Years ago, when I was desperate for work to support my family and Commander Pryce offered me a role in Sons of Jacob, I really wish I would have spit in his eye. Growing up, there was a US Army recrement office just down the block from my family home, I can't help but wonder what would have become of me if I chose the other side, fought with the USA. It would be delusional to think that I personally would have changed the course of the war, but I sure as hell would probably sleep better at night…if I didn't die that is.
This morning was another stark reminder of what I personally fought and killed for in the war. Another mark on my already scared soul. I watched Mrs. Waterford beat Offred for the simple act of her biology doing what it does when a blastocyst doesn't implant to become an embryo. Like she has control over whether she gets impregnated or not. As a handmaid, she's property whose only job is to get pregnant so her baby can be stolen if it manages to be born alive. If she can't do this, then as property, the owners can do as they please. Beat, belittle, torture….rape, it's all up for grabs. They can even kill her, and they wouldn't face any repercussions. I know this because after they pushed the last one to her grave not a single question was asked. No Eyes came to investigate. Despite the original handmaid having had several other successful postings prior, It was her fault she was dead. She was the sick one. A new "Offred," was delivered, shiny and new within a month.
I lie in bed night after night looking out at her shuttered and darkened windows, knowing she's in there, though days have passed, even more than a week or is it closer to two? If feels like it's been forever, and I'm not the one stuck in those four walls. The first day of her solitude I was instructed to nail the shutters on her windows closed, she's not even given the freedom to look out at the world. I imagine that is why the lights stay out. Why turn them on if there is nothing to look at?
This is my fault, at least partially. I helped this place find its foothold, and in turn, this is happening to her. Millions have died because of Gilead, and those lives are on my head too, but this is much more personal, watching suffering up close. I find it hard to breathe sometimes, and that makes me want to stop breathing, but I have little fortitude, so I push past it and keep on living. Perhaps this is my due, for me to watch the torture of another person, a person that despite my own self-interest and views on life, I've become to care about what happens too. I deserve it, the pain, and so much more. I'm sorry Offred.
The sun is barely up when I come into the kitchen to scrounge up some breakfast. Rita enters the kitchen with the sound of rattling pottery. I look up from my spot in front of the fridge to see she has a food tray, but it's covered in broken plates and smeared food.
Alarm bells ring in my head, but I keep my face the mask that it is, because…well because I don't want Rita to know that I'm thinking about the handmaid.
"What happened?" I ask, dismissively, pulling out a slab of ham and some eggs to cook up.
"She scared me to death is what happened, dropped the tray," she says, putting the whole tray in the sink.
I raise an eyebrow, looking for her to clarify.
"She says she fainted," she adds.
I nod and grab a frypan.
"I convinced Mrs. Waterford to let her see the doctor. Ceremony and all," she states.
Adding some oil to the pan, I crack a few eggs into it with a sizzle before Rita grabs the spatula from me and shoos me away from the stove.
I lean over the sink and start picking the broken clay and porcelain from the tray.
"Some fresh air would do her some good, the walk to the doctor that is," I say off-handedly.
Rita looks at me over her shoulder. "Ain't good keepin' someone up there like that," she whispers.
I toss the broken dishes into the trash and drop down into a chair at the island table. She's braver than me, Rita. She's brave to tell me what she thinks sometimes, after all, she knows without knowing that I'm an Eye. I'm glad she chooses to still trust me. I bite the inside of my cheek before deciding to engage, just a little bit. "How is she, other than fainting?" I ask, sure to keep my voice neutral.
Rita cuts up the ham and tosses it in the pan with my eggs and shrugs. "Pale. Lifeless." She says quietly, turning the sizzling meat around.
I feel my breath catch. I remember the look on the other Offred's face all too clearly.
I'm about to inquire more about the doctor's visit when Mrs. Waterford barrels into the room. "Rita, I need another cup of coffee," she says in with an over-exaggerated sigh.
The Martha moves the pan of food off the burner before turning to the coffee pot and pouring a steaming cup for the woman. "Mrs. Waterford, I was about to contact the Glen's Martha about a walking partner for Offred, is there anything else you would like me to pass on?" Rita asks.
Serna laughs, it a hollow, mean sound. "Oh no, she's not walking! I mean if she's sick, then she shouldn't overdo it should she?" She asks in a tone that clearly states she doesn't believe Offred is actually unwell. "Nick, you will take her. I've already cleared it with the commander. Rita, let Nick and then Offred know once the appointment is set," she instructs. There is no room for argument.
"Yes, Mrs. Waterford," Rita and I say in unison.
Mrs. Waterford snatches the coffee Rita just poured from her hands and marches out of the kitchen.
Rita moves the eggs and ham from the pan and sets the plate in front of me. "No freedom for her today," she sighs.
I stab a piece of ham and study it. "At least she gets to leave the house," I say evenly.
The look on my cohort's face says "Right, cuz that is what she needs," without her needing to say it.
I shove the meat in my mouth and sigh as I chew thoughtfully. "I'll see what I can find out," I say, being intentionally vague.
Rita knows better than to clarify, so she just nods. "I'll the doctor now," she says and disappears down the hall.
A few hours later the skies have opened and rain is falling in buckets when it's time to collect Offred for her appointment. I stand outside the front door, umbrella ready to protect her from the torrent of water falling from the sky.
The door opens, and she steps out. Her eye slide closed as she takes in the fresh air, heavy with the scent of damp earth. When they open again, I see clearly what the confinement has done to her. She is pale, the only color to speak of on her face are the dark circles under her eyes. Her face is drawn, and her lips chapped. The phrase, 'death warmed over' filters through my thoughts. I put the umbrella over her head, and we move in unison down the stairs. I'm careful to keep her covered as much as possible. I'm already drenched from moving the car out front, and it looks like a simple cold could take her out.
I deposit her quickly in the car and get behind the wheel myself. I've just put the keys in the ignition when the front passenger door opens. It's Serna Joy, and she is reaching in to put up the partition between the driver and the passenger. Her message is clear, I won't be providing any company for my charge.
I'm well trained at keeping my Gilead mask in place but at this moment the bitter-hateful actions of this woman cause it to slip. I can feel the question on my face, the drawn eyebrows and mouth hanging a gape in utter disbelief. Mrs. Waterford doesn't engage, doesn't flinch; she just shoots me a steely glance and slams the door.
The drive to the clinic is silent. My eyes keep glancing in the mirror to the back seat, but each time I find her just staring out the window from behind her red curtain.
There is little to do while I wait for Offred to finish her appointment, so sit in the car listening to the rain hitting the roof. I try to make a game out of it, find a song in the taps. I've just started humming Stayin' Alive when I realize how mindnumbing an hour's worth of solitude is like, which puts Offred's situation sharply into focus. What would 13 days of this be like? I've been debating whether to approach Commander Waterford about the issue all day, but this makes up my mind. I'll just need to be careful about what and how I say it. He needs to think my concern is solely for the family not at all for the handmaid.
There is a peck on my window which causes me to jump a bit. I look out to see a guardian waving me toward the pickup door. I pull around and make quick work of depositing my passenger and turning for home.
We are only a few blocks from the clinic when I can see in the mirror that she's silently crying. The weeping quickly turns into screaming profanities and her small hands connect with the glass of the partition as she completely falls apart in the back seat.
Her sobs set my nerve ending on edge. I keep looking back over my shoulder to make sure she isn't hurting herself and pray that she knows that this is a safe place to do what she needs to do. There is nothing I can do to help her, but I will bare witness to her pain, it is the least she deserves from me.
As quickly as the storm rolls in, it rolls out and she is slumped, boneless, against the back seat. Her eyes are empty and haunted. This is how I find her when I open her door in the driveway. "We're home," I mutter, knowing that by no means is this her home. She stays seated, her dull eyes focused on nothing. Her pain is still thick in the back seat, and it hits me in the stomach. "Look, I'm sorry this is happening to you. I wish…."
"You wish what?" she asks not even waiting for me to finish. She looks up at me for the first time, her eyes begging for me to complete the sentence.
What do I wish? At some point my wishes became too numerous to count, so I stopped wishing or hoping for things, but somehow you, Offred, you make me want to wish again. I wish it were possible to drive you away from here. I wish the Waterfords' would die in their sleep. I wish I hadn't been so fucking gullible and bought into this farce of a life. I wish I could be more…do more to change all of this. But I say none of this, I just stand in place like a mute.
"What do you wish?" she asks again.
I wish I could be your friend. I hold out my hand to her.
She looks at my outstretched hand but doesn't take it, and I don't blame her. Friendship just ends in pain here.
Dinner is quiet. Rita has been set off to the neighbors to fix dinner as their Martha is sick and has been taken to hospital.
I sit at the table picking at my dinner and trying to come up with a convincing lie for the Commander about Offred's imprisonment when the Commander appears in the kitchen Fuck. Good thing I think fast on my feet.
"Blessed Evening, Commander," I state standing.
Fred nods at me and goes to the fridge. "Blessed Evening. It feels like forever since I've seen you, Nick," he says nonchalantly.
"Yes sir, Mrs. Waterford has kept me extra busy these past few days."
He takes out the pitcher of iced tea Rita made today and pours a glass. "Yes, I know. I understand you took the handmaid to the clinic today," he says.
"Yes," I answer.
"Mrs. Waterford assures me she is in good health," he says leaning against the sink.
I look at the man for a long moment before saying anything. "Praise be. Speaking of the clinic, sir, I did hear some talk while down there today and I think you should be made aware."
Fred takes another drink. "I don't put much credence on idle gossip, but go on," he says.
"Sir, Offred's absence in the walking pool and at the shops has gotten the attention of some and when there is a lack of information, people like to fabricate their own truths. The story going around is that Offred is sick, has been for some time, and that it's being ignored," I lie.
"Ha, ridiculous," the Commander laughs.
I paint on a faux smile "Yes, I agree, and I wouldn't mention it at all, but a driver I trust warned me that his mistress was planning on contacting the Red Center. Apparently, she's been on the list for a handmaid for some time, so she takes every opportunity presented to help move the process along for other families," I tell him.
Fred grumbles under her breath. He hates being undermined or questioned, which is what will happen if Aunt Lydia shows up for a check and finds a hollow-eyed handmaid barely clinging to life. Handmaids are a "waste not want not" kind of commodity. No one cares about their lives, or how they are treated really, but they do try and keep them alive so they can pop out babies. "Yes, well I'll discuss the issue with Mrs. Waterford. Thank you for letting me know. You are a good man, Nick." He says clapping me on the shoulder as he passes.
I stand at the table until I hear his footsteps disappear down the hall. That was all the leverage I have; I hope it does some good.
The next afternoon is gray and damp, but the rain has stopped. It's time for car maintenance. I've changed the oil and am working on topping off fluids when she appears around the hood of the Benz. A smile climbs onto my lips without invitation. She's out, Praise Be! She smiles back. She's still a little pale but there is light in her eyes. She's found the will to go on, which is the only thing any of us can hope for in this forsaken place. Yes, Praise fucking Be.
The pieces of my sidearm lay in four separate but distinct piles across my tabletop. The room smells of metal and gun oil, I kind of like it. I'm passing the cleaning rod through the barrel when a knock on the door breaks my concentration. I don't like these uninvited calls to my front door, but then again, it ain't really my door. "Just a minute," I call out setting my project down and grabbing a towel to wipe my hands. Serna Joy Waterford is not who I expected to find when I opened the door, but there she is in all her blue-green glory.
"May I come in for a minute?" she asks.
I nod and step back, allowing her entry. "Blessed Day Mrs. Waterford," I start.
She bypasses my greeting and turns her stark face on me. "Are you aware that we are only granted a certain number of months with a handmaid?" she asks abruptly.
I'm shocked by the question, and how blatantly she's asking it. "Uh, yes ma'am. The time frame is determined by the level of the Commander," I stammer.
She nods and beings pacing in the small area that pretends to be my kitchen. "That is correct. We were given six months. And next month will be the sixth month," she tells me.
I say nothing, as I'm not sure where any of this is going. She stops in her tracks and turns to face me. "I need to make sure she's pregnant by then...or at least know I've done everything I can to make it happen."
Again, I remain silent, but concern is starting to creep up my spine.
"Did you know that handmaids who do not conceive after three postings are sent to the colonies?" she ask.
"Ummm…yes…sometimes that happens…" I stammer.
"You don't want to happen to Offred do you?" she asks, her tone manipulative.
I tilt my head. "That would be an…unpleasant outcome," I say cautiously.
Serena dips her head and stands to her full height. "I agree. That is why I'm asking you to serve this family and help me to…ensure procreation." She says evenly, her eyes locked on mine.
I blink at her, playing the words over in my head. Wait…did she just ask me to…. "You want me to…. perform the ceremony with Offred?" I ask, knowing every word out of my mouth right now could get me hung.
She doesn't speak, she just nods.
This woman wants me to force myself on the handmaid so she can steal the baby. No…no…I'll stop this, I'll report it, I'm an Eye!
"If you report this, I'll deny it and tell them you've had intentions for the handmaid since she arrived. I'm a Waterford, who do you think they will believe, me or a driver?" Serna asks evenly.
My heart pounds in my chest. She'll see me on the wall if I don't agree. I have nothing to prove my claim, it would be her word, and the Commander's because he would have her back, against mine. Pryce might believe me but Waterford is more important than I am. I'd swing for sure.
I swallow thickly, my stomach going sour, but I nod.
"After the shopping, make sure you're home," she states, like the queen she believes herself to be. And with that, she out my door, leaving me to my dread.
My morning routine goes by in a dull haze. My mind spins and spins trying to find a way out of this but nothing, there is nothing I can do that won't get me, and possibly the handmaid, killed. I wander into the kitchen in need of a stimulant to clear my head, but just my luck, I find the very subject of my thoughts sitting at the island working on a bowl of oats. At the sink, I look over at her and she smiles at me, and I realize she hasn't been dealt the news yet. If she had, she'd be looking at me like perve, her soon-to-be rapist.
Rita hands me a cup of coffee, giving me a good once over. She's known me long enough, she senses the disturbance in my soul. "Thank you," I manage to say.
She dips her head a bit, "Blessed day," she says more gently than is common for her.
I keep my eyes on the floor and take a drink of my half cup of joe. It's tasteless.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she asks, prodding.
Don't I wish! "No," I respond.
She turns back to her project on the counter, "Must be nice," she says, but there's no heat in it.
My tiny portion of coffee down, I wash my hands at the sink. As an Eye, we are trained to know when we are being watched, and it's not as if Offred is being coy about it. I can feel her eyes boring into my back. Perhaps she's decided to take up my offer of friendship and this is her proverbial outstretched hand, it's too bad that won't last past 2 pm today. I'm so sorry Offred.
Serna appears like a pop-up toy in the entryway. "Offred? Can you help me outside for a bit?" she demands, though the tone is meant to sound like a request...almost kind.
"Yes, Mrs. Waterford," Offred agrees readily, I'm sure trying to keep in her mistress's good graces after her last stent in solitude. Too bad she's about to find out that Serna Joy has set up for her to be raped by a new man today. I imagine solitude would be preferred to that.
Scooping the last bit of food from her bowl, Offred is out the door following Serena outside.
Rita turns to me as I watch the pair disappear outside. "What?" she asks in a hushed tone.
I look over at her, I have no words. None that are safe to speak. I shake my head. "It's better you don't know," I offer.
Her eyes narrow. "You safe?" she asks.
I laugh humorlessly and rub my palms over my face. "As any of us are I guess," I mutter. It's not like me to show my hand, no matter how small, but I can't keep it all inside today. Not today.
I feel a hand on my arm and a squeeze. I look up into her warm brown eyes. There is kindness there that she keeps hidden too. I guess today we are sharing a small part of ourselves with each other. Thank you, Rita.
The knock on the door comes too soon. They are in my tiny apartment too soon.
"So, uh, do we pray first?" I ask, feeling awkward and sick simultaneously.
"No. There's no time." Serna states. "Please," she adds, gesturing to my small double bed.
I keep my eyes on the floor as Offred makes her way across the room. I want to scream, I want to run, I want my fucking penis to not cooperate, but the male sex organ isn't that sophisticated. My body betrays me.
I follow after her, but when I don't hear Serna go to leave, I look back. She's going to stay. Of course, she is. I should have known she would, got to make sure I get the job done. I'm sorry Offred. I'm so sorry.
Too soon she's sitting on my bed as I undo my pants. Vomit threatens but I push it down. She's being much braver about this than I am. But I've always figured that might be the case.
Too soon she is laying back on my bed, her dress over her knees. I want to cry as she looks up at the ceiling resigned to this terrible fate.
I enter and try to not look at her, just trying to get the job done as quickly as possible. God help me but the spot where her knees rest on my hips tingles, electricity flows through the layers of fabric to my skin. I'm back in her room with the tea towel of ice. I had put that moment out of my head, deeming it a ridiculous thought. Chemistry with a handmaid only spells disaster. No, I won't let it happen, I refuse to nurture the seed of wonder that has been planted in my head. It's wrong in so many ways to even be considering any kind of attraction right now. I'm a truly terrible person.
I feel her eyes on me again, and though I'm determined to not make this personal, I can't keep them from turning to meet hers. They are placid, but she looks at me, full on, unafraid, before turning them away to take in the rest of the room. I can't tear mine away now that they've found her. I look at her profile. She's a beautiful woman, she doesn't deserve this.
The end is near, and my pace quickens. She looks back at me and in the final seconds, something changes on her face. I can't begin to understand it, there is nothing happening here that makes any sense. As I finish, her hand comes up and grasps my arm. It's brief, fleeting, but when I replay this terrible afternoon back ad nauseam later, it will be the only source of true human connection I'll find.
I couldn't tell you what the rest of my day entailed, even if threatened. All I do know is I spent it trapped in my head, replaying my role in terrorizing another human being and that hand on my arm. I skipped dinner, not waiting to see Offred and knowing I couldn't hide my thoughts from Rita, not now while it's this fresh. I wait until the house was dark to sneak over for some food. I should have known better, Offred isn't afraid of the dark.
She's at the sink getting sick when I stop in the doorway.
"Are you sick? Are you sick because of what've done to you?
She looks up at me from the sink but just sighs and shakes her head in frustration. She wipes her mouth and coughs a little. "What are you doing here?" she snaps. "Hu? You spying on me?" she adds with a touch of venom.
Ha, no. I was actually actively avoiding you, I think. "I was just looking for something to eat," I tell her truthfully and make my way over to the counter where she stands.
She shakes her head, looking sad or scared or a mix of both. "Are you an Eye?" she asks.
I don't let it show on my face, but I'm shocked by the question. I didn't realize she suspected anything. She hasn't been exactly open with me, but she's not been a closed book either. That moment in the car, when she broke down, that wasn't nothing. I deflect, it's what I do best. "Go to bed," I state.
She's not buying it and moves closer to me. "Do you know what they did to Ofglen?" she asks, her tone demanding the truth.
I won't lie to her. I decided on this, this morning after Mrs. Waterford's visit. I may not share all, but I'm not going to lie to this woman. So I nod, and look down, ashamed of what my comrades did to the poor Ofglen. "Yes," I state, looking back up into her eyes.
Her eyes are now damp, and it stings to look at them. "Do you know because you're one of them?"
I don't want to lie but telling this truth could literally kill her. "You shouldn't be down here," I say instead. Not a lie.
"Don't tell me where to go." She cries. I don't want to control her. I'm not one of the sick assholes who get off on the power of being a man. But I do want to protect her. I have since she stepped out of the Red Center van five months ago. The feeling has only grown over the months.
"You listen to me, it's not safe," I try.
Tears escape her lashes. "Please don't tell me what to do."
I feel a tug in my gut, and the words I've been wanting to say since this afternoon find their way out of my mouth. "I couldn't say no when Mrs. Waterford asked me. I'm sorry." She looks pained, "I'm sorry," I say again. Now that they're out, I know they aren't enough. How could they be?
"Just tell me. Okay, please? Please. Are you an Eye?" she begs.
I try to find an out. Anything. But I can't deny her this. I just can't. "Yes," I reveal.
She settles back on her feet with a hmmm, she's not surprised…she's relieved maybe.
"Now go to bed, before I report you," I say, trying to put an end to this painful conversation. She smiles, it's sad and mad, but she goes, stopping only once to lock her gaze with mine before disappearing up the stairs.
When the knock comes on my door at 11 o'clock the next night, I know instinctively who it is. Call it magnetism, call it attraction, call it lust, but it's been pulling us together for weeks now. It's clearly worn me down because I'm about to make a decision that will change everything for me...forever.
She steps in and locks the door behind her, and I should reach to unlock it and put her out. When she takes off her cap and lets down a mane of blonde hair I didn't know she had tucked away in there, I should be telling her to leave. When she begins to pull off my clothes and goes for my belt, I should tell her we'll end up on the wall. But then she kisses me, I forget all of those things. The sparks we've shared become a flame, and it quickly turns into a blaze. I let her lead, and I let her show me what she needs. I'll never be the one to take anything from her again. She's an incredible lover. It's a night nothing like anything I've ever experienced before.
In the morning, after she dresses and is standing at my door, she pauses and looks back at me. I propped up on my elbows, fighting the instinct to pull her back to bed with me, but it's already later than we agreed, and I don't want her to get caught. She looks at me long and hard for a moment then says the one thing I didn't even know I needed to hear. "About yesterday...you don't need to be sorry. It's Serena who's going to have to answer to God for what she did to both of us." It's simple and pointed and she means it. With one final smile, she slips out the door and into the pre-dawn of a new day.