroom upstairs to prepare for the Ceremony. To my surprise, Maria followed me into it.
"Aren't you supposed to wait outside?" I asked.
"Mrs. Cole ordered me to wash you. The last Ofmartin refused to bathe then tried to drown herself in the tub," She explained apologetically.
So much for Ofmilton's assurances that this posting wouldn't be so bad if it was enough to make the previous Ofmartin try to kill herself. I tried to ignore Maria's presence as I stripped. She pretended to inspect the counter for dust to give me a semblance of privacy. She drew the bath warm enough that steam curled off the top. It had been a long time since I'd had the luxury of a hot bath. Back at the Red Center, our monthly wash consisted of cold showers without curtains with Aunts staring and hurrying us along.
Maria hummed as she washed my hair. It made me feel like a child again, sitting in the bath back home in Texas with my mom washing my hair. She'd loved to hum and sing around the house, even though she was completely gone deaf. I'd always complained about it as a child. Before it had been bombed into a toxic wasteland. Before my mom had been sent back to the Colonies to clean it up. She was probably dead now. What I'd give to hear her sing again. God, I missed her.
Maria blessedly ignored my silent sobs.
I didn't-couldn't-eat dinner. My stomach roiled with nausea. Anne scolded me in the kitchen, but relented when a tear slipped past the blank mask I'd put in place. The house Guardian, James, laughed when he saw my puffy, tear-stained face.
"Aww, is the Handmaid shy? Bet she cries the whole time. The old man doesn't know how to have a little fun." He cackled. Anne and I knew better than to challenge him.
After dinner, Mrs. Cole went into the sitting room where we'd first met. I followed her and knelt obediently beside her peacock chair. Her fingers tapped anxiously against the wicker. A clock ticked loudly on the mantle. Anne, Maria, and James filed silently, reverently, into the room. James nudged my butt with his shoe as he stood behind me. He breathed out sharply through his nose as I stiffened.
What felt like ages and an instant at once passed before Commander Cole knocked at the door.
"Come in," answered Mrs. Cole.
Commander Cole kissed his wife's cheek, then walked with slow, deliberate steps to a carved wooden box on the mantle. He pulled out a key from his suit pocket, opened the box, and retrieved the family Bible carefully stowed there away from the prying eyes of women.
"What a lovely night this is," he announced, putting on his artificial southern pastor air. "Let us pray that tonight is found pleasing to the Lord and that he may reward us by making it fruitful. Amen."
He wet his finger and rifled through the Bible, as if the passage in question hadn't been used so often as to open to the page straight away.
"And when Rachel saw that she bore Jacob no children, Rachel envied her sister, and said unto Jacob, 'Give me children or else I die.' And she said, 'Behold my maid, Bilhah. Go unto her and she shall bear upon my knees so that I might also have children by her.' And she gave him Bilhah, their Handmaid, to wife, and Jacob went unto her."
"Let us pray that as God bestowed a child upon Jacob and Rachel through Bilhah, he may bestow a child upon us."
"Amen," the household chorused. I merely mouthed the words. My throat was too dry to speak.
"Let us have a moment in silence for our intentions."
Dear God, save me from this. Don't let them do this to me. Let this be just a long, detailed nightmare. Strike me dead. Strike down the Commander, anything. Please, I beg you.
The Commander closed the Holy Book and locked it away in its box. Mrs. Cole led us out of the room and we processed upstairs to the second floor. For the first time, I saw her room. It reminded me of my grandmother's house. Pale periwinkle walls, lace doilies covering every surface, china figures sitting upon them. The bed, that thrice accursed bed, was made of dark brown mahogany intricately carved with flowers. Baby blue curtains hung from the posts framing an obscene amount of beaded pillows. A lacy quilt covered the bottom half of the bed. My feet sunk into the plush rug.
I could hear my heart pounding in my head. My feet were like lead as I approached the bed. My hands were numb. Could they see me trembling? Could they tell my legs wanted to give way beneath me rather than bring me closer to my doom?
Mrs. Cole climbed onto the bed. She rearranged the pillows and propped herself up, looking as much like a china doll as the room called for. I froze at the foot, my body unwilling to take me any farther.
"Get up," she hissed.
The Commander pushed me forward. I lay between her legs. My head rested on her crotch, my legs dangled uncomfortably over the edge of the bed.. Her hands clamped around my wrists like manacles, her nails digging painfully into them.
Commander Cole's pants rustled and they dropped to the floor. My legs were suddenly cold as he exposed them to the air.
Please, I prayed. Please don't let this happen.
He removed the baggy underwear that was my last protection. His hands gripped my thighs tightly. I closed my eyes, tears running down my face once more as I waited for the death knell.
It didn't come. The Commander grunted, huffed, grunted again. I heard the dry rasp of skin against skin. He touched me in unspeakable ways. What was taking so long? More puffing and grunting. Eventually, the moment came. He was limp and warm, he pushed forcefully into me. It felt like broken glass was dragging inside of me. I yelped.
"Quiet, whore!" Mrs. Cole hissed, pressing her nails even deeper into my skin.
Part of me wanted to laugh. Here she was raping me with her husband and I was a whore?
The Commander thrust limply again, the force pushing me into his wife. She moaned loudly. Surely loud enough for the Martha's and James to hear downstairs. He went again and again, Mrs. Cole moaning aloud each time as if it was her he was penetrating. I felt like a third wheel in my own rape. It took an eternity for him to get hard enough to finish. Each thrust brought a wave of pain with it. His hands held onto my thigh, butt, back, breasts, the whole time. The Aunts had said his hands would never touch me. They had said it wouldn't hurt. They had lied. Lied, lied, lied.
"There, now that wasn't so bad was it?" He said as he dressed again. He was awfully smug for someone so impotent. "Maybe tomorrow you won't be so scared now your cherry has been popped eh?"
Tomorrow? He must've seen the horror on my face for he added "We do things a little different around here than what those ladies told you at the Center. Thou shalt not waste the opportunity when you are ripe for the picking. We must show God how devoted we are to his command: be fruitful and multiply."
He left the room without waiting for a response. Mrs. Cole held me in her vice-like grip. We waited the prescribed ten minutes for his seed to take root. As soon as the ten minutes were up, she shoved me off the bed. Unprepared, I slammed butt-first onto the floor. I cried out as my already sore body throbbed in pain from the impact.
I fled upstairs into my room, slamming the door behind me without heed of the scolding I might receive. I buried my face in my pillow and screamed. Screamed at the indignity, at the pain, that I'd lost my virginity to a stranger old enough to be my grandfather rather than a man that I loved and chose, at the thought of doing this again tomorrow, then again month after month the rest of my life.
I screamed and cried until my throat was raw and sleep finally claimed me.