Marigold

by Heather Mitchell Manheim

A little while later, Duffy explained to Davis in hushed tones that Everett had sent Namaguchi at the last minute, and Namaguchi was sorry to have put Davis through that. Apparently, President Everett was working on making sure that Davis would never run into Ruby at the Everett Palace. Duffy then told her that another surprise was coming: she would meet the other wives in the group she was supposed to live with at the Palace eventually. They were to arrive after dinner. The last thing Davis wanted to do was meet these women. She imagined them to be robotic-like drones to do Everett’s bidding. Davis knew it was required to do it, though; it’s not like she could leave the infirmary. “Do I have to wear the robe for them, too?” she asked Duffy sarcastically.

  ~

  She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew, Duffy was shaking her awake and telling her that the wives were there. Duffy helped Davis quickly straighten her hair out, which was a bit wild and tangled from sleeping on it. Duffy brought her a washcloth to wipe her face and warned Davis before she lightly slapped her cheeks to give them a little blush and life. Davis was ready to meet the wives, whether she felt like it or not.

  The wives filed in; they all wore the same outfit, the presidential wife cream-colored tunic and jodhpurs, seams done in golden thread, and pretty and sleek brown boots, far more stylish than the typical brown shoe given to everyone else. But, other than that, Davis was surprised. They looked friendly like in another life she could have been cozy pals with them. There was no trace of a hypnotic, vacant look in the eyes Davis expected she’d see. Each held up a notepad, the top sheet proclaiming their names.

  Lisa was the shortest; she had brown hair with auburn highlights. A kind smile and friendly eyes looked over the pad where she had included the “We are the people, and the people are we” greeting under her name. Lisa had also written that they would communicate via paper pads since not all of them could use the communication tablet all at once. Rebecca had honeyed-blonde hair like Davis and welcoming blue eyes; she had included a picture of a carrot with a smiling face under her name. It was cute but struck Davis as odd. How would Rebecca know what a carrot was? She thought. As far as Davis knew, those shouldn’t be something that was a part of Rebecca’s life. Jessica had darker brown hair and a bit of a mischievous look in her eye. Tiffany surprised Davis the most because her hair was long, almost waist-long. It was smooth and brown, slightly curling, giving a bounce to it. Sunshine seemed to be the living embodiment of her name, like living sunshine could flow from her and bring others joy. Her fiery red hair almost looked as if it was aflame. Amanda, the tallest, had red hair too but not as bright and coppery as Sunshine’s, and instead, it had blonde streaks through it. Davis had never seen a hair color quite like it. If someone had just described it to her and she had not seen it, she would not have realized how becoming it could look, especially with Amanda’s green eyes.

  Lisa, who seemed to be in charge, held up a communication tablet, showing that the two could now use those. Davis picked her tablet up, and there was already a message, saying it was nice to meet her and whether or not she had any questions. Davis just looked at Lisa and shrugged. She knew she should ask something, though. She typed out that it was nice to meet them, and she wasn’t sure yet; she was just trying to figure everything out. Did the wives have any questions for her? Davis could tell that Lisa was not expecting to have this question. She guessed that it wasn’t often that anyone asked them what they thought. Then she got a bright look on her face and asked about the only thing she could think to ask her. Cox, their “Den Mom.” Lisa typed out the explanation that Cox was preparing the room to have Davis move in, getting the bed and bedside table located in the room. Putting Davis’s bath towels, robe, and clothing in the closet, including the wedding dress Davis would wear. Reading that shocked Davis a little; she didn’t even know how they knew her size. Lisa seemed to read her mind and typed out that the hospital rooms had scanners that took daily measurements, and Davis had weighed in daily. That made sense but didn’t. She had no idea she was being scanned daily for her measurements. She tried to push that thought out of her head and typed out on her tablet: “Maybe not the most pressing question, but why is Tiffany’s hair long?”

  “Yes, it’s an anomaly and a personal request from President Everett. He’s asked she grow it long and trim it only for it to stay healthy. That is why Tiffany wears her hair up, in a bun, and under a hat when in public.”

  The answer struck Davis as so odd. According to President Everett, there were to be no differences in people. All individuality had supposedly been erased. There were to be no exceptions. The President had made it clear that all these things—the standard uniform, the same haircut for everyone, only having last names—were all supposedly for the country’s betterment. The theory was if everybody had the same thing, nobody would be jealous. Nobody would be envious. It would help eliminate crime and, at the same time, give the reduced population a sense of solidarity and create a harmonious society to unify everybody. Here, Davis was face-to-face with proof that President Everett broke his own rules when it suited him. Until she had seen it for herself, she hadn’t entirely accepted how deep his hypocrisy could go.

  Lisa asked her if everything was okay, and Davis nodded her head, yes. She then typed a reply that she was just thinking about what Lisa had said and anything else that she should ask. Finally, at a loss for anything, she asked about what she should know about being President Everett’s wife and life at the Palace. Lisa smiled as she handed the tablet to Rebecca, who typed out a reply. It wasn’t very detailed; it just said, “All will come in time.” Great, thought Davis. So much for the “wife lessons” she was supposed to receive.

  October 8, 2056 –

  To the Palace

  It was unbelievable to Davis that she was leaving the infirmary today. She was waiting for her transport to pick her up and take her to the Everett Palace. Brookshire had been transported to his security headquarters at the Palace earlier that morning. He told her he would be there, although it may be hard to visit her right away or even frequently. She wasn’t sure what would happen when she got there. Brookshire had only told Davis that she would be shown to her room and given an outfit that President Everett specifically picked out for her to change into. The ladies from her group and their Den Mom, Cox, would be in their room waiting for her.

  After Davis had been waiting in the front office for about twenty minutes, Duffy came and got her and told her a transport bus was in the back to pick her up. She had no idea why they needed such a large vehicle for just her, but there you had it. Davis walked through the hospital and out the back. The driver had rusty blondish-brown hair, a color that looked like it gave up long ago what shade it was. Vibrant green eyes were her standout feature, and Davis noted the name tag, Fontanella, that she wore on her tunic.

  “Hi, Fontanella, I’m Davis. We are the people, and the people are we,” she said as a way of an introduction. She held out her hand for Fontanella to shake. Fontanella took it tentatively and shook it lightly like she wasn’t sure if Davis had truly got a clean bill of health.

  “Hi, Davis, we are the people, and the people are we.”

  Fontanella then helped Davis onto the empty transport bus, giving her the first seat diagonal from her, and then she took her place in the driver’s seat before continuing to speak. “So, how are you today?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you. And yourself?”

  “Good, thanks.”

  “Not that I don’t appreciate you picking me up, because I do, but I was wondering why did you pick me up in the back of the hospital with such a large vehicle just for me?”

  “They want to throw off people who may try to come out and see you. We need to get you to the Palace quietly. You’re big news these days, you know. Also, I mean, you were kidnapped! We have to make sure nothing happens to you.”

  Davis had known she was on the news alerts that ran on video consoles in the town squar
es and the Pod libraries. Duffy told her about all the stories they were doing regarding her kidnapping, heroic rescuing, and engagement to President Everett. As predicted by Ringo, the publicity was too good to pass up. The official government even gave daily updates on how she had been doing in quarantine, which was funny to her because nobody besides Duffy ever asked her how she was doing. So, that didn’t surprise Davis when Fontanella brought it up. But what did perk her ears was how Fontanella had emphasized that Davis got kidnapped; it made her wonder if she was onto the plan. She started to feel a nervous sweat on top of her upper lip and around her hairline. She felt hot and uncomfortable. After a few minutes of silence, Fontanella chimed in again.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you about the kidnapping thing. That must have been traumatic. I was just making conversation.”

  “No, it’s okay, of course, I got a little nervous thinking about it, but I’m fine. Everything is okay.”

  Whew, Davis thought to herself. She decided that Fontanella hadn’t some sixth sense of the plan; she was just cordial. The rest of the bus ride went smoothly, with Fontanella making polite conversation and Davis trying to keep her end of the banal exchange.

  Before Davis knew it, they arrived at the back entrance to the Palace. She had seen the front in pictures, with its elaborate marble statues and fountains, but the back was more subtle. She could just see a peek of the stained-glass dome ceiling on top of the large white building that was flanked by green shrubbery on the sides of the long stone driveway. They passed a simple guard tower, and at an ornate golden gate in a filigree pattern, Fontanella had to swipe her ID and enter a passcode on a keypad. Then, to a second armed security tower where they took both Fontanella’s and Davis’s names. Finally, after a guard took a picture of both of them and the transport bus, they followed an armed vehicle up a long, curved marble driveway. After Davis got off the bus, Fontanella was thanked so quickly and dismissed by the guards that Davis didn’t even have a second to thank her before she drove off. The guards then hastily escorted Davis into the Everett Palace.

  At first glance, Davis was a little surprised. She was in a bare white foyer with clean gray walls that looked like they could be from a Pod. Very quickly, a tall woman joined her. She had dingy blonde hair and squinty eyes, her sharp features giving her an almost masculine look. “I’m Cox,” she said by way of introduction, then added the common saying followed by, “I’ll be helping you get dressed out of your civilian outfit before we reach the room. President Everett will be waiting for you in the Wives’ Common Room Two. That’s your group.”

  Davis didn’t expect things to happen as quickly as they did, and Cox’s harsh tone and look didn’t give her much time to feel adjusted or welcomed. She couldn’t even muster a greeting back to Cox. She just gave a slight smile and nodded her head, the whole time wondering why she would need help getting dressed.

  ~

  Cox showed Davis into a side room; it must have been some sort of bedroom, maybe belonging to a maid or other Palace worker. Cox asked her if she needed to use the restroom first, and Davis shook her head no. She had no idea why this would be important but noticed a large dress bag hanging from a hook on the wall. There were multiple layers of fabric, and the overall effect was that the dress was quite voluminous.

  “Is that my wedding dress?” Davis ventured to ask.

  “No, this is your everyday dress. You’ll get three for the week. Then you’ll have three sets of official presidential wife tunics and jodhpurs as well as one causal dress and seven nightgowns. You get two sets of casual boots, one set of formal. You also get a set of winter clothing that comes in on November first, so soon. President Everett requests you always wear an everyday dress when he sees you. If he is not seeing you on any given day, you’re free to wear a tunic or your casual dress. I have a calendar in your room to make sure you ladies always know what to wear on a given day.”

  Davis stood in shock and was quiet as Cox demanded sharply that she disrobe, and even though Davis’s discomfort was at an all-time high, she felt like she had no choice but to comply. She peeled off the jodhpurs and tunic before dressing in her new outfit. Her brain swam with confusion, fatigue, and sadness as Cox tied a corset around her and tightened it to where Davis almost could not breathe. She had seen items like what she was wearing in books and old movies she had watched, but she never imagined having to wear them. After the corset, Cox had her put on a wide-skirted petticoat. Then a tight-fitting bustier and bodice laced up the back tightened her waist. Everything felt squeezed. Her breasts pushed up and almost out of the top of the dress. The skirt that went over the petticoat was layers and layers of beaded dark ivory tulle, masterfully detailed with cream-colored lace, emerald green embroidery, and luminescent pearls. It was beautiful, albeit heavy, and incredibly uncomfortable. Then, Davis’s feet got shoved into high heels that felt two sizes too small. They were dainty and pretty, in a light blush rose color, and the fabric was a buttery soft satin. Unfortunately for Davis, they did not feel as buttery soft on her feet, pinching and squeezing her feet and creating a pain she had never before experienced. She began to try to walk, an uncomfortable and uneven wobble until she slowly and steadily found her feet. The walking experiment was the only time Cox seemed nice to Davis. Cox held out her hand for support, observing Davis, making sure she didn’t fall and encouraging her to take it slow and take a break if needed. After Davis found a comfortable enough stride, she told Cox she was ready to go to the room. The friendly version of Cox was gone when she harshly replied, “Wives’ Common Room Number Two, that’s the official name. Before we go, we need to put on your jewelry.”

  Thankfully, Cox let Davis sit for the next part when her hair was trimmed, combed, and styled. A silver tiara adorned with tiny diamonds and emeralds finished her hairstyle. Then, Cox applied makeup, the first makeup Davis ever wore. And while it seemed like it wasn’t much, only a little light blush color on her cheeks, eyelids, and lips, Davis felt like she didn’t even recognize herself. Then, Cox slipped a diamond bracelet on Davis’s left wrist, a dainty silver charm bracelet, the charms with initials E and D, on her right wrist, and a large diamond and emerald necklace around her neck. The diamond was a square cut, and if Davis had to guess, about two inches, all ways, length, width, and height. Around the entire diamond were emeralds. The necklace was so heavy, Davis felt like she couldn’t even walk with her head held high. Lastly, Cox clipped diamond and emerald ear cuffs that lined her entire earlobe. Like all women, Davis had unpierced ears, ear piercings being an illegal procedure to have in the United State, along with tattoos or any other piercings. That was one law easily upheld, considering the lack of personal businesses, thought Davis as she became more and more aware of the absurdity of the items adorning her.

  After a loud, audible sigh, Cox held out her hand to show she rather not be helping Davis dress or walk. Davis took it as a sign to get to her feet. It took her a few minutes to get accustomed to the pain and walk again, but Cox was impatient, telling her to hurry, and Davis felt rushed, so she said she was okay to go, even though she didn’t feel that was true. After Davis left the room they were in, and they turned down the hall, they passed a bustling kitchen. That surprised Davis because she thought the nutrition biscuits were all made in factories. She wondered who the food they were preparing could be for but then realized she knew without a doubt who would be feasting that night.

  After a short walk past the kitchen door, they went through another door into the Palace that Davis had expected. It was as if after passing through that door, they entered luxury that was beyond compare to anything Davis had ever seen. It was leaving Kansas and entering Oz. All the walls were spotless, clean white. The crown molding looked as if painted with real gold, and the embossing was an intricate pattern of flowers and vines. Davis thought she saw an E monogram within the flowers. There were beautiful fresco paintings on the ceilings; Davis couldn’t take in all of the images as Cox was wa
lking too fast and there was too much to see. However, at a quick glance, most looked like they were some type of homage to President Everett. Davis saw the dome ceiling’s cap from the inside; the tip she previously saw while driving up did not do it any justice. It was a large modern stained-glass top. Large and small triangles in shades of blues, ranging from an icy almost-white to cobalt, formed an intricate geometric pattern. Large windows at the front of the house, which they now passed by to go up the grand staircase, let in plenty of light with their thick brocade curtains pulled back. Davis thought “curtains” seemed too modest of a word for those window coverings. They were more like art; she couldn’t tell if they were black or dark blue but had exquisite gold thread that created patterns of flowers and vines reminiscent of the crown molding. And yes, Davis saw it well now. A large E monogram in the middle of the pattern looked as if everything began and ended with the President’s initial. Even though there was plenty of light, as they started up the center on the grand marble staircase, Davis noticed on the outside of every other step on each side was a little pedestal sticking off to the side. On that pedestal sat a tall candelabra, at least five feet tall, the base of which held what looked like a crane about to take flight. The birds’ wing outstretched and held four long golden taper candles in hidden holders at the top.

  “Those are beautiful candle holders,” said Davis, trying to break the tension and venturing to speak for the first time since they left the room.

  “Fake. Well, not the gold, that’s real. The candles are; they’re electric. Fire risk and all,” Cox replied briskly.

  Davis decided not to speak again and just took in the sights as they ascended the long staircase. The steps were marble, with hints of inky blue and black marbling through the light gray rock. Inlaid gold paint was at the edges of each step, and alternating with the steps holding candlesticks was the gold monogrammed E that was becoming more and more prevalent everywhere Davis looked. The Palace was beautiful, but it just oozed vanity, lust, and greed to Davis, although she wasn’t sure if Everett’s passion was for power or himself.